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These Prose Poetry Loss poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Loss. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Loss poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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In seeming innocence you lie upon the warm ochre about the edges of the dust-strewn street, a remnants of larger issues, crushed to just the right size by a killing blow. Before the mob merged, before cat calls raised the hairs on the back of her neck, she had been of a favorite pet, a cherished wife. A mother now lays dead, brought down by the bloodlust of the men around her. Today, the stones are coated rust-red with the blood as the of women of Iraq are laid low by their husbands, sons, and fathers.
He stands proud and strong, this kilted warrior head held high against the unending pain of a heart born out of sadness for the loss of those who came before him and thoughts of those who would continue on when he himself was no more. Proud men one and all vows made, till surrendered in death to defend that which was their birthright, the very land upon which he now stood. The call to battle though long since silenced came from within his very heart and soul blood of the ancient ones raged in his veins his sword by his side...shield upon his back he stood ready to charge into battle to do what was expected of him since birth to fight as those before him fought without fear, but with a strength only a battle hardened warrior knew and understood.
I bent down to pick up a penny from the frozen ground. I could smell myself, the acrid stench of sweat and soot, the taint of vapored vagrancy that marked my movements, masking me from the reality that used to be. I hate me and what I am, more than you could ever think to, but more so becuase you do, with your limp laughter and scared stares. I never knew my life never needed me to know it could all go away in a single day. I see it all through dirty windows draped in singed eyelashes and gutter grime, the pathetic gazes from afar as another afternoon of sale shopping and shoe sizing is ruined by my appalling appearance. "How dare you be here! What's wrong with you?" "Go get a job you junkie, you slob, just jump a bus so you can't disgust us with your sewer shoes and hard luck blues. You deserve the dirt and a kick in the teeth from the steel-tipped toe of a jackboot too. No one wants to see a scummy sack of crap like you, bending down to pick our scraps off the frozen ground." The helping hand of man slaps the taste of humanity from my mouth with each volatile volley of acid arrow analogies angrily slung and fired furiously from the bows of bastard businessmen and bleach blonde bimbos. My weary wounds fill with the sea-salt of sarcastic statements and unflattering finger gestures from frat boys as I bend down to pick up a penny I found on the frozen ground. "Head's up means luck," Abe smiled at me, and suddenly my thoughts began to run differently. I took a long look at the lingering light of one of the sweetest sunsets I had ever seen, and the simplicity and majesty washed over me. There was no use in listening to abuse and accusations and obtuse observations any more. I was being shown a door. Wrapped in the warmth of the amber and amethyst glow, I finally smile for a little while and close my dirty windows against the icy winds of waning words. Tomorrow, someone will bend down to pick me up from the frozen ground.
I Shall Never Love Anyone Like You My heart ache as I watch you fall for another.The pain hurt so much I felt sick.I didn't have the courage to tell you my feeling I din't have the courage to tell you what my hearts feels.But I can't refuse to watch you fall into he hand of another.May i blind myself may i break my own heart may i give relief to the feeling that I had when i could no longer hear your laugh no longer see your smile and no longer feel your touch.To me being alone and feeling nothing is worthless I shall miss what I have lost but this I have done to protect what little shard of my heart remains.You feel another never knowing my feeling for you.but it fine now for I shall never love another like I loved you.
Oh to be just a friend To laugh, joke and play with you Is not something I know how to do Oh how I wish it were For it'd sure eliminate All this pain I feel Sometimes it happens That starting off fun Turns into something real And what was meant to make you laugh Turns into tears That seem to take Life's breath away Leaving you to feel Like there's so much left to say If only this, if only that If I only could, if you only would So many tricks of the mind As we try to find Justification for holding on To what should be freed So we can move on Yet we hold out hope In each accidental hello That tides will turn Though they have long washed away It's just the way of life And how love burns Until we learn The difference in what we feel And that which is real
The Sky Wept Unendingly with Snow: His thoughts in a Frenzied attempt at Normality, Clung to the idea of a Priceless Freedom. Striving Forward, splinters of Ice cut and Maimed Revealed patches of Flesh; Each Sting a Reminder. A Cascading Avalanche of Memories Swept him Into the past, amidst Those he Could Remember. Each, a diminishing aspect of his weakening Internal Clock; The Gears, a Rusted Brown. The Day diminished with him, His clock struck Twelve. An Inescapable Crossing of Thin Ice, Half-Way across, The Gears Halt. The Ice Gives Way. The Sky Weeps Unendingly with Snow.
Today, I had a chance to ask his widow, Laurie, about this story. She confirmed that it did happen, and he came home from work that day excited, and told her and their 3 daughters about the event. And sure enough, shortly thereafter, the song became a hit on the radio, and M.T.V., in those ancient days when they actually played music. This news brightened my day considerably, and I'm happy to share it with you; so when you next hear that song, remember my good buddy, Mark Trotiner, the uncredited genius behind it. tom bell
When I was young, I would mock the raven, Never dreaming her harsh call was a cry Across the water to the castle of her brother King Bram, the Raven, ruler of the British Isles. Never did I dream of the destruction That would follow this desperate plea Sent upon the wings of a blackened crow. When I was young, I thought childhood Would last forever; secure in my father's care, Content in the loving arms of my mother, Never did I dream of the devastating war That would follow this messenger of our doom Carried across the seas to inflict upon our land A war of vengeful purpose and contempt. When I was young, peace prevailed in our land; Our King was just and beloved by his people. Then came a marriage, an alliance between Ireland and England. Queen Branwen; Discontent, lonely, hungry for power, Hated by her court for the intrigue And bloody sanctions imposed upon all Who did not obey her sanctimonious whim; Queen Branwen, beautiful daughter of England. When I was young, I stood beneath The blasted pine, looking up at the black bird As she screamed out her litany of wrongs, Watching as she lifted her wings to soar across the water. My father, general of Ireland, fell upon the shores Fighting to repel Bran's vengeful warriors; My mother, condemned by her beauty Fell among the vanquished women. When I was young, I did not fear the raven; Now I live in the court of the Raven King, He, who conquered my people for naught as his sister Queen Branwen, the White Raven, took her life And walks now, shriven and pale, among the graves Of the fallen warriors; forever singing her lament Of sorrow and regret; far too late, far too late. When I was young, I believed in the goodness of men. Now I am old; my raven hair is streaked with silver. The voice of Bran echoes through this palace As he cries out exhortations to his conquering soldiers; As he cries for peace and fellowship in his land. When I was young, I would mock the raven; Now I am old and have harnessed the power Of the raven's call. I cry to my people for vengeance; I wait for their rescue, as I haunt the halls of the Raven King. [Loosely based on the legend of Bran, the Raven King of England and Branwen, his sister, who was married to the king of Ireland. It is said that King Bran speaks still in England through the cries of the raven.] {by Deb Radke -- written for the contest 'Among the Dead'}
The river flowing tumble of snow jackets the buildings and the road on the last twilight of 1998. As the sky is slowly draped by darkness and coolness, there I am on the coldest loneliest walk of my life. All around, I can see some dancing colored lights. The houses spells the happy shadows of families. Some sharing a meal. Some laughing out loud near their Christmas tree. Some on the middle of a party. Christmas carols flying free on mid-air like: "...But heaven surely knows That packages and bows Can never heal a hurting human soul..." With only a coat, long thick black hair kissed by snow and some old worn socks to warm me, I traverse the street-- finding, finding a place I can call home. About six days ago... I was also with my parents, so happy, though we only share some bread and cheese plus porridge that Christmas day. Me and my parents hugged every night allowing me to stand the icy nights of December under the roof of our wooden worn-out home. My parents though they can't read nor write, they diligently work day by day for our needs specially mine. I wasn't given any gift nor we can't everyday eat some meat. However, my days with them are filled with fun-loving memories. Not until... a monstrous fire eat voraciously our home and three other houses nearby. My father though old with arthritis carried me fast as he can to a safe place and so my mother but --- father ran back to the house to save some of our things but unfortunately... The roof of our home fell. The fire so ferocious swallowed everything including my father. My mom and I dealt with this pit of tragedy as one but later I saw my mother slowly, slowly crumbling down. She more than me is slowly falling down faster. Her lamp of hope blown out. And not long, past six on the same day my mother died. Hence as the surrounding gets cold so is the the life of me gradually reaching the freezing point. --------------------------------- ***Inspired by the story: The Little Match Girl by H.C. Andersen and with some lines from the song: "My Grown Up Christmas List" by K. Clarkson ©O. E. Guillermo Sponsor Debbie Guzzi Contest Name A Christmas Tale Placed 2nd 08:33 pm, December 17, 2014
Somebody's Baby, lie still Embalmed in pure white cotton, Cocooned securely, like the babe in arms within the shroud. Seraphim cavort no more upon a form once touched with shades of youthful innocence. Somebody's Baby, be sure. Your time for dreams now spent, No future beckons only time captured frame by frame, Frozen in vulgar technicolor; Close Up; Explicit, depicting genre yet unclassified; The epic over exposed. Somebody's Baby, be silent. Grey and gnarled imposter in the cot Metamorphosis contrives a landscape dry and gnarled. No more seductress of tender ministry; Solitary, silently; endures the travesty Of human demise.
He searches her face, scarcely remembering a time He did not know her; seeing now her dark eyes Surrounded by age and closed against the pain. He searches her face, remembering the first time he saw her Stepping lightly across the river carrying the basket filled with berries. He searches her face, remembering for a moment the sparkling defiance Brought about by the choice she made for love. He searches her face, scarcely daring to hope her eyes will clear And she will know him again, know him as once she did when their love was new. He searches her face, willing her to come back, To lose the demons that return again and again to steal her power And shut her away from him. He searches her face, not wanting to look away, He softly speaks her name, Gimewanookwe, remembering the first time He whispered her name in love. He searches her face, smoothing back the graying hair, stroking the lines of pain, Feeling the faint, weak pulse of her courageous heart. He searches her face, he speaks her name again, Gimewanookwe, she whom I love, Gimewanookwe, Rain Woman. He searches her face, willing her to open her eyes, willing her to remember And rise up from this bed, rise up and be healed of this crippling fever. He searches her face, praying for a sign, praying she will return to him As she was before the white man's illness. He searches her face, wondering where she will go when she passes from him, For he knows she is nearly gone; he takes her gently in his arms. He searches her face and hears the first drops of rain falling softly upon the quiet land; He knows what he must do. He searches her face as he gently lifts her from the bed; she weighs no more than a child. He wraps the blanket tightly around his only love and carries her out into the night rain. He searches her face as he lays her down on the grass beside the garden. Rain falls softly on her face; the quiet touch of God He watches her face; her eyes widen and brighten. Once again he searches for life, then softly whispers her name, Gimewanookwe, Before he gently closes her eyes. {In Honor of Constance, the Rambling Poet, in gratitude for inspiring this poem with her contest 'Rain'.}
Oh love, why is it by your touch our soul's happiness withers away? Why do you corrupt our innocent hearts with your love? Our innocence is lost, our carefree days are over. You enslave us with chimerical hopes and make us suffer the loneliness of reality.
And the westerly wind, Will blow a sea of waving grass And the sea's fine mist Will breathe drops like dew And the sinking suns Will cloak the sky's horizon And the moons of Autumn Will beckon the golden fertililty of the harvest And the violet tinged edge of night Will cry for the white bursting of the stars And the carved thrust of the mountain range Will challenge the forever yielding blue And the hovering tunes of the dawn's awakening Will mimic the lullaby of my dreams Rise
"A Man's best friend is his dog" The phrase receives little refute Anecdotal history alone settles any dispute but he's just a dog all he needs to be is cute Trustworthy loyal and dyeing to please in return asking only to sniff around the trees checking if other dogs crossed their i's or dotted their t's You bring him home because he is oh so adorable Now that you've stepped in it it's oh so horrable making matters worse your mutt is now incorrigible your dog will figure out how to pass the time away waiting for you to come home even if it takes all day you've had to toss the things he's trashed away You know all he wants to do is play you break out the treats and teach him to sit and to stay but this is not why he waited for for you all day -but OK walking and fetching may be good clean fun but long legged dogs really love a good run understanding dogs is not as easy as it seems dogs like people take some things to extremes We soon discover our dogs are a lot like us so get to know him well and don't make such a fuss In Memory of our beloved Samson see related poem: Tale of the Dog That Licked Me
Trapped in a perfect world, what does time mean? Wait, nothing is permanent in this wicked world. Stay or go. Which way did you decide? Is that your hand reaching out to me, Shall I grab your wrist; wait, this is fine. The sweet scent of timelessness circles over my head spinning me heedless. Moods float keeping my goodness in place; there, now I can see your face floating on the canvas circled with a brush in all the grand colors. The thrush of ochre, gray and sand. Tips of green highlight the tops of trees sitting against a sky splashed in blue hue. I feel you there pulling my hand spinning me around and around through years of you and me, burning candles from the heart, aroma swerving through the soul. We set apart, not going somewhere flames burn to keep you a part of the great mountain that only you could see. I wake in scented timelessness every day.
Her hair.....So blonde The scent of it....I love it...it trapped me. Her full breasts temped me To do bad things...together We danced.... At night and again in the morning... Amsterdam....Christmas... And New Years....just a soldier We did things...together.... She was from Los Angeles... My home town... I knew her name But a plane she took.... In the morning.. As she kissed me good bye... This was our moment She said to me..... My one week.... Before I die. Years later I read her daughters poetry About a man her mother once knew.... He was a gentle man He made me laugh as I Never knew I could..... He was a soldier.... A man.... Who simply loved me For the woman He saw.....
Without him beside me, my future seems so bleak, being naïve, i was told he was not meant for me. Ignoring this world of cruelty and its power tear our world apart. Now sitting i ponder why I being so naïve from the very start My tomorrow will never come, for I will forever live in his yesterday. Turning my back on the one who loved me in every single way. Not even time can heal a shattered heart, but I guess somewhere in his heart he loved me after all Many times I've dreamt of him and unable to hide my tears, As I reminisce that sad day I decide we go our separate ways, I pinch myself, as in a dream, knowing it is not true, How could I let go of such a man, no woman would ever do. I remember the look in his eyes when he dropped by and found my note. Pain crippled on his face leaving such a heart in pain, as he read along "My heart is with you but I will forever be alone, never will you and I share a place of our own. Rejected by all to cross the color line thinking my love is blind". If again such a love should come my way, I'd break free of those dark days I'd confess my true heart and reject the rest and break through this racial barrier and fallow my lovers path wherever he lead to ease this heart that beat to grieve.
There's a void, now Where once a steadfast heart beat time The soul in perfect harmony with life's uncertain pulse With those who clambered eagerly in solace or in joy To scale that mighty pinnacle The Rock, within the bosom of the family There's a void, now But marvel at the structure, the firmness of the ground beneath The strata richly layered with wisdom of generations past A fault free seam constructing firm foundations Binding those within the bosom of the family There's a void, now A hollow cavern echoing the anger and the pain Trust time; it has no fear of finite elements The source of unremitting pain Within the bosom of the family There's a void, now So fill the emptiness and catalogue the memories Harvesting the richness of their meaning The fullness of the seed sown long ago To bloom forever within the bosom of the family
My face in these eyes; Shining towards the sky all the time My shape is a novel with thousands of chapters. My hair is a forest of thoughts. My eyes are decades of worry. My lips are opened door. My ears receive the howls of the wind. My nose is a statue looking for lost spirit. My body is too weak as Hercules was not, My heart is arrested there searching for freedom. My back is affected by the past as an ancient wall. My hands are wings of bird have just escaped from a trap. My feet are quickly driving me towards the future. To nowhere I'm running without fixed level. I'm sentient enough with my semblance. *** My face on the mirror; I watch a tidy man's scene with many interpretations. Have a gaze at; it is deep and brightening. Realize the motivation: What really goes on with this reflection? There would be no disturbance; Just give that white pen. I will write about your beauty. I would show some reality about this mood. How mysterious are the man and I? Do not take us with you in this heat time, Do not push us inside your dreams. You will see such dusk, Due to the night is so dark. And I'm just a night bird. *** My face on the murmuring stream; Wet and dry, it is alternative all the time. Do you like this race? All this vitality is carelessly being wiped away, Looking forward the oblivious chair Who has the key of stopping the tragedy? It is forevermore, a simple destiny- Not imagination but messy It causes a bit horror inside the iron core. What is beyond the mountains? The needles in the smooth path are confusing the soul. The soul is still running wild under lovely trees. Trees are inside scary jungle. Though, there is an exit. I'm fixed in my way, And I'm fixed in my way.
