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Narrative Grief Poems | Narrative Poems About Grief

These Narrative Grief poems are examples of Narrative poems about Grief. These are the best examples of Narrative Grief poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative | |

The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss


April 14, 2013


Details | Narrative | |

Just for Me

In the past I remember how things were so simple
When I was little my cheeks had such cute dimples
Looking back I remember how sweet I was as a child
When I think again my heart told me I was so wild
Yet, in time my simple choices was revealed as true as anyone
The reason I was the way I am today, I did things, to get done
Finishing lots of my undone ideas was so incredibly hard
So I figure my heart and choices should never hold in no bard
I never thought I would learn heart aches and pain
With such under statement I did things for no gain
I was a child who held true to what he has learned
But as we got older those kinda perspective would get me burned
When I made up my mind that people was not kind
I led myself in a confusion that I was blind
In the past I do recall that seeing is believing
So I was the one who stood their with friends leaving
Alone, I felt I did not belong, I cherish each person who knew me
I got older too see how the world works it stung me like a bee
The feeling of tingling ran through my vain
My view of the world and people who knew me was stained
Now I know they are out for their selves with no kind feelings
Life I know is just a joke because of who I hung out with seeing
Today as I look at the world it is in such shambles and astray
And rather fallow everyone I just walk away


Details | Narrative | |

Dreams Of Reality

Dreams Of Reality
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears

A difference of a world a way
A distance of a different kind
Love is blind and divine
Hold my hand
Let us touch the sunshine
On this hill of heaven we stand 
I pray

From one another 
Life and the world will never take us
Unless it’s together
Then we will become forever
Never leaving each others presence
Our bond becomes stronger in living
With every day
I stare into your glare
Wishing we live on; and long 
Strong and healthy 
We will grow old
In a happy union together
Looking beside me
Coming to a reality
You’re not there
My dreams are not reality 
My love has perished. 


Details | Narrative | |

Healing Words

My mother, my grandmother before has always held a place in my heart.
My father, and my grandfather before has the same part.
I was young and very active with unwillingness to listen fully to what they had to say.
I had a problem, never could be solved without my parents and grandparents till today.
With patience they all come to my aid when I fall on my face.
With little dishonor I listen to them and what they had to say, I embrace.
Over the years I go to them with no doubt a feeling of no dismay.
Over the years I go to them and they help me solve problems that to me is O.K.
Now I am getting a bit more aware of what had happen to me when I was growing.
Now I remember how the ride was in my beginning: it was a trial of not knowing.
With the guided words of my parents and grandparents I survive through them all.
With it some being a problem that I remember I recall.
My mother and my grandmother always said to be patient and it will be easy to solve.
My father and my grandfather always knew that I would grow and evolve.
I could wonder everyday what if my parents and grandparents was not in my life.
I could just think that would be fatal like a stab with a knife.
With knowledge that they had past on to me of what they had experience.
With their proof of teachings they had past on to me is their self existence.
Over the years I grew with life so full of happiness that was because of my families love.
Over the years it showed me the path that led me to all the above.
Now cherish those words that help me through my troubles in my new family.
Now I listen to my parents healing words of wisdom and except them gladly.


Details | Narrative | |

Two Seconds To Say Goodbye

It buzzed.
She smiled.
He had replied.
Eagerly she dug
Her phone
From her pocket,
Her other hand
On the wheel.
Her gaze remained ahead
Into the darkness
Of the cold wintery night.
It buzzed again,
The screen illuminating
The shadows of the car.
Would he be there?
Would he come over
After his shift at work
Was done?
“What did he say?”
Another young voice replied.
“Give me the phone.”
She hesitated,
Not fully trusting
Her friend.
Besides,
She wanted to know.
She wanted to see the words.
She wanted feel
The exhilaration
Of reading his words
To HER.
She glanced down,
The screen now dark,
And fumbled
To press the keys.
“He’s coming,” she said
Trying to calm
The enthusiasm
In her voice.
Her heart beat harder.
How did she look?
What should she reply?
Gr8 C U L8T
In the same 2 seconds, she could have typed
Goodbye.


Details | Narrative | |

A Land Bearing Green White Green

Which way leads to the 
land of green white 
green?
Which way are we 
heading?
   A country the wicked 
bears the rulership, and 
the people sighing 
continuously.
   A terrible thing sprouts 
beneath the sun: a 
pregnant woman 
delivering not.
Imps come to lime-light 
by snuffing air from the 
goose that laid the 
golden eggs.
The blind guiding the un
blind.
The weak suppressing 
the strong-a terrible 
thing.
Like the overthrow of the 
gods at Mt. Olympus by 
the Titans.
A country where also 
thieves appear as men of 
integrity.
Land of green white 
green,which way?
A land where the 
enlightened ones are 
overshadowed and 
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that 
eat the crumbs.
 Which way to go you 
Land?
Iliterates stand on 
podium of power 
bellowing orders as milk 
of sorrow known as 
dividends of democracy 
is passed around.
The machine of progress 
manned by the 
unproductive.
"There is better 
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white 
green,my country 
where rule of law walk 
beside anarchy.
The proles are sentenced 
to adversity,and there 
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People 
dancing on thorns 
whimpering as they 
throng 
along.
  I see a new sun rising 
from the horizon,hope is 
rekindled as its rays 
grace on hopeless bodies.
 Look!! there soon be 
change!



Note: 
This 
is 
poem 
full 
of 
Nigeria 
political
 angst.


Details | Narrative | |

The day they fell

The day they fell


He stands before the great woods
Arms stretched, bracing the storm of machines
They roar and bark, trying to break his wall
But he stays put, Save the Forests he screams

The tress stand tall, lush and green
Seedlings sprout, Flowers bloom
Animals frolic in their wonderland 
Is the forest really meeting it's doom?

He stands before the great woods
Protecting everything it confides
Many plants and animals are within
Away from the human eye they hide

Even if you have never seen them
Just take a step inside
The feeling of life the smell of grass
Do u really want them all to die?

