The Cell

The Cell
The Cell

The cell bleak, light-less,
deafening silence wet with a chilled anticipation,
and walls are rough, a bite to the touch
inside my cell, my mind captured.

Allow I did this travesty,
this segregation of reality by fear,
soured dreams in fallen mercy
of a darkness I knew not to reside within.

Yet here I am, swallowed whole,
where shadows cannot hide,
for all they are everywhere,
and light the shadow midday lost.

No sleep nor rest abides this place,
the floor as jagged as my life,
and cold the air that drips into my lungs,
drowning in the lifeless glum of nothingness.

Here mind wanders,
stark flashes of memory light the space,
drifting from fear to paralyzing fear,
my heart clenched in their wake.

And what resolves in this cell,
this my inner fortitude in question,
while harsh reproach does sting with taunting flames,
my wanting flesh, my lost refrains.

One glimmer of light I plea,
one shard to carry my words of regret,
to higher than I be, in this crucible of folly,
this monstrous ineptitude.

In recompense, does a door open wide
to let life once again reside,
a light of discovery that quells all ills of past,
and stand will I to a new day,
quenched by a reconciling thirst.

I stay because I am stubborn,
once single thread attached to life,
the weight too much to hold in place
with all this dark affront,
baggage claim mine alone.

Tony DeLorger © 2017

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Tony DeLorger
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Tony DeLorger

Full time author, freelance writer, poet and blogger since 1999. Twenty one published works, past winner of 'Poet of the Year' on HubPages, 'Poem of the Year' on The Creative Exiles, writer for, Google+, videos on YouTube and book sales on website, Amazon and

4 thoughts on “The Cell

  • July 17, 2017 at 11:43 PM

    May light and love enter within, to lift the spirit. Such powerful phrasing of thoughts and pleas, such great work, Tony.

  • July 18, 2017 at 12:07 AM

    Thanks Phyllis, yes the fleeting darkness is always present, but can never dominate. Take care

  • July 18, 2017 at 9:14 AM

    Light so fleeting, darkness in it’s place can sometimes be our living hell. It tends to surround many of us poets, gripping us, it’s tentacles wrapping and squeezing us, gasping through nightmares that often dwell within our souls. Nicely penned, expressive and very visual, I felt the lick of darkness on my brow. Well done sir, bravo.

  • July 18, 2017 at 6:25 PM

    A little dark but relevant. Glad you appreciated the work Vincent. Cheers!


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