Twice Told Tale

The rook of death, the look of death, exists
Aside, outside, the light of eyes and life
That linger long and longer till the wick
Extinguishes. All fire is bright until
It’s not. Until the burnt up wick crumbles
At just a touch, to not be burned again.
Why would it burn? Death only happens once.
Thank God. Thank God. Imagine death visits
Every decade. Yearly. Monthly. Daily.
Hours and minutes. Seconds even. Just death
Rolled into one after other. And back
To life again. Both ends a candle burnt,
Exploding like the sun. A thousand suns
Creating life their own, each eye that stares
The look of death, the rook of death, sans end.

How boring! Cage the cosmos just this once.
Kaleidoscope it is. I saw a girl
Child speak the same cadence her mother did.
Life begets life more ways than one. More days
Will come, more children born, more tongues
That twist the old to new. A new anew.
I think I grasp vociferous inklings
But that’s just poetry sans beginning.

The end is ended. Beginnings begin.
The turgid flow of time leaps out to fill
My cup. I'm Hades. No, I’m Thanatos.
I am Mercy. I am the final bolt
That ties the belt that tightens galaxies.
I am the she he wanted to be we.
You are a rapture ruptured deliciously.
We are chess pieces in celestial games
I am the rook who can only move straight.





Poetry by Sameen The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 16 times
Written on 2026-08-03 at 02:58

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Death can happen more than once. It can happen every day. Little deaths that linger. It seems to me that while I have been away from Poetbay you have grown quite old. Don't accept that before your time. But your work as always is very good.
2026-08-03


arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
Loving the poem's central cosmic chessboard metaphor! In fact, I was writing a pawn and rook poetic tussle several weeks ago, but it lay on a dust heap waiting to be picked up again and dusted off. I also adore the idea of death being singular, final and mercifully unrepeatable-such a simple beauty of passing on. the flip that death imagined as happening repeatedly as a recurrent cosmic boredom in an endless cycle is astounding as well. Tickling also, is the visual of a candled dynamite lighted at both ends! Superb. In the end, a multifaceted structural necessity that though of limited movement is a tumbler mechanism of a larger design.
2026-08-03