You left me so sad today
I needed you to make me smile
I wanted to see you laugh
And forget my burdens awhile
Robin, you left me sad today
My heart is pained even more
That you're the one who took your life
Was there nothing worth fighting for?
Robin, what do you leave for us?
Who have struggled down this path?
What do you leave for us to think
If you couldn’t make it last?
You had it all, you had the fame
You had the glory too
But Robin, where was the love?
Where was the love for YOU?
Those who laugh the hardest
And make the tears come down
Are those with pain too great to bear
So they play the part of clown
I’ve also played that part, my dear
I laugh to hide the tears
I giggle and I joke around
But I’m consumed by fears
Oh Robin, I will miss you so
We’ve never even met
But I feel I know you well
No one sweeter than you yet
So like a robin, you flew away
Took your life to be free
Oh Robin, I’m left here to think
What will become of me?
To Robin Williams, one of my absolute favorite actors. I adored that man.
Media vita in morte sumus – in the midst of life we are in death (Wolfgang
Depression claims another soul. Only those who deal with it know the dark
places that it can lead...yes, even to the valley of the shadow of death.
Sailing these seas, right now the waves are rough.
The ship is hard to steer, and I fear we may sink.
My crew has hope, but they don’t see what I do.
The water’s looking troubled, just like the way I think.
Sailing these seas, the waves have settled down.
The ship is sailing smoothly, I believe we’ll be okay.
My worries are at the back of my head.
I’ll save them for another day.
Sailing these seas, I think we’ve struck something!
My crew is in a panic, and I was not prepared.
Captain, don’t you know you always have to be cautious?
Even the leader sometimes gets scared.
Arriving at the shore, the ship barely intact.
Most of my crew is gone, but a few knew how to live.
They saved me when I needed them.
I want to show thanks, but I have nothing left to give.
To me, this poem sort of symbolizes depression, while indirectly talking about it.
The first verse pretty much says
"I am in a bad place, and I have supporting friends/family, but they don't see what I'm going through the way I do."
Second: "Things are getting better and I've decided to stop worrying about bad things happening and try to be happy."
Third: "Whenever I start thinking about good things and have hope, something bad always happens and I should've been prepared for it."
Fourth: "I made it through it, but lost a lot of the people supporting me because they couldn't handle me while I was down, and whatever I went through weakened me so it's hard to show gratitude to the people who stayed."
A toddlers Crayola masterpiece marks the box
Where the story of our days now tarry
Passages tilting the axis of a bittersweet equinox
As photographs eclipse yesterday and today unvaried
The plans we made for a life
After years of work and worry
Useless installments when your partner dies
The crumbling of everything you once held firmly
Riveted, uprooted with every slide
Scenes of "our time" bring you back to life
I step from earth, you from the sun, for yet another goodbye
And the dam finally collapses behind brave hazel eyes
But not the brokenness your death left behind
Still, though no more than ashes it resides
Like faded photographs etched in the mind
Fanning the embers... one picture at a time
Rage rises, for you left me alone
Without refuge for all life's trials
And our sons fatherless before they were grown
Every step feeling more like a mile
I've grieved so long
And tried to move on
Like river water never looking back
But it's motion sings the the words to our song
Leaving me afraid I'll never belong
Or live out the plan we devised
For all my days my efforts give way
Blundering, burdened and blind
How does one truly recover
When the mate of their soul is no more
Or pass from one realm to yet another
When the walls of your heart no longer have a door?
Frustration builds like Lego towers
toppling to the floor under the weight of the world
Is it grief or something disguised by cowards
When a heart gets stuck from the pain that it's learned?
This ode to a man
Who in covenant took my hand
The marriage equator engraved a permanent mark...
For his death left a total eclipse of my heart
Crazy as a loon
But my God... how I loved you
My eyes fixed upon our favored moon
And I wonder... Do you miss me too?