The machines don't care 
Around the forest they continue to surround 
They have never seen the wind 
And never heard the sounds 
 
They never felt the wind against their faces
Never heard the rustling of leaves
Never seen the life in the forest
Never understood that it brings relief

Fire shoots up as the forest screams 
Roars and crackles follow too
Animals run, plants sink to the floor 
As the machine consumes the forests full

The trees spend decades growing up
The animals spend years moving in
But it only takes seconds to burn it down
To burn the forest into the size of a pin

What has the forest done he wonders 
As He stands in front of the orange blaze
To deserve this kind of torturous pain
With Heat and sorrow right in his face


Details | Narrative | |

Life

Life 
Arabic Poem by: Riyadh Al-Ghareeb*
 Translated into English by: 
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
 ================================
 
It was not his idea 
He did not wave to the sundown of his life
Quite simply, he let life go by 
He was the only one who did not care about the war 
Rather, he listened to music 
And wrote poems 
While 
Shells were falling all around him.. 
Not once, he thought about death 
Nor he paid attention to getting old in the mirror 
All that he cared about
Was a woman he imagined loving him
And waiting for someone who may come back 
Carrying a small snippet 
Emblazoned with the script 
From extreme madness “
 To... “
He lived in his illusion
Even as he became a poet. 
When his life was clotting
And nightfall of life was waving to him
He realized
All that was going on around him 
Was not his choice 
And the life he encountered 
Was not his life.. 
So, 
He tried to get rid of his blue beard
And bitter tears 
Near the nearest war 
of his country’s 
A country that has become 
Addicted to wars.
 
He let his hair grow long 
His dark skinned face
Was on the verge of revealing nightly starvation
At noontime, his children were panting 
After a lifeless Dinar..
His final poem
Was laden with the grief of the world 
But that world did not care about what was going on..
In his only room 
The smell of onions mixed
With the smell of the empty pots; 
Hanging onions 
Was the most beautiful memory in a country 
Without memory 
It's his life 
That he wanted to be 
A part of his ration card, 
His birth record
And the rest of his poems. 

“Woe to the ruin!” 
He said
Removing the dust from a painting of him
Made, in a stolen moment, 
By a painter who died two wars ago.
He was laughing 
And holding a drink with an innocent cheer
As, above his head, birds in the somber colors of the sky were flying
Suggesting the he was important 
And his life was of interest to others. 
He flicked his tears 
And on the tile of his room floor
He saw wars reproduce, 
He saw his children go to a new war 
He saw his wife coughing her years 
Painful looks
And said to himself 
That life 
Was not my idea 
It is a naive game.
However 
Let me keep on this road 
At the end, I may find paper 
For my friends to wrap me with
Like the oldest statue 
Standing on the way of passers-by 
And the country!!!!!! 
---------------
 Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
 USA
 * Riadh Al-Ghareeb is a poet from Iraq


Details | Narrative | |

Urge To Smile

Urge To Smile
By Nate Spears


The morning sun rises
My flesh is set back 
Due to my body needing 
Much needed rest
I wonder 
Does anyone else feel 
the urge to smile?
I know right now 
I'm feeling sour


A grin attached to my face
That lights up the sky
Behind my clouds of joy 
There lies a lie
With everyone wondering how?
How can he smile
with so much going on
Rapidly by the hour
People losing their homes


Some can barely feed their kids
The government is gone
They rather spend our money 
On billion dollar drones
Never the less
We're blessed
We're here to see another day
Being healthy and relevant
Gives me strength
To soar into a new day
With unlimited fight 
Packed up under my wings


Another day 
Another chance
For tomorrow 
Thanks in advance
As long as I'm living
I can better my condition 
It's mandatory to smile
A privilege to be living.


Details | Narrative | |

Ashes

Everywhere she went
She sprinkled some ashes
Leaving a part of him
Releasing a bit more of the sadness
lessening that ache
Celebrating him
Remembering his goodness

I was not everywhere
Still I took part in the ritual
Released a bit of my own sadness
Remembered
Held back some tears
Celebrated his goodness
Smiled

His ashes sprinkled in a family orchard
At the base of a tree
A place of beauty
Spectacular like his soul
Off the end of a dock on lake Okanagan
Oh how he loved the beach
He wished to play along the waters edge
Like the big kid he was
Even though he didn't know how to swim
Still his ashes floated with ease
Now he has no limitations
I left a bit of him on a sailboat
So he can be carried to new places
He loved to travel

His ashes came with us to Italy
Allowing him to be part of our adventure
I laughed when my mom told me
She left part of him in the Vatican 
She was gleeful
My mom the rebel
Playful and brave
One of the many reasons he loved her so
He was with us in Florence
A part of him there along ancient streets
In vineyards
Quaint villages

We traveled to the Amalfi Coast
Along winding roads
More like a donkey path than a highway
Mom in the backseat saying oh shit
Not usually one to swear
Bob's ashes in her pocket
I don't know if she thought of him then
Later she remembered their time in Greece 
He was never far from her mind

Somehow this ritual
Made me smile
It is added to my memory
Allowing me to be thankful for Bob
For mom
For a life well lived
For a love well loved
A soulmate celebrated
Appreciated
Remembered


Details | Narrative | |

I cry for you

The tears I shed are not tears of pain but of grief for you my love. As life would have it or fait at least; you lost at what could have been. Really what should have been!
I know what you truly deserve and it's not me or the poor background of which I've come from. Your friends have managed to find wives with wealth and retirement. While all you can do is carry the load as you always do.
Do not think for an instant my heart isn't hurting; knowing I'm not good enough, never have been, and never will be. I can never catch up in life and will never be an equal. At no time is this far from my mind.
I used to think love was all that mattered but now I have grown up and realize how much more there is to life. A fine line drawn in the sand from the beginning has set us apart and down separate paths. Together yet not as one; this was never to be for our lives were directed by poverty and riches.
Was I selfish to want you? I did not understand then as I do now. Now knowing what I know, I cry for you my love. You could have carried on finding that special one to share all of you with. No lines drawn, no poverty or riches to separate. No tears shed or grief knowing ones' not good enough!
What's ahead as each day passes I wait to see. God has a plan, everything happens for a reason. A new job with more money, yet not even this erases the line. Not for my life of such little means even this can't bind a heart set on a different path?
Debbie Knapp