It all started so well-life that is, under the cloudy rainy skies, under the clear blue skies. The masters had gone-hope bekoned-now we could do it ourselves, so we taught; we, the renaissance generation. But alas, we tried too much, too soon. And before we knew it, the skies had turned crimsom red- red from the blood of the fallen that the earth had taken. We also lost our innonence because we taught we were ready and could do it better. Realised we were not. But really the wasted generation? No, was the answer. Or the lost generation? No, again. Maybe, the wasteful generation.
What's the point in living When death awaits What's the point in breathing When you can not feel the swelling of your lungs What's the point in love When you heart only aches What's the point of being in a state of awareness When you are not really alive What's the point in doing your best When it is rarely acknowledged What's the point in making all happy When you are sad What's the point in smiling When your heart bleeds And that colgate smile never touches your eyes What's the point in anything?
A soldier fighting for what he hopes is right, trying to make peace with himself... holds on to a most understated event- the sunrise and pins all his hopes on to it. Its not yet dawn... The night has ended. A soft glow arises in the eastern lands beyond, Soft, like a mother's touch Pink, orange,gold,and red all born out of the same deep night Black desperate sadness reaches out to taste silent delight. The colour of hope... The taste of survival returns Parched throats,blood stained hands... Another day to hope, to follow the valiant heart... I pray, someday, to make a new start. We fight for peace, we kill for you... Every time we kill, its only something inside us that dies! Its a sad story, its our silent resigned sacrifice. The day dawns, amidst the dead and the dying... Today I am on the battlefield, crying For the men I have lost, and myself too But the night has passed and its a day closer to the end, I hold on to my prayers, silent and few.
Cold, callus, crying, shivering, and covered in sweat. Wondering what has happened. Not yet understanding this fate I've met. What of a guy that stumbled around, just trying his hardest to show he'd been found, after all he had just been purchased from the human pound. That promise to you. Man I broke it. I told you Id stop, and for a time I did, but that stuff two blocks away, my will power just wasn't work-n. My wrist watch again broken. Always from the look on my face, you could tell Id been smoke-n. You tried. You tried so hard, but the mind wasn't mine. only a shell of what used to be, all of me you were trying to find, and I didn't get this till my alone time. I was pushing. You were pulling. Then it all pushed you away. It was all down hill from here, so naturally you couldn't stay. I sit here so sad for the way you must of felt. Let alone how you dealt. Ill never understand how I could do this to you. You're so prefect, even your aura dances in ambient light. You're the best friend I could of had, and that leaves me really mad, that the rest of the world may never know what we had. The thing is I know now, that you loving me. This really was Much more, than I loving you. ~Ha,Turned around this insecurity was always mine.~
Return the happiness you have taken from me If you will not share it with me than it has no place within you. Return the happiness for my life has no meaning no beginning or ending without it. Return the happiness and try to remember how you once loved me and how sweet and sincere your words fell from your lips. Return the happiness for if you ever loved me even the slightest bit you will allow me this one final gift... ~This form is called: Anaphora~
A happy little girl. Bright colors and sunshine. She grows older and enters middle school. She is teased constantly. Not the right hair. Not the right clothes. It hurts, oh God it hurts. She forgoes colors. Black and gray are good enough. She gets older and older still. High school; a new place, new adventure. Dare she hope...new friends? Foolish, foolish girl. New friends? New enemies...new pain. Dyed hair...what color? Black. Black hair, black clothes...black heart. Poetry, music, the only escape. Dark, Pain, Despair...Destroyed. Heart bleeding and inside she's screaming. but no one sees. No one hears. Alone...so alone. Who would understand? No one. Dying inside. Drowning in pain bottled up. Invisible. Misunderstood. Who is she? Who is she!?! Screaming, bleeding, dying. What a waste. That's what she is, a waste of space, a waste of breath. Better off without her. The world's better off. Despised, Destroyed...Death.
Holodomor Genocide Native of Ukraine and Soviet Union, Known once for my independence, Was pitied tobrutal artificial famine, Exporting our grain,and leaving us to die, Declared Kurkul under Stalin's policy, Shipped to remote uninhabited Siberia, Left to die of famine, I was one of the millions, Once the landlords now riches to rags, Ghost of hunger that engulfed us all, Even our innocent kids, Many nights of darknessand severe ache, More in heart than in the stomach, Sun brought no shine, Zero hope as deathdanced around, As if wolves driven from the woods, We ate our own bodies, Every moment souls died a new death, Horrible Helplessness, hue and cry around, Walking amongst corpses, the good were first to die, Cannibalism survived, Could morals stay high ? Survival a mystic miracle, Made to deny any famine in public, Robert conquest termed it 'Harvest of Sorrow' Decree by Parliament proves it worst of genocide! Written October 20th, 2014 On Holodomor In Ukraine in 1928 For contest' Genocide' by Cyndi Macmillan
Dumbing us down no wonder we don't know unaware for so long feeding on what's been eating us "but the bait tastes so good!" we say drooling diabetes down lazy lips entranced by high definition devices all the world's shiny entices and then there's addictions the medications vibrations frequencies they're fingering Mother Earth's atmosphere to seducing mankind with the silence of her screams raping our nurturer as we remain oblivious these elite thugs conducting violence above the law fooling us all
You know there are people that you love in your life, things that you care for deep down inside, you want to keep forever in your time. Can you feel the pain deep inside when they're gone and you realize a little part of you has died. Time goes on but in your heart you know, that things have changed forever in your life. For My friend Polly Hollenback in memory of her wonderful cat named Trouble she had her for 17 years, passed away this last year, we both loved her and We were very sad to see her go.~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have the fury of hell trapped inside. I'm so angry that words can't express how I feel. Nothing in life could have ever told me that these emotions existed. I'm mad at you, at everything you ever stood for. At the very fact that you were so charming and happy in life only to die and leave me alone like you did. Angry at the fact that your death could have been prevented, Drinking and Driving - were you just stupid; careless. Did you think that you would never die? That you were immortal and could defy even God. Well you weren't, I guess you know that now. I still can't believe that your life could be wasted because you were too arrogant to wait till you got home. You should've waited...
Sitting here in the darkness, To afraid to even speak, My heart sunk into my chest, My body felt so weak, Grabbed by the back of my head, Thrown down two flights of stairs, Punch over and over in my stomach, But still you only see a blank stare, Nothing but silence, As I'm dragged acrossed the floor, The only thing thats going threw my head, Is what would happen if I try and race to the door, He grabbed his weight belt, Hitting me in the back as hard as he could, I laid there taking the beating, Just like every other night I would, But this time it was different, I was laying in a puddle of blood, I seen him take off running, He even slipped in fell in the mud, I finally got some relief knowing, that my beating finally ended, But I didnt know this was going to happen, This is not what I intended, I was rushed to the hospital that night, Gave birth when I was only fifteen, 7 months old lived for 36 minutes, His lungs started to crash his breathing was unseen, The hardest day of my life, Was holding my child in my arms, Knowing that he didnt deserve this, He deserved no harm, I blamed myself for many years, Screaming why didn't I fight back? I guess the thought of not knowing, It what I really lacked, I think of him often, How peaceful he shall be, Thats the happiest feeling a mother can have, To have her son be happy and free.
Poor old Sammy warming his tired bones in the morning sun the passing car excited him so he forgot his age and tried to run I got his breakfast ready something easy to chew with an added treat placing his bowl within easy reach in time he comes to his feet to eat I stroke his head and I am moved to reflect on the passing of time In dog years he is as old as dirt surely neither of us are in our prime Yesterday he could run like a little quarter horse doing what a dog does best Today he contents him self with short walks, gentle play and plenty of rest When he barks in his sleep his paws are on the run running and barking in his dream just having fun. He's a Weimaraner in love with a Great Dane her legs go all the way up love is blind and he's out of his league but that would be a beautiful pup As he guards our home all nobel nosed wearing that doggy grin I like to think his daydreams are of things that might have been In Memory of our beloved Samson see related poem: A Man's best friend is his dog
When ever I see the butterflies flying I am reminded of your smiling face, As I see them taking wing into the sky I feel emotions which are never displaced For deep in my heart also live the butterflies As they come to life within my heart each day While I count the many sweet memories of you Which in my thoughts and dreams now stay The sheer brilliance of their many vibrant colors Produce a vivid rainbow deep within my mind Which fills my heart with such an unwavering joy Allowing me to enjoy them for endless times And the butterflies will be my dearest treasure Leaving me never again quite feeling the same For the peace they bring can never be measured As on their wings are gently imprinted your name. Wendell A. Brown, 2011
Waking to murmurs Hum of smooth white noise Or waves slapping rocks Through mirror-like glass I see russet wings Dampened by dewdrops . Walk to the kitchen, my feet soft and bare on tiles cracked, and wish the sea surrounded so sinking floats
What the hell did I do.. This question posed aggressively now in my conscious mind. I bury my head in my knees, and sob relentlessly asking why, and mumbling man you really did it this time. Party at my place he screams, and Man you don't ever stop by. These images scroll the Rolodex of my subconscious side. Try this it will make you feel great! You'll have no worries for at lest the next eight. Doesn't that sound great! That's when it hit me, like a shot straight through the heart. I parted my metaphoric sea shore, my arms, my legs, they are the oars. Swimming through the blue abyss, always watching close for shore. Then little by little always needing more, and more. The hours and days went by, oh my god how I was high. My euphoric mind never pressed for time, no matter the dime. Clouds on the horizon a thunderous sky. It was even getting late, and the moon began to pull at the tide. Looking back I see this was going to be a very long ride. Pushing forward toward the shore, limb for limb, tired and sore. Screaming, hurry up and get here, where out, and have got to have more. Then the lighting began to show it's power, and the wind had the waves in a roar. The rain stinging torn & chapped skin. I began to lose consciousness, now at a merciless Drift. Pulled way out, fast and swift. Their would be few that would adore. As they wonder how long, before I'd wash back ashore. What the hell did I do.. This question, posed aggressively now in my conscious mind.
The wind was blowing when she left the city... I believe it was twenty below... Where she was going she already knew... But... first she had things she had to do... Get rid of the body that was clear.... There were no options, it had to disappear.... The heater was broken and blowing cold air... She could feel the ice, building up in her hair.. She had cleaned up the blood as best she could... As she had hit him hard with that log of wood... All she had asked him, was to light a fire... To take off the chill in the house.... Do it yourself if you are cold...he snapped And while you're at it get me a cold beer...from the fridge.. It was early morning when she finally arrived at the bridge.. This was his favourite fishing spot... She pushed his body off the pier...along with his ice cold beer.. And suddenly began to shiver and sneeze..... Oh well, she said...this too shall pass.. When I get to the Florida Keys.. PS..this is the first in a series..watch for part 2.."gator bait..the dream "
Heroshima Can ewe balance out those two final hits against the lives saved those that would have continued WAR on Asian Soil those days of hell of hurting men caught by bullits and the bayonets? Can just two bombs blasting death be counted as salvation won for all those young boys girls old men women who died instantly in two Atomic Blasts over those two cities of Japan. Nagasaki Heroshima eye have seen the END of time the BOOKS of GOD are open when the Dead Arrive. Arise all sleepers in those Graves can GOD usher in those SOULS into new places now to stay is there a place for JAPAN in Jesus Heaven? For those of us who sinned and suffered radiation burns lost our skins and mortal coils gone some died just screaming out in pain all normal living gone perhaps no time to say your HOLY NAMME of Jesus. Can they live there inside your heaven is it still possible that you forgive them for once upon the time it came to me today that a Just and Perfect GOD adjudges perfectly those in suffering words can not describe no time to utter words of salve; but deeds looked at made right by YOU salvation won given now to all. Eventide has come today to those whom tomb decay whom die threw no fault of there own. Just hit twice dumped down on Killed with anguish very slow. A special place in heaven for all those special people of Japan.
I am what you call a hopeless romantic, But im also a lost lovers cause, my heart belongs to another Yet in my head a love triangle starts to form, the girl I love doesn't love me She holds the heart to another and mine caged to the floor, She isn't afraid to fight for what she wants, not even when it comes to leaving another man torn Trust me she's happy, as that boy holds her heart ever so close Seeing what I shouldn't I smile as I wear my blind fold, Blind to everything around, lifeless staring into air My train of thought running so fast, the second I stop you'll hear a crash Derailing my hope, for ever finding a love so pure & rare Wishing I could hold the hand of the lover who stole my flame, Wish I could change the last days in which we parted ways, Realizing now that we can never be the same Finally saying it out loud as tears run down my face You stole my happiness, as I walked away that day But it's because as of what you said I guessed I changed, Now every relationship has just be the same, No one can seem to bring back that flame, Because a love likes ours comes once in a lifetime Well at least it does to me, But I mean you're happy with who your with I mean I only wrote this as I heard exchanging "I love you" flow from each of your lips.
Tarny was a little bear A teddy bear he be Coat was as white as snow To this we all agree . Tarny was a Christmas gift Given to a lady fair Was sent by her Tarnished Knight How she wished that he was there . Tarny wore a little coat Where pinned upon his sleeve A note from her Tarnished Knight Said "will you read me please " . "Sorry I can't be with you On this Christmas day I know its very hard for you That I'm so far away" . "So I am sending Tarny For you to now embrace I will be there very soon Then I will take his place" . "Tarny has a special gift He'll make your dreams come true Just close your eyes and make a wish You will see what he can do" . Tears now flowed from her eyes Squeezing Tarny oh so tight Closed her eyes and made wish To dream of the Tarnished one tonight . That was some time ago In another Christmas past Once there was hopes and dreams Somehow they didn't last . Tarny now is put away Never sees the light of day Shares a space with odds and ends In box of " things to give away" . Fleece once of snow flake white Now has stains of crimson red Came from a broken heart Oh! how Tarny bled . So if you find a little bear Slightly stained in red May not be a teddy But this Tarnished Knight instead
When night falls it brings rise to my smile and mood, I rush for bed; sleep is the time where I am most alive. I smile into your eyes as I kiss your forehead then your nose and down visiting your lips for an extended stay before once again smiling into your eyes as I pull back. I roll you over, your back now pressed against my chest and I continue to firmly hold your body. The closeness ignites the heat, now open hearts in open hearth we melt; ingot moulds; we are one. One body, one mind; one smile; one love and we at peace sleep. I am in love inside this nightly ritual and dream, when morning arrives and your absence is once again discovered, thus triggering the nightmares clock punch until once again night falls and brings rise.
A new year always brings about reflection. Usually on the past year, but sometimes on many years gone by. Today I find myself reflecting and keenly missing my childhood. Times past that bring warm thoughts of visiting my favorite aunt and uncle in the country. Of waking up in the "blue room" and hearing muffled conversation at the breakfast table or the sweet humming of my aunt working in the kitchen as the smell of breakfast filled the air. Looking out the window to see the girls (white face cattle) grazing in the field. A little slice of heaven to this city girl with a country girls heart. At this time in life where I can see more years behind me than I can in front, the past comes sweeping over me with a great sense of loss. Loss of family, of innocence, of special, irreplaceable moments. But that loss holds beautiful and treasured memories that lent themselves to the warp and woof of the tapestry that was to become my life.
lead my hand o' dear life lead my hand on this land o' dear life, until the end o' dear thought of comfort seed my life feed me not in strife bleed me joy from nine to five lead me a journey of phases a journey of ages to face this germinate in me a corn of survival a history of possibilities a record of living to afford a source to live for this life is a choreographer of life a propeller of existence an economy of spiritual commodities a tear drop of opportunities yet not so many does see its commonalities an event of anomalies and regularities lead me a way o' dear life carry me a sledge on a journey of life a terrain of survival and life a gemstone for many a pentagon of any a model of penny an artwork of joy a string of life on a journey a script of many a stanza of any opn08022012/0106 from: 'journey of life' and 'on a journey', february 2012 >> ntema's unique poetry (nup) http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lead-my-hand-o-dear-life/
The sun seemed to last forever As we walked hand in hand My dad and I together Our feet sinking in the sand His smile was so bright As he looked at me What a beautiful sight Of the ocean we could see The South Carolina sun rays Beat down on our tanned skin Like we would feel it always Like the happiness we felt within The waves crashed on the shore Grazing our bare feet Our footprints not seen anymore As the cool water washed away the heat We made it to the house we rented The beach was right behind The morning always ocean scented Sunset and sunrise will always stick in my mind The week was full of relaxation And sightseeing all around I'll never forget that last vacation Your laughter was a constant sound I wish we would've traveled there At least one more time before it was too late For life has many tragedies so unfair And you can not dodge your fate I will always watch the videos you took Close my eyes as they fill with tears from the memories For you will never again be able to look Or feel that glorious ocean breeze
There is a single rose kept high in the vase of her memories she eyes thee rose with despair and sorrow circles around and walks away. The rose withers and petals fall she comes back but has the same thought. Picks up the withering rose, she starts to dance circles around and around with the rose balanced in her palm. -she stops- she starts to cry and she sees streaks of blood fall from her palm the thorns dig deep her tears reach her collar darkness falls, then drags her deep in it's depths.
