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Quatrain Sympathy Poems | Quatrain Poems About Sympathy

These Quatrain Sympathy poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Sympathy. These are the best examples of Quatrain Sympathy poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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In the Mist of Life

In the mist of life, I have found myself
  lost and alone in a wood dark and gray.
A chill to the bone, a fall to the depth
  a longing to feel the warm rays of day.

There was but one road which ran to a church.
  There was many roads that ran far in the wood.
Like a fool I have run past Elm and Birch
  this lost road turned to a trail where I stood.

 A dark cloud now forms a narrow cold sky
  a wind from the North, which blows coastally. 
My choice brings no answer only a sigh 
  it made years ago and so willfully.

Weary am I of a life on this path
  wishing to visit my option again.
Fearing my Lord or fearing His wrath 
  I backtrack this road but only in vain.

Before me a puzzle of rock and stone  
  reaching far back before a road in time 
planted me deep in a mist with no tone 
  searching for a life, that I could call mine.

This narrowing track turns back on itself,
  the undergrowth soon will stand in my way.
In the mist of life, I have found myself
  Lost and alone in a wood dark and gray.


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In the Sand

He walked down to the sea, lonely and bored
then dips his hand in the warm ocean brine.
Forty years she was the one he adored,
so he kneels to pray for her, one more time.

He spells out her name in the smooth beach sand
then he watches a wave wash it away.
Whispers "Goodbye" just as he starts to stand
he wishes there was more that he could say.

A gentle rumble as breaks a small wave
he can smell her perfume as on the breeze.
He has not the strength to visit her grave
self-pity and pain is all that he sees.

Watches seagulls as they swarm a shrimp boat
as it makes a turn back toward the bay.
Hollow and empty he feels without hope
and wishes a wave would wash it away.


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Charity Begins At Home

CHARITY Is the most honourable of all good intentions To help those poor souls in need We all have so much for which to be thankful Our mission is to do a good deed BEGINS The task of seeking the underprivileged Those truly in need of assistance Doing our very best to make sure they enjoy A happier and productive existence AT Very first news of someone in distress Be there to offer your hand Making sure things are contented at home Then offer to help your fellow man HOME Is definitely where charity should begin On that we must be consistent Then share the warmth of our loving heart And our happy and peaceful existence ©Jack Ellison 2012


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One Out Of Three

That homeless guy out on the corner,
Carrying a sign that says he’s hungry;
Maybe he’s just a drunk or a ‘stoner’, 
But he might be that one-out-of-three.

That one-out-of-three is a veteran,
Who in uniform served his country.
There’s a good chance he has an addiction,
Or is still suffering from PTSD.

One out of three of those ones-out-of-three
Fought in one of America’s wars.
Did he scream on a beach in Normandy,
Or did he at Inchon go ashore.

Did he hunt Charlie in a rice paddy?
Was he in the Balkans, or lost in the sand?
One out of three of those ones-out-of-three,
Were the heroes who once took a stand.

If you can spare a few dollars, then feed them.
If not, at least hear what they say.
Their country may no longer need them, 
But they don’t deserve to be thrown away.

They might not have all bled in battle, 
But each one came home a casualty.
With your help, they may someday be able
To leave the ranks of the one-out-of-three.


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A Wish

A Wish

For children sired from out of wedlock
Roaming the streets, begging for alms
With weary eyes from a day’s plight
To get their crumbs  and spare  the night

For girls robbed and sanctity trampled
Buried in rut,  and scared to move
Spurned and cast away from home
With queuing lads to buy her form

For souls scorned and gloomed
Who live a  life of doom and misfortunes 
May find their life at the end of the fork
Espousing all strength, and daring to move.


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:sigh of relief:

Words spoken in silence,

[When language does not suffice]

Like a look or a tear, although concise

Can echo a lifetime in your ear,

Much louder than those you can hear.


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Toy Boy- For Women Everywhere Who've Been Hurt

Don’t play with my heart
You mischievous boy
I know what you want
You just want a toy

Don’t try to be cute
Don’t try to be sweet
You just want to eat
A sugary treat

Then lick your fingers
And be on your way
Well, listen up boy
Hear now what I say

Yes, I am yummy
And yes, I am FINE
But, please, do beware
Before you do dine

If you have your meal
And then disappear
I’ll give you a kick
A box in the ear

I’ll maul you alright
Make you worse for wear
Fiercer than any
Deranged mama bear

You can fight, but dear
You don’t stand a chance
I’ll cut you down cold
And over you prance

Then lock you away
And swallow the key
Oh baby, don’t mess
Don’t you mess with me!