Details | Narrative | |

A Soul Awakened

The warm light calls me
And all the people who cries for thee
I raise my hand in this abyss
Only to make one wish
To float among the others
With all my sisters and brothers
I call out for forgiveness with passion
I take their pain into myself for this occasion
The moment that I see the sky
I will not look back and cry
My body is laying still
People standing by it with a chill
The air gets dense with sadness
I would not think of it less
Some people look up and down
To see the light hit the ground
Some can vision the uplifting feeling they see
One soul that has been and always be
It is special to notice such aberration 
And that might be how souls are awaken


Details | Narrative | |

Hostile Times II

Hostile Times II
By Nate Spears
	

Busted love is my Crystal Ball's fortune
My heart hurts in a torturing way
Nothing ever works in my favor
Standing still 
I lower my head and pray 
Confessing to God 
All I have to give

A 16 year old rebellious daughter
A 13 year old son that’s dead
My father is in prison; so is the one of my two kids
Is this really a way of living?
I didn’t have a choice from the days beginning
Anything different
Would have a given me a chance
at living

Walls of barriers bearing on us 
On this earth we stand
Refusing to let go of this curse
If no bill is signed by Congress
My unemployment runs out next Thursday 
Now I contemplate what’s next?
Sex dollars or Creflo's Dollars?
Be an honest woman; or
Be a fool that’s starving?
When pushed to the limit
All governors are discarded.

Hostile Times rains upon us
Other nations joins the honors
The Elite makes me vomit
There’s plenty of resources among us
God have mercy and let it trickle down on us
Rather than become degrading
In this pew 
I choose prayer
Becoming Sunday Mornings best
Washing away my pains that become abreast; with my chest
Bringing in a new day, 
A today, 
For a better way
In these hostile times we live in.


Details | Narrative | |

The Woes Of Trust

An angel formed from 
lake of purity,a gift to 
mankind-illuminating 
darkest parts of hearts.
A chaste damsel,
untouched rose from the 
garden of the elves.

Sent to earth,made an 
abode in a gentleman's 
heart,whom she 
cherished and loved.

As time travelled,another 
fella whom she trusted 
lured her to un-saintly act
Her pride laid on altar of 
dishonor and infidelity.
Her life she almost 
snuffed,she feared the 
love of her true love 
would be lost. Alas! bond 
of love is indivisible.

Shattered,with a broken 
spirit she tries to mend 
the pieces....on the 
shoulder of her lover she 
leans,hoping to soothe 
her bruised heart.



Note:
A true story,a close 
pretty lady friend of mine 
was raped by her family 
friend yesterday...who 
called her and told her 
his mum was very sick.
She called me and 
confided in me .
Don't know whether to 
encourage her to call the 
police.


Details | Narrative | |

From Great Pain Comes Great Inspiration

A total Jedi mind f*ck from Hell is what this is. I feel like a nuclear bomb has exploded in 
my mind of Hiroshima proportions and I am on the brink of a Chernobyl meltdown. 
Bewildered may be the best description of what I am feeling right now. I cannot process 
anything; I feel like I am in total and utter f*cking shock. I apologize for the expletives; 
I normally never curse when I write because I find it uncouth, but I have to get these 
feelings out; I know if I don't, I will want to cut, which is the last thing in the world I want to 
do. God knows I have enough scars; I don't need or want anymore.

From great pain comes great inspiration, I believe. Even though my mind is positively 
reeling at this very moment as I type, I feel exponentially inspired. I am completely 
overwhelmed emotionally, and I have just now stopped sobbing and weeping enough to 
write; to get these horrid feelings out of me.

Even the smallest of troubles or strife turn into absolute tragedy and catastrophe in my 
mind; I cannot help or control it, and God knows I wish I could. I "catastrophize" everything.

My best friend of 15 years just called me and told me she was moving to Alabama. I 
shouldn't even say "best friend" for she is more like a sister to me. Always, always she 
has been close by and been there for me as I have been for her, and now she is moving 
what seems like galaxies away from me, and the pain I am feeling is so tremendous and 
shocking; so unnerving and vexing and tormenting and afflicting...I could go on forever 
with melancholy and exasperating adjectives and descriptions. In my mind, she is dead 
and I am hosting the funeral in my brain. That's totally insane; I understand that, but at 
this moment I am NOT rational. For a moment after I stopped crying my eyes out, I 
almost felt catatonic. In my partner's arms, I just wept as he held me; I was shaking 
and shuddering furiously. I feel lost. I haven't felt this powerless or helpless since my 
grandparents died. She is moving away and there is nothing I can do about it. I am 
a horrible and selfish human being for I want her to stay, so desperate do I feel. 
Wendy, my sister, my best friend, my partner in crime; my cohort, consort, comrade, 
co-conspirator: you who know me best, inside and out, like a book...you are leaving me,
and my sorrow is swallowing me whole- devouring me like an angry, rabid beast. Don't 
go; don't leave me. With every fiber of my being I wish you to stay, but you've made up 
your mind and told me your decision at the worst possible time, when I am already too 
stressed to deal with or process this kind of pain and anguish in a healthy way. I'm ready 
to hit the bottles: whisky and Lortab. They will ease the pain and will quell the compulsion 
to cut.

This is the most personal blog I have written. I didn't know what else to do but turn this 
despair into words to help ease the heartache and suffering. If anyone cares, I need 
support right now. I need prayers and well wishes and good vibes; I am about to crumble 
to pieces. I feel like the proverbial rug has been pulled out from under my feet and I don't 
know what to do. This is the worst feeling in the world. Uncertainty is truly the worst of all 
ailments.