I can no longer see past the trees They stand solemn in line. Their dark outline Weeping from the sky. All I can hear Is the faint heartbeat Coming from my chest. It's getting faster As my breaths Become shallower. It would appear That I am choking On the fog. My lungs can no longer take This dense air That's creeping in my mouth And filling me. I start to run Into the forest How far can I go in? Before I'm halfway out The fog chases Until it has consumed Me.
'What is Love?' For someone,its an ocean to dive. For someone,its like honey from hive. For someone,its a song to sing. For someone,its like flying without wing. But to love & to be loved is not easy. As everything is not always well. So what's love,through my pen, i'm going to tell. Once there was a boy and a girl. The girl was cute & boy was nice. Both loved each other a lot, & could understand each others' heart's voice. The boy used to say to the girl, "I am living with no heart. I have given it to you & now you hold my this special part." Everything was good and going fine, But no lovestory is possible without pinch of pine. One day the guy told her, "On me,my parents have good hope. I don't want to disgust them as well as with them,i can't cope. I can't promise you to marry but we will be friends always." The girl didn't complain for anything & with a compelled smile,she says, "My hapiness lies in that everything that makes you and your family to rejoice. I have no issue and always agree with your every decision and choice." Few years later, the boy became a successful one. His parents chose a rich girl, and with her,they married their son. Day after his marriage, when he was unwrapping his gifts, his eyes fell upon a big box, that was packed attractively & hi lifts. On opening that,he found a glass jar, full of blood and a heart in it. Firstly he shocked but started crying after reading the enclosed note chit. Actually,the gift was from his love & it was last note of her life. "Idiot,if your heart will be with me, what will you give to your wife.?" The message from this story that i would like to give. "Never find a reason to love, but be the reason for someone to live. Love is a precious feeling. It never dies if it is pure. its not to get someone but to give up anything for him,make it sure.."
To the death I fear To the lost I sealed Though sorrow be it gone Your loves God was never be wrong Poor love of family tree Lack care of happiness unseen One live coming through One soul passes too I live like a ghost A soul without host Through the night i sing In this part I'm rumbling Fear, please be gone Fear, mend this wrong
Would I rather go too slow, Damp breath feeding the soil, worms to grow, an old mans toil. For me the answer is clear; Though not today and I hope not here – To explode with love and feelings gold – Not too young and not too old Wise enough to see my growth But not old enough to have outgrown My sprit, Fun, this place called home That's how to die A confetti of flesh ruptures the Sky. Feeding the air, water and earth. Why you ask do I care how I die – My love, that is the whole reason - We're here to ask why.
They roam miles over hillsides stride aimlessly cross open plains and grassy fields unseen and silent to all cept' those who see with more then their eyes, hear with more then their ears, and believe with more then their hearts and minds. Twilight,a gray blue haze,settles in quiet, no sound(s) heard but those of time almost forgotten souls lost, blanketed by death foot-steps hushed by time travel now in ghostly silence their destiny, to travel the forever trail. Physical lives long shed in defense of the very ground they are now one with their cries must be heard! always honored never to be forgotten lest their lives were sacrificed for naught. Melody A. Coster
My heart stop sometimes and then it skips beats what is it telling me??? That my life is short and if I don't get you back it will stop completely Come back to me and heal this froze heart of mine take me into your arms and embraces me with this pain Give me that nice and understanding part of you bring the sun into my darkness of love that I have because of you life couldn't be better without use together so open up them windows and let the sun shine in Renew our friendship to inreplaceable pull together the strength of love and forever keep use hole
I need to purge my blood of these shivers, smoke-filled bubbles burst in blood capillaries, an embolysym of you, an embolysym of truth. So much disease carried through an artificial vein.A wire mesh heart that surrounds the tissue, and cuts, and scrapes and tears the flesh thats pulsing there. My iron lung feed me unwell. A binge on sickness that I cannot take back. And with words settling back on the heels of my fingertips, Im ready to be ill. Emesis of b***s***, of treachery. Of indecency, of dishonesty, of facelessness, of cowardice. Will anyone ever read this and understand how a broken heart heals? The maliciousness of untrust and the misuse of of courtesy have eaten away at my regenerated liver. My borrowed kidney is rejected on the operating table and I am drained of all my poisoned blood. So give me a heart outside of my body, a big plasticine box with rubber tubing. And let my eyes see the you drain out of me and the blood of unknown angels be filtered in. I wanna watch every drop be filtered from my collapsing veins, I wanna deflate every organ inside and empty every nerve synapse of memory.I want a restart button and I want a renewable source of energy. I dont want your weak blood in me anymore. I dont needd your tiny bits of protein, your half-formed enzymes. I want anything else. An artificial sense of safety within my reach. So split me down the middle, no anesthesia, the scalpel working inch by bleeding inch. and seperate me from you.
With closed eyes I lay back naked to surroundings and noise, escape. Pencil inside the soft grip a slide show of mind displays beauty, I see each mole, scar, shine and blemish as though touchable live flesh. Knowing the lids of my eyes and mind as the creator and opening my eyes will erase the art. I choose to sit in darkness.
A Story Of How This World Can Bring One To Defeat...... Decrepit agony stumbles upon rain lit streets, an aimless soul wanders......in desperation, he mumbles confusing pain. Lifeless and beat, a need that he resents, he tips the bottle to his mouth, oblivion once again. Brutal words of this world have cast a cloud of gray, in years that have past, a man believed in all the deceivers had to say, devastated, a man falls victim to greed, deceit and wicked games. Inadequate slurs they spoke in vein had slowly become ingrained, and he, he believed. Along the river he sits alone, a lesson for humanity........ ___________ Words can devastate others and end lives, choose wisely....... an aspect of inadequacy, ingrained ___________ CONTEST
Her eyes amused me, slices of January that held April tightly.... she could rain in snow, drop from upside-down skies, and we held tightly to the tears that only appeared on the opposite side of closet doors as we marked our claim on unusual with hand prints that never saw the sun. Two days could have passed underneath us before we blinked, my windows whispered glorious promises but we kept them closed for safety, for the opposition of who we could be, and she knew the secret of every season, she knew how to laugh when bedroom doors... closed. I drew her behind the mirror and we created October across December stars, we became disobedient underneath the glorious names we sang that night for lips speak magic when they pretend to lie and dishonesty was but a kiss away from sunrise. Time stung me come August, come March, come the age of thirty-two, her eyes had been shut for years now and she sunk beneath flowers I am positive would be beautiful enough to photograph had I the courage to glance, but my feet have never crossed the grass that blankets her and roots her promises... tangled beneath tomorrow with a tight grasp on yesterday, and I wonder if the days have yet to fade the color of her hair. It rained in January when I existed miles away, teardrops of memories that fell as softly as the whispers of her name, I closed the bedroom door tightly and listened intensely for the echoes of dishonesty, for she remained there, somewhere, behind mirrors that painted her and the lies that bit my tongue, that reassured me... our hand prints would hide from summer... covered in ice-cream secrets that screamed her pain from a smile, from a foolish wish that spoke us inseparable. Her eyes, blue as October, slapped me, that day, as they painted themselves the secrets girls are never supposed to witness, as they refused to allow April to fall but declared honesty with the beauty that she could never see.
Delicate buds open to the suns touch, warmth and light herald the Spring The beauty of nature unfolds around Us. Walking across the carpet of Cherry Blossom Soft scents and a gentle touch I feel spent blossom on my face and you, in your hair Petals sit atop of your head A crown I say, you smile, A King yet to Find. We part, neither needs to Cry, as we both know, the Samurai say, today is a good day to die
She seemed to be like a portrait... which had fallen from its gilded frame Abandoned... Lying face down on the empty, cold wintry floor. An elegantly created portrait once painted in striking hues of indigo blue. Her eyes told a story of bittersweet, magenta colored sorrows That etched themselves throughout the frail, intricately woven canvas of her soul Over time... Thoughtless hands subtly contrived and manipulated the beauty of her painted portrait Into a resemblance - likened to that of a cold chiseled statue Calloused, careless fingers molded her - lancinating the fragile fragments of her spirit Leaving her heart with the etoliated, worn material - called her life She dreamed of Icarus - soaring down on steel wings Shrouded in cobalt, magenta clouds- with outstretched, feathery fingers... Lifting her up to dance with him in a Stravinsky ballet... As it is was meant to be Not how it was She was a beautiful, delicate butterfly... Bruised by many shadows in her world Leaving her unable to fly away from its thirsting arid rain filled skies It left her struggling to stay afloat in the spring's melting snow Life had bruised her tender skin... Gnawing away like insatiable insects on her delicate pink frescoed soul Leaving her feeling like a fabricated, plastic manikin on display... For all to pose her as they selfishly may Muddied soil was the blood that coursed through her veins Holding her tethered heart in fleshy, lumpy mounds of dark, chocolate brown earth It held her helplessly clogged in the dirt... That descended down in the empty spaces of her soul... Like the muddied strings of yellow, tattered maize That entwined their ragged tassels through her life flowing veins... Choking off the blood she needed to nourish her weakened, hungry heart Mighty winds toppled her willowy, limber tree... Snapping the delicate boughs of her arms As it pulled at the fleshy bark of her skin She stood cold and alone in the cold wintry night... Wrapped only in her naked flesh - with open, bleeding indigo wounds Standing under the icy, mist of the cold, winter moon... Her heart and soul painfully revealed - in shades of indigo blue LadeeAnne~C@2011 Anne P Murray
To the torn page out of Modern day Merlin's book of wizardry, I regret to inform you that you are nothing more than a recipe for tomato soup. You have no enchanted qualities about you, but you tend to brag about where you come from more times than you realize. Dear torn page, haven't you noticed that the he only wondered on your whereabouts when his life was turning quite pale in color, and rugged in shape? Your words of zest, and your smooth direction brought vibrancy into his blue octagonal soul. Probably like how an octopus would feel escaping from a cloud of his own ink. He could breathe again. But you're lost now, and he doesn't care much. You wonder why you were written in the first place if you've only felt what magic you can make once. If there are over 7 billion people in this world, have you ever wondered how many pages in books there might be? Has it ever occurred to you that out of those trillions of pages turned, over half haven't been read at all? Has it ever occurred to you that books have been transformed into toys? Children in schools use you until they grow up and buy iPhones and laptops, and you're left on sitting sideways on some rotting wooden shelf that has nothing more to talk about than how bad of a shape he's in. Has it ever occurred to you that there are mysteries, histories, nursery rhymes, and adventures that have been overlooked because of the simple fact that humans have given up on the great things? Actually, it would seem that giving up is the only thing their willing to give. Your black blood on a papyrus shell just doesn't flow in the mind like it used to. You reminisce on the time when you were the only one that cast a spell on him, and you gave him life again. Now the wizard is off signing autographs and performing shows at Rockefeller Center every first Friday of the month. He uses only spells so basic that he doesn't have to read the step by step instructions anymore. To be honest, the book isn't even used as frequently. I think I even saw a family of dust specks rent a home on page thirty-three last week. But has it slipped your mind, humble recipe? Have you forgotten already of the position you're in? You are a torn page now. So float on by. Let the wind keep you steady.
Figures like shadowed burnt molded clay mimic life As they are cast in the sliver of light that passes Through a crack in the rotted wood of the house slowly Collapsing as days stretch endless under grey or blue of Skies with the sun burning in their hearts beating Like the wings of the robin that kisses The first dew of spring They remember their dreams transparent and watery Like the surface of the lake rippling and catching the sheen Of the moon on a Shakespearean summer night, The crickets lulling with their song, the warm breeze Sifting through the darkness that is broken like shards By the street lights that shine for the lonely nightwalker Or the lit window casting the glow from our home
I know that you are gone but I still hear your footsteps on the walk… your key in the lock…the dog welcoming you home. "What's for dinner?'' you ask "I am," I playfully reply and smile as you sweep me up in a bear hug and I can hardly breathe! Your clothes hang in the closet waiting for your return. I listen to your voice on the answering machine a hundred times a day to prove you are still here. I never imagined when you left me that morning That this would be the last time we kissed.. I never would have let you go. This date will forever be a day of shame and heartbreak The world and I will never forget This September 11th The day the music stopped! Copyright©2001 Beatrice Boyle (All rights reserved)
The touches, tears and cries for help, a child living in fear. Being told never to tell a soul, to ashamed to look in the mirror. Not being able to trust anyone, because of being betrayed. Now haunted by what has been done, praying the memories will fade. Surrounded by many shattered dreams and all hope taken away. Drowning in fear of being violated again, their eyes plead the words they can not say. The memories will always stay with a child buried deep into the mind. A permanent barrier now built within, keeping anything from getting inside.
Some folks believe it. Others do not. The legend told in the Bayou Cannot. The only witness who can swear that it's true, are the creatures who live in the bayou. The owl told the gator, the gator told the frog, about the horror filled night that changed their home in the bog. Far off on the mainland, miles from the marsh, in a large city, where living is harsh. A man's world invention sprang into life. A breath of fresh air to man's world of strife. A new deisel engine, queen of the line, would make it run for the very first time. The sunset limited it was aptly named. Gleamed in the station waiting its moment of fame. Boarded by folks going south, some headed out west, none mindful of anything, but each's own quest. New York to L.A. via the southern run. So it was, the trip had begun. Back in the bog, things were happening too. A barge made its way north with its captain and crew. The day had been hot. The night had turned cool. The fog roiled in, with its blanket of dew. The captain steered his tug, painfully slow, caution was key to safely deliver the tow. All of a sudden there was a scrape and a jolt the barge floated free, not held by a bolt. Panic seized the crew! "We've lost the tow!" "MAYDAY!" screamed the captain over the radio. Amid the chaos and moans of disdain, another great jar, "We've got it again!". Back on land not far down the track the Limited sped with a clickety-clack. Approaching the tressel no one noticed the shake. Who could blame the poor folks; the hour was late. Midway over the bayou came the tressels demise. A great shiver another great quake, tons of speeding steel, folks met their sad fate. Days went by weary and sad. Rescuers agreed none worked a wreck this bad. Twisted and bent the engine was pulled from the muck and the slime. "102" came the final count, the coroner spoke and noted the time. A weary voice shouted "Wait!" "Sir, I disagree!" Tired eyes turned, what did they see? A weary man held in his arms a child about three. Today believers say "an angel wanders." "A tiny spirit" Others agree. On foggy nights when no moon can be. A tiny light flickers so you will see. "It's a firefly!" Say the skeptics of haunt. The creatures disagree and murmur their taunt. They know the spirit of the child now lives in their swamp. Written by my grandmother Sandra Burch
Eleven years ago, my father died. Divorced from my mother when I was two, he was a stranger to me most of my life. I had no tears as the Marine handed me the flag. He said, "This is a gift from the President of the United States in honor of the service that your father gave to his country". Five years ago, as my mother died, I touched her face and held her hand - something she never allowed when we were children. I told her everything was all right and she could let go. My eyes were dry, she had no funeral. Later that year, my husband packed his suitcase. He told me of his plans to find his "spiritual path", and left. I said nothing and went inside. But last night, my sweet little Aussie stumbled and fell, unable to move. With wide eyes slightly opaque, her dear face grey around the muzzle, she told me, its time. This sweet companion, faithful and brave, has only asked for my presence in her life. This morning, I awoke, and I cried a child, with my mouth open, eyes streaming, nose running.
