Odette Moore 2018
The Girl In The Yellow Dress
He lay there in his deathbed; taking quick, short, raspy breaths as the life slowly drained from his porcelain white face. The clock ticked ever so slowly, the death clock he now longingly awaited.
The sound of silence told us Death’s love had taken over; a jealous, possessive love that always finds its way to a mortal being.
A vast, buttercup yellow plain covers my body, hidden underneath is something unspeakable. Invisible wounds that cut deeper each day that goes by.
I’ve walked these floors, touched these walls before, but it’s never been this painful to draw a breath, to take a step. I feel as though I’m choking on my own salty tears.
She cries to me from below as I waltz across the ballroom floor, too scared to show my pain. So I waltz once more across the floor pretending that that arbitrary day never came; and collapse on the terracotta tiles, my yellow dress spreading around me.
The day we laid him to rest, the darkness filled the void that was him.
Black lace and whispers as a yellow dress appears before the dead. The ghost of my father stands by my side as he shields me from the judgement that surrounds. He waltzes with me when it’s too hard to bare. The echo of his comforting voice follows me through the mourning crowd. He shelters me in the storm of my imagination. Keeps me safe from the apprehension his death brought forward.
Though it doesn’t feel like he’s dead. It only feels like he’s gone. The grief, not fully settled in. Although I know, one day it will finally take its toll.
The Concrete World
The good stand up for what is right, an instinct hard to deny
You may not think they have a single ally
But you are wrong, knowing all that’s at stake others will join
A time where seventeen parts of this wondrous land are to be used for the sake of money and desire
But why? A place where the lush bush once stood now to be turned to the dull, miserable grey of the concrete world
Think of the native plants and animals that now inhabit these small but luscious reserves
Or are you blinded by greed?
Pops of life in a dying world and now we are destroying these small signs of hope?
Where children once happily played
Of course, you must question; is this how it’s supposed to be? How it’s going to be?
The early autumn breeze sends chills through the spines of those who fight
Those who fight for prosperity and for Mother Nature to live by our side eternally
There are some who live in this world, who shape the world for the better
But the rest of us fail to live up to our obligations and fail to help this beautiful home of ours
We are the future, and we shape this world, so why are we killing it? So we can further fulfil our heart’s deepest and most utterly excessive desires?
The truth is, we can be greedy selfish beings who annihilate all that stands in our path
Soon there will be nothing left but the scarce few alongside raging fires
There are some who stand up to the greedy beings who conquer the land, though the beings can be powerful and flames soon turn to ash
But from the ash, a bird appears, a phoenix, one of beauty and grace
This beautiful bird shows how the good have grown stronger, how the good is not willing to surrender
The streets once again, are filled with raging riots of those who do not care about money and desire
They fight for Mother Nature to live on
They beg for those greedy beings to stop and listen, to listen to the cries of not only Mother Nature herself but the silent suffering of her children too, flora and fauna; me and even you.