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We are naked and alone, being not willfully born,
And we are also alone when we die.
And the same in between, every year on and on
No matter do laugh we or cry.
How can I expect that I'll be understood
By your mind or by instinct of yours,
When myself I feel lost in emotional wood,
Where I am walking alone like a ghost.
Where my jealousy fights with my faith and my trust,
Where one part of me hopes that you love me in me, but another so
That I'm just a placeholder in the world of your dreams,
Unfulfilled by someone in your past !
When our bodies together are blending in one,
Are you thinking of him, while keep holding me tight,
Giving kindly to me what is his by his right,
Who escaped from your hands on the run ?
More featured poems below...
It's best not to feel
It's best not to love
It's best to be alone
It's best to be gone
No matter how much you try
No matter how much you cry
Eventually, you'll die
From too much pain inside
Tried to be happy
Tried to be positive
Yet people do not see
The efforts you give
It's best to be no one
It's best when you're done
Because people do not care
Because people are not aware
It's best to stay hidden
It's best to not show up
It's best if you lied
It's best to stop
Swirling clouds of remorse
Pervade the soul.
Trying to fight the current;
Defeated, slipping under.
Whirlpool of doubt;
No light, no hope, no direction;
Lost in this prison,
A shattered captive.
An appliance has a warranty,
Right there in black and white.
You can get your money back
If it won’t work just right.
And purchasing a car provides
Assurance in two styles –
It’s guaranteed for either months
Or, which comes first, in miles.
The human body does not have
A paper that imparts
The promise of the life imbued
In all its many parts.
So sometimes organs need repair,
Especially with age;
And when such breakdowns happen,
It is very hard to gauge.
Your heart may suddenly decide
It’s thumped its final beat;
Or possibly, your knees get bored
With holding up your feet.
Your retina may think it’s time
For it to just detach;
And maybe hidden cancer cells
Wake up and start to hatch.
Sections of your brain may feel
They’re kind of overloaded.
Liver, kidneys, pancreas
May start to look corroded.
Symptoms warn us, sort of like
That dread check-engine light;
Then we must take action
To bring order back from blight.
Just think of how much easier
And calm our lives would be,
If, with our birth certificates,
We got a warranty!
Ilene Bauer (http://primetimerhyme.blogspot.com)
Where should I go and find the name
blown away in the air it became ashes a handful of memory.
The name I long for, gone with the wind
is the name branded in my heart.
To carry all the way to the burial ground where,
on one day, I shall go and lie my soul and body.
The name which was sobbing in the rain
drenched to the skin,
the name drifted on the flow of water,
the name wandered with the changing seasons.
It may roam in the night sky; become a lonely star,
though there is no allotted asterism for the name’s sake.
The name shattered in the empty air and became a stardust,
lives in my heart, it’s a handful of cold ashes that may be
forgotten as it escapes from the hand.
Soft shades kiss the meadow lands
adrift in blissful silence.
Windows glow like welcome beacons
hailing ships on storm-toss'd oceans
sailing safe to harbor's rest, as villagers
repose, so soon to sleep.
At the edge of town the church is still.
Strangled gravestones mark in mute remembrance
struggles of an age gone by.
Ivied walls and crumbling steeple,
signs of venerable decay, where kinfolk meet
to greet their Gods and beg forgiveness
for their many indiscretions.
A haven for the wealthy and the ne'er-do-well alike,
it welcomes differences of race and creed.
All worship embraced in its sheltered precincts,
all sinners accepted according to need.
The Lost Soul
Lost and lonely,
A cold misty darkness,
Filling the air,
Feeling my way,
I cannot see,
Beginning to pray.
Praying to what?
Praying to whom?
Nothing is here,
But darkness and gloom.
I try to scream,
To wail and to shout,
My fear increases,
No sound coming out.
Only the silence,
The terror, the mist,
My body is gone,
I do not exist.
My heart cries out,
In anguish, despair,
Lost and lonely,
Your voice in echo haunting me
Whisper words that resonate,
They call in dreams persistently
And speak of Love that Truth negates.
For you were gone before the morn
You grayed the sunshine from my days,
The faded Trust was never born
These tears remind me that always.
If Sleep would come without a dream,
Oh such comforting release!
The gentle Silence sings it seems
Of songs that drown your voice with ease.
Your echoed Love, please speak no more,
Accord me rest and new tomorrows!
Mute that voice just like before
When my heart knew of no great sorrows.
August 3, 2009
Heart of My Love
In every woman’s heart she walks on the softest whispers of dawn
As if in a whispering lonely bird passes her by fleetingly on
Her heart and soul is singing to her lover come to me my sweetheart
I’ll be yours as we walk upon the heavenly clouds of the night
While the northern lights and stars crystallize upon our eyes so bright
My song starts to break as my vocal chords tell you we’ll never part
My heart seems to yearn more for you my tender loving love
As if we could be flying on the wings of love-birds like a white dove.
What have you learned
No time to bluff
It's getting rough
The things you do
Are not enough
You have the ties
You can rely
No need for you
What you have learned
It takes more
Than body strong
Man up the mind
You can't go wrong
i lit one cigarette;
a cryptic background music lulls me,
bringing me back where we first pledged our love.
love so pure and innocent, un-mired by any sensuous aspiration,
not wanting more, but just a gentle kiss from your loving lips,
and a warm embrace that seems to last a lifetime.
every trailing puff, from my dwindling stick, it beckons,
bringing out every single memory of you.
your smiles, your touch and your gentle gazes;
every single smoke brings out a bitter, yet sweet after-thought;
where we could be together, once again to renew our vows.
oh how delectable this narcosis is,
where you and i, once again become one, and me, once more,
reaching out to touch you, to kiss you, and smell your sweet perfume,
for you, my dear, are seared into my heart, never dying, never to disappear. oh how sweet it is, to be with you once again.
time is, but a hassle.
my pensive thoughts, like the cigarette i'm nurturing,
is slowly diminishing into nothing. all my wishes, and fancies, drifting
to another void.
i lit another cigarette.