A fine morning to watch the birds By the ocean side. My dog by my side. Deep cool breeze Setting ablaze my ribs My jacket and the dog's fur All I needed and asked for Perfect company and comfort …a lonely life. My surrounding, Oblivion of me And me too, void of all Very deep in thought Knowing not when, I sipped from the coffee cup Wincing in disagreement, I jolted back to memory By its bitter taste. Hahahahahaha What a way to discover. But discovered I have. A great deal of life is false and bitter It's bitter when you love Yet, you be not loved It's false, thinking you are loved But all the while, mugged Why do you tell me All is fair in love and war? When I know what I saw? The weak is the stepping stone For the wicked The honest a tool In the hands of the fraud But… Woe to them who made you bear grudge And… Woe to you who got soiled in vengeance. Nature is smart…so smart with it For the sun must rise again And time must heal your pain Like the Americans will say Every dog has its day Dust up and take a walk For your new lover Might be waiting by the side walk
A vociferous yowl came down to earth and slaughtered my soul I was in deep sleep, lids were lead, and dreams were wavering spool My problem sat on groove, heavy-hearted like slushy interference Passage of time was very slow but that had drawn all the inference But I had to settle my score with her sore to keep my cranium cool A porous body, full of neutral pricks, is amenable to insidious freaks You may call the buccaneers on bouncing waves or to Tortuga Creeks They will say yes we should send Mister Briggs to teach you mathematical tricks. It makes no difference and I am bowled on the crease, life is not at all sums Its base is neither you nor any substratum pandering to keekwulee doldrums I know you are not a frump who kicks up the stinks with three no trumps. I may be a tramp Play solitaire With invisible Dodo. I have seen the dull grayish faces caught in Arachne's spins, The fangs of spiders, teeth of snakes, and Las Vegas scorpion stings, The emotional binges, the splurge of spending and old caddy's sins. I have seen them all, but how am I full of beans? I am a nut playing a fool. Let the water run over her Deigning a nutcracker's rule. Ridentem dicere verum quid vetat? © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY 14th October,2014 20:44:00 (IST)
I have not eaten today, But my heart is filled Not hungry of affection. I had a fill of you last night A fill of you for a life time All around us are walking corpses Corpses of political disregard Humans of no nations Even when they are bona-fide citizens Your blood and mine flows in them The government abhors the poor Feeds them with empty promises Shoves them through the door They pay the bills For social amenities they can't find Pay taxes for their castles Government built in the air But we know their ancestors Filthy dogs eating from the king's crumbs No; Lets not unknot the knot Soon a messiah might heed us In heaven's book of life, I heard the poor names are there In here's book of life It is deleted. Thus, in your head, Lays your kingdom and glory Get rich or die trying Or; be their poor and keep sulking. Well, like them I saw… I have not eaten Flesh gone weak to skeleton Nevertheless, The solitude of love within Keeps me living; I am breathing But I am moving, Towards your direction I see your beam I feel new When I see you From my heart Seeps through the rays of the sun Its fun; this love on death line We survived the genocide We survived the war We survived love We survived us I love you too. This poem is dedicated to the abused tribes of Rwanda and Nigeria during their respective civil wars resulting in near human annihilation. Though time has passed, we still feel your pains chilling our bones. The survivors.
I woke up not feeling myself Although it's how I know That this day is like any other It's still impossible to asunder Drugs, death, it's just a game Even my name We fight There's no light I have no sight How can I be released? All I want is peace…
"Buy me a scarf" she said and curled her toes through snow to demonstrate the color of numbness.. "Buy me a scarf and I'll wrap our memories around my neck, you can watch me smile in storms as I contemplate warmth and look at you beneath the sky." I wrote promises on windows with fingers that touched shadows and counted snowflakes crystals as I destroyed their patterns in a feeble attempt to claim love... There, in the house that spoke one thousand tears, I thought about the secrets we whispered when the year turned and purple was fantastic on the other side of frozen lakes despite the voices that named us something unspeakable. Rings and silver and I wore one on my toe, polished perfectly, my feet felt summer and I laughed in lilts of June and breaths of lilac bushes that lined my backyard, but I kept my closet door shut, winter stitches on shelves so January's voice would never be heard... I boxed up photographs and letters that quoted songs we had sang together, I covered up her haircut and placed her eyeliner in an envelope but I knew, beneath the ground where lilac bushes rooted themselves... she wore the ring I had placed upon her finger on her fourteenth birthday, on the day August spoke up and we listened intently, mocking January and bedposts that wrote her name... and I sat, cleaning prints off of windows, erasing promises and eluding love, wondering, if I had learned how to knit, would sidewalks have been so convincing? I listened to memories and bought myself a scarf, wrapped stitches of January around my neck and heard her, in laughter, as she whispered through the wind that numbed the fingers that broke promises... "Lend me your scarf, and I'll see you, I'll hold your hand when August knocks you down."
I kept listening to beliefs: "This is the way things are." "This is the way things have to be in order to…" "You know, if you do this, you will receive that…" "That's just the way it is. That's just the way I am." "What I really want for you is…." "You'll be happier if you would just…." "If he really loved you, he would…" "Well, if you really love him, you would feel…" "If you do this for me, then you will get this…" "If you don't do this, then I will talk about it until you do." I not only listened, I became them. My choices were based on the list of phrases. I had to "do the right thing." Or…. Or I would die? Well I am dying today. Not dying like my body has fallen and is breathless. Dying like full of breath, full of grief. Dying like; "I hate dying because I keep thinking it's permanent and that I will always feeeeeeeeel." Dying like; "I think I am becoming weightless with all of this heavy gunk junk falling off of me." Kerplunk kerplunk The pu-u-u-u-u-u-u-lling like picking a stubborn apple. And the plops of rot thudding the surrounding ground. My expanded branches open out and up Free of knowledge that once grew on me That looked soooo pretty But sour and fused with poison this tree was…
As she clutched the embroidered paper, she wept, observing her tears sprinkle as they percussed the paper. Watching her droplets marinate, she was reminded of a certain pebble she tossed across the waters upon a heavenly cloud as a child, glancing at it in its attempts to clutch the current as it shimmered across the creek. Brushing the wandering dew from her cheeks, she peered sullenly towards the window as the snow danced in its patter against the mirrored pane. Bravely, she stood, aware of her head as it lowered in overcast almost to its own accord. As she grasped the stool beside her, she hurried, wearily, and approached the window and forcefully opened it. As she liberated the air, she sympathised with the tender wind that kissed her cheeks as it lost its direction. Befallen, she succumbed to the tearful weight her eyes whimpered and gracefully fell upon her bed, clutching the silken overlays as she swooned like an osprey with an artistic temperament. Hiding herself between two pillows in a divine light, she glanced up to the tapestries as they moved gleefully to the melody of the moonlight's breeze and the howls of forsaken souls lost in the lands afore. As she focussed on the symmetrical elegance and the rich refinement of tragedy, only then did she realise that art was the only way to run away without leaving her home.
Murder. My soul's contaminated with spit and you walk all over me- each and every single time- It's like I blink and you take one more slap whack! While my face red spurs out guilt of being a victim- the one who always to blame who is always wrong and does wrong- while you look down to me expecting. It's neverending and i'm unsympathetic as we speak. Now so vulnerable and familiar to your cursed speech lucifer's lies- becoming true between the lies you just start the fire. You don't know how to put it out, gassing it, lighter at hand yet you don't seem to care. And my emotions, they're toys- broken, stomped on, crushed. Like my loyalty is not enough, after I stand behind you, strong and neutral- while you whip my heart and test me some more. I've had enough. And you've had plenty of chances before, plenty of criticizing and it's too much, i'm not good enough I'm the "bad" friend i'm just not worth your time so this is the end.
My life has dumps and learning experience and pain but I had grown to understand that this is not the end I feel that I answer a question that's been bothing me for so long now my life is smooth and almost all right now I have to heal this feeling that spreads poison inside bring back that power and marvelous feelings that I once had for me love stills a beautiful thing its not hormlous its lovelous with addiction still at harmful recovery body so a mude to the actions you serve my thinking is you and my body craved for you my lips less tasteful my heart is fighting every man that come close to the heart I shared with you bring back you give me back what I need and thats you that keep my soul, world and life alive
I feel so hurt And so much like a jerk For I have lost my dream Just let it out and scream What did I do Can I ask you Am I to be alone All I can do is groan I ask God will it ever be Does she really want me Please Lord let her call For me to be that is all I am so stuck in a rut Do I just give up Can not hold back the tears The return of all my fears I hope to see That she really needs me I will never know For she will have to show Can you give me my best friend Or have I lost her again Tell me did I sin Should I just give in I am at my wits end Knowing not where to begin I sit here and moan At me just throw the heavy stone Please, oh please hit the mark Then I know it will break my heart I always feel the use Finally I remember the abuse My feelings inside Will never subside Why not go ahead and fall With my life just end it all Does anyone really care That would be so rare For all I feel is lost And in the end that is the cost
On a raft in the river tied to a tree, lived in an old woman of whom most folks made fun. She didn't talk much, most thought she was dumb. Kids being curious, and the summer being hot, the cool of the river drew our disobedient lot. We kids soon discovered the crude raft and the tent. We oddly made friends with its strange occupant. Tried as we might to find out her name. All we got was a smile from the toothless old dame. One thing for certain we kids soon found out. Social graces she lacked, but her kindness made up for that fact. Times being tough and money being tight, often we kids confided our plight. She didn't care if we were dirty or poor. She loved her little friends all the more. We didn't mind her fashion was lack. She wore a dress made from and old "tater sack." What troubled us was she didn't have a name. We didn't care from where she came. One day as we sat on the bank, a thought came to mind. We were disgusted with folks being unkind. "Everybody's got a name," said one. "Let's call her 'Tater Sack Annie'", said another, so it was done. Annie smiled at us. She liked her new name. She didn't say much, just smiled again. She motioned for us kids to her camp for lunch. She always fed our whole bunch. Fried taters, catfish and greens. All of us believed she was a woman of means. Several summers went by. One year the fall came. A saturday night, folks out for a lark. Didn't see Annie walking home in the dark. Somebody sent, and a somber Sherriff came, "Anybody her know her name?" He spoke to the group. Two boys stepped forward, both knelt to a stoop. "That's our 'Tater Sack Annie'", they spoke in a low tone. Both their faces ashen and as white as bone. Today in a churchyard no monument gleams. Only a simple stone reads, "Annie a lady of means." Written by my grandmother Sandra Burch
i look back the tears stream the years we had those good times unfathomable why did i deserve them? i look back i see your face tired and drunk and dishevelled so pretty indefatigable this image holds fast i recall one night i told you everything so rich, this reward of years the banquet of our life could sustain legions i look back the tears stream we had defied love's cold truth against all odds that chemical lie shattered i look at you skin so blue it had us fooled
Flashes of memories and thoughts whirl around in my head until I can't take it anymore I don't know what's worse; memories of us together or the reality of him being dead Laying together in a pile of leaves walking in the rain making a mess instead of making cookies long talks deep into the night feeling wanted and knowing that I mattered Lying alone in the park crying in the shower not eating for long stretches of time cutting myself off from family and friends feeling lost and empty inside.
We Can be a Winner only If we Accept Losing When we are going to be a winner in our life? There are plenty of ways to give that winning feeling for us. We do not necessarily to be on the first place for being a winner of ourselves. When we manage to overcome the hurdles in life with a performance improvement also can give us a winning feeling. If we join a competition with many participants, it is an achievement to finish first and when we have all the talent then it is also possible to get into the best place. But if we participate in several matches then it will be more difficult to win and getting the first place in every single match. So we must be mentally prepared on our own in which even we are always able to perform the best but that does not guarantee us a first place. Therefore we will be classified in a lower position by someone else who get a better result in this match. So we need to accept several things in life which cause us losing, lets move on to have a better chance to win it next time. That's also the same in business, we always want to win and that is normal but "a small mistake can cause a lot of trouble". So when we have the misfortune that we are in the losing party at that time, we should accept it with positive thinking. Do not let ourselves slump with the loss and start to think pessimistic because then the consequences is all our behavior turns into negative approach. That will reduce our commitment, because when we think that we are only losing will give nerves and frustrations which also reduces our opportunities. Always stay relaxed if we are losing because only the best will always win and how relaxed we are, the more likely we possess those qualities to be a winner. The biggest losers also can be the best winner. I wish you a healthy life. Kindly Regards, Author Jan Jansen http://poems.easybranches.com/
She is finished; her mission done with ease She feels great, grinning from ear to ear; Her satisfaction exceeds everything; her joy. She is programmed to kill; To leave her victim paralysed with fulfilment Tis the only thing she's good at; She executes her duty with professionalism; Leaving her regulars wordless She enjoys updating her chic, Lest she be replaced in the service market. Her technique, always refreshing; You are guaranteed of a full package. Nothing less than to expect; diversity always Her patrons are left dazzled; Snooping around wanting more To them she is just a machine assembled to serve They never notice her vulnerability and soft tissue She looks rough no doubt; but she's also weak. Her spirit broken so many times Like a wild horse; she refuses to be tamed now She will never allow that side out in the open anymore She does what she does; for it must be done She is used to it now; she has accepted what others see to be a fact; She is no man's land…and can't be blamed. ©Naa Takia, All rights Reserved 2012
When communication fails, resort to loneliness. When loneliness fails, resort to communication. When resorting fails, communicate with your lonely self and meet your only friend. When you give up someone else's dream, you begin to live. When you free yourself from your own dreams, you realize that you've never lived at all. Then, when you dream, you'd rather be living.
There is a soft meadow golden where there now stands oblivion wild mustangs comb the hard dry grasses after a long arid winter. In the distance, wood smoke from a silent fire that crackles 'neath a hungry touch. An aubade's warm hand reaches from the silky horizon to touch love gently upon her shoulders and roam the hills, and dusky valleys of the paradisiac dawn, as it stretches each stone. ...and soothed; by palpable stream; each bend a lover's nape endlessly explored by endless wait to greet the welcome rise again.
Canoe, golden brown inking rust colored depths, reflects the shape of my buried soul in rootless flight Grassy banks envelop the waters and root the hoary trees that are the ghostly spectres bending To reach for me with blackened toothed arms jaggedly carving silhouettes into the waning light Hush their soft murmuring, the rustle of their fading leaves the whispered voices of chis descending Melodiously they speak of the angst simmering from where the sinful spirits are beckoning The eclipsing moon's tide that pulls the unhurried river meets the sullied shores of my reckoning The shadows of a godless eternity darkens the ancient seams of life and is slowly spreading
He hated his brother Because he practiced another Men of same wombs On each other, inflict wounds The free thinker; their observer And he saw; eye sores Men beheaded… burned Women disemboweled Bombed Drug traffickers and the mafia Show more angels heart Men obsessed with religion No place free of them Hold this illusion Four virgins and a mansion For just one man in heaven So die a martyr And make it even In the beginning, was this so? When men die, do they go? PLEASE: give me no fairy answer Except self proven ponder On the other side I heard Christ died Men turned it merchandise One name, many voices As the voices, so the vices Repent. Be baptized Or die ostracized Yet in sex, their leaders Abuse youths and feeders Adultery in the upper chambers Sucked the poor dry So the rich benefits and not die Name not names Lest you give them more fame The free thinker; their observer And he saw…eye sores Grieve not alone in chest It's same in north; south; east; west I heard God has his own powers And he for himself mighty might So why do for him men fight? I heard also, the goat can bite When pushed to the wall Be that so, Then there is: The goat- The applied force- And the wall. Who is the Goat? Man Who is the force applied? Circumstances against man And who is the wall? Religions against man
We met at sunset The golden brown The known tale His linen A reflection of the sun Bathed in the most charming smile Our souls in connection Palm in palm we Walked the beach With no words Only hearts to feel Our thoughts A million miles away A perfect link I searched his face My perfect man Only one wrong His eyes said different I stopped our trail And stared harder His eyes screamed error He looked away My heart had bumped Into something grave Just another look And truth dawned My "sun" was taken I whispered to him You are another's… He whispered back I am taken… ©Naa Takia, All Rights Reserved 2012
blood drips down locked the door the stinging starts to fade everything becomes a blur i know lay in the tub in the cold water my my arms stings then the pain fades i go under hopping not to come back up for air and i feel my body going numb i open my mouth to get a water in and blood i tell myself to stay under and then everything fads away no more pain my heart stops the pain leaves me my dead body is in the tub TO NEVER BE FOUND AGAIN untill someone starts looking for me when they find my body it will be to late
Broken, scared and left alone, The chaos that still resides Chills me to the bone. My soul is empty As my heart cries You left so soon Without even a goodbye. Empty and hollow, Two things you should never feel. Yet here I stand to attest These feelings are all too real. Time is said to heal. But time is not on my side For with each passing year Another part of me dies. So until I see you again And can feel your loving embrace I will remain an empty shell Wearing this mask of a smile to hide The tears I cannot erase.
