No chance of rain tonight,
No bogeyman, when I turn off the lights.
A phrase I found and adore with the warmth of your security.
You are the reason I attain true maturity.
I love when you lay down next to me,
Like the high tide of the sea,
You move all the warm motions inside.
My arms are the comfort you use to seek and hide.
Your nestle holds a true rhythm that hums its own song~
Nothing comes close to breaking this precious bond~
A sweet cradle-song only I hear,
You play my grin, without the strings of a puppeteer.
My heartbeat needs its fix and drug,
Your sweet, charming smiles and hug,
Is all I need to succeed,
You are, my only creed!
A kiss, I give on your forehead,
Into a poet’s world where your blanket a dulcet lullaby,
my arms are your bed.
“Goodnight Sweet Child, Sweet Child of Mine!”
A telephone that seldom rings
So many songs I never sing
I open the door, but no ones there
Where are all the people who say they care
The world outside keeps going by
As I look out the window and try not to cry
Where did all the people go?
The ones I love, I miss them so
Long days turn into night
It's oh so lonely till early morning light
If I could only be what I used to be
I know how proud you'd be of me
But only then do I realize
The lord is very very close by
Then as I wipe away a tear from my eye
I hear him say, my child do not cry
And then I'm happy like I used to be
Because I know he's here for me
On sleepless nights I am led
To creep and kneel by your bed
To pray for your mother and me
But grief comes calling, you see
Gurgling from its endless base
It explodes out of my face
I shower your pillow with tears
Vomiting yesterday's fears
Barking and spitting his rage
The monster howls from its cage
Backing me out to the edge
Of insanity's slippery ledge
The cord is severed I think
That unseen biological link
Has ripped loose down at the loins
And the wound bleeds from my groin
Like frayed rope snapping on a boat
The mangled end quivers and floats
Out in an endless abyss
Where my demons cackle and hiss
I rant, I plead and I pray
Still you keep drifting away
Hold on, I am with you my son
So tired, let go, it is done
If you mess with me
You're messing with an anointed pedigree
I follow God
He knows that I am flawed
Who He loves
How He wants me to pray
Who he sends my way
I'll invite in my life with open arms
I won't forsake Him
Just as He won't forsake me
I know His Son died for me
Just knowing that alone has me in tears
Knowing that He loves me enough
To sacrifice His Son
God is my Lord
Jesus is my Savior
The Father of the Savior
Has given up his Son so that I may live free of Sin
Knowing that I can talk to Him anytime, any day, anywhere
Has me dropping to my knees
I pour my soul and heart into every prayer
I know He hears all I say
Most times He'll answer my prayer easily
Other times I have to work for the answer
In the end everything is going to be alright
Because I love Him and He love me
Yet still my heart beats for days now blurred
Two beats were counted, only one was heard
We are not even a drop of rain, just vapour
United to be once more, no clouds can conjure
All love all liking now lost… forever!
Dreams and memories, time tries to severe
Like dew-bespangled flowers alone I weep
The spray turns to rain, colours never keep
No longer will I drink your silvery voice
Destiny meant, I could not make a choice
A longing and thirst for you I cannot quench.
The cup floating in air, unable to reach.
©Holly P. Moore Lines 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12
©26/1/2013 Lines 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11
A collaboration with my great friend, David Willams, who has not judged me through my tragedy and encouraged me to continue to write.
Two minds thinking in sequence, I dedicate to my son.
On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute
For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes
A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken
So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife
On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys
For the living, life goes on
Tomorrow is another day
From a beam he dangled as the rope choked out his breath
So very soon to end his life as he does the dance of death.
The grandma sees her grandson and has to take him down
She lays him on the carpet that is colored brown.
High up on a structure eyes are starring down
Will blackout over come him before he hits the ground;
The morbid and the curious have finally gone away
There’s only those who clean the mess, it's just another day.
Dinner on the table with plate and fork and knife
The only thing that's swallowed is a pill to end her life.
Who said that it is painless have they looked around the room
The pain does carry on and on far beyond the doom.
With a knife the cut was made now blood spills on the floor
Soon the shadows of the dark will come in through the door.
Who said there are no victims; reactions carry on;
This tragedy repeats it’s self; through days that take too long
With rocks put in her pockets in water not so high
She sucks the water to her lungs that's how she chose to die.
The husband of Virginia Wolf, now he knows too well
His days are filled with misery and his life's a living hell.
Desperate to escape he points the pistol to his head
The triggers pulled, a roar goes off; and just like that he's dead.
When she opened up the door she saw the pieces of his brain
The blood in puddles on the floor; was like water from the drain.
Blood is on her shirt; where she held him for too long
But it's simply far too late the life in him is gone.
Who says that it is painless have they looked around the room
I know the pain does carry on and on far beyond the doom.
God has a plan,
And it is out of my hands.
I can’t help but wonder, about the blunder, of building a one room log cabin,
Where man and wife, lived a private life, ‘til kids became real, not imagined
With no partitions, or new additions, you’d think their sex life would run ashore.
But they both knew, how to make it through, by inventing a thing called the chore.
As each kid did sprout, pa had to go out, and think up a new job for the tot.
He soon realized, that for his farm’s size, there were more tots then jobs to be got.
And the matriarch, made the remark, that inside we plum ran out of space.
So they tried to rid, their house of kids, as fast as were made in the first place.
At last the last lad, made a nice lass glad, got married and had a grand party,
But pa had ma’s hind, right on his mind; they arrived at the party, tardy.
Well all went ok, until the sad day, when the old man’s life ran out of time.
And then poor ma, lost her chutzpah, plus the cabin exceeded its prime.
So ma did call, her last son Paul, asked if he knew what she should do then,
He said oh dear, I just moved here, and that we don’t even have a den.
But son relents, and acts the gent, there is space in one nook of our room.
If you feed cows, and all the sows, cause heck ma, I’ve got a new bride groom.
My grandson asked if back when I was young
I had ever done anything naughty or wrong
I said shut the door put on listening ears
And Ill tell you a tale of rank shivering fear
One night at midnight I sneaked from my bed
To a neigr knocker fastened a thread
Old Mrs. Murphy, ninety and living all alone
That she was a witch was really well known
I pulled the string and the knocker did bang
Then over the garden wall lithely I sprang
When the old woman limped to the door
Finding nobody there she ranted and swore
Again and again I pulled that on the thread
As over and over tears of laughter I shed
Then the moon clouded and all turned dark
A cold hand of fear icily fingered my heart
A voice rasped lowly filling me with dread
‘I’ve got you now and soon you’ll be dead’
I was then dragged to Mrs. Murphy’s door
Feeling more terrified than ever before
The door was opened I was pushed inside
Nowhere I could run nowhere I could hide
There in the kitchen the old woman sat
Black cloak and hair, black teeth and hat
Our neighbour then sat me down on a chair
The witch held me still with malevolent stare
Pointing long sharp nailed finger I felt the spell
As she spoke of hot flames and rotting in hell
I promised to be good and meant it sincerely
I’ve been good ever since, well almost, nearly
(5th in contest,’Childhood memories’ by Crystal Wilkins)