~Chan 


Details | Narrative | |

My Story Telling Can You Trust Me

Gun fire all around, bombs going off in the distance
It was some of the angry mobs and resistance
Father was the king of SafeHaven a small kingdom
Like all other kingdoms it fell in random
Fire started in the castle
And along with it came a battle

It was a distance memory now because the child has now grew
Many things in this child that made memories stew
My name is Mastrey, a young orphan who was there that night
Mastrey saw her in the distance and her father and mother in his sight
Everyone was loud that night and made all the children hide
But that evening Mastrey saw her mother and father die

She ran into the bushes in such a fright
And evil doers were running around with flashlights
Mastrey remember it as he distracted them 
Her eyes was so confused with problems
Mastrey new that it was because of what just occurred
His feelings of what those people did was not awkward

The distraction worked, he went back to were she was
Hiding and very scared she was, he asked her, can you trust me just because?
Her answer that night depended on her lively hood
As Mastrey was their with his hand reaching out to her as he stood
Pulling her up from the ground he looked into her eyes that were SeaBlue
Mastrey had made a life long friend and love, She knew it was true

Next: My Story Telling,  Who is this Princess


Details | Narrative | |

Dumped Baby

One day, one of our daily papers carried a story about a teenage girl who 
dumped a baby;after carrying the baby for nine months in her womb.
And nowadays,it is common for teenagers to throw their babies in pit latrines,
 drainage,and rubbish sites;
Why acting in such a manner when barren women are cying for babies and 
 orphanages are around us?


Details | Narrative | |

The Well

A well of crystal clear water, untainted potentiality 
Dug deep in the ground by a house of motionless morality
Refined, dainty dwellers of the house were abounding
But howling winds of doubt on the door came a pounding

The winds brought dark clouds of fear and foreboding
Faith, hope, truthfulness and fidelity have begun eroding
Whence the warlike, wailing winds came there is no telling  
But once the whispers began, of them there was no quelling

The master of the house was enticed and by fear persuaded
His judgment faded and the cosmic for the telluric he traded
Promised he was nothing, perhaps mere elemental existence
But with blind persistence he thirsted for his own subsistence

“Drown your past, smother your pride, and stifle your dignity,
The price for your precious prize will be a mark of infamy”
One by one the master sacrificed and slaughtered his brood 
Lifeless, they were all thrown in the well after being subdued

The water once crystal clear turned murky, opaque and dim
Existence to the master was granted, but life became grim
He stands by the well, peering into the bottomless, abysmal pit
Forever thinking to undo this unhallowed story he`d writ


Details | Narrative | |

A man with no plan

Running down the Valley
And the script cant lie at all 
The fasting sun rises
The harder the fall
It aint fair
It isn’t the end 
But to forgive me 
Is the pain you cannot mend
To put it in your shoes
And you remain strong 
Im weak
Cause for me this road 
Is no dead end 
And this useless blood I leak 
Red roses and violent skies cannot retrieve 
What has been lost 
And im stuck in grief 
Believe me when I say Im sorry
Acknowledge my pain
Cause too many tears have dropped
Too many shed like rain 
Left me in vain
And here I stand hopeless
Just another chance
And ill put your needs in focus
Like the bright eyes of a locus
I merely adopted the heart ache 
Like you my best friend
But your moving on 
Put me aside and lets pretend
All I needed was a hand
To hold me at my worst
Wings to raise me at my weakest
Forever I stand
A man with no plan


Details | Narrative | |

The Mirror

My bedroom mirror suddenly broke open tonight
I stared at it aghast; it spilled all my past
Images rolled on- how I fought with my young sister
In our childhood; how I hated her for being my parents’ darling
A dilapidated doll, its head severed
The incessant teardrops of her- how I felt an inner elation

Images again; I grabbed the innocent lover-boy by his neck
Fists and punches – his blood-stained stare
I liked it, because he dared to love my teenaged sister
I was in my teens too, and secretly made passes at some of her friends
But my sister having a boyfriend- that was different

A slashed wrist, a gaping face; two writhing bodies of my parents
A prosaic funeral, a teenage girl laid inside the ground
Has she ever found peace? I am not sure
Being her brother I must have done the right thing

31.08.2014


Details | Narrative | |

into the wedge

There are some things, we will never forget


....

the sound of a phone call, still rings in my ears
squeezing my chest.....squeezing my chest...

the sun was sinking low, into the west
along with my heart
cold, under a blood-red sky

as we drove into the wedge of dusk
on the edge of our seats
in a frozen state 
on that icy slope
I was holding my breath in the liquid silence
coping........not coping
engaging in warfare
of knowing, without really knowing
how to hope, ...or what to hope for

but deep down
already knowing, the war was over...

my torso was rocking
without my control......forward and backwards
a life of it's own
a balm for raw nerves, I couldn't calm down
something to do, something to do
knowing, but not knowing
be hopeful, or be resigned?
coping? not well
 ...knowing, but not knowing

yet, somehow fearing
the war was over....

-

on that night that would change all...

he clung to the wheel......I clung to the seat
we clung to our prayers, but what was done, will be done...
what is gone.....will be gone

as we drove into the wedge of night
watching the moon replace the sun without remorse
we stayed on course, without a word between us said
but a slither of light on the horizon
filling my head with visions of birds on the wing
flying into the clouds
like a sign
as a shroud
taking my eyes
taking my hope
taking the doubt
taking instead
my own resistance
to what I already knew
it all
meant

what was done....will be done
what is gone....will be gone
losing hope....is losing hope
the war was over...

what is left 
we must accept




_________________________________


Details | Narrative | |

My Story Telling Who is this Princes

The night air made her feel tired
As she looked out side all the fences were wired
In the distance she hears crowds yelling
As she was to young to know they were rebelling
Father she asked where are we going?
Mother said to keep quiet and keep walking

Mother yelled in the night air
Father gave out a blank stare
They yelled run my princess run as far as you can
As that moment past her little feet pushed off and she ran
She ran to the nearest bushes and crawled into it to hide
She never smelled the air before as if someone just had died

As she lay on the ground under a bush she heard 
A loud yell in the distance almost to absurd
My name is Angelica, I am just a young girl who does not know 
Angelica just wants to live her life with help to grow
Angelica did not know what just happened she notice a figure in the distance
A little person just like her, a strong but gentle presence

Angelica saw the people who were shouting run off toward the voice
She was scared and she knew that she had to make a choice
Angelica fragile state was so confused and lost
She knew it will take burden on her at a cost
But in that moment of quietness a young but strong voice called out
Can you trust me just because? will you come with me with no doubt

My Story Telling  Together In A Strange World


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Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay



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Gone Forever

You walked out the door
without a backward glance
she watched you walk away
and hoped you would return

She waited for you
but you never came again
you were gone forever
snatched by the hand of time

She searched for you everywhere
for days that turned to weeks
months have come and gone
that soon had turned to years

