*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*
Hi, grandpa it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass
Do you remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes,
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma, she doesn't want you to cry.
Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Do you remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed brushing my hair with her hands
Love the way she rocked me to sleep every night until I grew.
I stored your hearing aid away
Do you remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer?
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina dance
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma lived in
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandmothers favorite scarf.
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Do you like the way she looked in that pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
I like the walking stick she handcrafted, the day your needed support
It kept you in balance every time we took long hikes in the woods.
Hello grandpa, it's me again!
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see grandma
Please tell her hi, and I know you will be there the day I die
Give grandma a kiss, and tell her I miss her
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A
The function of a human hand?
Writing a message, making a bed,
Opening a jar, dialing a phone,
Putting on pantyhose,
Touching the face of a child,
Or a lover.
And in its absence?
Yawning space and phantom pain,
And an oddly-shaped bandage
At the end of Angie’s arm.
PFC Hernandez, home in El Paso,
Watches her family watching her,
Writing awkwardly with her left hand,
Brushing her black wavy hair,
Watching Dr. Phil
Wearing an old gray-green T-shirt
Bearing the faded words
“Proud to be a Marine.”
Gasping and choking,
She wakes from thick, dusty dreams
Of shimmering, endless sand,
Echoing hollow with hatred,
And the feared but half expected
Roar of fiery amber heat,
Breaking the angry stillness,
Searing through the night
And Angela’s right hand.
Copyright © Ginna Wilkerson
You made the mistake and now,
your afraid to face this day.
Your thoughts are racing through
You wonder if your family looks at
you as a disgrace, but you'er mother
takes you and reasures, your very
much loved in grace.
Even though your much to young
for this breathing little thing this
You couldn't just throw it out
like it was a peice of trash.
So you grow up and take the
path that led you to your best
mistake for years to come.
Copyright © Emily Kroeger
I remember all the nights we use to play,
but now I can't play anymore because your not here today.
Your here in my heart and that will never fade away.
Sometimes I would be a hard-headed child,
but in your eyes you saw an angle smile.
I love you like God love the family, unconditionally.
I remember your brown eyes, gray hair, for you were wise.
I also remember when you had to leave, so your soul could be free.
See, I'm older; more mature, and understand what's going
on, but back then I was only four.
I still remember that day like it was yesterday.
Well, you were buried that day and everyone had a sad face.
I remember that day very well indeed, as I looked at you
and pleaded that you wouldn't leave me.
Now you’re gone and I have to be strong for both
of us, so our love can live through people who love us.
Copyright © Diona Finley
When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...
I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky
The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn
I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe
The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul
Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through
Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost
I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art
As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow
Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place
The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost
Day was Life,Night is Death
And the latter has given counsel on my final steps
Copyright © Winter Wallace
We swallow boulders:
(lead words, molasses covered prejudice, glass shards of promises long broken)
Mouths open wide and heads tipped back
like Hawaiian fire eaters.
Chipped teeth are bits of porcelain history,
sliding down our throats in rivers of neglect
The stones settle,
Our stomachs are filled up, anvil weight
'till we can hardly sit, hardly stand, or walk.
We drag our feet in pain, as the quiet indicator that
we've had rocks for breakfast,
lunch, dinner, for years,
in the hopes that someone will recognize
the broken concrete footprints behind us
and touch us gently on the forearm:
"Honey, are you alright?"
(and isn't it the first sweet trickle of kind words that crumble
the already cracking facade?)
There's no stopping the torrent then,
tsunami tears and a heaving, convulsing
to the point of cathartic vomit-
boulders of every shape and size
tumbling out of our mouths and filling the room;
broken teeth and granite eyes
until we no longer see the floor, the walls...
And then serenity.
The hand has moved to the shoulder,
forming a universal hug.
"I'm here now... and you're ok."
We stand up, together, and leave that room,
a soundless void of yesterday,
to absorb the impermeability of stones,
carrying our gait buoyant, without gravity.
No weight at all now, and barely a second glance,
but to turn out the light - and lock the door behind us...
Copyright © Tatyana Carney
He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died,
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it,
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain,
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best,
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows
what happens next.
