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On Writing And Words Sad Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Sad

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Details | Rhyme | |

the Oracle in Love

       She laced her eyes 
closed with the ties
    of lover's binding vows

     she's flying blind
to prick your mind
    with thoughts 
   she's writing now.

She's gained conclusions
      from her flight,
and virtues from your smile,

     she felt your face
  in blinding grace,
     she glorifies your style.

    The double helix
spirals on
   to form us as it may,

    we choose another one
to be
   a place for us to stay.

The atmosphere 
    there crackles,
with lightning
    on her tongue,

    She spins around,
in sightless sound,
     and shatters..........
          deaf and dumb.


Details | Ballad | |

Unanswered Poems

Don’t send me more 
Of your tragic poems
My dear 
Covered in blood
Of your monthly flood
Of tears

Don’t send me more 
Of your angry poems
My dear
Carved with the knife
Of your molten spite
And fears

I’m just a peddler 
With a cart
Bringing discount words
To hearts
Broken hearts across the land
Woman left without her man
Broken hearts throughout the world
Anguished boy and crying girl

Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to read, for me to bear
Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to get from here to there

Don’t send me more
Of your bitter poems
My sweet
Forged in the fire
Of your endless ire
And grief

Don’t send me more 
Of your hopeless poems
My sweet
Ripped from the womb
Of the lonely room
You keep

I’m just a peddler 
With a cart
Bringing discount words
To hearts
Broken hearts across the land
Woman left without her man
Broken hearts throughout the world
Anguished boy and crying girl

Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to read, for me to bear
Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to get from here to there

(You see that shadow on the road
Trudging ‘neath its heavy load
A heart weighed down by sands of time
And your poems only make him cry
And he won’t add them to the pile
So he can walk another mile)

(And he won’t add them
To the pile
So he can walk 
Another mile)

Too heavy, dear 
Too heavy, dear
For me to read 
For me to bear

(They make him sad
Make him cry
Beat him down
Deep inside)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

They make me sad
Make me cry
Feel as though 
I want to die

(And he won’t add them
To the pile
So he can walk 
Another mile)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

(A heart weighed down 
By sands of time
And your poems 
Only make him cry)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear



Details | Elegy | |

His Legacy

Up into the sky 
he soared 
like an Angel

With us 
down here-- 
at Soupland, watching him as he soared 
like an Angel;

So gentle… 
and brave 
he was,
a strong love he had, sharing it till the end, yet

His breath
could not resist the resounding call 
of Heaven 
and he left, 

Leaving us his poetry, for 
when great storms come in, his laughter 
will dry our tears like rain.


--

for Tom Bell, a great poet who taught us all-- 
to laugh and to smile…to learn… and to give.    


Details | Blank verse | |

Love Song

Here’s what I’m thinking now 
at the end of the world: 

There are no atheists in foxholes— 
no theists in politics. 
If knowledge is power, 
and power corrupts, 
then why did I bother reading you, Cicero? 

Does it matter that I didn't’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

There’s a poetry reading tonight 
whence I’I'll chide other poets 
who don’t sit alone. 
I won’t bring up death 
but I might have to breathe, 
even into a mike 
and mouth lines to get a snap or a boo 
maybe even a wince or two. 

Just maybe I’I'll talk about love 
and how following your heart is like following a dog— 
it only leads to vittles and (female dogs). 
But how many times have I used that line 
since the story I wrote about you, 
a witty and sexy and fictional you? 
Most likely I’I'll read something tonight about you. 

I won’t recite it from memory 
because I don’t think about you that much anymore, 
not even when I search for my socks in your drawer 
or when I put on the scratchy sweaters you give me, 
horizontally striped to bring out my eyes? 

I don’t remember your eyes 
except they are blue. 
And I don’t remember you, 
not even when I smell cucumber and apple, 
not even when I sleep on my side of the bed 
or when you walk through the door 
happy to see me; 
even then I don’t remember you. 
Does it matter that I don’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

How about a few one-liners 
for the end of days?— 

Depression is self-awareness, 
which you’d know if you were; 
I need Ritalin to listen to you, 
Lithium to hug you, 
Viagra to feel you, 
and Valium to sleep. 

All you need 
is me standing there, waiting at home 
with turns of phrase and word plays 
telling you about why I hate Ayn Rand 
but want to buy as much as I can 
and how I love celebrity gossip 
and detest poetry slams 
and find rhyming trite 
except when I am. 