You left with out a trace
forever lost to fate
all that's left is a memory
of your once happy life

How cruel life was
for taking you away from her
without giving her enough time
to even say goodbye

One last embrace 
and one last kiss
that's all she remembers
on that fateful day you left




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Incubus

A young girl got the first nursing job in a private hospital And was assigned to check the ground floor patients. Room 1, 2, 3, as she got to room 4 the door was opened Inside the room a man was lying covered with a blanket. But in the patient list the room supposed to be empty. She ran to the preceptor to report it in a frenzy state. The head nurse and others visited the room, found none. She said that last week a patient committed suicide in the room. The security was called and then the room was closed. But a word went round about its suicidal aspect. The next day, out of curiosity, as she entered the room Was caught by a strong man and forced to sleep with him. As the time passed it became her regular daily routine. To her surprise, once she saw her boss coming out of the room. Slowly there was a decrease in the patients of the hospital. Another surprise was waiting as she found dead in the room. The whole corner was declared as a haunting place. A day was not far when the whole hospital was closed. A ghost is a person whose life ended abruptly and violently Known as a haunting as they are haunted by a life gone. Haunting from thoughts and presence becoming testimony. If one thinks sensibly about it, the ghosts are just you and I. All talk about love, ghost and God, but does anyone see them?
+++++ Date: 27-11-13 Dr. Ram Mehta Fifth Place win Contest: Poems from Vampire by Just That Archaic Poet


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A missive from the damned to whoever have a little time to spend with this nonsense - Page 1

And so, I have made up my mind, once more.
I have decided to depart, to bid this husk farewell.
In order to do that, I must save coins if I desire to save myself.
For with it, I will be able to buy my ticket out here to a more blessed realm or the eternal void. Either way, I will be winning.
I mustn't, any longer, feel the starvation of affection and no more I shall be fed by the crumbs of fleeting joy they toss at me.

Thoughts of finishing are always in my mind, flooding it, making hard to go day by day, making hard to sleep, to have hope.
I fail to see where the hope is, I like to think that it can be find inside of one's heart.
But even so, I think I am mistaken, and when I glance at myself in the mirror, I quickly lose any spark of what could-be hope.

With the aid of the metallic sling, I shall leave this husf behind, heavy with its sins and sorrows, to no more nourish hatred.
For it does only to hinder my advance towards elevation.
With my metallic sling, I shall pierce, first, my heart, where lies the sorrow, then, my mind, where resides the sins.
Whilst the life in me start to wane, regrets I will not have, when my consciousness fade, my spirit will be no longer be trapped inside this imperfect cage of flesh.
Being free, my spirit shall roam far and beyond to, before, unseen places by men, to  untouched places by men.

Another day,someone inquired me "Are you happy now?" and for that I just said "Yes". How else could I have responded if not with a lie?
How could I tell them that I yearn for a premature closure in order to stop thinking and feeling but I also yearn for love.
"I am not absolutely happy, as per say, but I do suffer less when I am asleep" I could never say that to anyone...


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How Do I Stay Soulful

How do I stay soulful, without seeming like a raging goddess?
I would always be the raging sea,
Don’t sail your boats or ships upon my waters!
 Expected to be slaughters, by my sharks
 The rough waves: and the haunted ghost slaves.
 You toss abroad, unlike the garage you scattered on my shore,
I kept your secrets; at the bottom of ocean floor

I sting your eyes, and bitter your taste:
 Rock your ships from side to side
Yet, you smuggle my fish out to land: 
    what a disgrace!
A man would always be a man

 Why did you leave the dry land and sail the ocean blue
You pirate! You luxury ocean liners: you liars
Can you hold on to my waters? 
The laughter takes hold of you.
I filled myself with rage, because of the things you do

No safety nets……

, 


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Biography of A Dream

=============================
Biography of A Dream 
Arabic Poem by: Abdulsadah Al-Basri
Translated into English by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
=============================
At... 
The end of the first decade 
Of the twentieth century 
The sun bathed in my father’s eyes 
He kept flirting with her 
And flirting..
to draw a dream on her silken rays   
A dream accompanied him all his life.
 
 In the fourth decade  
 He got married 
To build a nest in the heart of the countryside, 
Then begot a little bird 
Two  
And three   
Taught them how to fly with love 
Over the waves of the river 
And how to long for the bread
Baked in the outdoors tandoor 

But .. 
In the eighth decade of the same century 
He departed overwhelmed by grief
Over a dream
That would never come true
Never 
Never 
Never!!!
--------------
 Translated into English by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
 * Abdulsadah Al-Basri is a poet from Iraq
 


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another day

pale pink is the pre-dawn sky
"pink sky in mourning..."
today will be a pre-proceeding
- for some it will be the same
for some it will purvey monumental,
tsunamic, quaking, flashing innocence
as a muffled buzzing and pounding followed
by eerie stony silence enveloping the sun

FLASH! - what you knew you knew is gone
flash of white to yellow to red to black
billowing dread washes over as waves 
upon waves cover all good of the world
and flotsam of teared memories float
in mind and vision from past treasures

dangerous are those loving thoughts
unarmed without any weapons of indifference
vulnerable to the suffering and anguish
to stagger about befuddled and weeping
singularly, communally the onlookers look on

and piles of cairned candles and trinkets
appear out of nowhere, everywhere
feeble attempts to express hurt and good
- no good will come - yet - in time -
in time - time scabs over the wounded

the blood-letting stops, tears wither
and night follows this immemorable day
that we always remember, eons from now
as if it were last hour that i noticed the time, 
where did it go?, when will it stop?