I’m about to submit some advice
Solid as poetry’s gneiss:
- A word to the wise
- Don’t plagiarize,
You’ll be squeezed in a strong legal vice!
Trying to be better in each and every way.
For tomorrow won't remember my sins of yesterday.
If I ask to be forgiven at the end of everyday.
And if I'm truly sorry, I won't do that thing again,
that kept me from a righteous life and in the grips of sin.
Washed clean of my short comings each evening as I pray.
For with his love and guidance, he keeps Satan's plans at bay.
So forgive me if I've failed at any point and time.
My savior walks beside me, leads me when I'm blind.
As I grow in dignity, you might see me sway
but learning is a gift in life.
So come to me what may.
Hot corn bread and cold beer are waiting
for a finger to clack the ultimate picture perfect;
it could be the best abstract painting
for that artist running out of ideas and simply fret,
but after a while inspiration bubbles
and emotion flows as he mumbles!
Were it a stylish gal posing on a beach blanket,
I would fondle her gently and capture her with my charm;
imagination can create a false image of an object
meaning something else, but it can be considered as a whim!
Another perception would be eating hot corn bread,
while we sip cold beer and bury our feet in the sand;
a true temptation to indulge ourselves and laugh!
And chatting and drinking, desires will burn her breath;
on impulse, she will get closer and lead me to lovemaking...
kissing her, I feel the urge on her trembling lips as they become obsessive!
Corn bread sweet as her mouth, satiate my craving by allowing all fantasies!
Cold beer, make me drunk and fulfill her need of woman moaning!
Copyright ( c ) 2015 by Andrew Crisci
you see your brother down
pick him off the ground
don't play around
help him or her stand
show god love
PAST GODS TEST
YOU WILL BE BLESS
do it all over this promise land
TAKE SOMEONES HANDS
When all about you crumbles
and life becomes a chore,
when despair and desperation
leave you empty to the core.
When there is no point in living
and you wish that you were dead
there is no one that can wake you
from depression’s hopeless bed.
When every straw you grasp at
seems to snap off in your hand
and every step you’re taking
meets with ever shifting sand.
When you soul has sunk to levels
where it’s lost the will feel
it is hard to then distinguish
what is false and what is real.
To seek your resurrection
from this darkness into light
you must struggle for direction
as you rise towards the light.
At first it’s just a glimmer
like the hopefulness of dawn,
but as the sun gets brighter
it will help to keep you warm.
It’s a long and tedious journey
and it never has an end,
but becomes less of a burden
as you stem the downward trend.
Should sadness comes to haunt you
let life wash its waves away
immersing you with feelings
of new hope in every day.
When all about you crumbles
and life becomes a chore,
it takes courage, strength and effort
to make life worth living for.
But when risen from the ashes
like the Phoenix from the Flame
you can once again start breathing
and enjoy your life again.
Ivor G Davies
to change from
range to range
what lie in it
asks to bring new
face to face
Young to old.........
are of two fold
Cause of evolution
and then revolution
feel in 'me'
means in "SOUL"
for the perfection.
I am an Iris
Sometimes sporting a fuzzy beard,
I hear wisdom say, “Do not shave.”
“It would come back thicker,” it warns.
To razors I’ll not be a slave.
Elusive is “promise in love,”
but my purple face is fearless.
Nurturing true love takes effort;
to snapdragons I am earless.
Faith has shown I reap what I’ve sown.
Though Iris’s lifespan is short,
a bulb of hope roots in my heart
where butterflies are my escort.
*Iris means “wisdom and valor, faith, promise in love, hope”
Written May 3, 2015 for Andrea’s Flower contest
I ask you to forgive me for i am not perfect
i've wasted tears on people who don't deserve them
i've wasted time on people who don't deserve it
but at the time i felt like i weren't worth them
the people i care most about i manage to hurt
and i sincerly apologise for that
until you lose them.you don't know how much the damage is worth
trying to wipe the tears from my eyes and laugh
will i always crave the attention from my mother i never had?
will i always feel insecure from growing up in foster care?
went from self harming to writing my pain on a pad
will i always hate my family for never being there?
25/02/07 i was 15 my father died
asking myself if i'm heartless inside
cause i haven't shed a tear
i don't feel no different cause i never had him here
no pictures of my family.but walls covered in posters of Eminem
all of the sacrs and liquor sent me straight
trying not to relapse so i pick up my pen again
love and hate it can be hard to differentiate
i apologise to all of my future girlfriends
the break-up with Rebecca left me with a broke heart
i hate to admit it.but i loved her
so my future relationships will be affected by those scars
i moved on.still keep everyone at a distant
try and get close and i'll push you away
used my strength to overcome every obstacle
and have more than enough for today
She looks at her child with so much care and so much love, and thinks, what a precious gift from god up above. She never thought she could ever love somebody this much, but all it took from that moment from birth was one single touch.
A gentle kiss on the head, a llttle kiss on the cheek. Never did she think this love could ever be this unique.