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.




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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