Badlands

He left her in the garden.

With new sunglasses he chased
bright orbs

traipsed through endless
fields of want-

ing desire,
he plucked
every flower.

Now, he squints
sunburned
in badlands
of stone

with shriveled skin
and a

pockmarked
soul

he counts
ashen aches

alone.

Photo by Todd Trapani on Pexels.com

A quadrille for dVerse where Sarah hosts and asks us to write a poem of 44 words with the prompt word ash or some form of it.




Published by Tricia Sankey

Plays with words in her free time.

43 thoughts on “Badlands

  1. What a change in one’s journey from chasing bright orbs and wanting every flower. The sadness is palpable with the counting of the ashen aches alone.

  2. Soo utterly gorgeous! I love the contrast between traipsing through endless fields of want and ashen aches.. you capture “what was” and “what could have been”.. so well! 💝💝

  3. Ah, the Badlands. Clever work here, all. Regret, ash, loneliness – all things I treasure and hold up as beautiful and sad. I am content.

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