With all that you know
Do you want to touch?
I’m standing right here
You want me so much?

Right now I’ll be good
And purr and be coy
Because truth be told
You are MY toy boy!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Inspired by Becca :)


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Words of Sympathy

My condolences can’t ease the pain,
That you have come to feel.
Nor fill the void in your heart,
That often seems unreal.

But it lets your heart know,
That you are in my prayers.
And when sorrow digs its heels,
There is someone here who cares.

I offer healing words of comfort,
And many hugs for sympathy.
When sorrowful clouds blotch your sky,
You can always depend on me.


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Break and Repair

Bah, rake together the bloody pieces,
if you leave them lying about, they stain.
Any good, that memories hold, decreases,
as does future joy you hope to obtain.

Embrace solitary stillness, silence.
Rediscover a solid foundation.
Gladness can thrive in romance’s absence.
Expired connections lead to damnation.

Clean up wretchedness before it bitters
killing chances before you are aware.
Forge yourself into a net that glitters.
Leave the pain and sorrow to just reap air.


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Everyone Has A Tale To Tell

Show a little kindness
To everyone you meet
You'll never know the story
That makes them all unique

Everyone has a tale to tell
Some happy some are sad
We all can be affected
By the kind of day we've had

So if your waitress snubs you
Or a clerk is less than great
Showing a little kindness
May help to change their fate

Instead of scorn and ridicule
Help 'em above the fray
Pass along some happiness
So they may find their way

Show a little kindness
To everyone you meet
You'll never know the story
That makes them all unique

© Jack Ellison 2012


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Sorry

First, let me say I'm sorry
This isn't your fault, it's mine
I don't feel for you what you feel for me
And I know that seems so unkind

But, the passion we used to have
I don't feel it anymore
The flame that burned inside of us
Has dwindled to nothing, and nothing more

I'm sorry for you, who came out of the blue
I fell in love with a girl, but my love is no longer true.


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Math

Math can be confusing,
With numbers, equations, and more
Hard to understand,
Try to break it down to the core

When there is no where to turn,
You wonder, does math involve lore?
Probably not, but it's worth a try,
Since the stress makes you sweat through pores

Math can be confusing,
With numbers, equations, and more
Hard to understand,
Try to break it down to the core


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the predator's delight

In you can be seen the predator's delight
Enjoying the fear in your prey's eyes,
Setting to unleash your savage might
As the helpless before you lies,
No chance is there for captivity nor flight,
For mercy with your heart has no ties.


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Bums Unite



All you bums of the world unite! Now I don't mean the fleshy kind I mean the ones you see on the streets “Brother can you spare a dime?” That must have been many years ago 'Coz you can't get a coffee for that Might pay the tax on a small size cup But I'm not even sure of that fact What are they begging for nowadays A couple of bucks or more? That doesn't get you very much either It will soon be a ten spot for sure Really don't mind helping them out These poor unfortunate souls I pray it stops, this downward spiral Before I'm in that very same role? © Jack Ellison 2013


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Stand Up

Stand up for the broken,
'Cause they are people too.
With hearts and souls in ruin,
They just want to be like You.


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To Bunkers And Bad Lies



...to Charlie Hebert, (RIP), my father-in-law,
    with respect and affection



Wind-swept and sunburnt alone on the fairway 
he fusses and frets with his lie; 
he's been here for ever commanding the course, 
ever since you and I were knee high. 

Golf is his passion, he lives and he breathes 
for the chance to play just one more round, 
replacing his divots, observing the rules 
and keeping his feet on the ground.

Always nattily dressed he is ready 
to tee up and go for the green; 
the young guns are anxious to unseat old Chuck, 
but he's crafty and wily and mean!

It's the day of the championship and he's all ready 
to teach these young men how to play; 
at the turn he's ahead with a three under par, 
he'll show them, he'll have the last say!

On the final hole two men are tied for the lead, 
they are edgy as each eyes the pin; 
Jim misses his putt, it goes wide to the left, 
and Charlie makes par for the win!