All results of
Copyright © Laura Hamilton
Please forgive me
for i know not what i do
Copyright © Brandon Basson
The tide rises within me soaked with failure's longing.
The sea siren's reach, out across the land to me.
The moon added its pull and speaks of not belonging.
I am drawn on astral screams to the deep dark sea.
small waves submerge
my pale ankles to my knees --
The weight of clothes so cumbersome impedes,
arching down, I let go, each bit of cloth from me.
Salt sea in, the salt sea out, my life concedes
choosing to leave, this go round, in the deep dark sea.
open eyes stare
into a silty brown brine --
Sinking-down, passively, sadness abating
Strands of silvered seaweed, chill, gently beckoning me
my limbs entwined in death's sweet embrace abiding
minnows greet me with a kiss, from the deep dark sea.
in her hair --
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi
The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed
This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace
With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base
These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews
One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar
The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die
In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail
Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction
Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died
The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind
Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say
Copyright © James Fraser
The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
Copyright © James Fraser
Let winter come
And freeze the sky
No more will shadows cast
Let showers turn to heaps of snow
With gardens hidden deep
Let working cease
Let herds to safety dash
Farmers idle, fires glow
No fields left to reap
My picket fence
No perfect cobbled path
Let winter come, and snowstorms blow
I need some time to sleep
By: Kyle Ezra Kriticos
Copyright © Kyle kriticos
O beloved mother, o beloved sisters
departed from me, within years
of each other, to sadden my living;
I spend my days weeping...
reminiscing in my sorrow:
how we laughed together,
and faced another serene tomorrow,
knowing that sharing kindness
would bond our destinies
in ways so devoted and immense!
O beloved mother, o beloved sisters...
I let the unconsumed joy of memories
take me to those yesterdays
to thank God for our existence,
when we enjoyed the gifts He offered;
yes, even the smallest of them
were so lovely and precious!
And by watching how you faced death,
I admired how you became the bravest...
slowly letting go of what you possessed!
O beloved mother, o beloved sisters...
do you want me to continue crying,
or smile and console you with a future promise:
that soon we'll embrace one another
under the joyful eyes of our Creator?
Nothing foolish I will do to harm myself;
and wait I will 'till my end comes,
but until then my solemn prayers I'll recite
amid tombstones guarded by triumphant angels...
and bound for Heaven, I'll be smiling!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
“WHAT IS A SAD DAY IN AMERICA?”
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you wake up every day worrying about being
black, educated and female.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you wake up every day and there is a new battle.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you wake up living on the outside of the
American Dream, but you live within America and you have nightmares about
walking in the shoes of another race in your view.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when Civil Rights begin to regress over 40 years.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you have to worry about what religion or
denomination you belong too.
It is a “Sad Day” in American when the words “I can” in the word American does
not represent “I can because I am free.”
Instead it becomes an obstacle because others continue to suppress me---
because of my race, religion, sex, ability or disability?
It is a “Sad Day” in America when we accept mediocracy.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when we cannot accept our fellow man or fellow
It is a “Sad Day” in America when others cannot hear or see.
It is a “Sad Day” when we can no longer show empathy.
It is a “Sad Day” when all we do is “nothing”.
The “Glorious Day” will come when we learn the history of others, walk with
others by empathizing with others and consider ourselves brothers and sisters
in “One America”, one fight, one battle, one love-- until that time “it is” and “will
be” a “Sad Day” in America.
copyright@2006 by Carrie M. Love-Atkins
Copyright © Carrie Love-atkins
"I’ll never understand how people can go on and live
The miracle of finding the strength to forgive
To resurrect peace, to close up wounds so deep
they pierce souls beneath heart beats
To be a willful slave to a loving God’s commands
The key to a freedom that I’ll never understand." -Shad
I am not one for articulate words;
Had words be tears, I would write for kings—
But here I am, raw with restraint,
As you tear our worlds apart.
One day I had desired you here,
To celebrate your creation far from compare;
And the next I bid you gone,
Anger tearing my words apart.
Now, all I wish is peace…
I cannot stand your creations lying to waste,
At your expense…for their laments…
Wishing only for peace…
To replace lament,
And replace all…
That I can never quite utter…
Feb 18, 2014
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal
The grainy half dusk,
when the sun gives her last wink.
