"From the Cradle" is an award winning poem, and is being published in a book that is due out this spring.  I wrote it from the experience of spousal abuse.  "Demon of the Night" was hard for me to put out there, but in doing so I released some deamons within.  "My Own Prison" is about what we hold inside from abuse.  My story is a long one, and from the cradle the abuse started.  But I have overcome most to go on and live a halfway healthy life.       -------SunRae

From the Cradle By SunRae, Copyright 1999  I walk the path of Thorns My feet bloodied from the Scorn Holding onto my exposed Lifebeat I cry out, with sacrifice, I retreat Fallen on sacred, bruised Knees Defeated from the blows, I beg Please Stripped naked from the lash Of tongue In a birth position, I huddle, You've won Ice water runs thru veins of Steel I reach out for you,but you Don't feel I speak to you with tear filled Eyes Pass over a mouth filled with Lies There is no need, you can not See The tear you have created in the heart Of me.

Demon of the Night By SunRae Copyright 1998 When the moment is right, IT takes away all innocence and trust. Mixtures of saliva and alcohol, Beggings of forgiveness, harsh threats, all invade a child's mind. Seers the soul murky grey, There is no santa or tooth fairy. Reality keeps sleep from my eyes. Watching for the demon that calls itself love and steals my soul in the night. It's disguise is an adult form, Spurting Daddy's good girl. Silencing my lips with more hurt than I can endure. Quicken Mystic!  Take me away to green, peaceful pastures, wild flowers and freedom. The demon almost breaks thru but you take me further into the forest.  Protecting me from The demon of the night.

My Own Prison By SunRae Copyright 2000 In the shadows Of a darkened soul I linger there foreboding told Tolling bells of doom and gloom Let me out of this darkened room I scratch the walls My fingers bleed Extracting hands from velvet shroud My heart blood, racing pulsing fast White waxen images, pale in contrast. Secrets speak of mystery When hidden lies are burnished Keeping locked the doors of hell A tortured memory of one's own past Society's boundaries leave them aghast Do your pennance Serve your time Don't expose those who were unkind Leave the cave of darkness unatoned Don't let them hear the anguished moan Wash my feet, drink the blood Break the bread, lift the veil Expose the soul, who is who? Do you know? Keep the faith if you can Turn your back on the sins of man

Page:  1, 2, 3,

Back To Poetry

Back To Gallery

Back To Directory