Anniversaries used to be a joyous accomplishment
Marking years of selfless love made
Now it serves only an acknowledgement
Of a life interrupted by a cruel twist of fate
Of ill trusted hopes
And a future unmade
For us left behind to cope
With memories and photographs fading away
On this the 2nd anniversary...
Of your passing away
In memory of my husband of 25 years
Crimson mist in the Dallas sky,
a frantic wife's mad dash.
The world watched us as we cried
for hope gone in a flash.
Brilliant poet with timeless verse
and enduring message of peace.
A murderous fan fulfilled his curse.
Does lunacy ever cease?
Perfect day in the city
until the towers fell.
Religious zealots who had no pity.
Their resting place is hell.
So look at history if you can
and learn from such hindsight.
As long as evil has a plan
we must not quit the fight.
An orange little ball,
Tattered and torn to bits,
No longer does it fly straight,
Its course lost, its path in fits,
An orange little ball,
Sad within its cracks and in its creases,
Faded bumps, its lost its grip,
It now falls to pieces,
Orange little ball,
Come to death smiling,
Never live just to die,
Happiness lives in and amidst the crying,
Orange little ball,
Wipe the tears away,
There is peace to be found,
In and amongst the fray.
She wore a black dress the virgin mother
unbearable beauty heart not like another;
blacker that the darkness of the night
tearful her eyes with forecasted fright.
Following her son through his journey
with a heavy cross on his way to Calvary;
she wore a black dress the mother of grief
sadness in her heart without relief.
She saw him victimized and persecuted
maltreated and brutally executed;
she wore a black dress under the cross
holding the son’s dead body weeping her loss.
Unbearable beauty heart not like another
dressed in black the blessed mother;
all she had left were the warm memories
they were factual acts not reveries.
Beyond smiling lips
carrying the sorrows of the past,
behind the eyes' sparkle
concealing the darkness of horrors still to last
stares a stranger, young and kind.
Yet she shows not her face
for the stroke of death's caress
extinguishes the aroma of her heart.
Not for any sin, but tenderness
so pure. For survival's sake, she died.
Now her corpse haunts the corners of thought.
Her laughter echoes throughout the years
like the singing bird clipped of wings.
Steel nerves creak with the rust formed by her tears
and audibly a cry from her coffin screams.
Perhaps her ghost will someday rest
when justice to her grave is done,
her tombstone placed to mark her existence
and known in my reflection...
Yes, I killed her. I murdered her in cold blood still flowing.
Now she is vengeful, her dead heart still pounding.
On the plight of this garden till when to grieve
Will this nest ever its glory retrieve
The companion birds are all flown away
O cyprus trees and roses! Permit me to leave
(Influenced by a Rubai of an eminent Urdu poet Josh Malihabadi)
She prowls the night
with clenched jaw and pride,
nothing able to smite
her remorseless stride.
The ominous reflection of moon
shines forth from devouring eyes
of a nocturnal beauty spun on the loom
of the Creator's bid and sighs.
Grace moves her every limb
and she precedes an enraged scream
caused by ruins of a forest now grim
and held alive by all but one stream.
Her claws prophesy of vengeance
though her heart yearns for reconciliation.
Yet now there would be no leniency
for a soul's annihilation.
Now on journeys through lush valleys and ashes
she will embark
until all that remains after furious thrashes
will be the tigress' mark.
Rising out of bed as the sun peeks through the window
Eyelids are a fluttering as she looks towards her side
Another day to fear and what is she to make of it
She wishes it were night again, so easier to hide
Once when she was young she was playing with her dolls
Dreams of growing older with a family of her own
But the days went by and her reality became completely altered
To loneliness, despair, and no one there to phone
SEVEN BILLION PEOPLE and who is there to see
Visions of what could have been, her heart has turned to stone
No career, no wedding, no children, her world a tiny room
Gasping out her final breath, across her lips a moan
The hole is dug, the casket lowered, no one there to grieve
What life was this, what purpose here, as rain falls on the grave
Father McKenzie of the lonely, a tear rolls down his cheek
Eleanor Rigby, another soul his prayers have failed to save