Hours spent in thought
to leave the safe sanctity.
This lonely little hovel
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan
A soul weeps in flesh for the pain I left behind.
I am sorry for the pain,the tears, I left for you to bear.
These healing words I send with a bumble bee to heal a bleeding rose.
These napkin like words I pray can wipe your tears and snotty nose.
I was young and naive,I cherished my pride instead of your heart .
There the coldest winter did start.
If it makes you happy I disposed of the mistress.
Who faded in long lost memory of shadowed kisses.
No,no,no I am sorry for writing that,
its a poets bold habit of honesty,
but in writing this I thought i should be honest and honest I shall be.I apologize for leaving your emotions suppressed,unknown and ostracized.
Yes, I know the ocean swollen with your tears,the angels descended on a bloody battle field to hear your cry.I hope you can summons them again and reconsider the report to the almighty farther.
If I could write this apology in the eye of the sky I would,for my remorse to be seen , a once foolish human being .Your heart I didn't mean to decay. I apologize for the lies, cries,for making you eat sadly all those ice creams and soggy apple pies,from absorbing tears fallen from yours eyes. Left to wonder in the vastness of the universe alone. I am sorry also sorry for the smudged ink and some of the lines. I cried along with them, imaging your painful times.
Yours truly Elliott Bowe
Copyright © Elliott Bowe THe DrUnKeN POeT
A dedication to my grandpa,
i love you and miss you,
Your legacy lives on within my heart
The sun can shine
So bright, it makes you blind
Very misleading .
The world telling you it's a good day
With just a simple ray.
Penetrating your mind
Telling you to leave all that behind.
So you leave it … Searching for anything to find.
To fill that hole in your heart ...with something kind.
So you go for a stroll in a park
And see a dog with a playful bark.
As you step near
You start to grow in fear
Foam in its mouth
You notice your head dropping south
And start to frown.
You realize it's not so sunny anymore
No more birds soar.
Drop to your knees
Start to cry.
Then wonder why.
Why do I feel this way?
Looking for answers, you go to the bay.
Watching the storm come in, you hear someone say,
"Remember what I taught you,
You have to be strong.
Find the right
In the wrong.
Everything will be okay.
Some days will rain.
Some days will shine,"
Looking around to see who it may be
You continue to listen to the voice from the sea,
"some days you need to stop everything
The Good Lord will take it away.
I've always been your strength
Strong for you and yours sister both."
As you realize who it is
You start to cry, from sadness…
"I know you miss me…
And I miss you too.
No need to cry,
Oh Catelyn, oh me oh my.
But just always know I'm here,
watching over you.
If you ever need me.
You know where I'll be.
Watching over you from the clouds.
No need to worry.
Don't stress so much.
And it stinks..
Given , I wish I was down there to talk to you.
But it's all in God's plan.
Everything will be for the better.
Now I'm sorry I have to go,
Check on your sister and cousins you know
Whenever your feeling rough
Whenever life gets tough
Remember what I taught you.
Rain may continue
Life will happen in different Venues
But go dance in the rain
Let go of the pain.
Enjoy the life God granted you
…it won't last forever.
Don't plan out the future
God has his plan
Live his will out
Remember your still a kid,
So smile and I love you Catie did"
Tears rushing down your face
Tears of joy or sorrow
You don't really know.
Remembering what your grandfather taught you,
With his strength You stand up
Something in your chest starts to bump
Your heart, it's whole
Beating once again.
Pain is gone
And you live on.
Dancing in the rain
With only life to gain.
Copyright © Catelyn Huffman
Raped and Molestated in childhood,
Abused and Misused in pre-adulthood,
Alone and confused they stood; feeling
like tainted goods.
Let their soul cry, maybe then; they can
regain their pride.
They gotta let their soul cry
Their darkest secret's they lock away
within, this is why their flesh constantly
feast off sin; and everything in life has a
beginning, but never render an ending.
Let their soul cry, Crying is the only way to
gain their piece of mind.
One might ask," Why"? Then , I will reply,"
They need to see at least one day filled with
promise rather than pain and see the sun
without having rain.
