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A long time ago when my memory blossomed dark,
we finally had our own place in a quaint trailer park;
outside summoned me to the yard for play one day,
but I fell and broke my arm in more than one way.
Now, alone I was for hours frozen still on the couch,
with the shallowest of breaths to avoid another ouch;
I had no brother, sister, or mother to hear me scream,
but the pain knocked me out for I was tangled in dream.
There was a black butterfly with an ominous feature,
never before had I laid my eyes upon such a creature;
and it hovered about as if it had something vital to say,
yet I was afraid, so with my good arm, I shooed it away.
Unexpectedly, there was a galloping horse, fully white;
joined thereafter by red, black, and pale--a peculiar sight.
My desire of life and death somehow abruptly vanished,
and aspiration of salvation was instantaneously banished.
Suddenly, a blinding flash…a materialized cypress tree,
with a pair of ravens on a bough staring deep into me;
I didn’t know these omens, nor what was their meaning,
but, off in the distance, I heard an eerie banshee keening.
I stood petrified as if I were hit with the cockatrice gaze;
such a complex tribulation built from my mental maze.
So, as fast as I could, I sprinted across the field of grass;
easily exhausted, I stumbled over a topsy-turvy hourglass.
My heart feverishly pumped as the crow circled me near,
Grim’s tattered cloak emerged to collect more than a tear;
then, off I went with a scowl to pay the ferryman his coin,
for passage of my soul across the river with others to join.
A weight now lifted as I progressed to my eternal slumber;
cessation of childhood agony with nothing left to encumber.
The tranquility of my death unified with the hyacinth flower,
empowered me to be at peace, and never again have to cower.
The serene absence of suffering delivered harmony and silence,
by granting my persistent wish to halt my endured violence;
this journey through the underworld was better than my reality,
for I no longer had to struggle with poor examples of morality.
This utopia rapidly faded as everything began to turn black;
awakened by the front door as my anguish had returned back.
I wailed at the sight of my arm, and to the hospital we went;
the upshot while in a cast was a welcomed pardon of torment.
About this poem
© Shaun O’Dell. All rights reserved. This original literary work and all associated creative elements therein, including but not limited to its wording, phrasing, refrain structures, cadence, poetic architecture, thematic sequencing, stylistic composition, and overall expressive framework, constitute protected intellectual property under applicable domestic and international copyright law, including Title 17 of the United States Code and protections recognized under the Berne Convention for the Protection of Literary and Artistic Works and related international copyright treaties. This work is protected by copyright upon creation and publication. No portion of this work may be reproduced, imitated, adapted, paraphrased, republished, redistributed, performed, translated, incorporated into derivative works, or otherwise utilized in whole or in part, whether commercially or non-commercially, without the express written permission of the author. Public publication timestamps, archived drafts, and platform publication records serve as documented evidence of authorship and original creation. Limited quotation, commentary, critique, scholarship, or discussion consistent with applicable fair use and equivalent international copyright protections may be permitted. Readers are respectfully asked to honor the integrity, originality, and creative ownership of the work. more »
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"Poetry.com" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LTD, 2026. Web. 18 Jun 2026. <https://www.poetry.com/>.
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