Hypocrites can still be right, 
which you do understand 
because you nod at my nonsense 
about fighting the man. 

But now, at the end of all things— 
I’m speechless and witless and pointlessly well-read, 
and you’re just sitting there, smiling 
asking me to pass the bread.


Details | Free verse | |

Artificial Love Song

I wrote a pretty love song
filled with lullabies
and starry eyes
and fingers intertwined.

Drunk with love
and forgetting my name
nothings the same
and my hearts all aflutter.

Memories of sleepless nights
soft pink lips
and fingertips
cause me to lose my place

Your hand on my cheek
lips on necks
passionate sex
and embraces so dear

Such a pretty love song
filled with memories
and sweetest dreams
If only it were real.


Details | Free verse | |

Another Name

Tears
Such a soft, gentle word
For an experience
With the power to
Shake the soul
Wrack the body
And flood the hollow spaces
Of the heart
The hot, hard tears
Of anger and frustration
The constant clinging tears
Of grief and loss
The uncontrollable tears
Of irrational despair

Someone should invent 
Another name
For the relentless pain
And shrouded darkness
Called “crying”
And free the word “tears”
To mean only the iridescent
Tears of pure joy.


Details | Lyric | |

Day after Day

There’s places and faces where I’ve never been
some of them laughing and living in sin
Some of them hurting from being alone
And the places seem part of my own
The rhythm is flinging these words in my head
Against walls that refuse to be bled
Riding on nightmares through darkness and blight
Then lazily cruising in dreams
In this odessic searching
For reason for being
Nothing’s as bad as it seems
But on turning away
In my off handed way
I’m so tempted to say
Another could view it as fey






Another attempt at explaining my motives for living and writing about it


Details | Cowboy | |

The Cowherd

On dark hillside
A lone cowherd
Wrapped in his blanket,
Gazed up at the sky,
Dreamed into the night.
A wisp of crescent moon,
A sky full of stars,
In his thought
He was asking:
Does my small fire shine up to the stars?


Details | Acrostic | |

Who Are You

 How dare you take advantage of me like that ,
Leaving me stranded with no way to go forward or back.
   Using the friendship that we had led me to believe,
That there was trust and honor between you and me .
   How you layed me aside and left me for dead ,
You have caused these hateful thoughts inside my head.
   Never could I have done this to any man , 
I can see you have no concious so I know you can.
  There just one thing I really want to say  about this ,
It's been a long time since I have made a clinched fist .
  You have no idea how much hurt you have caused,
It won't be me you'll have to face That's up to God
   But you will regret mistaking this kindness for weakness girl,
Bad Karma will surely consume you this is my word.
   Yes you were able to catch me completely off gaurd ,
Never again because now I know who you are .
TAC


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | Tetractys | |

The Staircase of a Soupy Addict

   Soup
       log in
           feel the rush
                    of poetry
                           smiles to laughter…friends…words that brighten day

                                                                          Shucks, system error, page takes forever
                                                                       upside down U
                                                                 is my mouth
                                                             no dice…
                                                        sighs 







---nikko :)
for Michael's Smiles and frowns contest ;)

07222011224a230
...ok, ok addict logging out-- in a bit,,,hahahaha


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Leashed Down

Leashed Down


Bound by my hands
Bound by my legs
Bound by my waist 
Bound by my neck
I can't  hear
I can't  smell
I can't taste
I can't see
I put everything away and only thought of
What brought me joy.Nor do I want to
Cry leaving my captures to smile about
To gloat,to have that unknown brutal power
Over me which is held in one tear.
My  body numb,my heart is stopped,my mind is blank
Is this dying? Why am I paralyzed? Could it be falling a sleep?
These chains are cold but everything is hot.What feeling beside
Pity would become of me?..Be it not grief not sadness not even remorse.
But as I stand up from this seat,I am nothing more then a well mannered
Pup on a tight leash.


Details | Free verse | |

Invisible Ink

"My pen drips of sorrow and on this paper, I write each tear" – A Rambling Poet

Someone once said, “Write not what should not be read…”
He never knew what to do otherwise
for his pen was his only friend, and paper, his face
of which emotions made themselves known

Forbidden love touched his heart,
never knowing ‘til then that it could be 
the ink for which his pen would write

He seized that passion
and wrote ‘til his fingers bled, mindless of the pain,
numb with love.
The pain was superficial after all, just blood on skin
A flurry of letters that grew strength on secrecy…

Ah, but someone once said…
“Write not what should not be read…”

But how badly he wanted to be read…
the only problem is that word called
Betrayal.

