Poems by Ann Christine Tabaka

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True Self

Nameless stands with his back to the wall.
Desperate grappling of an unsettled mind.
Piercing screams emitting from some lost place.
Unsure of any fate, real or imagined.

Looking past a vague blackness,
slowly filling an empty jar on the shelf.
Cardboard dreams crumbling,
while paint peels off in layers of obscurity.

A disease of doubt fills his lungs.
Labored breaths choke out bits of molested truth.
Contrived beliefs smolder
in a cauldron of his own despair.

There is no redemption.
He is a delusion of his own making,
not knowing right from wrong.
Struggling past the dark clouds,
he discovers who he is.

A House in Ruin

Walking past the old dwelling,
looking in through doleful eyes.

She is an abandoned house,
tenebrous windows, crumbling

walls. Visions of the past haunt
her rooms, as she combs through

the disarray. A dark shadow
lurking in the closet evokes images

of some forgotten past. Peeling
paint, chipped plaster, her joints

are creaking hinges. Her mind, a
cobwebbed attic peppered with

incoherent words. She wades
through the rubble of her own

demise. A house that has stood
the storms of time. Age demands

its toll. Turning to walk away, the
once beloved house is left in ruin.

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Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry, has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from numerous publications. She lives in Delaware, USA.

1 COMMENT

  1. Ann Christine Tabaka has virtually come out of nowhere in the last 3-5 years and keeps climbing the ladder of poetry success. She works very hard at her craft and has appeared in my poetry Anthologies in two separated books. Congrats.

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