I see him on the park bench, his red soccer shirt No pain, no anguish and no deadly hurt He flickers like a hologram, finishing its show Clouds emerge above him, shadowing his glow I run across to meet him, my footsteps have no sound Before I stop he disappears, he's nowhere to be found
Shriek of pain A famous terror Paralyzing oneself The fear of three Death of all Survival of all Or just one… The kicks of the little An attempt of landing On what could be An infertile land The battle long awaited All preparations made Yet none ceases to fear The pain suffered They lie between Death and life She fights It fights They both fight For survival The old death On standby In anticipation of a choice In wait of mishap Who shall it be? The carrier? Whose nine months Nurtured and caressed? Or the carried? Whose life is yet to begin? The first is chosen The latter lives On a sacrifice Brewed on blood and love They both could have lived Couldn't they? ©Naa Takia, All Rights Reserved 2012
smooth mellow always sallow never foolish but continue to repeating this EVOL stay falling for my devotion and lies forever trying to spell together fighting to stay alive.....
An angel. I thought I saw an angel today when I was remembering you. You are in my waking day, I dream its just me and you. When I go and walk a while I think your by my side And then I remember the truth of it all and that you had to die. I don't know why im so confused They say death is part of life But you were so little my love You had not lived your life. They say you have gone to heaven And that you are a star But I don't believe them, not at all I just know that you are far I hope one day I will see you again And we will smile and laugh and dance And I wait with anticipation for the day That I will get another chance. I love you
I dreamed she housed her love in the shape of a living bird. How much do migratory creatures know, I wonder, of the weather on the other side? A week ago, the heart that is in my body from time to time leaves me a note I don't answer. Can we at least talk? it asks, and I think "yes," and then I lay down, exhausted. In the letter I finally write back. I don't even apologize, I don't think. "With you gone, it's like I'm gone too." That's all I say. Words are harder to come and I myself am migratory, though these days lacking in wings or feet. I know nothing of the weather on the other side. I don't even speak the language that I want to understand. Living as opposed to what? Her living bird made me wonder. Living in what way? I'm watching our wings, hung, ready for tomorrow. I'm looking for a place to put my arms.
Sky blue starlet darting through the night, inking herself on the clouds as they swirl and pass, wind by wind. The coupling of her hair and her neck lap, like the shore and the tide leading somewhere and nowhere retracting, but always progressing just a little more, one step back, two steps forward, biting and clawing , beating suppression with progression. The taking of one more ounce of flesh (a requirement, desire), prolonging the last second before sticking the ice pick in, right behind the ear all the way in, piercing the brain stem, allowing one drop of blood to escape. Gazing into those marvelous, scorching blue orbs while the life drains away and the light in them is snuffed out like a candle tossed into a chasm, falling forever, dropping through darkness. Cradling the head I lower my corpse to the ground, I can still feel the warmth in the flesh as it leaks away like the blood from the newly create puncture.
I wake up in the morning, The smell of your perfume lingering on my skin, I roll over to see if your body still lay there, & I realize everything I loved vanished. I just have these images and scents stuck in my head, I have everything you ever gave me packed away, I look through it again and again each day. Trying to piece the puzzle together, & figure out why we drifted apart. I want to know if you still think about me like I think about you, I want to know if you still have the things I made and gave to you. I just wish I could stop smelling you, Stop thinking about you, Just everything about you brings me to my knees, & I am begging you please, Please just let me forget you. I wake up the next morning and realize, Everything about you was lies.
When they love their children as much as they hate us the war will be over Its doesn't matter which side your on Whether your a viva viva palestina Or an am yisrael chai You know which side is evil, committed all Wrongs, sometimes you meet people who Extol the virtues of this treacherous, Terrible oppressor /terrorist With their shock and awe tactics and Disregard for freedom or the right to life And the pursuit of happiness And sometimes for a minute, particularly When you talk to someone you think is Intelligent it becomes harder to maintain the View on this malignant party you tried hard To campaign for and against and although Peace (of mind) is all you want All you could dream of With this entity at the negotiating table Independence is swapped for catastrophe And war If you give them what they want you will Have nothing except the need to a right of Return to a better time
The battle hardened warrior stood solemnly upon the war torn land the battlefield before him covered with the life's blood of his warriors battle armour, sword and shield lay strewn across the land. Flags fluttered in the breeze as grim testimony to the fierce and bloody battle which before his very eyes had been bravely fought with his fellow countrymen giving their lives for that which they had sworn to defend the very land upon which death now ruled. His warrior Queen by his side her allegiance to him the same as those who had come before her she swore to give her life, if called upon for her Lord! her King! her Husband! The ground, soaked with the blood of warriors young and old lay open before them like that of a bloody wound received victouriously in battle. The once pristine beauty of the land upon which they now stood lay clenched in deaths mighty grip a stark reminder of the ravages of battle. With a warriors cry long born of anger his sword raised to the heavens he vowed his life's blood that those who lay before him would be avenged. As he turned to walk away he heard the shrill call of an eagle overhead this was to him a sign felt throughout his very soul that his cry had been heard and he knew he would be victorious in his quest.
Dear make-up-wearing-emo-kid, I hope you're having fun. I hope your life is good. I wish you well, but I'm curious, do you wish the same for me? I mean, you don't even talk to me anymore. When you do talk to me, it's to question me about my sexuality, what clothing I'm wearing at the moment, basically anything relating to sex. So, it's hard to tell you apart from those perverted old creeps you might see on TV, looking up the skirts of MILF's as they stroll on by. Dear skinny-confused-emo-kid, It's not about looks. It's about what's inside. It's not about sex, it's about the love in a relationship. It's not about having to lie to me and make me feel like you love me, because there are millions of girls out there. I'm not the only one to chase. I'm sure there are lots of other girls who would just love to let you chase their skirts and hear you lie to them repeatedly. I'm just sick of it all. I don't need you, and you sure as hell don't need me. Dear traitor, You built me up, you broke me down. You got what you wanted. I hope you're happy. Wipe the smirk off your face, I don't care that you've succeeded in making me fall for you I don't care that you're freaking gorgeous. I don't care. I am not your toy. I am not your slave. And I am most definitely not your 'baby girl'. Just because you have my heart doesn't mean that you can control me. I'm not yours. I'm my own person. I'm me. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. But never mind that now, I must go. Mother is calling me to come to supper. Until next time, you traitor. Sincerely, A-broken-hearten-clown.
I bent over to pick up the broken pieces of the plate, this was Grandma's favorite plate. She had gotten this plate from her mom, it had always occupied that same spot behind the couch. The same couch we where not allowed to sit on. It was still like new covered with a thick piece of plastic, the plastic used to be clear, now it was yellow with age Beside the couch on end tables there were cut glass bowls filled with candy, the candy was multi colored with verticle stripes, they looked like miniture pillow but without the softness. Like the couch the candies were meant for looking at, almost to much for an eight year old boy. I wanted to be a good boy so I only took a few, they looked better than they tasted. I walked to the kitchen to find some glue. I had hoped she wouldn't notice back it went to it's special spot When she got home and looked at me I cried and told her it was broken She just held me and said it was okay Grandmas are like that By Richard Lamoureux "Picking up The Broken Pieces" contest
In the smoke of cannabis induced haze Whispers of ogres & imps of bygone age Laughter echoes, Fallen angels by the side Of friends left behind… And of memories washed ashore A few tokes one too many Broken blinds of my windows Someone is peeping in now Its just light… Darkness seemed comforting Of the many nights of insomnia Some dreams are best seen awake Stoned! But respite is none Lines don't rhyme… am I the one? Who is crying? Tears are just, wasted stains Melancholy is a form of pastime Nostalgia a derivative of self
Fusty bread, larva infested water Threadbare clothes, I dreaded morning For it spells rumbling of my Pot With no antidote to reverse that body butchery virus Days longer, hunger worsening My brow, an inch longer with sunrise… Medicals shooting, Penny weakening Condition worsening, my death chariot riding closer No strength to hold-up our destined union Till he draws near planting The kiss of death on my pale cheek A pill could have delayed this rendezvous I would call baobab my home, only I land down Devils grass passing? I suffer its unending prick Still the open remains my shelter With crooks my entertainers Rapists dancing in and out my skin Robbers sharing my day old treasured bread I hardly know this being they call love They claim she remains compassionate They say he is concerned Be it her quality or his trait, I know not! I never met either This I know… My chamber of food remains empty My sugar level? Zilch… Home remains my nightmarish My voldemort, averting my rest Chariot of death awaits me My rider bids greetings arm stretched! ©Naa Takia, All rights Reserved 2012
People are like flowers, they stay and enrich our lives in the summer , and then winter comes. you know winter makes way for new flowers in your life, even though it's very cold, you just have to wait. Don't worry Katie summer will come again You have to be strong! You need to survive the cold winter to see summer again.
There once was a fair maiden Who sat on a pedestal up high? With raven locks and eyes of ice blue But a heart of stone For a love she once knew. The prince he was Unintentional love doomed by above So she was shunned and locked away So to the ledge she did run. Tears rolling down her fair cheeks Too distraught to form words to speak She raised her head to the sky above And screamed why him? Why my one true love? As the last word left her lips She took that final step Down she fell onto the cliffs below No sound did she make Nothing, not even a goodbye.
Like autumn leaves blowing in the winds of time Whispering tales of heartless crime Your spirit resonates all around I cannot escape the chilling sound That last golden beam of sunlight fades away Resuming once again this midnight play Ghosts of the past smolder in the moonlight Silver flame such a beautiful sight Look but don't touch is what they say From fingertips they prance away Endless dance in a lonely night Lasting until the world begins to dew Separating fantasy from what is true Left to wander aimlessly through another day Will the guilt ever fade away?
Scam WLM Wildncrazy555 July 31, 2011 Been caught in a scam Should I have just ran Try to be good For God as we should Always to get bit Just take another hit Never knowing why But continue to try To live with the strife Just wanted a wife Will we ever just fit in the groove Or should we just move On the Golden list I do not jist Or just change my name To fit and stay in the game Never, never win So I will just give in
"What wound did ever heal, But by degrees" …Shakespeare Except my mother was dear …Very dear Count me among men Who can read and write Count me among them Who finds book a delight No! Not about intelligence Mother taught me diligence Scrapped for a living So I could get learning I am a dead woman's sweat My worries cracked her chest My mother was my literacy My literacy is my treasure My treasure…is you I wrote what you can read She was its measure. I never paid back Never gave thanks. Prodigal son playing pranks On me, She had learned to hope Then died In last breath still in hope That I lose not hope But what hope lies there For a drawing man to hope Last straw, just sank in Wide Sea without and within Wounds heal by degrees But some can't heal Only permitted to blurred My tears blur my view Soaks the ink in papers Forcing me to rewrite and renew She will not want me to cry Rather that I sit up and try Dab my eyes, let the tears dry. "I know who you are my son" You are awesome" Mama, you always tell me that But am breaking down. Your lose never healed Shakespeare said its by degrees Said the pain will decrease But I detest full healing You were so appealing.
My friend there is no regret as you made your choice for good i thought you know what you were doing but you were like a lost goat i knew a chance comes once never the less you wasted it it wont came again in your life as it might remain barren or doomed as for the oned you hurt they will suceed in front of your naked eyes you will cry and fill up a dam in the end you will regret
His love for her Was so deep And so strong That he would never Allow her To fall in love With a fool Like him
Morning light seeping in Like a wisp of a breath In winters frigid air Spectrum of silver light Like sunlit cushioned clouds Against paper-like walls And shadows disappear Quick, like snakes tunneling
I feel a chill in your kiss... like the cold, February wind that rushes through my veins Oh, how I long for the soft tenderness of your caress which has now become strangely vacant Your warm embrace seems to have lost its fire and you no longer stroke my face while I sleep Suddenly... The warmth is gone from your touch I swallow the pain down inside not wanting to notice our bridge may be burning Why can't you just say it-instead of pulling away? Do the risks seem too high to take a chance? The painful words in my soul bring tears to my eyes We used to find love in quiet, hidden places You without pity - I without shame Who has taken my place... Entered my space? How could I have known you'd tire of me so? Will you no longer stand by my side? Together... we could make things right But... your silence is so deafening Raindrops pour their waters washing away my hopes, singing a melancholy song of lost hope - of disappearing dreams I lift my face to the darkened sky feeling the rain slide down my cheeks Staring into emptiness as my heart cries out in silent pain blinding me from the light I feel so lost without you But then I realize... You never really found me Now my heart says... Where do I go from here? Oh God... Tell me - where do I go from here _________________________________________________________________________
I caught a glimpse of you when you didn't know I was looking Trying to rediscover what I'd forgotten about you About us Why I'd once loved you... In that other time You were standing naked in front of the mirror Your auburn hair glistening on your wet, mortal body You had just stepped out of your morning shower humming the customary tune you do so well I stood quietly in the hall... watching you shave your golden, red beard while you hummed... keeping the rhythm with your foot It was intoxicating, observing your routine without you knowing I was there I'd watched your morning ritual a thousand times You - always aware when I was looking In the past In that other time Somehow... watching you more with my heart, than with my eyes made me melancholy Missing those feelings I'd once felt for you For us... So deep within my heart... For awhile back then Did we ever really love? Was it kismet? Was it fate? The question sits on unspoken lips I sighed... Missing us, missing you Back then... In another time When our melody began you sang the notes to my heart so well so tender We soared on the music our mouths relishing the kiss In our moments back then For a time... We were us, you and I Tracing our love with thirsy lips hungry bodies I stood there looking at you for quite some time... Pausing at the door before I left Knowing... I might never open that door again I turned back once more before turning to go making sure to remember just why I was leaving But now... Every time I see a man shaving I find myself thinking of you Goodbye my love
Screaming in my head not able to hear nothing else. the screaming is Me saying come back so I can say goodbye. but the screaming goes unnoticed due to only me hearing them. I wish I could have you one last time to say one last goodbye. Before you go but your already gone, never even got to say goodbye. Maybe one day soon I will get to say goodbye and hello, as I will be dead to with no regrets. the screaming in my head goes silent as I finally get to say goodbye forevevr. the screaming in my head is because I never got to say goodbye.
Pity Trip WLM Wildncrazy555 July 24, 2011 I need to die And I know why The pity trip My soul to rip I have no life So full of strife No one knows How can they There is no way Shall I stay another day WHY oh Why I just want to die But what of Darla My only friend What will happen to her She is the only one who needs and wants me She is the my freedom She soothes my soul And makes me whole She always knows When I am down With the whole world closing around I need my puppy so And only she will ever know Now I must go To where I do not know
TEN YEARS 10 Years to the day and the tears still fall Falling harder than day one at ground zero Stunned silence and shock at what seemed to be The beginning of the end, of our world… Images, in still life, forever frozen in time Now replayed again for me in my subconscious We can never erase the memories of when and where we were And how unimportant all of that really seems to be today… I hear the voices of so many loved ones, echoing Eternal in their quest for an answer in return Hands held together, hearts joined as one As our only hope to overcome…the sadness, the pain… Of that day…
Had a dream about my Pa tonight, We all went out with them to Lake Loral Nancy His wife cooking up a good ol' Chicken Pot Stew slow-cooked set way up high atop the hickory us loading up the Bayliner for our afternoon fishing trip. We reminisced, Canoe in toe as we used to do just in case, yes just as we did back then; you-know if either would wished to float to one or more sides with the Canoe tied to the railings of the boat, or more or less to widen the chance at a greater spot to cast a gander upon our luck... . My Father by adoption; having-stated many times early on in-all of our teenier all together, God being-in-charge of all good-Blessings and if-you will--luck... we'll always catch some albeit one Yes I began to see through this statement he mentioned often God is always presenting always providing this-His Honest Hope, for us both--as I believe like my Pa, for any one yes everyone who is patient remains-open... ! Our woes, and Peace abiding... uncertainty grievances questions yes laughter were our main recollections as we dropped our first lines as we cast them... . I tell you I truly did love Him, still love Him, will always I figure... yes I know Some folk are so defined never wish to grow any further their Character divorced by Cancer, Nary did my Father allow it. On the day he passed He told Nancy, "I love my life. My Family Children. Love all those close to me.... but I'm tiered just plain wore out." the Lord took Him that night, the next day forthcoming I was told and O how I cried — But then realized as I saw he lived the greater life - He worked on this purpose until the day he died, and so for all he work for this final reprieve — it was for all of the ones he loved, because I feel for all whom he loved, he'd prayed for all to do the same... Yes a suffering in kind the same I'm seeing now - All-of-it I'm-finding; because he taught me the greater of his Faith nary a day apart from Him, and me... his youngest Son two Others older Sons if you will, yes I feel his family and friends still have this eminent belief to boast; Yes, in-the Company--Comfort... of Jesus' Peace... !