Love reveals, love betrayed;
hearts betray, hearts revealed.

It was all a ruse,
to let slip secrets that were never meant
to be known.

The pain now draws from the heart,
bleeding him dry, reaching his soul
to dehydrate him some more,
‘til Death becomes his friend.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

She receives one last letter in the post
-a blank sheet, wrinkled…warped

Was it invisible ink?
On the contrary,
its message was loud and clear.

No words needed at all, just
pure sorrow of a heart and soul 
that wept

…her tears stain that paper now,
never enough to smooth it out.







August 14, 2011  149a219 
--nikko 
for Constance’s Just Write contest :)


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Controlling Men: Physically, Mentally, and Verbally Abusive Men

All men (the loser boyfriends/husbands) think that it's their right to be physically, mentally, and verbally abusive toward their female companions (girlfriends/wives), well they're wrong. Most guys are always beating their girlfriends/wives up every single day just because they didn't make their men dinner, do chores around the house, or whatever. It seems that these womanizing losers are way better than their women. Actually, they're not; they're idiots. Controlling these women and being physically, mentally, and verbally abusive toward them don't make these Neanderthals men; they're like childish cowards. All guys think that they're the only breadwinners in their families and the women aren't. But guess what--they're not; some of them don't have jobs. And does anyone knows what gets on my nerves? Men always cheating on their girlfriends/wives with other women, getting them pregnant, and not taking care of the children they already have. And those controlling, abusive men, they're always telling their female spouses/lovers what to do, what to eat, where to look, and who to talk to. I mean, who are these womanizing losers to judge other men and to boss these women around? I mean, who does that? Everybody doesn't even know why they'd bother spending the rest of their lives with those abusive idiots. This whole saying by these controlling abusive men have been getting on everybody's nerves and my nerves, as well: "You're-not-to-speak-unless-spoken-to," this "You're-not-to-talk-to-your-family" ordeal, this whole "You're-not-to-have-guy-friends," and this whole "You need me! You're nothing without me! You have no money! You have no friends! Everything's in my name: the house, the cars, clothes, everything I own! You're useless! You're worthless! I own you for life! And you will respect me!" Where I come from, the rest of us nicer guys, we treat our women with the respect they rightfully deserve. The last time I checked, the mothers have raised their sons to treat women and other people with respect, but they now know where they've gone wrong with those womanizing clowns. My suggestion for the women is for them to leave their abusive husbands/boyfriends before it's too late because if they don't, they'll end up in the hospital or the morgue. To be honest, these women, they never should've met, let alone dated or married those abusive men to begin with. And if these abusive men think that they can control those women forever, they've got another coming.


Details | Narrative | |

Misunderstood

The rain slides off my hair,

soaking me wet.

The sky seems to be crying over me,

I don't care.

In the middle of nowhere,

without no soul to speak with.

Should I embrace my fear?

Tears are coming,

though not mine.

But I await my fate,

inpatient for all to end,

not worried for ones deathly drop.

I never had my laughing days on this smiling planet,

nor smiled at gracing sunsets.

No need for me to be where I have my wrongly self being,

in a world that doesn't want me in it!

Can't I be free?

escape, without it not labelled a sin?

My words doesn't breach a sound!

Am I bound to disappear with just one argument?

I now don't feel the need to fear,

useless waste from above.

But I do regret for what soon my breathless body didn't become,

maybe in the end it'll turn out to be all I was.

They will finally see,

a lost poet.

Instead you'll be seeing tears in my lifeless eyes,

like fallen old crusty papers,

with no expressions,

nor emotions of any kind that suits your almighty mind,

for ever no sense.

Throw away my heart and mind into dark flames of hell!

Feel my fury from the heat of not understanding!

All vanished within my last dying breath.

Don't cry for me,

cry for yourself.

Dead writing,

like me forever,

I was........

Misunderstood.