© Goode Guy 2012-12-17

http://www.npr.org/2012/12/17/167427982/afghanistan-bomb
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/12/14/167248541/developing-shooting-at-elementary-school-in-newtown-conn
http://www.npr.org/2012/12/04/166519628/at-least-13-syrian-children-killed-in-mortar-attack


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Mookiemar

Mookiemar, whose given name was Mike,
got high on meth and decided his life
was one of continual slavery and he was determined
to set himself and his people free from the oppression
of The Man, whoever in hell The Man might be.
Then and there he left his life of Christianity and sanity.
He instantly became a jihadist follower of the god of insanity.
Mookiemar sounded like a good raghead name to little Mike,
so the newly named Mookiemar decided that seventy two
big tittied women waiting for him in camel jockey heaven
was an excellent fate for a manly raghead jihadi such as himself.
He had a final meal of pork and beans and washed it all down
with copious amounts of homemade rot gut whiskey and wine.
Mookiemar then stuck two lit sticks of dynamite up his hairy ass
and started hunting for this honky peckerwood they call The Man.
Unfortunately for Mookiemar his last meal went through him in a flash
and he started passing great amounts of smelly stinking gas.
The explosion blew little Mike into over a hundred small bloody pieces.
To Mookiemar’s great surprise, his sorry worthless camel jockey soul
did not enter heaven’s gates, instead it went straight to jihadi hell.
Satan himself welcomed raghead Mookiemar to his eternal destination
and he informed Mookiemar that he would not be screwing camels
in hades, but that the camels would forever be screwing him instead.


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The Song

It's confusing, the way the song is made.
It can tell so much
With so little use of words.
When I hear these words,
They so much as motivate me more than I think they should.


I begin to play the song over and over, and several times again.
The words mesmerizing my being, clinging to my mind.
But then I catch myself singing the words,
Serenading a crowd of no one
For I had always like the feeling of loneliness. 

I try to stop myself
But the words flow from my lips like liquid.
I know just what I am saying, but the meaning is lost to me.
Such a beautiful noise I was creating.
But dumbfounded I was..

When the song comes to an end
And the lyrics came no more.
I close my eyes
And start to think to myself,
It's confusing, the way the song is made.


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ELVIS my impression

                           This is my impression of Elvis Presley 
I was vey lucky to be 16 in 1956 when Rock and roll came into existence the greatest music of all time and for all time, this is what it all met to me.


Elvis was the big bang to creating music like the big bang was to creating the universe
Before Elvis their was no rock and roll, no music, no dancing 
His look was unique
His movements on stage were unique
His voice was the greatest like nothing ever heard before
His songs started the greatest music craze in the history of music rock and roll
He looked dangerous 
He looked like he was having the best time of his life on stage
Elvis didn’t give a damm who wrote his songs black or white
He was the first entertainer who did it all before anyone else did anything
Both men and women loved him
Elvis was a mans man
Elvis was a ladies man
Elvis was a gentleman
Elvis was a Christian 
Elvis was a momma’s boy
Elvis was respectful of his fans
Elvis was just one man who changed music forever in America in 1956 
When Elvis sings you have to smile, to tap your feet, clap your hands, move your body, and come alive
It’s 2013, 35 years since Elvis died 
He is still the major Icon of the music world
Elvis is still the most worshiped singer and entertainer in history
Thousands and thousands of fans visit his home each and every year
Elvis didn’t smoke or drink
Elvis became an actor but could have become an accomplished actor with the right people and advice around him
Coronel Parker was both good for Elvis and bad for Elvis
Liberace taught Elvis how to dress with flash
Elvis had his own way of moving on stage when he sang no one has ever duplicated his signature moves God know how many tried
Elvis served the country he loved when he was drafted into the army no complaining 
Elvis asked fro no special treatment while in the army 
Elvis loved the woman and the woman loved him back
Elvis was the greatest entertainer of all time
Elvis met his tragic and to soon end to his life he was only 42
Elvis was hooked on prescription pills and that’s what killed him
No one could tell Elvis what to do many tried all failed
The music died on the day Elvis died
It was so sad that Elvis felt so all alone so much of his life that is what fame does to you
Elvis was the King
No one else will ever occupy the Kings throne
Elvis loved to sing gospel songs no other entertainer of rock and roll ever did 
No entertainers star shines brighter or ever will
You can ask any great entertainer and there are hundreds and will all agree Elvis was the greatest entertainer of all time
No entertainer in the history of music ever had a first year success like Elvis had
I saw Elvis in Las Vegas in 1972  when the music started and you knew that Elvis was soon to be coming on stage the excitement and the anticipation in the room was over whelming and beyond compare everyone in the room was mesmerized


This is my remembrance of Elvis Presley

Dennis Davis
March 15, 2013


 



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Vera's first write

This is a write that I helped Vera with, as many people have asked her to write something. I helped to make it a better read for her, though I did not think she needed my help….Peter



Hi everybody, my name is Vera as some of you already know, and I am the wife of Peter Duggan. I came on this site to cheer Peter on, and also to read some poetry which I do enjoy at times. I have made a few friends on this site and correspond with some, and a few of them have asked me to write something. Now I have never done anything like this before, but I decided to humor these friends any way.

     I could not really think of anything to write about, but then I thought of a subject dear to both myself and Peter; the transformation that he has gone through in the last five years. This might be of interest, and indeed some help to others who are having problems within their relationships with others.

   We married in London in sixty five, Then emigrated to Australia in 1967 and our marriage was going very well, filled with love and laughter. But then Peter decided to join the army, and volunteered to fight in Vietnam, because he wanted to do something to repay this wonderful country back for letting him live here.

   When he came back to Australia, this was when it all went pear shaped. Peter started to change; he become very aggressive and Psychologically cruel to myself and our three children and was like a keg of dynamite just waiting to explode. He would argue about everything and anything, and got involved in many very nasty fights. No one could tolerate him for very long, and myself and the children often felt like we were walking on eggshells whenever he was around. He turned to alcohol, and cannabis, and he was always off his head on any one of those drugs. Having said all this, Peter was never physically aggressive to me or the children.        

     Anyhow, this all came to a climax, when he suddenly walked out on us all and decided he wanted to live like a bum. Said he wanted his freedom. This was the last time I saw him for a year. When because I loved him so very much, I asked him to come back to us again. He came back, but nothing really changed, in fact I told him he would never change, and I honestly thought our marriage was beyond repair. He had done so much counselling, read every book on self-help, and tried religion [all the major ones], but nothing really helped.

    Then one day about five years ago, Peter was perusing through the net, desperate to find someone to help him get rid of this evil that lurked within him He came cross a man named John Sherman, who claimed that he could help people with this simple little action, that he gave Peter to do. In his desperation Peter put his whole life into this simple act.