Within a last breath It disappears A bond, a heart, and shed of tears Fragile, to actions revenge Forewarned and foretold true What I wouldn't give for more time with you. The verse becomes shallow Following the ashes, wind, and rain Outward cover recognized Its only the true that will remain
I attended a funeral today, for someone's loved one... The room was full of garments of black, consoling gestures, and fond memories. Tears were shed, sobbing was heard... but grief cannot be abated, with only a word. Attentive ears, as the prayers were read... Hearts deeply saddened by the loss, could only remain heavy in their anguish. Memories of a life given, now taken away...by the Master who leads us all on our way. The slow ride to that final resting place... Passing through red lights, as thoughtful men watched the cortege in respect. The last lonely place of stone...where so many laid their troubles before the Master's throne. A few last words of comfort said, before we say goodbye... Sobbing will stop soon, as the gloves and flower are laid gently down. The hand of the Lord is shown again...as the silent petals are swept by wisps of wind. In life there is death, for this is the rule... It comes for us all too soon, and we know not how, or where, or when. But in death there is life, for this is the truth...if only we believe, in God's holy proof. The child born in Bethlehem so long ago... Raised in love, youthful days filled with child's play and a heavenly mission. His Son to die, so we could awake...to rise with Him, make no mistake. The morning has passed, the mourning has broken... Not through the words, or gestures, or flowers, or memories, or even the prayers. Remember it was broken long ago...when Christ died for us, and then arose. (See my poem - A' Ma which was dedicated to her.)
You left my brother Came back a man Should hear our proud father Speak of you How you've done him And momma proud Sister Jane and Katherine Down the block Never seem to have anything But you to talk about Oh if you only knew the loving All the girls around here Say you've missed It's a good bet You'd never have left But leave you did Nothing can change that now In a way it's good to know Exactly where you are We need never again worry If that old truck of yours broke down Leaving you to walk home in the rain It's a good thing really Now we can all get some sleep Granted, not as much as you But we will in our due time Just want you to know These tags of yours Will never leave my neck You, will never leave my heart For no matter why you left Or how you came back You still are And will always be My brother
Dark Depression Suicidal Thoughts 11-18-08 William L. Moore Let go of all the strife Just snuff out my life Make a strong fist And Slit my Wrist Make me cry Hope to die Call to get help Only to Yelp I can not stall Just end it all Would anyone care? If only I dare Would someone come by? To check, to say goodbye No one would crave The stink that would Rave This was written when the whole world was falling down around me. When life was not important any more.
Hmm, a photograph Two quarters and a dime A half written note A set of tags A few keys and credit cards Driver's license and I.D. Surprising what fits In an ole shoebox A few clothes thrown together Some well pressed An old pair of sneakers And well polished shoes A mind full of memories A room full of emptiness No doubt the room Will be filled again The box handed over And the memories lived I'd just rather not Be holding these tags Through the silenced laughter Echoes the days we knew How with hair on fire How high we flew Larger than life Now within my hands In what I hold So much more is told Than a few items in a box For what lies within Is a life well lived Cut much too short For a greater cause So surprising it is What fits in an ole shoebox I'd just rather not Be holding these tags And damn my friend I so want you back
(1) It was a bright sunny day in two thousand and seven. September twenty first at quarter to eleven. In a coma you lay without even a stir. With our eyes full of tears it just never occurred. (2) That this was the last time we would see you alive. At your bedside your family, children, and wife. We watched you all night and part of the morning. Then you sighed your last breath without any warning. (3) We hoped before you parted to your home up above. We could take you in our arms and give you a hug. Your body all broken and ruptured with pain. All our hopes and desires were all in vain. (4) For God had decided it was your time to go. To that place they call heaven that we all know. You left us your poetry , teachings and books. So let us make use of your wonderful works. (5) When we visit your grave now we know your not there. You are up in that College without any care. So look kindly on all that are left here a mourning. And please God tomorrow we all have a bright morning.
You have fought for your country You have heard the calls of death And felt the loss of blood And now, no one hears or cares About the tears you cry You fought a fools war Inspired by heroic deeds Majestic words of honor and fame From people who never knew your name Many were those who fled And endured behind their protest signs But you, you fought the war Lost your limbs and gained insight into reality It was you who came back less than human And now you stand alone at night Lost and forgotten men Tell me, tell me who needs you now Where are the people Who gave you hell Where are the people Who cried to bring you home Who marched for your life While you marched to your death Where are the people Who loved you when it was the thing to do And fought for your cause While you wondered what it was As you watched your buddies fade away Heroes and medals Tell me, what does it all mean Now that you stand alone at night Lost and forgotten men And tell me, tell me, who needs you now Now that our memory fades Of those who served and the reasons why All we seem to do Is stand aside and watch them die And tell me Brothers Who needs you now?
missing threads ---------------- She looks outside. The pale moonlight has fallen across the tributary, illusory moonshine, like an intimate emission, now that the urgency is gone, meaningless. She looks inside. The sprawled bed sheet of flesh shines in luminous darkness which she thinks she is. Remember the worth and compare with leaving behind the cords, one son and a lethargic clergy who divides his self between interpreting the God and being her husband. She remembers the cats, the weekend cooking classes and small garden of oriental roses. The pale moon is always hiding behind the clouds when you need it. The clarity is a burnt out butt of the cigarette learning to jump overboard. She waves away the smoke. She looks, once more, inside and outside. =© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
All dimensions are hidden from me; I fail to envision the mystic beauties of nature, My world is packed with dense fog all around me. I was born to see a never-ending darkness, A darkness so profound that it conceals everything from me. For 40 years now my vision has betrayed me and , I continue to walk along a dark tunnel hoping to see light at the end of it someday. I have not seen my mother's face. I know not how the lady who gave me my existence looks. But the immense shadow that covers me also raises my consciousness to the highest level. I know that " Within me I have an enlightened soul that radiates light more influencial than the sun and it traverses the whole of universe to reach the heavens. At this moment I feel the prescence of God. A God that pervades my entire existence. I can feel that He uncondiotionally loves me. It is now that I see the Light of Truth." Ronak Sanjay Bhavana Muchhala G-601, Satellite Gardens CHS, Film city road, Goregaon [east], Mumbai 400063. INDIA
So, there you are Returned from fighting another mans war Heard you're quite the hero Good for you my friend Twenty years young Couldn't wait To kick some terrorist ass And so you did So very well indeed I hear Now you're back Nothing more to kick What are you to do with yourself Lying there as you are Look at all of us here To welcome you back Can you not hear the joy Can you not see the happiness Or is it all hidden behind the tears So here you are returned In a flawless uniform Lying there all smug and confident With a peaceful look Here you are returned Fresh off the plane In a nice tight package Here you are returned To never leave again Good to have you back my friend Only wish it could have been Without the box
Cahill Minot Assignment July 23, 2009 Gravedigger and his assistant "Come on, dig the grave much deeper. You always dig such shallow graves, and then the coffin is too close to the surface, causing too many cosmetic problems with the cemetery, never mind the vegetation." "Come on, now, Ralph." The gravedigger drew a deep breath on his cigarette, preferring to absorb the nitrates as deeply as possible; he did not seem to care or notice how shallow his breathing had become over the years, a little too labored, a little too soon. "I said, come on!" Ralph grumbled something like not really my boss, while spitting on the ground. But he took bigger sweeps with the shovel. He dug deeper. "Heard who we're digging the grave for? Old Mr. Hines, the one who lived alone all his life and never came to the community gatherings; never gossiped, but those who claimed to have known him told tall tales of his younger years on a farm in South Africa." Ralph muttered "Good for him." He dug deeper. "Anyway, Ralph, looks to me he was a wealthy landowner in South Africa, accumulating much wealth after he served in WW II. Rumor had it though he lost almost all that he had because of a bribe necessary to keep him out of jail. He killed a woman and her small child. He killed them." The gravedigger lit a second cigarette. His talking seemed to distract him from his task. Ralph kept digging. "Mr. Hines fled the country. Rumor had it he became a recluse, rarely seen around town. Please prepare the grave for a pauper, heh, heh." The gravedigger flicked some of his ash into the opening in the thawing spring soil; he seemed to smile down at the smoldering embers as they hit the softening earth. Ralph kept digging. A soft rain began to fall, ever so gently. Their shoulders and the tops of their heads became moist, the raindrops reflecting the flickering dim light of the streetlights near the entrance to the cemetery. "Alright, we're almost through. Let's finish up and call it a day." Ralph took a few more sweeps with his assistant's shovel. He wiped his brow, and then attempted to dry his hand on his damp jacket. It was futile: he lifted his face to the drops and let the sweat and tears mingle with the rain. Tears he shed for his father, who died alone. Tears he shed because his father is to be buried in this very grave. A final glance, a grey yellow streak breaking up the heavy edges of the twilight sky, and the gravedigger departs.
Here's the thing Doesn't matter what you say Or where you are We both know what was felt Though we'll never again add to We both know what was done What was shared What we'll miss Though ones will fade We'll both have memories Of what we did Even if they come and go When they reappear For a time we'll both know During the times One's just a shell The other's strength Will pull us through When one seems so far away The other will stay To bring them back As long as one has breath We'll not let the other down And if the breath Is not together lost The other will not say goodbye But be along soon So here's the thing That no matter what tomorrow brings Though what it is We cannot know Somewhere hidden there within Our love will always show
You, you were there for me You, you showed what life could be Though time was short Words were wise The love ran deep And you were there for me You played like a child When the time was right Knew when to cuddle And give some space Your eyes spoke in ways Words never could If I needed help I knew you always would And you, you were there for me You, you showed what life could be You never questioned why Yet always answered well Had a way of making me tell Getting me to face What I tried to hide You always knew What I felt inside Though it's harder now I know you still do Though you had to go And wherever you are Time will never erase That you, you were there for me The love ran deep Words were wise And you, you were there for me
Mr. Copperhead went to the copper mines to see what fortunes he could find Pick and shovel followed close behind On a burrow named Ole Bleu Mr. Copperhead was boon-town sick He struck so much ore Even pranced around like he was city slick Though Ole Bleu toted the pick and shovel And now the sacks of ore too With all the excitement Mr. Copperhead had forgot As he should not To give Good Ole Bleu the Lil Sugar that He had promised once they got back into town Instead he slithered into the nearest saloon Asked Saray Jane to play him a tune She was obliging to do so of course When out came Lil Sugar to sing a little tune Sweet as can be she looked round the room For Ole Bleu Who was no where's to see Upon finishing the chord Mr. Copperhead was trashed Said he would finish all that he'd started After taking a nap Well Ole Bleu didn't take to kindly to that In fact that Ole Burrow knew a trick or two of his own He made sure Ole Mr. Copperhead was asleep Then down to the minters he did creep Made a lot of cents or so they say Got gussied up for his Lil Sugar They drank carrot juice and ate bales of hay Mr. Copperhead awoke after three days to learn That Ole Bleu had made the mint and laid claims On the ore mines leaving him to hiss in a fit As he slithered out of town Thinking that if he had only given Ole Bleu the Sugar He had promised he'd still have his ore Mean while Ole Bleu and His lil Filly Sugar Were down at the livery getting ready to be hitched Seeing as now they were filthy rich As Mr. Copperhead slithered Down to a town called old dusty ditch Copyright Adell1 © 2006
The girl was legend All empty eyes & purple painted smiles. Every sweet white inch of her. And everyone knew her name She danced in satin skirts that only moved when she took them off. She was everything delicate, everything demure. She was beautiful even when she wasnt She watched the world with terror filled saucer eyes & the world looked right back with eyes that were unmistakably green It was clear glass, they envied her & she wondered why She knew they hung up her picture, plastered her to walls&books&frames that made her their prisoner. They stared at her when they were alone & forged a kind of intimacy she could thrive on But it was temporary & in the morning she was left to sing her own self to sleep since no one cared enough to do it for her The people that loved her, that glimpsed the real her when she uncovered it, all those people left her at the end & she saw what they'd done They'd led her down the wrong track but they peppered it with glitter & held her just right so she was blind to every bit of it She was the diamond dying in the night, she was the candied rose melting in the morning dew. They lured her with promises of love & took her innocence before she even knew it was there She hated them but started to love them almost obsessively. The love hate became another prison & she thought she was free because she always got nine seconds of pleasure before the sun rose Back bars catered to her kind & she walked in just to stand there & let their hands go places she'd never gone herself. It felt like the past & she convinced herself it was right One night she walked in, skirt past the legal limit & eyes bright like they used to be. It was a shock-making moment, she hadnt looked so sweet in oh so many years & they were afraid to touch her She'd been their girl forever, passed around & used like an old movie that cant be rewound. They knew every mark on her body, every scar where they signed her, a kind of "I was here" of the human body. They couldnt recognize her. It was the first time she walked out alone. Faintly she hoped to be pressed against a wall & killed but it didnt happen She kept turning around haunted by phantom-feels & ghost-touches. Her body just wanted to suffer. It was instinct & who was she to fight it? Every step was agony. She walked so carefully as though she was afraid of falling in a river of her own dark thoughts But it was hopeless, darkness followed her wherever she went
Used to drive by in my car Shake my head, look the other way Used to think get a job And get off the street And now, it's a place I may soon be Used to walk on by Or cross to the other side Thinking they had no pride Now it's a place I may soon be Heard all the stories Of rich men falling Being lost and forgotten Now it's a place I may soon be Used to scoff at their college education The thought they ever had a mansion Business suits and cars Now it's a place I may soon be I'm not there yet But I can see it near I see those storm clouds Searching for me I can see my efforts Being for naught And soon being caught I can see losing the choice Of what to keep Being in far too deep And looking through the car window From the other side Funny how perspective changes Depending on where you stand How quickly you begin to understand When it's a place You may soon be
The higher I go; The lower I'll sink. The one thing I desire Is the one that destroys me. The closer to the end, The more devastating the failure seems. When there is much to say, The only answer is silence.
In my youth I came to you For love and warmth When I needed words That were strong and wise I came to you Now here I stand Facing your door one more time Oh how I need your strength To walk on through There's the couch Where you watched TV The kitchen's still in place Where you used to cook The rocker's still on the deck Where you'd just sit and look The pillow still has your imprint Where you used to sleep There's your clothes all lined up Waiting for you to give them grace Look at the pictures lining the hall With your smiling face I remember how I came to you With news of my wife and kids And how you used to smile Now I'm walking in this place That has your feel But not your smiling face Oh dear God How I need your strength Who will I come to now Now that you are gone I don't know how But wherever you are I'll still come to you In my time of need Oh dear God, I'll never forget How when I needed strength and wisdom You were always there And how I came to you
Black cherries Platonic hearts Remembering moments from the past Climbing railings Watching cars pass Red, white, green and blue A picture of a world I once knew. Loss of breath Running shoeless Suffocating smoke filling the air Angered cries Too many lives taken in like a fishing net. We are only people in the end.
he day after i was born was a day seen tragic by members of blood. Thicker than water, but never stronger than the bonds of sons and mothers, suns and seasons, logic with reasoning, looking for reason to beseech the death of she. My mother. The day after i was born was exiled to the far corners of my mind. shunned by my inner fears of rejection. seen as the demon child, reconciled its falsehood, but couldn't clear the thoughts of these images due to insecurities. Everyday after the day i was born.,now seems meaningless. without her I've become a monster. something i'm ashamed to see in this mirror that stands in front of me. shattering glass breaking apart reflections of this shell of a man i call self.self called of my own. Save m, save me from self. I can feel myself giving up like the virgins to their firsts. Giving way to damnation, born of sin, made a sinner, and overpopulating this sinner's nation.The days i knew of my mother were happy ones. Tales of her everlasting glow and charismatic charm, tiptoeing through me and reeling in my heart, bones of the sea serpent, fresh outta the water. Flailing about in the hopes of achieving freedom. Hooked on the memories. The day after I was born I envied those who lived before me, to know her essence, even my elder sister with whom a year exactly separates our bond. We both miss her dearly. & the day after I was born & everyday after ceased to exist, temporarily. But the day i was born, my mother held me close as if i were her all. She told me,.. she told me, "I love you son." Her first and only son. and hours later, she rested in peace. & I this shell of a man in the form of an infant, weeped in regret. Never to know her true compassion but for a moments glance. & I became her heir, the bastard child. Living with thoughts of her in mind. May she rest.
