My upcoming release – Killing Instinct – takes on the themes of justice, revenge, and vengeance. I wanted to know how people felt about these issues, so I asked for anyone willing to share his/her thoughts here on my blog. Today I’m honored to share my space with Sheri Wilkinson, a woman who inspires me each and every day. Sheri is not an author in the traditional sense. She writes from the heart, for herself and not for publication. Today, though, she is sharing some of her poetry with us. Writing has tremendous healing powers. Granted, it can’t cure disease. But it can soothe the mind and spirit. Sheri bleeds her emotions onto the page (or screen) and through her words she’s able to stay strong. I hope that, by reading her words, you’ll see that strength shine.
My Name is Sheri Wilkinson: I was born and raised in Chicago Illinois. Getting tired of the hustle and bustle of big city life, I decided to move to small-town U.S.A. I now reside in Princeton, Illinois with my Husband, daughter, dogs, reptiles and birds. I have a love of reading from as long as I can remember; I would read anything I could get my hands on. I recently started writing reviews on all the books I read, and some day I hope to have the courage to write my own story.
I am a Crohn’s disease survivor and consider myself a Crohn’s Warrior. Although there is no cure, I am always open to spreading the word and advocating awareness of this often heard of but little known disease.
Verbally abused no more
Your words are like daggers straight through the heart
Bitch, Loser, Useless, you Worthless Whore
I try to block out the voice as I run and slam the door
In a drunken rage you curse and babble about
Not much longer and I will snuff it all out.
You say what you want, I know your game
You are the one who holds all the shame
If I had a gun, a weapon or knife
I’d cut out your tongue, go ahead try to put up a fight
Sleep darling dear, close your eyes tight
Say a last prayer, for this is the last night
No more drunken words, arguments or fights
As I softly approach the bedroom door
Listening and hear your drunken snore
I stand for us all, the victims no more.
The pills are there and a pillow too
What a tough choice which do I use?
To my astonishment he wakes in a daze
Here babe take a little sip, soon you will be my Bitch
Secretly the pills in drink I do slip
I watch as you close your disgusting eyes
Won’t be much longer, freedom is near
The breathing is shallow not much longer I know
The last breath is finally known
It is time for you to go.
Hell holds a place for those like you
Do I feel the guilt for killing you?
Not a chance, as I smile inside
It was your turn, you had to die.
Ask Me No Questions, Tell Me No Lies
Fool me once, shame on you
Fool me twice , shame on me
I am not blind I can see
A lie is a lie, no matter how small
If you can’t be honest, don’t talk to me at all.
I am too old for childish games
If I were to play, I’d play to win
I have given and given with nothing to gain
What a pity what a damn shame, but
I am being honest it won’t happen again.
So take your lies to someone who cares
It used to be me, but she is no longer there
I have self respect and pride
I won’t be your tissue to use and toss aside.
The Jurors Decide
Last call for alcohol the bartender yells
One last shot he has to gulp down
Your keys Sir please, she pleads
He pushes her hand and dangles the keys
He rises stumbling, nearly falling down on the ground.
Starting the car to head across Town
Swerving and dozing but doesn’t see it coming
She screams; he tries to hold her down
The noise is so loud, sirens; flashing lights nearing
A jumbled mess of metal and glass.
He wakes in a bed with strange people around
They didn’t make it, was the only sound
What happened he asks the lady in white
Only one survived it was his wife
Baffled and confused he goes to sleep.
Weeks pass and time for the trial
Dressed in a suit, yet still in denial
The prosecutor utters her words, “No excuse he is a murderer!!”
Who does she speak of, it cannot be me
I did not kill anyone; this is all a bad dream.
The gavel goes down; the judge calls the jury
Please read what you’ve decided
Guilty as charged, he took two lives
What is she saying, I see the wife
With tears in her down her face she cries
As they take him away she looks in his eyes
Guilt and despair is what he feels, but all he hears
Is the wife, You took their lives, my husband and son
For me Justice has been served, it is done.
I hope you’ll take the time to connect with and get to know Sheri.
Do you write poetry, for yourself or to share?
What are your best coping strategies for dealing with stress?
Thanks for reading.