Friday 17 August 2018




Near dead in your heart

but it grieves

all of the nurture 

you didn’t receive.

The camera zooms down 

on our rear gazing clown

and we all could perceive

although humour deceives,

his spirit of past 

planted pain.

A deer steps with care

in your wood. 

Walking on eggshells 

she pricks for the 


ever alert 

as you were. 

So you are, 

sniffing the air for deceit,

biting the hand lest they 

bite on your tush.

Delicate features

but no nestling pet, 

scenting, spellbinding,



I get your essence 

as you have got mine,

still do not care as I give it. 

I can make more

and so too do you,

though stuff made in transit

is somewhat dilute. 

I’m not swift in transit,

it’s your turn to shoot.

So pray, what goes on

with your brain?

I now live to fear

that I’ll outlive you, dear.

Why must you keep 

changing the game?

You’re right that survival is key

well maybe for you, not for me-

I simply don’t care, 

that leaves you perplexed, 

transfixed in my commuted


Your forest will die 

when you’re gone.

One at a time

the trees will come down, 

the men won’t perceive 

because size can deceive,

that more than as mother and wife,

your spirit of past 

planted life.

Copyright Runningonempty.

Peter Paul Rubens- A forest at dawn with a deer hunt.


Rina said...

A sad and touching poem.

Running on empty said...

It came from a comment someone made. As usual my subconscious...

but it does get me thinking , what do we leave behind? When your child is adhd and doesn’t remember you spent a fortune on them , or that you gave up your career, oh well, better if I don’t think about it too much.

Jeanie said...

It does provoke a good deal of thought. Very nicely done.

A Crafty Mix said...

How incredibly beautiful. I got goosebumps reading this. When will we ever learn

Running on empty said...

Thankyou Jeanie. That means alot. Welcome and Thankyou, Michelle, I hope you will be a repeat visitor.