Come to me with the Shadows of Doves and spilt papers. The sharp dampness of well acquainted sheets, Swells, Like God puffing Life and kisses up from the End of the Bed. This room is crowded in Vanished Smiles. I Want them Back. I Want the sight of your Teeth biting down into your Wrists, To be There Forever. I Want The Sounds that you Never imagined Would involuntarily Slip out of your Lips, To Be memorized by these Walls And Repeated to me. Over. And over. … Death is in the Folding of Sheets. … The Idea that Happiness Is Simply the Prayer that Tomorrow Never Comes. … I Don't Want to Accept That. But… Tomorrows been coming just the Same. … Where is my Measureless Night? Time… cruel efficiency, Written out in Ashes…. How much of the darkness of my Soul, I Would Give, To have you Back. You had eyes That no one could look at without Dying. But this After… Has become a Never-After, And somehow Life has stopped coming with the Breeze… Now… there are no freshly Cut Lawns… no sky above… No Green. No Blue. Just You. And You. And You… Into the Shelter of the Months I fly. I Wanted the Impossible… And Somehow… everything… has become It. Even Breathing, now, Lifting my Voice to Speak, All of it, Is beyond Me. You are out Of Reach And Apparently So is Life. From substance to substance, water to water, Love to Love, I Died into You. And as much as I'd like to regret It. I Can't. That Is why You are Endless, So Please… Gather me up As If you Were. -thend-
White cars stationary on their roofs blocking rural arteries whilst severing others Unexpected loss of vertical hold and bodily functions frozen in the failing headlights Beautiful greenery ablaze, beside the twisted wreckage of man. A movement shakes away broken glass and the tarmac writhes free of the terrible pictures Running on the wide screen's of my mind. Dripping petrol explosions and decapitation, Gruesome pictures I dreamt up while reality passed the windscreen and I, I sat there screaming inside. Luminous blue and an echoing voice rouse me from that dangerous moment, The phone weighs in once again in my hand. I'm rambling, or worse, but I get the message out And the comfort of my task ends with the depressed red button as The door clicks open A familiar face brings mind of the other and I'm out into the cold darkness Stepping slowly toward a nightmare vision that grew up in the dusk I find her and for a second we're back laughing and smiling. Over her shoulder I see The groupings of people that sprung up from hedgerows, their halogen shadows Merged with the darkness of the incident. The car is much too white. Too strange an angle, yet there they sit Tingling on the verge of the roaring tributary And casually stemming the tide
HEAT WLM/KDW Wildncrazy555 April 18, 2011 Waiting on the corner Should we warn her Of the approaching danger Like a silent still ranger She has been caught as a snitch Out comes the evil, mean witch We may to her have to slice Into little pieces we love to dice With a rock to her neck she will sink After a while she will begin to stink And no one will ever know For through time she will never show This is a terrible place Which has fallen from all of God's grace We hope we may Live through the day And hope to always stay To live another day
Look at the flood Where waters run deep Look at the lost faith So hard to keep Death and destruction And everything gone No words are needed Just listen and watch And decide what to do Just listen and watch And decide what to do Colors become blind When we're all of one mind Waters wash away riches And unite the poor Business suits and cut offs Take water the same When we're up to our necks We're all of one name So hand in hand we embrace To make a stand Working together to strive To clear out the damage Turn back the waters And once again live Flood waters run deep No words are needed Just listen and watch And decide what to do There's a simple strength here That won't be defeated It's one that's united In me and in you So as I take your hand Here is mine Together we'll decide Just what to do While making our stand No words are needed Just listen and watch And decide what to do
It is important, we old men, must teach young men to skip a stone over water. First you must pick the perfect stone, a stone to love, a solid stone, like a friend or father. It is important you find one that is smooth, encompassing, and flat. A stone with the right feel to fit your hand, a stone you can put your power into. Pick a stone -not for a boy but a man. It is important when you toss it over the lake to keep it flat with the water's surface, let it roll off your finger tips with ease and never, never make a poignant face. It is important you must make it skip, jump, and plane over the façade, the wet, the stream it does not matter how many times it skips it can be as few as two, as many as nineteen. It is important that you know that the rock you pick will never come back to you. It will skip for a few times then sink; lost forever, the stone you threw. It is important that you learn to skip a rock over water, you must let it go; even if you love it. You can kiss it, miss it, tell it goodbye but to the loss of it -you cannot submit, it is important.
What trace of shadow, of language long and distempered in memorial elegy, of abbeys as dismembered dolls lifted from their wrappings, of hallowed grounds embedded with upturned forks while cigarette embers chuckle soon sound aslumber in the crooks of pews, of fallow convictions interred between dour stones of the Thames, retracted like a lover's kiss, of security in flightless ebon wings while its mercurial eye peeps on Marriott's old ladies for 30 quid, of refuse systems as landmarks to history, dear old old Form(al) city. no cat no cradle in its strings of moving metal carriages in the heavens and hell, Shakespeare Shakespeare! What a play you've made of her, our fair Lady London
Life is Cruel WLM April 6, 2011 Always things to face Will we ever finish the race Is it meant for me Or will it ever be The continuing strife Always screwing up my life It seems that I try and try again But I never know where to begin The problems that I face Daily they put me in my place I thought of my friends Will they be there at the end I wish for their support Or will I be treated like a dork I really need them as such If they really knew how much Not saying that I was wrong With or without them I will be strong
I am, I guess, a tattered soul. A vagabond of sort. A derelict adrift at sea. No captain and no port. Nowhere to go, no one to guide. This frail and haggard bark, Aimlessly drifts out to sea, Piteously and stark. No pilot here the helm to take. No first mate to assist. Into oblivion adrift, Into a dark abyss. Will there one day a solace be? Will nepenthe be won? Can a sweet respite be found Before my setting sun?
No Homecoming Memory flows like the wind through chimes Of a love so sweet only a fool would not know To remember forever the passing of a sublime Giving of a love so timeless, so bold Perhaps etched in stone, a remembrance displaying An imbedded longing, a need to take back A life, ending so sudden and cruel, displacing A hope, a promise not kept for a lack Of a knowledge yet to be discovered Despite for centuries past progress so swift Has yet to seal a chasm, uncovered Of a despair of loss, a smile to uplift No broken spirit, however, 'tis only body Unscathed thy soul, a candle that burns Within the reminiscing of truth not forgotten A lover, a fool at times, yes, who still yearns To trace his words, words under no pretense Will give forth his mournful meaning Flavored with life's riches, bounty, a permeation like incense Words etched with caution, for he hopes for this to be his dreaming Fool cannot sustain his own life for The grievance of his promise broken too soon Through death a betrayal leaving fool forlorn Yet was witness to a lover whose own devotion waxed and waned like the elliptical moon
I was barely ten years old When I heard the news Couldn't quite comprehend Why Marshall wasn't coming home People said he was the best of them My Uncle Charlie's friend I can remember my Ma and Pop All their friends crying out loud The whole town coming out For a man everybody loved Sent off to a foreign land Never coming home again When Uncle Charlie came home Used to sit on the porch He and his drums playing a song Damning the Viet Cong in Marshall's name Used to look at him through the smoke Watch him shake, the blunt of people's jokes Seemed to have an unquenchable thirst Twenty-two going past a hundred What it was I never understood Turned him into a piece of wood Thirty years gone by Seem to have a different view As I look back on things I never knew I see my Uncle Charlie's friend in a different light No longer just a name As I've watched some of my friends go It's dawned on me why the whole town turned out For Uncle Charlie's friend The smoke has cleared, the thirst is gone Only the echos of drums remain On the porch of a house no longer there My memory knows him as Marshall What's left of the town Speaks of him as the best of them Though they haven't thought of him in years The way and why he died, they haven't forgotten It's only now I comprehend, the pain and grief My Pa's brother and the whole town felt For my Uncle Charlie's, my Uncle Charlie's friend.
I say goodbye a lot—not in an "I'll see you later" or "until next time" sort of way—but in a "goodbye for good" and "never speak to you again" sort of way. I've always been all right with it, accepted it, and embraced it, even. You know, people come and go; they serve their purpose and even though sometimes it's worth it, they go away. I'm guilty of it myself. Just leave. Get out. Go. Don't stay. I've said goodbye so many times to so many people in so many ways, but you posed a problem that my brain, mind, soul, body can't escape. I just want to be back inside your arms, your bed, your life, your heart, you. Instead, I ran off, 9 thousand miles away to wake up as you go to bed, to play in a giant sandbox. I do not want to stay here; June cannot come quickly enough. March, April, May—three more months of this living in your tomorrow, you in my yesterday. I miss you. I fear you. I long for you with intensity as deep, as overwhelming, as powerful and dominating as the sky's infinity. I love you. I want you. I yearn for you in every single way; the tears I've bled for you are insurmountable. I wish for Home; I wish for the West. Even greater than my desperation for friends, family, familiar faces, familiar places, is my ache to have you near; if wishes were horses, and if horses had wings, I'd have one to take me there.
...I loved like a run on sentence mentally continuing thoughts of love lost silently withering away... & they would say my heart resembles barren land barely surviving the winter's harshest frost heaven had froze over hell to pay was the cost & based on our trials I sentenced myself into becoming a hollowed structure & I structured my spine into a physical slump so the world could see how hard it is for a mere human baring ungodly emotional weights I weighed... multiple options of opinionated open ended questions questioning us while sleeping eyes wide shut wishing our love would thrive like vines entangled around coffins wishing for a breath of fresh air to enter a corpse esophagus which meant... in order for us to appreciate such a love one of us would have to die & I'm still breathing... ...your death was a must...
With many endless nights I bid you farewell, Among the thrones of pale love I kiss you for the last time, The mortality of the mind, the failure of my memory, Those that can keep you alive. Goodbye. The more I tip toed around what used to be, The further I am from tomorrow, Hence I say adieu, Forever I'll neglect my sorrow. Love is the greatest mystery I can never tell, A game I'll never win, An instrument I'll never master, Its height far beyond my reach. With each fading dreams I close this door, As the music we used to hum dies off I bow my hat, To each shadow of you, Those that I paint each morning. No more. A tale too beautiful for a life as mine, You said it too and I know it well, Our time is too short and fate has not been fair, It's life they say, it's just life. Adieu, To the secret tears, To the painful remedies of true love, Adieu. This chapter is done.
Sometimes being alone Just isn't enough Today I went to see an old friend Who doesn't get around much anymore Been a while since we last spoke Not like the words that flowed Were now easily heard Sometimes the realization That it's been a little too long Comes just a tad too late Makes catching up harder Than it needs to be So you talk and talk Remember all the old times Laugh about what seems silly now Cry about things you didn't know Talk about how the kids have grown Where life took us both Where we thought we'd go Talk about your wedding The days your momma and poppa passed How the words I wrote Helped those days get by Now here I stand in disbelief Wondering how fast time does fly It's kind of you to listen Silently let me ramble on But before you go I must say Though alone we've spent the day As I stand watching You lowered into the ground Sometimes being alone Just isn't enough
The Code of Chivalry, Courage, Fortitude, {even at the risk of it going sour} in the final hour. Pour forth the honesty, the complete madness, yet your distant loyalty. To hang on to a faint spark that might yet be ember, stroked thought anew. A little bit of a late night under the starry sky. You search the eyes that once held the great northern stars glow. Though now they show the clouds and shrouds of cover veils, that has dimmed the glow. When you were raring your head and your image striking the forces of the universe. She held emptiness in her arms. Silence were the soft whisper words gone sour. Blinded you to the reflections you drew and once touched. Now nothing more than shadows with no forms. You stroked the sensual images and worldly vignettes of romance. Her arm no longer settled upon yours', honeydew hands none to hold onto. You struck your place the victory shows upon your face. She is the form with no shadow, the glow with no diamante show. She lingered in the pathway of those sensual, vignettes unnoticed as you in your real honesty let go. Raise Fortitude, Courage, Chivalry, Honesty, for somewhere behind loyalty turned sour in this hour as romance stales and all else fails. Do not look for her shadow for she forfeited her form. Do not seek an encore for she does not feel behind the veils in her hearts core.
Eating the weeds from the grass you slept in last night. Don't look down or you'll fall from the moon. Can you pick yourself up? can you make it home? Jump, and hope god will save you. No faith. No G.O.D Just you Bruised and rotting You make it seem easy Dream in the fields of all those yesterdays and pick the weeds for the hope of tom marrow
Overstepping boundaries, clinging onto an empty marriage, carrying the family alone. Husband fighting war with General dreams, of glory, in his head. Carrying myself alone. Knowing alone is lonely, lonelier every day. We are carrying bodies, buddies and homeboys home to their families. Poor mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers, longing for a glimpse of their boy or girl, dead to this world. They grow lonely, lonelier day by day and night by night. Carrying on, pushing harder and harder to make it through with all their fight. Smiling the smile, greeting the greetings, and saying I'm okay. Falling apart from the very start, until you push too hard and the wound is now a scar, and you say I can't go on and the loneliness is gone. You are gone when you push, you fall. Take it easy, easier everyday. Company comes by and then they go away. Easy, easier, easily they say it takes time and the pain will not stay, so they say, so they say. Please I cry to the wind and the sea I want to play, I want to play..with my love. Too many soldiers died today, died today, died today. When I push I fall, when we push we fall, when they push they fall. We all fall down. Marla Stone
I watched As my dreams Tumbled and fell Like a beautiful crystal Sitting high upon a shelf I watched them fall In slow motion As they went Tumbling, tumbling, tumbling down In what seemed like ... Forever Until Like a giant drop of water Falling into a lake In flawless synchronicity I watched the sides Rise up In a perfect circle Reaching all about I watched As my dreams splashed All around the room Covering the walls And everything about With Lost hope Lost expectations Lost wishes And yes… Most of all… Lost dreams
After You Have Run Away; and after the money, that you need has run like you so low. How long can you live off those small, packets of sweet honey, So 'dear'. Warm each they gave you, when you bought that last finger of chicken, you being hungry and so thin you must eat it all. They who eat only sweet candy, soft it is moist taffy bagged candy and treats in cups each girl holds, such as yours. They can see the toothache you now have not some small widening stain, that's your soul that you carry inside from them. Your little suit case, dainty and small packed inside. One pair of jeans your skirt from church some knee socks and your flops and pink clear panties, because you are a pink oyster they all want to drain you. Sixteen or younger the dark living jungle you see. The whole world is locked so far now away, from you. The man in blue would take you home, child again. The other lives in the back red Allys way. He does not smell the Lilly or Rose he just cracks, open the moon and moves around each clouds soft face. Mean are the bruises around what were once your, soft and milk thistle your silkies. Winter looks down and comes back to keep in us all, but not like that, in the back of a stall, on your hands and knees where those old salty leaves, always rain down from the trees,that can't stand on there own. Is It Poetry s.t.
My life is goin on, Its a roller-coaster, ups and downs, so many things to tel, cant tel it to the walls around, they dont reciprocate, need a soul, need a person, Feeling happy? Feeling sad? Tell a friend... met you as a stranger, took a walk to know you better, and never turned back, look back on the path we led, there were no footsteps, oh i remember, we flew, n dint walk, Feeling happy? feeling sad? Tell a friend.. chose different paths, yet our lives intertwined, i dint ask for this, yet it came, wouldnt have wished for the happiness, if i knew the pain, the end is near, Feeling happy, Feeling sad, have always shared, hope we meet again, oh friend, cuz they say world is a small place, To embrace again, i hope....
