Alphabe-Thursday: The Letter Y

Yonder 'neath the Yellow pine

Sits the Youth with his makeshift shrine.

Young, carefree and full of life?

No, rather his days are filled with strife.

Yearning for a savior to Yank him away

From the Yelling and abuse that comes his way.

Listening to the chorus of Yellowbird's song

Wondering what it was that he did wrong.

Yelping from the pain of his tears

The Youngest decides to face his fears.

So upon the sacrificial altar he sets

His father's gin and his mom's cigarettes.

Alphabe-Thursday: The Letter W

Warning: The following prose may be disturbing to some.
It is not intended to be autobiographical.
I must admit to being a bit perplexed.
How it came to be is really quite odd.
This poem just sort of "wrote itself" the other day
after I finished with my meditation and prayers.
I guess it's a story, a voice, that needed to be heard.

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Wary is the Winsome one
for Wronged by Wicked deeds he's done.

The Wounds she bears are hidden deep
Within her soul Where secrets keep.

He Wields his power, Wrenching her Wrist.
She Writhes beneath his clenching fist.

He Whispers, he Wheedles With Whiskey breath.
Weeping and Weary she Wishes for death.

Hopes Wither, as she Wails With Woe.
After the Wrath there's no place to go.

For trapped in this Wretched World is she.
It's her Word against his...and she's only three.

Alphabe-Thursday: The Letter T

Tempest approaches at furious pace.

Turbulent winds lead The Timorous race,

bringing Terrifying Truths I must now face.

For This Trial is mine, alone, To embrace.

With Temerity I never knew I had gained,

I Tread The Terrain Transformed by storm's reign.

Trampling upon The Terror sorely disdained

Only To learn That These efforts were in vain.

Memories, un-Tethered, now Tattered and Torn,

Trembling I remove Their Tortuous Thorn,

Whose Toxins slain The child I now mourn.

The pain is The Tonic for The wounds I have born.