Details | Verse | |

Scorn

HAD FUN WITH ENTERING THE DICTIONARY FUN CONTEST sponsored by Delliah Ventura!
THESE ARE THE WORDS THAT HAD TO BE IN THE POEM 

Abomination scorn Affection Passion Yearning
Struggle Attempt Cherish Relationship Flame
Taste Tender Inner soul Bloom Bamboozle

HERE IS MY ON THE SPOT CREATION!..enjoy :)
I was a woman scorn 
Unknowingly  cherished a relationship
where the flame was no longer existent;
where time flew by in the distance and I missed
everything in my life I intended 
because I was accepting a me that depended
on him
I made an attempt to bamboozle the truth
and convince myself that he wasn’t screwing Kim
Ultimately I faked passion and lustfully feigned for affection
since I’d been betrayed
So, I got down on my knees and  I prayed 
I began yearning for knowledge of my Inner soul
I began to taste freedom and feel whole
The healing began and my consciousness rose - fresh bloom
It was no longer a struggle to end an abomination that would 
prove to be a path of doom


Details | Rhyme | |

Blank Page

Too long have I been staring at this cruel blank page before me, My crazed, hysteric mind screaming and imploring I know there is a message that's dying to come out— I need to fill this confounded page without the slightest doubt! It's a simple predicament to manipulate, Into a mass of thought A futile attempt to insinuate, Weak hints are left with naught I sit here in silent desperation, What can fill this page? I slap myself in indignation, My eagerness becoming rage! Like roaches sporadically running from light My thoughts are but a haze The words I write just don't seem right, On this cruel blank page!


Details | Alliteration | |

We Beat Until We Battered

We sometimes drink and smoke so much We get beat until we are battered 
Our dreams were like one giant wall of glass where upon they were destined to be shattered
 Broken in a heap of glass we now stay occupied where lost souls continue to gather
 Dark yet so desolate living amongst those were nothing in life but a quick death seems to matter
 It seems as if the harder we try the more below we get needing somekind of ladder
 All I hear are silent screams among gossiping chit chatter 
Our truth is getting skinnier while our lies are well fed by the way the are getting fatter
 Crying souls overcome those that are filled with laughter 
The clock for many of us gets slow but our life train to death only gets faster 
Many of us which remain lost in addiction looking for a positive leader, a mentor, some kind of master
 
But when shyt hits the fan we must remain strong even if we just lost someone close and are feeling sadder
 If life is to throw us those curveballs in a the ring then its time stop mr nice guy and get badder
 You must endure the shyt that you got to endure even if it gets your hands and feet a little tathered
 Life can and will get you drunk so handle your drink or let it bring you down until you can no longer stagger
 You must tell yourself **** them and everybody else because you still got skill even if you aint got swagger
 Just tell yourself "**** they judgements" because you know in your own eyes you still look sharper than a dagger
 SO QUIT ACTING LIKE YOU AINT NEVER BEEN MENTALLY BEAT UNTIL YOUR PERSONALITY WAS BATTERED.....BECUASE IT WHAT YOU MAKE IT IN THE END THAT TRULY MATTERS!!!!!


Details | Lyric | |

I Can't Say It Without You

I was your never ending composer
We spent many a nights, and many an hour together
But now you’re lost inside
And I can’t find my way, again.

( chorus )
Cause I can’t say it without you		
It hurts to be without the feeling		
Never knowing when it will return		
But I know that you would stay with me	
If you came back, again some day		
But till then I’ll wait till you appear.	

I really miss the way you make me feel
People said we were meant to be together
Why’d you leave me so unexpectedly
I hope you come back soon.

( Chorus )

It’s been two months since I’ve written you
All I’ve got to show is crumpled bits of paper
The passion and creativity is now gone
So come back home so I can work it out.	


Details | Epic | |

Statutory Rape 101

Everybody knows that it's against the law for grown men and grown women to date all of the underage boys and girls,. let alone a 14-year-old boy or a 15-year-old girl. The law also states that any adult who tries to have this so-called "intimate sexual relationship" with any of the underage boys and/or girls would likely go to jail for a period of time and upon release, they'll have to be register sex offenders for the rest of their lives. It seems that those teen girls would rather date men in their 20's or 30s than guys their age and those teen boys would rather date women twice their age than girls their age, as well. but luckily, their parents (the mothers and the fathers) are here to prevent these so-called "May-December" relationships from ever happening, especially when they're protecting their teenage offspring from dirt-bags like these would-be pedophiles. But no matter what the parents do, no matter how hard they try, their teen sons and/or daughters, they secretly continuing dating older men/older women, even at night (midnight, 2 am, or 3 in the morning, e.g.). And the next thing everybody knows, their parents, they will have found out about it; thereby finding them in bed with the adults; their parents should make multiple police reports and pud the cradle robbers behind bars for good. Boy this is starting to look like an episode of "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" (Season 6-Episode 19-Intoxicated featuring Danielle Panabaker) and an episode of "Snapped," especially when Sarah Johnson killed her own parents in cold blood because she was afraid that the late Mr. and Mrs. Alan and Diane Johnson would send this guy name Bruno Santos to prison or have him deported back to Mexico for statutory rape (by way of dating a then-16-year-old girl). There's no way that those teen boys and teen girls are ever going to get into a bunch of serious, intimate relationships with a bunch of would-be cradle-robbing adults. They need to concentrate on their education and they need to be with guys and girls their age. I mean, one teen boy dating a n adult female? One teen girl dating an older man? My God, their parents will be seriously upset about this. Who on Earth would be dumb enough to fall for an older woman or an older man? And if these would-be pedophiles in the form of grown men and women even attempt to rob these teen boys and girls of their innocence and whatnot, the parents are going to have a problem up in here.


