are the wave

which crashes my shore,

washing my substance far off to sea;


are the wind

which batters my door,

deluging undertow, wearing down Me.


find it odd

that my road cannot bear

the weight which it should, and so you fume;


count it strange

that my countenance wears

a funeral pall, like a runaway tomb.


still deny

what your actions have done,

your heart, calloused over, waxes blind;


will still try

with your bullying run

to make sure that my path’s undermined.

11 comments on “Undermined

  1. I assume the triangles were intentional. I will remember that next year when we do poetry. I tried to make sense of the pattern, but appear to miss something.

  2. You might have been going for visual but it actually worked with the rhythm too πŸ™‚ building up to a crescendo each time and then receding.

    Like the (undermined) photo too.

  3. Petro Neagu says:

    Such a beautiful poem, full of love and emotions! I presume it’s for your beloved husband πŸ™‚


  4. Photographs by Peter Knight says:

    This is too good! This really meant something to me personally as it so effortlessly explained things I felt many years ago! Wonderful words!!

    • melodylowes says:

      Wow. Thanks so much, Peter, for your encouraging and heart-felt words… I guess that’s what connects humans together- we have such a wide range of emotional reactions, yet at their core, no matter the circumstances, we can relate on some level.

  5. It’s a great Shape or ‘Concrete’ poem! I have managed to do 1 of those.

  6. Penescapes says:

    Excellent …!

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