CODA

In the clubhouse they congratulate the old boy on his score, 
he thanks them from the bottom of his heart;
here's to Charlie then, to bunkers, to bad lies and to rain, 
to another shot at glory when he climbs aboard the cart!


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Postscript



...for Hart Crane - In Memoriam - (1899-1932)
 

Words of purpose, carved and beaten,
chipped from granite's cold confines,
fashioned into filigrees
that shocked and startled feeble minds.

The Bridge, that span of subtle magic,
metaphor of time and space,
stretching skyward, swooping low,
connecting man to style and grace.

Letters of sophistication
sent to those who praised and scorned,
ever striving for perfection, 
friends were used and heros mourned.

A man at odds with bland conventions,
drunk, debauched, yet tried and true,
companionship oft cold and faithless
fostered with a dockside crew.

On a ship, confused and homeless,
wandering, he yearned for ease,
the ocean summoned this poor vagrant,
in its depths he found his peace.


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THIS TITLE IS EPIC

PERHAPS FIFTEEN THOUSAND YEARS FROM NIOW SOMEONE WILL FIND THE PLASTIC MILK JUG WE THREW AWAY
                                       TODAY
My family demanded “come on and take this car and park it”
Oh heavens, wifey poo, what happens if we’re late for the market
I really didn’t want any more loud conversation and neither did she
And to see if I was close enough to the curb she actually measured it accurately

So we go through the islands of rising prices
And the snack aisle was arranged by a demon’s devices,
We passed cookies and cakes, bread and bottled water
And of course condoms for our sixteen year old daughter

Our daughter is hyper-concerned with what we purchased today
She checks out the products and what the ingredients say
While little Billy is acting silly on isle six because that’s what children do
And he gets Fruit Loops or he’ll  hold his breath until his face turns blue

My little girl said “this one is made of glass, and this one is made of plastic| 
Dad, please tell Billy to be quiet because the situation is drastic
Glass can be recycled but plastic will be here for my great grandson to find paper or plastic, neither, we brought a cloth bag because recycling should be in every heart and mind
     © 2011.…Phreepoetree
Please help me save this puny planet that pathetic people are pissing or puking upon purposefully in good shape for Mr. Travis Ian


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Party Pills

My heart begins to fail, 
My feet race along the ground, 
My body is drenched in a chilled sweat, 
I scream but don't make a sound, 

I feel my body tremble, 
As I frantically try to run, 
I can hear him coming closer, 
I hope he doesn't have a gun, 

There's a warmth on my shoulder now, 
I can feel his quickened breath, 
His rough hand connects with my arm, 
I can feel the shadows of death, 

All of the light has disappeared, 
More darkness has taken its place, 
My body's limp, worn out and weak, 
Death has finally won this race, 

But my soul lives on in heaven, 
To bring justice to those who kill, 
Vulnerable teenagers like me, 
By selling them party pills, 

I got given those party pills, 
To try with a special friend, 
Being a fool, I took a few, 
But death caught me in the end.

Copyright Kayla Yovich 2007


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MUSE-MASTER!

I am the confidant of many, 
a healer of weary souls, 
they come to me with questions, 
and tales of their ample woes. 

I advise and console their broken,
and bleeding hearts, 
for I know how it feels,
to be ripped and utterly torn apart. 

What can one so humble as I;
I often conclude with query short and sweet; 
do for a true master-poet; 
who muses others as he speak?


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PLANNED A DAY IN THE MERRY SUNSHINE

Came from work, exhausted and moody,
fall is advancing with an improvised, swift pace,
but the meteorologist defies it with the happiest face;
and tomorrow I'll wake up and trot away! 


Planned a day in the merry sunshine,
with a basked full of treats and a bottle of red wine,
to be consumed by the shade of an elm with my dearest;
and all the songbirds I will invite to my afternoon's feast!


We lay on the neatest blanket, facing the calmest, eastern sea
as sailboats drift by...a toddler listens to his mom's nostalgic song,
and in her tender voice that soldier's smile, on rippled waves, appears;
and tears, with a solar luster, fall on the pristine sand to recall her lost love.
  

Seagulls glide over to announce the close of an August's evening
still huddled in intimate embrace, the rushing waves tickle our toes,
and not minding their amusing play, we carry on and not withdraw;
before we lift the damp blanket, we are greeted by stars in throngs.