Details | Free verse | |

My savior

It’s been years and I did nothing but watch the walls crack
I look everywhere and see a glimpse of things I missed
I try to go back to do things that was undone
But what’s in the past can never be undone
I’m so littler now
Stuck in the jail of my heart 
Broking to pieces 
Barely breathing
weeping bitterly for my savior 

I’m sorry for I left you for so long
I’m ashamed of holding you
You were the only one who gets me
You’ve always been here through my ups and downs
And I simply walked away from you
I always exploded all my feelings to you
You did nothing but listen 
Never judge me with a glance
I’ve hit you
Threw you
Broke you
You’ve always forgave me 
And came back 

You always knew what was really there
I didn’t need to show you for you to see
I spilled my heart to you 
Without even saying a word
You just simply knew
You helped me find my words 
To show the world 
As it is from my heart
For they need lots of words to understand 

With just a movement of my hand
You helped me draw my dreams my thoughts my unspoken words 
On these wet forgotten papers	
Gave it a new life 
A new story to share

I promise ill never leave you again 
Forgive me, My Pen My savior



Details | Tetractys | |

My Pen Cries

                                                    Pain
                                                 Fills pens
                                                Embedded
                                             Within the ink
                             Hurt reveals itself with every stroke

                             Exposing that which I try to conceal
                                           Each letter weeps
                                               with sorrow
                                                  My pen
                                                     cries


Details | Alliteration | |

One Among Many part 1

Chapter 1 
As but only one young lost man in a great land I sometimes don’t want to see what I see in life but death causes me to look. I don’t want to hear the things I hear but have to admit the things here that I’ve heard. I don’t want to be guilty today it’s why I continue to strive past my past for innocence in the near future. I don’t want to feel what I feel but after another day in this dark place has gone by I can’t hide what I have painfully felt. As but one young man I wonder why I question others motives and still can’t see the answers to my own as if I know all the answers to life when I don’t even know the true cause of my own. I wonder why I am happier at times but more often than not why I continue to be sad. I look for ones in groups of twos and get lost in groups of threes, but don’t get even me started on the groups of fours. On the outside world I am lost yet inside myself I know I am found, I holler silently at night while I quietly pray during the day. As but only one young man I can only do what is best for self-first if I want to start making a difference for two. 
Sometimes life for one can be fun, but on the reservation more often than not it is boring and dull. On the reservation I found serenity and solitude in the hills but I also found old savages and young Satan’s in the towns. I see beauty and peace in Mother Nature but I also found violence and ugliness among my very own in the neighborhood. I see not what I see and I think not what I think for I feel what I see which leads me to think. I choose rather to just be rather than not be what other people want me to be. I see what I see because I haven’t really got a choice in what I will see, I’d rather choose to just say that I saw. Outside people can’t make one see what I already choose not to see for I see what I see rather if they want me to see things their way or not. I can’t feel what they feel unless they feel what I feel and live where I live and be where I am to know where I truly am from to understand the thoughts and feelings of not only a young native of struggle, but as a person worldwide no matter the skin color.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Ex-Best Friends

