I cried when my poetic rhythm fled,

Moaned at the loss of fluidity and glossary,

But then I remembered;

Carefully comprehended…

The fires I drank that led there,

The swamps of despair and desolation which changed me,

And then the new voice was worth it

A tone spoken and written with pride,

A rhythm worthily acknowledged;

And thus I spoke “thanks”,

Smiling gratitude grimly.

No longer mincing words through gritted teeth,

Nor saving feels’ thro’ fettered tongue;

There was freedom, and there is liberty;

And so while I mourned the death of the tone

– grumbling at the change of pace-

I embrace it,

and flaunt it.

Kadeen Nichelle Oksana Waldron.

November 10, 2013.

A Contemplation Upon……

I watch him smile

It feels like the world has been lit up

He laughs

And secretly I’m pleased.

Souls such as his

Should never be touched

By the hints of darkness and loss.

I smile to myself


Pleased as punch,

Sweet as tea,

Nothing is better than the smile of a friend.

Brown eyes blink back at me

Honey coloured in the sun;

Sweet, succulent honey

Marred by bitter- tasting thoughts

A momentary lapse

And shadows float

Slowly behind those darkened beams

Reality returns, the shadows clear

Once more the golden sun-shine plays

Dancing between those honey rays.



No mirth behind his laughter

A look of vulnerability

Crosses those stubborn brows.


You laugh at the mention of the word

Yet I can see the secret fears inside

The ones that make you shake

The ones that sully your dreams;


Another laugh to you.

Only the living need such things.

Isn’t that what you whisper behind that smile?

Senseless distractions

Veer you closer

Closer to the end.

Le Fin.

The edge of the cliff.

How long before you let go?

How far before the crash?

I stretch my hand out

Hoping that you grab on

I promised I’d be your friend forever.

Swore to myself that I’d build those rails along the cliffs;

But what’s the need to stop you?

Isn’t that what your words imply?

We stand along the edge

You and I

The only rope

A bond of a friendship

And of  love.

I stretch my hands

Offering the lifeline

My eyes beg that you take it

My words scream to you jump.

I step away

Watching from afar.

Precious friend

Close to the heart

Maybe nearest to my soul.

Pearls of wisdom

Flow from your lips

Covertly proffered between jokes and hints.

The warm sun caresses your face;

We look at the cliff

Dark clouds fly quickly in

Eerie sounds cross the ocean’s waves

Rain drops touch our skin

Warm breaths puff along the freezing air.

You look at me

Cold waves call

A promise of  fatal embrace.

The edge seems closer

A question plays vividly on your face.

Like an open book

I read the soundless query

“Take the rope? Step over the edge? Surrender to the waves?”

I wish I could gift you the knowledge

The secrets that would help

But we both know

You must learn them for yourself.

As the wind whips your hair around your face

A memory enters my mind:

I see the walls that once existed

The crumbled bricks that once protected

The silent figure that stands before me.

Ruins, broken glass

All still valiently attempting

To care a pain-filled heart.

With one blink

The image is gone

But the forlorn howls of a lone wolf

Still haunt

From behind those shattered walls.

I offer you the rope

The precious cord of friendship

The gentle binds of love.

We both look

At the darkness that lies below the cliff

Just one question left to answer

Just one statement left to make

Two choices stand before you

I give you my hand,

You look at the edge.

Kadeen Nichelle Oksana Waldron

Thursday, March 15, 2012.

*long overdue contemplation, btw promise I’ll write a happier contemplation later


How Do I Cry?

How Do I Cry?

Tears sparkle between my lashes
As downcast eyes search the barren, dark sky.
Trails of memories float swiftly by
On the cold winds of the lonely night,
Covered in dense, grey clouds.

Pain stabs at my heart
With each breath of my lungs;
Each beat of my heart;
Each tear that never falls;

For every moment that I hurt
and never cried,
For every agony that I faced
and never screamed,
For every wound that never healed,
But opened again, and again with searing pain.

Despair fills my soul
As I try so hard to cry.
But how do I perform a skill
I have never learnt?
I can’t shed a tear for each time I felt ashamed.
I can never shed a tear for each memory
That perverts my soul.
I can never undo the single stitch
Of one solemn, pear-shaped tear
Never fallen.

How do I unravel the thread
Of saved tear-stitches so long ago made?
How do I release the renting wail of cloth
never torn?
How do I spoil the weaving spent so long
In creation?
How do I unwind the very case
That protects?
Tell me,
How do I cry?

Kadeen Nichelle Oksana Waldron
Tuesday, September 27, 2011