   He never strayed from this path, and after a month or two things started dropping away. Each day he seemed to get more, and more happy, so happy in fact that he seemed to bubble with happiness. His anger started to drop away gradually until it diminished completely. He still loves to argue, but he never has to be right all the time and treats it all as a game. How anyone can change so dramatically, is completely beyond me, but the miracle happened; the evidence is before me. If I ever won the lottery, I would donate half of it to the Sherman foundation, and would be totally happy to do this. But the only thing that we can do Is spread the Sherman’s work any chance we can get. We both owe them so much.

    Anyhow, this is my first write, and I hope that many people might gain something from it. Peter and I are now the the happiest couple that ever walked the face of the Earth. I thank all of you that chose to read, this. Whether I’ll ever make a second attempt one never knows. But I surely enjoyed writing this. Peter helped me to arrange the words, as I had no confidence in my own abilities…..Vera


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What Could Be This Emotional

What was that liquid drops?
Could it be the sweat of the sky or probably, the tears of angels hiding behind the sky.
I peep through my window to stir at the lonely streets at dawn only to hear hens cackling in pairs and goats bleating undertone.
Is it that their caretakers refused them food?
What could be that emotional?

I searched for days without answer, till one day I figured the direction the sky was staring shyly at as well as the direction the farm animals were gossiping towards, only to see one little fellow murmuring to himself.
'Where could his parents be? ', I think to myself.
However, the story of the hen and the chicks dawn on me.
Weeks after being hatched, mother hen can no longer feed so many mouths besides hers. So it becomes an everyone for itself affair.
What could be that emotional?

Every night with the aid of the glowingly moon, he stares motionlessly at the Nelson Mandela billboard along the street with a tear in his eye.
I noticed he beats himself up first thing every dawn though he affords a smile every night lying at the bus stop.
Mornings indeed have its problems it comes with.
Has he no friend?
Perhaps the billboard and the sky would be.
What could be that emotional?

Should I invite him in for a cup of coffee or buy him new clothes for a change?
Doing just one for him cannot put a long lasting smile on his face.
Yes! , perhaps I could say a prayer for him, with the hope that the Compassionate Creator will send rain to wash away his tears, that the rain will make his grounds fertile and that the healing rain will heal his bruised heart.
What could be this emotional?


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Morning glare

  
I saw it in dark mornings
And I let my friend to see
Its darkness lived in me
My friend cried and tried
But I kept behind darkness
I could see his tears burn
And I saw it again in me
I wanted to stop its glow
It grew so high that it seizes me
But with soft touch of desire it died
I thought it would end today  
But it grew through dawn and twilight
My friend don’t let me die in darkness
Let me die in light to see stars shine


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Psychotic Episode

I talk to myself in many voices
Having conversations with myself
Answering my own questions
Thinking it is something else
The mind can play tricks
If you let it

It can convince you of anything
The conscious and subconscious mind
At times feels separate
From each other
Not connecting as well as it could be
A detachment from the brain
Lost in translations
Of many conversations
To feel safe and calm
Within oneself

The fear of losing yourself
When no one hears or believes you
Feelings and thoughts
Put on a dusty shelf
Not everything is clear
But I am totally aware
Of what is going on
Many layers of words
Coming out of nowhere
Can scare the mind into submission

Eating pieces away of your soul
Losing control
Feeling all alone
In your psychotic turmoil
Who will be there in the end
If I go numb and cannot see
Love me as I am
Or set me free to be me


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Red Eyes and Sinister Looks

Chains, hay forks, knives, and a hollow whisper,
become more true and sinister.
Halt in the middle of the moon light, 
and a waver image soon is no delight.
Voices run a muck in the head, 
so not calming you wish you were dead.
Gushing blood through the eye
not an image that you would rely.
Nails stuck on your neck with such pain
so your paralyze just little life sustain.
Hoodlums terrorizing people running a muck
did not really know they are in luck.
More dangerous beings are out their
to commit such act and with sinister stare.
Laughing with haunting echo's through
is an aspect of fear can imbue.
The wind changes direction to smother
the echoing sound of laughter.
The panicking state that you are in
soon drives a knife within.
Blood rushing out of your vain
a crucial part of your life dropping like rain.
Running without a destination
you will never reach anyone of your relation.
Sliding your body on a wall
keeping your fall in a stall.
Red eyes you can see it at night
is soon devouring you with little bite.
Changing your belief with tonics of relief
and it is to late to turn a new leaf.
Ears start to deceive the animals sound
eating limbs are chewing around.
Slowly your red eyes steadily getting heavy
is starting to take your life with a levy.
Dropping down with no attitude
and your life force slowly loses altitude.
Breathing comes not so easy
smelling flesh seems so beastly.
The change comes a desire
with frightening red eyes of fire.
Comes more lethal than the hoodlums 
your heart beating like drums.
Your hand becomes all fury
claws come out and your howl with furry.
Trance your in with no one to blame
a rage thats hundreds of centuries of flame.
Rising from a slumber of long lust
a animal instinct that you can trust.
Tearing things apart with no meaning
is a trait that is so deceiving.
Red eyes at night you see in a window
like a poisonous black widow.
Keeps you in attack mode of insanity
that takes all your vanity.
Ferocious emotions eating away
the soul that you had once betray.
The echoing sounds of loud thunder
breaks away the armor with sunder.
You fall once again to torturous agony
the feeling of one self is so lonely.
Shaking in the corner you are found
with blood soaked skin you drowned.
The night becomes day cruel in some way
your memories go in disarray.
The hunters with torches and sinister look
had parted way their hands shook.