Two people have broken their friendship ties because of either a disagreement or he or she has found out that his/her boyfriend/girlfriend had an affair with his or her best friend of one too many years. This type of betrayal has taken its toll on all people since day one. It seems that this friendship wasn't enough for him or her, especially when this guy chose this girl over her best friend and this girl has chosen this guy over his best friend. Why these people aren't best of friends anymore is because for one, his girlfriend or her boyfriend cheated on him or her with his or her best friend and for two, they've gotten themselves in a lot of compromised situations. It breaks the hearts of every human being just thinking about it. He or she, of all people, should know that they've been the best of friends since kindergarten and/or elementary school. So now that these people are no longer friends, thereby being "ex-best friends," I guess he or she has no choice but to move on with their lives. These people have broken ties from each other, eventually trying to rebuild them. But even if he or she has betrayed his or her best friend, one should be seriously forgiven for all the misdeeds he or she's done: trying to take his or her girlfriend or boyfriend, leaving him or her hanging, everything. These two people are best friends and they're all they've got. But the sad thing about two people being ex-best friends is that not only are they not talking to each other anymore, they've humiliated each other publicly and personally. So, if that's the way these two people want it and they want to cut off communication with each other, well, then two ex-best friends (guys and girls) have no choice but to wish them the best of luck and hoping that they'd forgive each other in the near future.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Suicidal Voodoo

Chase the voodoo to sleep. sleepless freaks i see in the silver screens blocking the vision of me. there's no choice but to eliminate hate inundating the mind. please mute the voices haunting the airwaves making me blind. the big bad budding burden flashing red lights at every intersection. stealing away the insight i try to gain by using time for reflection.

It's a mess the way i test myself with deranged prophecies and bleak scenarios. replaying horror flicks in my head. blasting screams in stereo. all too often the worm hole shoots me to a mid evil castle of torturous devices. impaled in dreams that seem to be broadcasting punishment for succumbing to the world's entice and vices. but other times i fall victim to a good old fashioned "day-mare". people notice the self conversations and can't help but laugh and stare. I must say it's becoming difficult to blame them. if i can't learn to shake this voodoo, it's true my future's looking grim.

What do I do? they're gonna end up arresting me! Toss my ass in a padded room and throw away the key! and get this...as i worry about getting sent away, the paranoia increases inside my head. i reach for medication increasing odds of ending up prematurely dead. I may be crazy, but don't take me for an idiot fool. and don't haze me about where my faith is, cus' this could just as soon be you. and i've learned enough to know that each and every one of us will die. and you may take me as insane, but me not taking my own life's got nothing to do with having a fear to fry. 

This is exactly why i choose to write as my mind fills up with crazy thoughts and throws fits. it's a therapy for me to try and work out all the kinks that make me sink, instead of cowardly throwin' in the towel n' calling it quits.


Details | Sonnet | |

The Melancholy Man and His Magic Pen

The melancholy man who loves a poem - into a hidden room will now descend to there unloose his mind and soul to roam; his pen, meanwhile, grows a feathered end. This implement can take away his pain and harness it. When disappointment surges, it marks his pondering in sad refrain; then melancholy poetry emerges. The plume dissolves. The poet lays aside his special pen, while to their deepest shelf, regrets return in his dark room to hide until released again from inner self. Like magic, when the quill begins to grow, a smile molds the lips of the man of woe. Tribute to Dan Tharp, an old poet friend that lost contact with me and others in the club where we met him. His poetry, though sad at times, can be beautiful and nostalgic. For Francine Roberts' "tribute by Sonnet" Poetry Contest


Details | Lyric | |

Beautiful Inspiration

Beautiful and inspiring is he,
Who sees the world through rose colored glasses.
If only he could see what I see.
His sight is clouded with unfortunate sadness and melancholy
He views the world from a birds eye perspective,
He sees the beauty of the world around him...
Yet true love and honest beauty,
Grounded in reality
He has neglected.
He soars on eagles wings,
Beautiful inspiration is what he brings.
Strong and confident is he,
Yet blinded by loves unsure indemnity.
A broken heart, the gift of his passion
Has left him standing alone...
My beautiful inspiration.


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Read My Words

Read my words
Can you feel 
their pain
that like a cross
I BEAR

Look 
and you will see
there is NO
 happiness
inside of me

there is
 ONLY
the pain
of these
words


© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
(December 8th, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)


Details | I do not know? | |

That Place

A birth ends, another begins.

All is remembered, all is forgotten.


From struggle to splendour, from feeble to forever.

All is remembered, all is forgotten.


Will we learn today

From all whom have, the path, lay.

Will we turn the clocks of yesterday

And have it another way.


To learn to forget,

To learn to remember.

To strive only for That Place,

Where all is remembered, all is forgotten.



(In memory of R. R., 1986-2009)