They gotta let their soul cry, before their sin
cause their flesh to die.
Copyright © Margaret Johnson
His face, withered, gaunt
His eyes cloudy, filled with a haunting vacancy
His voice weak , shallow
Seldom spoken these last difficult days
His hair is white and thin
His skin, so delicate and discolored
The strength has left his fragile body
And he lies, waiting
Yet I remember the man who was my Father
In my youth, so tall and strong
His eyes a deep blue with a depth of the seas
Thick, wavy, black hair tousled about his head
He walked with an unaware arrogance
Never knowing that all eyes were upon him
This handsomest of men, beautiful, confident
No one could match his brilliance, his seductive air
Unconscious, innocent of the power he possessed
The command he held with peers, a leader of men
A bright star in the universe, a life spent searching for answers
Politics, Economics, Religion…his battlegrounds
Yet, with all his perfection
He remained kind and true to all
Generous, loving; never an unkind word
A light for all who knew him
But the cruelty of life is worse for some
His body wracked with an unforgiving disease
Seizing him, slowly at first…a tremor
Then completely, leaving him helpless
Dependent upon those who had worshipped his strength
Lying in his bed, languished, weak
Nearly impossible to eat, difficult to drink
Each day descending further into darkness
Life’s cruelest blow to one so special
Chosen by angels as their brightest star
So blessed to have loved such a man
Still loved, but pitied for the terrible loss
For such men were never meant to suffer this fate
To fade each day, closer to oblivion
He would never have chosen this
Broken, suffering silently in stoic resignation
Pride now replaced with painful gratefulness
He tries to manage a smile
His rigid muscles fighting the instinct
For he spent his life smiling
But old age has given him no peace
No time to reflect on the legacy he leaves
He waits as life deals its unjust ending
For one who was so great, so good
I hold his cold, thin hand in mine
Holding back the tears that burn
I will remember him, the Father whom I have loved
I see him walk away, wavy black hair, a cute little wink
As he leaves this tired shell, worn, used up
Once again becoming the unbroken man
I see him strut again, his quick, bouncy steps
As he climbs the ladder to the heaven he has earned
I hear the trumpets of the angels
Welcoming their special creation
A man of compassion and ideals
My Father, My Daddy…How I will miss him
Copyright © Cherie Lowe
I do not know?
This feeling dragging myself to the lowest standards
the horrible feeling of being ruled by the man who has me face down on the mat
and when i give in,, the craving go into the deep dark abyss..
i only see one way out and the cold steel is in my hands,,,,
playing Russian roulette with my emotions..
not knowing when my next craving is going to hit me over the head.....
But then i realize that i have a purpose on this earth,, and i don't have to give in to
"the father of all lies" and that i do have a way out, and i do have people who love me
so what can i do??
Let the pen bleed out onto the papers who have no way of judging my defects of character
and take it one day at a time
Copyright © jacob lammerman
Waiting on inspiration and wasting time.
Yet the search continues until I'm out of my mind.
Then there's the other side of the story that nobody wants to hear.
And faced with reality,I realize my greatest fear.
With my bloodline destroyed,there's nothing left.
I embrace the day when I'll take my finale breathe.
For the end to come,now I welcome the day.
Then take to the grave,all the things I never got to say.
On my way to a place,where I'll finally find peace.
Copyright © Clifton BEO
like the raven
who taps taps upon
your chamber door
do not fret my Virginia
for it's my shadow
moving across the floor
this is what I'm telling you my darlin
and nothing more
I still call your name
come to me virginia
come hear the tap tap
upon your chamber door
for only you my love
I surrender and never more
wind howls in blanket snows
here I stand so all alone
broken hearted and misconstrued
my Virginia who lies under stars and moon
just a tap tap upon your chambers door
tis I and nothing more
tales of hidas truth
blackbird sings harps cords
just like the tap tap upon your chambers door
my sweet Virgina whom I adore
for there'll be love waiting and nothing more
as I lay right next to you in this tomb
I counted only seven who have even knew
the times of this raven who
tapped tapped upon your chambers door
twas only I and will be never more
Tribute To Edgar Allen Poe
And His Young Bride Virginia
Also To His Poem The Raven
Copyright © Katherine Stella
The swan in the cemetery looked so out of place
in such a depressing location to see such a symbol of grace
a mystical message engraved on a level of hidden depth
a breath of fresh life, hidden amongst the death.