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The Sea Blue Eyes II

There she is the false image standing quietly
She is just standing looking at a beautiful flower
She notices her passion of earthy desire
Something is happening she burst into the sun
I look up as her hands grasp my face
Her sea blue eyes gazed at me
Her warm hand and then a bright light blinded me
I went down on my knees and cried
The salty water dropped on to the ground 
I live by the ocean so deep
I do not know how to swim
By the thought of a beautiful look 
That made me shake
With fear in my head I saw those Sea Blue Eyes
I cannot restrain myself she burst into the sun
What is going on is it just the feeling of being left behind
She was a desire and now I have none
Driving nuts and insane what will I do
Believing such a image is a dream
I walk on the sand by the ocean with flowers in my hand
Raising it to the sky and trying my best to lure her
The image came close 
It pulled me into the ocean I was soaked
What a lonely human being I am
I grope the sky with such desire
I look pitiful and look anguished
What horrible feeling I have to pull the beauty that is nature down
The wind blew one day the image once more appeared
A young woman standing beside a flower with deep Sea Blue Eyes
Looked at me a glance of hope and happiness came
I reached for her and all of a sudden I fell into a deep sleep
Months past they had told me that I jump off a cliff 
They explained that the flower patch was by it
I realize heaven and earth cannot be reached with out a sacrifice
With meaningless thoughts I would wonder of to the cliff area
To see the ocean were it meets and ends
I was told a story long ago that the feelings of the ocean can seep into your soul
The trend of this story came shortly after some deaths
I was fooled the lady with the Sea Blue Eyes can manipulate anyone
Ladies and men, she is an illusion of the utmost desire
Blaming everyone human kind knowing they are lyres
The ghostly images that creeps everyone is oneself
Desire falls upon those who are lonely 
Believe of the unnatural becomes science
The Sea Blue Eyes is no lie cause they have been taking souls
Through century they have been taking souls for tolls
I stood once again near the ocean reaching to the sky
Lonely I was ready to disappear 
One day she not the lady of the sea it was the one I knew
I was blessed that day she embrace me 
I then fell into a slumber of bliss and desire
Now I just hear voices and I am paralyze down
A disappointment I was fooled once more by the Sea Blue Eyes 

To be continue.


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Shadow started to retreat

There once was a hollow form of a man that set outside his cell
I looked and scoffed at him every night
He looked quiet and subdued as if nobody could notice his shape
Every once in a while his eyes would see light
I followed this man time and again
Wondering where his shadow would lead
Every night I would laugh as he would try to eat
He would just sit there looking at his feet
I saw signs he was neither coming or going
I saw signs he couldn’t tell time
I looked back at my shadow
My shadow started to retreat
I looked in the mirror and that person was me


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A tear is but a whisper from my soul

I stood there and gazed at the tidal wave of traffic surging down bellow.
I hovered frozen in time until by chance I glanced upon a troubled fellow.
He was sitting in his car surrounded by the outside noise of the gentle rain and the cars constant hum.
His ears could hear unyet his mind was numb.
As I moved in closer I could feel his sorrow and pain.
Mourning the loss of his partner his soul whispered through the misty rain.
I remember now I whispered back as I drifted into the seat beside him that was vacant.
And so to do I remember that aftershave as being my favourite fragrant.
As my soul whispered to his he glanced over to where I sat.
With sadness I could tell that he did not see his passed wife with the golden platt.
An empty seat was all that greeted his eyes.
A vacant stare for a vacant seat unyet I could hear his replies.
With his minds eye he smiled and his soul whispered such sweet words of love and affection.
Even now I could still feel devoted protection.
Some say that the words we speak in our heads are merely thoughts and nothing more.
But I believe they are whispers from our souls and the replies of those who are not with us anymore.
Before my passing I told him this with great certainty.
In this life and in the next our two souls will whisper to each other for eternity.


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THE PLAGUES OF OUR DAY

The blind man waited, 
at the intersection, for someone
to help him cross the busy boulevard...
and he was accustomed to live in twilight,
fumbling for a hand on his right;
and he finally found mine!


Judge humanly...not pettily,
you could be in that situation 
and feel abandoned and helpless,
unless somebody extends compassion
and lends that hand in time of need;
only human love can render a good deed!


The orphan girl recognizes a greed so mundane,
her body has grown, so has her world's view;
that person who abandoned her at the orphanage
when icy rain pelted against the foggy windows,
was her own mother that refused to knock on the front door!
She still feels unwanted, unloved and rejected by who,
for some shameful reason, dropped her off and was gone
into the dreary autumn's night to forget her despair!


Judge the pain...not the circumstance
that impels a misguided heart to err;
beneath an appearance of denial,
there's a certain humanity we can't conceive,
and what prompts us to act in unreasonable and strange ways,
is still not quite understood by all;
all we can perceive is the guilt we can't bear,
and the resentful restlessness which shortens this very existence!


The elderly woman, sitting in an old wheel-chair,
waits at the traffic light as the whisking wind
brushes her frizzy and gray hair;
the sunken-cheeked lady is the regular beggar,
whose life has never been mellow,
but full of tragedy and sorrow!
Her frail voice is not insincere, but thankful and kind... 
when I hand her a dollar out of my car's window!


Judge fairly... that could be you standing there,
or someone you love;  fate can be changed if we dare...
we assert truths without clarity and condemn unjustly!
Let's take the mendicant's place, at the same corner, and beg all day;
wouldn't we be humiliated, be scorned or even be ignored
by the glances of passerby that regard us not as their friend?


The run-away teenager with lots of make-up,
looks like a madam out of a brothel,
who tries to hide her identical age by smiling at strangers...
and her trade is that of an inexperienced gal,
unprotected and exposed to many dangers;
and it might cost her life...that's already a living hell!     


Judge not too harshly...when facts aren't known,
and the only assumption rests with our pity;
along the side of the street there are many eyes that weep,
eager to return home, to a home that was so warm and cozy!
And the lucky ones will make until dawn,
others will not open their eyes, but eternally sleep!



THE PLAGUES OF OUR DAY 


The blind man with a steel cane  stooped and waited
for someone to help him across the busy boulevard;
he felt warm sunlight, and wished his sight back without living in darkness,    
then he saw a glimpse of that light when he was touched by my kindness.   
The orphan girl wants to escape, but she is afraid to venture in the outside world
still feeling unwanted, unloved and shivering unable to shield herself from the cold.   
On many rainy nights, she sits by her barred window recalling her frail mom fleeing 
into the Autumn dreary night, and inside she longs for caresses to begin the  healing.
Another teenager, hustles in the dangerous streets of night...she barely 
can walk on high heels, but she endures pain for gain;
her home was blessed with good parents, but she rebelled and ran away... 
she has no choice but sell her body...what will she attain?  
Lend a hand to anyone in time of need,
only human love renders a good deed;
How can we help abandoned babies and run-away
and get rid of all the plagues of our day that infest society?