Some Of My Poetry
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here are some of my poems I thought I'd share. I have HUNDREDS...but won't bore you all at once with them! lol
Thanks for reading. 
*hugs*
Cathy
~~~~~~
Hello...My Name Is Lupus
I'd like to introduce myself
for those that may not know.
I'll tell you all about me
and the terror I bestow.
I have a sinister duty
to invade your body is my task.
Sometimes the only way others see me
is by my wolf-like mask.
Into your blood I'm seeping
navigating my way through your veins.
Do you feel me in your bones?
It is I that gives you your pains!
I travel through your system
carefully planning my attacks.
I look for any weak spots
and slip right through the cracks.
You think I go to sleep sometimes.
A 'remission' I've heard you say.
But I am only building up strength
I'll never actually go away!
No one has been able to tame me.
A cure they cannot invent.
So I just have my run of you,
your destruction is my intent!
You think that you can beat me
by swallowing that little pill?
I chew them up and spit them out
making you all the more ill!
Into your organs and muscles
is my next destination.
I take such joy in tormenting you
and adding to your frustration!
At any time, if I choose,
I can level a fatal blow.
I just choose your heart, your brain or lungs
and into one, I'll go!
Then, I'll totally own you,
body, mind and soul.
Of you, my helpless victim,
I have complete control!
So now you know who I am
and I can sense your fears.
But I have no sympathy at all for you,
so wipe away your pitiful tears!
©Cathy Faist 2001
~~~~
*note:'WOLF' in Latin...is 'Lupus'~which is a disease I suffer from among others. The wolf has long been associated to us 'Lupies' and is why I use it often in my writings about Lupus-life.
Wolf~N~Me
In my fist I hold a sturdy leash~
my wolf never far, I'm in its reach.
Placed in my grip by the hand of fate~
a binding chain of heavy weight.
Wolf takes lead, I'm forced to follow~
I tread lightly knowing, my life, wolf could swallow.
Wolf trails a scent of shaking fear~
always knowing, it's prey is near.
When its time, that wolf must feed~
it nips my soul, until I bleed.
I walk wolf's path in silent resistance~
for if step should falter, t'would end my existence.
Bound to wolf, that's by my side~
when linked as one...you cannot hide.
Sometimes my wolf chooses to run~
I'm dragged over rocks, till overcome.
I know when wolf is on the prowl~
for it emits, bloodthirsty howl.
I live in this, my invisible cage~
at the mercy of, my own wolf's rage.
There is for me, no escaping~
I'm left a victim-bloody wounds gaping.
What will I've left, is fading quick~
My wolf knows always what pain to inflict.
Finding a weakness, wolf lunges swift~
fangs find flesh, consciousness drift.
When moon is full, I fear the most~
wolf's eyes turn the black of forest ghost.
If only wolf were pet-or trusted friend~
my fated hell would finally end.
But wolf remains, here by my side~
unmoved by pleas or tears I've cried.
So I walk with wolf linked to my soul~
the length of leash, my only means of control.
But I dare not yank, nor try to flee~
for wolf is a hunter and would devour me.
©Cathy Faist 2003
~~~~~
Akin To Waters
Liquid emotions
drown me
like reflective pools
in their shallow depth.
Thoughts and fears
swim around
like unknown inhabitants
in my ocean life.
Moods roll in
and roll out
like predictable tides
on a lunar schedual.
My heart fills
and empties and fills
like reseviours
in a drought.
Tears trickle
falling down my face
like raindrops
on a windowpane.
I am akin to waters.
©Cathy Faist 2002
~~~~~
Gypsy Soul
In sleep she dances,
gypsy soul emerges,
wandering beneath the moon.
Long, gauzy skirts flowing,
she moves to earth's music
beneath her barefeet.
Hair flying in wild black waves,
she spins, she twirls,
arms spread wide,
to welcome nature's gifts-
moon, stars, sky, night,
Gypsy soul invites them in,
and she dances,
she dances...
©Cathy Faist 2002
~~~~~
In Grays And Blacks
Through smoky eyes, tainted by miscolored hues of life,
I see things in light of the darkness.
Things that stand out, highlighted in grays and blacks.
Slate misted images of stoney cold objects
protrude from my mind,
like headstones dappled in icy marble.
Shades of ebony dot my landscape,
cling to my horizons and block out any aurora emanation,
leaving me only to view the blackened colors of darker days.
Murkiness imbeds itself upon my banks.
Spilling over, it floods the silvery valley of my soul,
leaving me thirtsy still, for moisture and quenching.
Paths of unsmooth pebbles, cause my stumbles
as they imbed themselves deeply into my heels,
making 'walking on' a painfull journey to undertake.
