Death and His Pawn, poem by Diana Burns at Spillwords.com
Alex Sever

Death and His Pawn

Death and His Pawn

written by: Diana Burns

 

Death takes a seat across from my bed
unhurriedly, he ruffles through my head
with all that I am laid bare
I return his vacant stare

Like a knight and a pawn,
we tango ’til dawn
one two three. one two three
him and me

Cornered and caged
afraid yet enraged
one two three, one two three
him and me

As morning draws near, he slithers away
but one day he’ll come to stay
he’ll make his move, for he still has one
and we both know that I have none

Diana Burns

Diana Burns

I have been writing for as long as I can remember, but never on a professional basis. There is never a time when I don't have a poem in my head, waiting to be written. A blank page is the only safe place to express emotion. It’s a work of fiction, right? Sometimes, Sometimes not. And therein lies the beauty, tragedy, and anonymity. I currently work as an English teacher, and it keeps me connected to my love of the English language, and words in all their beauty. I wish I’d had the confidence, the opportunities, and the drive, to develop a career in the writing field early on in my life. But maybe it’s best that I didn’t. Now words are my love, my passion; and I don’t have to subscribe to anybody else’s idea of merit. I don’t have to fit into a mold that wasn’t constructed with me in mind. I write only because I bleed words from every pore. And to stop writing would be to stop doing the only thing that has ever stayed with me in this terribly temporary world. Some might read my words and see melancholia. Some might see beauty. As long as they don’t see me.
Diana Burns

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