Planned a day in the merry sunshine,
a fantasy realized by two who will dream of this passionate season,
remembering our tanned faces and skin glittering with sand;
waving goodbye to the disheveled mother and trembling child.



Note:  These are the observations of a happy couple spending a day on the beach,
but  the happiness they felt wasn't shared by a mother and child who both missed a husband 
and father; and by the sad look on their faces, gazing out to the sea...he had gone to the  
Iraq War, and unfortunately had never returned home.


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Work

For what reason
must one extraordinary legacy end
and shameful era begin;
opprobrious season.


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HELPING PARTNERS GROW

Giving advice is a great way to start;
they may not listen from the very beginning,
but ponder they will until their heart
makes changes and starts loving and living.


Helping partners grow in all their ability and amplitude;
it's a duty and an obligation on your part...
keep on persuading them and take them to that altitude, 
and they will learn and thank you for that!


Some brag about lending their hand with a hint so broad,
to demonstrate how much that individual has accomplished,
but why lay it in the open and let everyone alive know?
Friends never take credit for anything they've given or said!


Helping partners grow by the measure of your sympathy and tenderness,
can bring an overnight change; even a tender hug
is a hope glimmering...when all doors are shut and excessive droopiness
clearly shows in every action, word, look and feeling. 


Reminding others how helpful and kind you have been...
dredges up old vanity and exposes all your credits with intent,
but eschewing humbleness as an estranged, vague secret:  
is an eulogy spoken to deaf ears to get praise for your deed. 


Helping partners grow is the truest example of sworn loyalty,
to make the bonds of friendship stronger and steep them in deep sincerity, 
banishing bad thoughts and exciting the individual's interest in everything...
by letting that mind express new ideas and explore that extrasensory feeling.    

 
 


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WORTHIER THAN GOLD

Friends are worthier than gold,
remembering their kindness as days unfold;
let's embrace and wish goodnight,
soon daylight will vanish from our sight. 


Nothing I will forget...from the kindest smiles
to those comforting hugs when I had no hope,
considering myself lucky to be able to cope;
what's more priceless than the soundest advice?   


Friends are worthier than gold,
or gifts given on special occasions...
and they can't compare to any encouraging word,
to instantly lift the unbearable weight of our sorrows.  


Everything I will remember and although I will die,
their love and generous deeds I'll immortalize in these lines;
read them aloud and realize how they make me smile
and appreciate their worthiness when their lovely image shines.


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EVEN BEFORE WE WERE CREATED

It was there mysteriously hanging, as He 
shaped it in a perfect form as other planets...
the Romans called it Luna, and what a revered goddess was she!
Superstious souls still fear it, I stare at it with reverence!


Even before we were created,
that moon, which illuminated our dark Earth,
was believed to have mystical powers...
causing high tides and frightening all voyagers.


Luna, as magnificent as you are on a clear night,
by morning your glory will completely vanish,
and you will return with the shadows and by that bright
glow, we shouldn't be afraid but make a vivid wish.


Even before we were created,
those moonbeams softly caressed the lonely oceans...
when no human beings were sighted;
and she, the goddess Luna, ruled over eerie darkness. 
  


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command six

kill the Catholic, kill the Jew
kill them all, draw sword 'n' slay 'em
kill the Muslim, the Buddhist too
spill their blood, creating mayhem

kill the Taoist, kill the Zen
kill the agnostic, kill the skeptic
kill all religious, come back again
wash away everyone seen as septic

kill the women, kill all the men
that other tribe, who you eschew
everyone who might be your brethren
take weapon in hand and kill them too

kill that other race of beings
kill the innocent, kill too, the guilty
kill anyone with peaceful leanings
kill wholly with unspeakable cruelty

kill all hope of ever finding peace
kill yourself for your own release
kill believing you'll justify
all these hates that in you lie

© Goode Guy 2011-06-04

the only good ___ is a dead ___ ...know it's sarcasm, ok


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Spineless & broken hearted

He speaks with so much trust and love it hurts,
Leaving her so mindless and shattered everything is now nothing.
She feels the world revolved only around him,
Keeping her so intact that she bows down as if it was nothing.

We all now see her as a follower who's mind has been warped,
To the views of love that is not shown.
One movement of disagreement and he knocks her into shock and sadness,
Left with the thoughts of pain and regrets from her heartbreaking moans.