as i watched the swan pace between the gravestones with all the confusion it
in a place of such solitude, i chuckle at the irony the swan represents
but all of a sudden the swan stops in its tracks.
looks up at the sky down at the ground and then over its shoulder as to look over
with an insinuation in its actions that portrays an essence of surprise
as it stops looking around and focuses on my eyes
which some how against my will has me rested on my knees
as the swan opens its beak but instead of a sqwauk a human voice pleas
a plea of forgiveness for all that its done
a plea to say goodbye to his wife and his son
but then the swan descends into the ground through a grave with not as much as
as i read the inscription on the stone i cry as i find it reads here lies hope
Copyright © Josh Denson
What was I to do scared I tried so hard to stop it but nothing I did helped, I
couldn't scream and I have no idea why,maybe the fear from the fact the one
thing I never really know if it would've happened to me did or the fact I didn't try
while it was happening, I wish I could go back and change the mistake made but
once made it's done. I can't ell my mother she'll never believe me, she'll think I
meant for it to happen but I struggled and I fought but not hard enough obviously.
A secret that haunts me for the rest of my life and God only knows that I never tied
to do that. I still hold that fear within because I don't know who to really trust with
this secret, in some ways I don't believe I know anyone who will just except this.
This is the first time I have publicly announced this and I only hope that you won't
look at me any differently; I need no sympathy I just hope that whoever else reads
this poem how has been through the same will help make them stronger and
know that they aren't the only ones, my heart goes out to you.
Copyright © Sharice Lewis
She laid upon a red satin cover
Beside her laid her grief stricken lover
His tears were silent as it was hard to discover
For his love had died in the arms of another
The music plays from the heavens that hover
The angels await to take them together
Copyright © colleen laforme
Crying into my pillow each night
Tears for a sorrow that burns like an acid
Eating it’s way through my senses..through my soul.
The pain sears through me like burning coals
Hard to get my mind clear and rational
To put those things into perspective..
Or so I am told by well-meaning others who do not know,
The suffering of my existence; my inability to cope
My head throbs in almost a familiar rhythm
A melody of self-pity, for regret, for salvation
And the tears, still flowing, now echoed with muffled sobs
For the agony is nearly more than I can withstand
I pray to a God I do not know, nor care to
But no one else is there to listen to my pleas for comfort
To make right all those mistakes
As there are so many choices and I haven made the wrong ones
So the God I do not acknowledge, lies silent in the stillness
And the burning within begins to subside
As grateful sleep falls upon me at last
Until another night comes, and the thoughts begin again
Copyright © Cherie Lowe
Being in denial is like sitting in an empty house,
with a moonlit forest behind it.
Coming out of denial is the new bird,
that comes and stays a while, with that little
empty house, but when winter comes,
he is off on a journey from the heavens above.
Copyright © Emily Kroeger
I do not know?
For every time we take a breath
And every time we stop to rest,
To look around at all that grows
Embracing all the love that flows.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
For every tear of sorrow we weep
The new day of thousands in forgotten sleep,
Unhinged the heart of one more soul
For King or Queen or eternal goal.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
The last of the tommys lays his wreath
For next time he may lye beneath,
Reunited with friends separated long ago
To re-live the highest high and the lowest low.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
For every rose
For every thorn
For every darkness
Unveils a new morn
Copyright © Claire Heslop
Sometimes, life isn't always how
It looks at first. It's all better now.
I felt so overwhelmed by the world's demands,
But I feel better knowing she understands.
I no longer have to regret the things I've said.
I know now that I can move on instead.
I felt as if I was without that thing I could never find.
Now I'm back in my body and back in my mind.
I found that moment where my world was bright.
I found that the sky's still blue and my world's alright.
Loves are loves, traitors are traitors, but family is always there.
Now I can look nearer for someone to care.
I hope that everyone can be like me and find shelter from the rain.
Love, family, friends, help, anything to help fight against your pain.
Copyright © Josey Portas