Somber skies open up in thunderous volume,
releasing leaden drops of inky pelting rains
which sting my skin and penetrate my ashen armor.
Pitched clouds of charcoal sorrows
hinder any illumination that may attempt to shine,
allowing only onyx beams to pass before me.
I continue on, searching for a bright spot on which to focus
but there's only raven flickers of obsidian obscurity within' these eyes,
that now, only see blindly, these things in grays and blacks.
©Cathy Faist 2003
~~~~~~
Horizon's Pull
Horizon beckons
far off----away
where promises promise
that better day.
With fingertips
I trace that line
across an ocean
of salted wine.
Intoxicated
from tiny sips
as the glassy surface
presses parted lips.
On distant shore
I take mental note-
If I plunged in
would I sink...or float?
Dare I take
that final dive?
Where death swallows a soul
already drowned alive...
©Cathy Faist 2002
~~~~~~~
My Veil Of Darkness
--------------------
I feel I am the safest there,
because no one can see.
The darkness casts its shadows,
enclosing and hiding me.
My saddness is out of view,
from anyone else's sight.
It's consumed by the blackness,
and covered by the night.
My tears they are invisible,
to the naked eye.
No one knows they are flowing,
in the darkness as I cry.
Behind my ebony shroud,
is the pain that etches my face.
My veil of darkness protects me,
spun from midnight's lace.
As the sun arises,
I go through life's parade.
Smiling as though all is fine,
Portraying my daylight charade.
©Cathy Faist 2002
~~~~~~~
The Autumn I Fell
To life, I hung,
precariously
yet hopeful,
clinging
to my last shred
of hope;
my flesh
now toned
to a blushing crimson,
the effect,
of too many seasons
in the sun;
my veins,
closed off, having dried
the moisture from my core,
leaving me brittle
and arid inside.
I waited for that
final blow,
the one that would send me
downward,
into a pile of crushed dreams.
My time had come.
I was too soon, blossomed-
too young, I matured,
never knowing
how quickly
my span would end.
And then it happened.
I let go.
For there was no use
in clutching
what I knew
was never really mine
to keep.
It was an end,
to a beginning,
a finish
to what had started.
It was
the Autumn
I fell.
© Cathy Faist 2003
~~~
sequel to above poem:
After The Fall-(Now What?)
Okay, I'm down here,
drifted to the lowness of ground,
reaching out for a stronghold
on something,
anything
that can maybe pull me back upwards.
But as of yet,
through teary eyed glances
and the shadows of pain,
I view nothing on my horizon.
Nothing that looks promising
at this point.
Besides, I had my fleeting moment
and at present,
it is gone.
So now what?
The fall came
and like those that fall
in these autumn's of discontent,
I lie here, crinkled, emotionally dried up
and useless now.
Yeah, I once hung in there,
vibrant, alive,
getting my sustinance through
the strength of my tree of life,
but now I have been discarded,
my usefullness completed in seasons of passing
and now I just litter the lawn.
A nusance burdon that needs to be raked along
into a pile of other useless foliage.
I'm of no good to anyone
in this depleted state.
I have not even the desire
to allow a breeze to carry me off.
Quite content am I,
to lie here and disintegrate into
a composted and decaying form.
Maybe then,
I'll at least be of some use.
© Cathy Faist 2003
~~~~~~
Conversation With Jesus
I'm bent on self destruction.
(Is it really that bad?)
I'm drowning myself in pity.
(No one else would care?)
What's left to live for?
(What's worth dying over?)
There's only one way out.
(Which direction to go?)
I feel so all alone!
(Surrounded by loved ones?)
Will they miss me when I am gone?
(Won't you miss them?)
I have no other choice!
(The choice is yours to make.)
But what about my pain?
(Do you think they won't hurt?)
Alls lost anyway.
(Have you even tried to find it?)
I wouldn't know where to start.
(At the beginning.)
But what if I get lost again?
(I'll be right there.)
Why? Why should you care about me?
(Because I died for you.)
For me?
(Yes. And everytime you hurt, I hurt.)
But why?
(Because I love you.)
Will you guide me?
(I already am....)
© Cathy Faist 2001
Great work, Cathy
Beautiful poetry, Cathy.
They are very moving, Cathy. I am especially impressed with "In Grays And Blacks." What fantastic use of metaphors and/or similes--whichever the case may be! I'm not sure that I ever completely understood the difference between the two, and, besides that, my memory has made the difference between the two even hazier since I graduated from college thirty-five years ago. LOL! I love "Conversation With Jesus"! God Bless You, Cathy!
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