Only i feel sorry, and only i hate to see her look unhappy,
Others can't stand, nor ever will they care anymore of her pain.
& only i give in to let her know i am there to listen,
To try and keep her spirits high & remain sane.

He brings her gifts to try and apologize for his mistakes,
& after all that has been said, seemed  to go out the other ear,
She runs to him with tears and relief,
Now i have great fears for her and no doubt that she will come back with more 
Bruises and tears.


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STUCK IN MUD

I had hoped to beat the violent storm's shooting hail,
struggling through falling branches, some broken and some whole;
my mutt with a rigid tail growled steadily and pinned his teeth to my jeans,
and I stuck in mud, vainly tried to break loose, but nobody heard my screams.


Trucks loaded with tar drove by and the burning smell made me terribly sick,
someone thought I was the farm's scarecrow and threw a beer can at me,
and he even hissed and cursed with a deriding tone for my disheveled shape;
I waved like humans do, but he thought the gusts had shaken my hands with frenzy.  


Lucky me it wasn't winter, the warmest wind slapped my unconsoled face,
naughty quails flew over to pick strawberries hanging from my torn hat;
all of a sudden a few became a herd, and my body was being mouled into pieces, 
and before I turned into rags and bruises, the farmer came running with his rake. 


And I stuck in mud, I yelled for help, then all the birds flew away with discontent,
the middle-aged farmer introduced himself with his sourthern friendliness;
what would I have cared about his hospitality, if he hadn't pulled me out of the dirt,
and hadn't taken me straight to the shower, and given me some clean clothes?    


This was my immediate need, and he saw it in my disgusted mood and slow thought,
and with his witty Tennessee accent, he addressed me as sir as if I were his officer superior;
respectable and kind, without prejudice for a yankee, he picked me up without effort,
and singing a country tune, he lied me down on the back seat without slamming the door.


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Only Thirteen

The day it starts, leaving at 6 am
Walking to my car, everyday it begins
This windy morning, the rustling sound
I look and see a flyer appear on the ground

She was only thirteen,
Been missing a week
Brown hair and blue eyes
And freckled cheeks
Last seen on a night
When she went to the store
Last word was goodbye 
As she walked through the door

My heart in my mouth
She’s my daughter’s age
Gave feelings of sadness
A sense of rage
The thought of a baby
A lamb with the wolves
Sent shivers of fear,
Thoughts knowing, no good

She was only thirteen,
Been missing a week
Brown hair and blue eyes
And freckled cheeks
Last seen on a night
When she went to the store
Last word was goodbye 
As she walked through the door

My prayers for her family
And all of her friends
Good thoughts and kind wishes
Are all I can send
I’ll spend my day hoping
While doing daily tasks
That she will return safely
That is all that I ask

If there’s a Lord up in heaven
I believe, yes, there is
Then help this poor family
And grant me my wish
I pray that she’s fine now
Maybe just lost on the way
And hope she’s not taken
In a mere awful way

She was only thirteen,
Been missing a week
Brown hair and blue eyes
And freckled cheeks
Last seen on a night
When she went to the store
Last word was goodbye 
As she walked through the door

It’s been three whole months now
No sign of this girl
The parents’ only child
They lost their whole world
That poor missing girl
On the flyer on the ground
Just where did you go?
Why can’t you be found?


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God will Lead the Way

This poem’s for Gary and Elizabeth,
The parents who lost a child.
I hope that what I’ve written,
Has given your heart a smile.

May I help to lift your joy,
And sustain your happiness,
For my chosen flow of words,
Have been divinely blessed. 

I don’t know you but I care,
For my heart too has cried.
And when we stop remembering,
Is when our loved ones die.

I welcome you to read my work,
That I’ve written for the world.
For my words are poignant lines,
That my heart and mind unfurled. 

Thank you for the opportunity, 
To share my gift with you.
Keep progressing with your lives,
Don’t get stuck with I miss yous.

My name’s Raul Moreno,
And healing hearts is my goal.
It’s not about the poems I’ve written,
It's about the ones that touch the soul.

I love writing countless poems,
I hope you love what I have to give.
Let us not remember our losses,
Let us muster our strength to live.