Spoken! Are we meant to walk a tight straight line, Wouldn't that be saying to walk like the blind. How will the hollow be treated in the end, The two edge sword is being used for family and friend. A crooked smile is hard to bend right, The strong is most needy when using their might. Unconscious wisdom spoken to bring down to the top, A cliff is extended in sight of the short stop. Wrongful delight can't teach a child confusion, But a picture made by evil hands gives a right way illusion. Falling short to the tall brings along a silent bed, Hot air in a head makes no stop air blown on hot makes stop while ahead. Carving your pumpkin with heart out of chest, To take a heart out of evil empty chest is best. Cut off your left if it hinders your right, Close your eyes to see dark to realize whose light! Ashley Hogan AH
Love, my 'Hope' In One Life; and when not if, it must have come upon me. Lost in you, held in me, your heart. Giving you less, and lost, you gave me more. I am failing and the more I fail, and more, I wish less to fail. Failing that, will you touch my hand, One more time, before the light begins to fade. And even after, after before, before even after, before that dawn ever came. Is It Poetry r.b.
Resting my eyes i sat a while lids locked. muscles sliding to rest toes & feet washed rough on stony traverse boil to a constant roll...burning breath in exhausted lungs tome creaks by & calm trickles eroding the barren skin turning the serene oasis light gently slices away falling softly piece by piece to the empty ground beneath my feet lull to the dead beat stand still the fast tempo kinetic air inside pounding life force choking for a sideways glance unattended
I closed my eyes to dream and my dreams were empty The Angel, the stairway, the stars, the star They were all gone It's been so long since I felt her presence in my life In dream where once I liked to go for solace I find a void Silence In the face of such silence What am I supposed to do? I reach out into the wellspring and find it empty There's nothing left and still Still I know something secret Something sweet Silence has fallen across my dreams like a blanket of snow Somehow cold and desolate in the quiet I know that I am supposed to feel despair Because I am alone Bereft of my guide, has fled me But there is no despair There is nothing I am alone in the silence of my dreams I know I guess in the absence of despair I am just left to wonder Just left to wonder How come I know it is silent at all?
A single fear sliding off the face as though clinging for one's own soul. Slipping from its home, only to plummet into Hades' foul grasp exploding into cascading oblivion.
Well, one could not call it a church for it was not white, pure, or religious nor could it be called a Police Department or Sheriff Department with the attached jail for it was not that bad or evil. This place was unpainted, bare wood, and with four rock chimneys which sometimes smoked no matter how old or young they were but the smoke only appeared in the early morn and late afternoon for the occupants were about life or should I say survival. Making it from pay check to pay check barely getting by with nothing to spare. Inside was emotional barreness, loneliness, and inferiority at the max for love and hope had died so long ago. Isolation of the soul with preditory instincts to encapsulate all with the preditory instincts of a wild animal this being done to one so young rightly separates this place from a church but yet it is not a prison. Permanently emotionally destroys the child...... (Is this prose poetry or do I need to work on it. Be honest. I need to know where to go with it.)
Bought a pad of paper Has lines on it One hundred pages of paper Already stained Stole a Staedtler marker Just a pen really Stuffed with ink all waterproof Document proof and lightfast Wrote a poem just like this one Used the pen to do it Filled exactly one page of one hundred too Just to spit this kyfe off Too tired to do anything else Waste time accept it Because I don't give a damn Too tired to care Shredded and burned this pad of paper One hundred dreams too ashes A million memories smoked So what burned my hand too Carried a flame in my heart Left it in those pages Hung out to dry Like my soul in jet ink Smeared across my face my hand Smudged across my face too So what, so who cares The cliff base kicked me in the face
Evidenced FIFTYFOUR CharlaXFabels The Church Parsonage on Church Street the old Methodist Church where eye used to go to church it Burned down. My mother died a horrible murder death. My brother died in a car wreck. We used to fight each other though eye was elder he was bigger. Eye was a weak and sickly child of GOD. My Father died and eye do not knoe what of. Eye was not always allowed to live at home. My room was taken and the things in it like my toy box and the comics and the yearbooks were all destroyed. Eye was given a hardship discharge from the ARMY. My home at Morrilton was burned down by a natural gas line leak which then exploded. My family always hated me and wanted me to die alone. Eye stopped my consumptive habits and was in a real fight in Arizona only was beaten into Jesus and left to die half dead eye still try to live and love and write this is mye bio mye evidenced.
Did you hear my scream from the darkness!! Of the day when the sun failed to shine Did you hear my cries screeching from my soul!! When the heavens broke from the sky To fall away and into nothing Did you hear me die!! In the whispering across your skin Did you hear me scream out in the night Just before the dying of day!!
the more i try to show you exactly who i am you turn your back on me and i don't know why my heart ached for you and it shattered really fine i kissed my futures goodnight and drummed up my strength to cry i am a mourning masochist and a shattered sadist i cut my soul just to see if it's real your heart never knew the dangers in my eyes i am sick inside my soul over and over again i can't think about the futures without realizing the past knowing i was wrong when i chose to make love to you each time i felt dejected because i was untrue my heart cried bloody murder when i feel in love with you i screamed to the heavens and shouted down to hell i needed you to love me but my futures are too bright i thought it was love but i now came to see that deep inside of me i truly hate you there wasn't any guilt when i let you go i felt more relief that i don't have to try no more.
Beauty is the beast. Wondrous its aroma, that leaves the senses numb. Its desires indecent, its sadness delicious. In the eyes of your love. When in your presence, I am lost. Your delicacy undulating my core, lubricating oneself, swallowing the heart and mind. In the eyes of your love. But when love escapes you, foreboding are the feelings, left the emptiness. Symphony of misery, frightens the air. In the eyes of your love.
It matters not no I think this is so and thus it is no? Yea, I do believe this to be the way it shall be From this past moment justly risen and so it will Catering forth from my lips espoused with what I know not Nor care I will from the why of this passing flame Between my fingers like sand across the ocean floor forgotten yet never so For why should my mind leave it behind discarded and unused? Lest it truly desire to forget and abstain from whence this feeling born be And yes I say and cringe when I do, that I do not, nor shall not do as I was to do When I said in the day and cried in the night that I would do as I was bade From your lips expressed a promise pleased and yearned to fall from mine do Did not and cannot truly give lest I bound be to what and why I cannot say For I am not of myself nor am I of my own counseling freely Nor will this do for me in this day and night come forth unbidden yet anyway Still I plainly ask you in the knowing there be an answer for me never shall Not from your lips crested with strawberries untasted, so I remain veiled Because of one transgression against fate, unforgiven still I be and stay When never more have I wanted of and for but one lingering pass of petals fallen Across my own silent breath like the whispered songs of those forlorn birds Never touched with such knowledge and yet sail between heaven and earth No, this will not do to pass and me my heartfelt friend in loss Instead the petals fell and the dirt packed itself down across the burial of we Long ago it feels to breeding in my mind and soul, like tears unheard, fallen still And so I say to you once more before with a lost looking inside " " Therein you know me, do you not truly and you do so did, do see I that you do indeed Yet still herein you lie what yawns you see to know not and hold you alone it does Do not, no I pray and shout hold onto that no more for it is false Stead know you this and this alone to be truest and boldly so for this day and next In one pouch I placed a breath, a tear, a stone, a pinch, a braid and feather thoughts all Wear it long into the summer of life will you do and I feel it to so I do, I did, will do For knowing under the moon in the winter between you and me of the birth emoted to Unhappy be one and one till the moment falls again when one smiles to do and do I do, will do again as when last I saw with these my eyes shaded behind the sunny Shied out and eye filled smile of parting with . . . Then come what dreams shall we see to breathe across the day breaking anew
I had to say good bye to my beloved kitty, Sydney. Syd-Syd as I called her, loved to be held. Her favorite spot was on my shoulder, as if I were burping a baby, she would sleep there for hours if I would allow. I would walk around with her there doing my work, never once was she disturbed. Before I married, she'd join me in praises to the Lord. As I sang along with my favorite tapes, she would dance around as if she were chasing angles in the room. Always jumping, looking upward and having what seemed to be a smile on her face. This continued after I married too. My husband noticed her favorite place on my shoulder and called her 'my growth'. He thought she was a special little cat. She was a great traveler! She loved Nacho Chips or cheese, so when we traveled, my husband loved feeding them to her because they gave her the smelliest gas in the world! When we were in the car together with her, and then got blasted with a 'pooter' ... I would turn every shade of green imaginable, and he'd laugh! Because of course .... 'my growth' was on my shoulder, so I got the full impact! She was the pet that was with me the longest .... 20+ years! She used to sit in my lap and we would have a 'meowing' conversation, this could go on forever! She would share .... (or should I say steal) bites of my peanut butter sandwiches, sneak a lick or two of my chocolate ice cream or Instant Breakfast, when my head was turned. She outlived several of our dogs, and in the year without a dog, she became one. So when we again had dogs, my husband's favorite, she continued sitting at our feet begging with our dogs. Then there came a time to return to my shoulder. The last few years she spent in front of the heater or curled in bed under the covers at my side. She sometimes would sleep on a pillow next to mine, and occasionally stretch herself across my head, I'd wake to a paw in my eye or ear. If I made a move she disapproved of, she let me know in no uncertain terms. Yeah, I'd say she was my growth! I guess she was so much a part of me, that she had become ... 'my growth'. I know that now I feel a huge void in my life and household, because of that frail 4 lb kitty, when we had her put to sleep. That small cat made a HUGE gaping hole in my heart now that she is gone. I loved her so. I miss 'my growth'!
I can do a lot of things and do them well, always have. This what I have been asked I fear I cannot do . . . What's more important in this is how I no longer wish to. I can do many things and do them well, always have. These are my feelings and they run deeply across my soul. Woe to me I say because I know its over and drawing near. There lies before me a future full of agony of longing unrelenting. I can do many things and do them well, always have. There is one thing left for me to do and I cannot. Will I continue on I have been asked, Continue going I'm asked and I cannot do it anymore! I can't keep going for much longer, if at all . . . How long am I supposed to go without hope, without anything at all . . ? I can do many things and do them well, always have. This what I have been asked to do I cannot do . . . Will you understand when I'm gone and I know you wouldn't For the blame you would place across your shoulders and why . ? It's my life, this is my life and that's the joke . . right? Yeah, as if this is living, as if this is even a pale reflection of life at all!! I don't want this life anymore, I'm sick of it . . . No more do I pray for happiness that will never come, Instead I pray to close my eyes and never awaken again. I can do many things and do them well, always have. Please God spare me from growing older, from living at all, Please take my soul for I am done with this life without . . . Just let me sleep forever, for there is nothing left for me . . . Life is empty, meaningless, hollow and all faded away, There is no colour left in my eyes anymore, ever again! Just agony, just agony . . . God won't give me this prayer I know, instead God will grant me an eternity of suffering, For she's never done anything to answer my prayers before. Save fill my life with pain, suffering And horrible oceans of misery that I drown in every waking moment of this . . . I can do many things and do them well, always have. I cannot live without . . . I just can't . . . I . . .
It's dark and i'm tired dazed with flickering lights. I see a flowing robe in the middle of the road, with a thumb out for a ride. I slow to see - a car pulls over, my sister who has been gone picks up the robe and goes the other way. With his hands he gives direction she pays no attention, and takes him far away.That is why the black cat which ran into the street turned around with fear when hit by the light.
I know you said you will be there for me You said everything happen for a reason Everything that we do together is meant to be The day you went a way For me it was a bad season When you left I wasn't sad It made me STRONG Because I know you in a better place It was just a matter of time that I seen you then you where gone Even though I miss seeing your face When it's pretty outside and it's one beautiful day I know you looking down on me with a smile on your face Saying everything OKAY
It was long ago, Whilst I was still going to college, Way back during the dawn of mankind, Still living with my first wife, with my parents, And my beloved mutt-dog, Rippy... A smallish, black dog, Long a part of the family, He loved cheese, like all Bells, And hated harmonicas, I guess, As he would howl when my father played... But we didn't know that then, We thought the cutie was merely singing along... Well, Rippy was in the habit of being let out, On his own, as we had a big yard, And always came back without incident... Until one winter's day, when he never returned... All hearts were broken, But none more than mine... I went out after a snow storm tapered off, Found his frozen carcass in a street nearby, And buried him, not an easy task, In the frozen back yard ground... Set up a cross, Although he never admitted to a religion... And sadly resumed my routine... Two days later, I came home from C.C.N.Y., One afternoon, via bus and subway... When I came in the door, My young first wife, Ann, and my mother, Greeted me with mysterious, mischievous smiles... They told me to close my eyes, They would take me inside my parents' Sealed close bedroom, for a surprise... Great mystery was evident, And it was evident they were enjoying My perplexed looks... Well, I did as told, They took me into my parents bedroom, I was told to open my eyes, I did, and there on the bed, Was my beloved Rippy!! I was delighted, of course, But wondering if this was some evil magic, As I had buried him some days prior, But no, it was Rip, and he was find, Just a bit skinnier than usual. So, who had I buried? To this day I don't know, But what are the odds, A dog of similar shape and size, Should appear dead, frozen, Directly across the street? Was his whitish frozen hue The reason I was fooled? I don't know, But I was so overjoyed, To have my favorite dog of all times, back... When he ultimately did die... My wife was gone from the scene, And my dog died in my arms... And if I live to be 600, And have 100 dogs more Before I die, I will always miss my Rippy most, So deeply did he I adore. For Rhoda, who is about to lose a favored cat, whose posted picture proved that that particular cat was gorgeous beyond normal expectations. tom bell
The natural flow Of each life into the next world, Hard to grasp at times, Cruel, heartless, yet natural?? Mark Trotiner, musician, Friend, teacher to me Lighter of rooms on entry, Suffering misunderstandings, As we all do, Blessed with lovely daughters, Meaning the world to him, Borderline genius, I would venture to say... I trust God has accepted him With the love he warrants, I will walk a little sader, From this day on, For I have lost a friend, One who helped me through hard times, One who held my respect,, No easy chore, believe me He's playing with the greats now, To his family, my condolences, I too weep tonight.
Perhaps the stifled conversation, the contact Of Bodies Or the Building and Spitting and Swearing The Light, the graze of many Nameless finger-tips Or the tenderness, which in the end, Deciphered Nothing. The words addressed and loved by Someone, But never repeated, nor spoken of since, Vanished Smiles, lost while pursuing things piled up In the moist corner of some heated soul, The feeling of Black hair, Soft and brief, against a nipple, A Thigh wrapped loose And lazy across Jutted hips. Or Withered clocks, the blue cement of dreams, The Passed over Jokes, Or all those hushed Anguish hearts, Sipped Steamy, With Coffee. Casually flicked Loves, like Stomped Cigarette Butts Or maybe abandoned street wise and left For a car to run over. Finish Off. (We never did think about Ashtrays or Forest Fires) Your Stampede of Breath, those Trampling hoofs of Wine, The sight of pants, tussled, awry, spread eagle over a lamp, "But, what If it Catches Fire?" That girl who came to shout. But forgot her Tongue, Her Throat , Her Mouth. And Ended up just standing there crying. Of splendor and Steaming, the Mouth of never Say, Not-No-I'm Tired, The soft Peach Fuzz hair, of everywhere Dear The taste of licked dew across your cheek-bones (Just How long… did we sleep on that Park Bench?) The Palm trees harried by Squirrels pretending to be Roosters The sea left Behind, the ground darkened by stones, How Long Baby? It's been such a Long time… This tiny house, the floors covered in Papers "But, What if it Catches Fire?" To late though… Even I Realize. These Memories Are Already Ablaze. -thend-
I imagine you're as sick of the mother teresa jokes, as I am of the bell ones..."ding, dong" ring my chimes, on and on.etc. anyway: re; the door; me too, and countless zillions of others.. but to us, ours are the ones we deem to count to ...this is purely a natural trait...Death is the sword of Damacles' held over all our heads, and worse yet, to those we love...and when it collects it toll...our hearts have to dig a new hole. best regards, tom
My sweet Ruby's birthday, Naturally on Valentine's day, In her honor, the NY city of Beacon Will close their schools! Ain't that a kick? Though, sadly, She seems to be "missing in action" lately, Many wonder why, She is so loved on this site, Many of us cry.... So come back home, To the five and dime, We'll even through in some Jimmy Dean sausages!!! Or, as Kenny Roger's first song went, "Ruby, don't take your poems to town!"