I am a God fearing poet,
I hope you enjoy the message I convey. 
One day you’ll reunite with Nathan,
And God will lead the way. 







______________________________
I was inspired by Michael Torres' 
Tribute "Nathaniel you Touched our Heart's"
This poem stemmed from his great tribute.
I wrote this for Gary and Elizabeth Reese.
Time does not heal all wounds,
but it gets us closer to our loved ones...


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A LETTER FROM KAYLISSA

Hi mom, it's nice up here
Looking down on you and dad
I see my big brother too
And I'm not feeling so sad

I know our time together
Was so short and not long
But up here with Jesus
That's where I belong

I see grandpa and others
Please don't cry for me
Because up here, it's pretty
And so happy and free

I do miss you all
But please try not to cry
And take good care of Kenyon
But don't ever say good bye

Don't ever forget me
I know the time was short
You did the right thing mom
I'm so glad you didn't abort

So, for now I'll be going
But I will see you again soon
You will see me when you look at the stars
Or whenever you look up at the moon


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WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE

What does it feel like
When you're given a nod
By the good Lord above
Do you really see God

What does it feel like
Looking down below
At mommy and daddy
Are your eyes all a glow

What does it feel like
Seeing us every day
I do hope my child
For us, that you pray

What does it feel like
I know my heart does mourn
For I miss you so much
I'm so glad you were born

What does it feel like
Now that you're not here
My darling, I love you
In my eye, there's a tear


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***Why Can't You See?

Why can't you see
He's not the one for you?
Don't you realize how happy you'd be
Once you say your love is through?

He's not worth your time
He only wants one thing
You need a real relationship
Not just a little fling

When he's with other girls
To you, he doesn't say a word
You need to have your say
And make sure your voice is heard

He never gives in
You always compromise
He says that he loves you
But you don't see it in his eyes

If he only knew
How hard you try
Yet he always seems to do 
The things that make you cry

You always go to him
He never comes to you
He doesn't understand
Oh, if he only knew

He calls you names
Things you know you're not
Why should you even care
About what he thought?

I say all these things 
To get her to see
But alas, all "these things"
Are happening to me


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Taken

Herded humans
Sweltering trains
Dead cargo
Suffering remains

Gunshot glory
Spurting spite
Guarded genocide
Barbwire lights

Warsaw widows
Stripped of food
Numbered days
Ribs that protrude

Anesthetized surgeons
Screaming knife
Smoldering smokestacks
Vacating life

Conveyor belt corpses
Rolling into ravines
Six million taken
Will no one intervene


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IT'S OVER

It's over for her
Such suffering and pain
She is up in Heaven
Where there's so much more to gain

her darling little face
Full of tenderness and love
Knowing for sure, somehow
She was sent from above

Her cute little hands
And her stout little nose
Everything perfect to us
Right down to her toes

Her purpose in life
Was to give others strength
Even though it only lasted
About fifty-three hours in length

Her stay here for us
Was such a short one, you see
But she taught us so much that life
Can be wholesome, gentle and free

Yes, dear Lord, please
Take her to a place that's new
To that place up and beyond
Where forever she'll be with you


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Ode to Tammy Faye

Her name is Tammy Faye

She was once married to Jim.

They built a successful ministry

Till trusted friends did them in.


They spread the word, of the Lord

They ministered to those in need.

They lifted the spirts of millions

They spread the gospel seed.


Her personality, vivacious

Her talent sings to your heart.

Her style, somewhat audacious

That's what sets her apart.


My God have mercy on her contemporaries

They're liars, phonies and cheats.

May God bless Tammy Faye

She's genuine and sweet.


Thank you Tammy Faye

From all whom you have served.

May Gods love bring the healing

You so richly deserve.


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Pain of the Street

The concrete jungle is my home

This cardboard box, my shelter from the storm.

I never I thought my life would be like this

Never thought I'd deviate so far from the norm.


You avoid my gaze, you look through me

You pretend I don't exist.

My being homeless makes you uncomfortable

You swear, you would never live like this.


Food and shelter, you take them for granted

Once upon a time, so did I.

I used to have a job and a home and a family

I lost them all, once I started getting high.


My drug of choice was cocaine

A wicked taskmaster is she.

A Twisted domineering mistress

I am but a shell of the man, I used to be.


The cold hard sidewalk is unforgiving

The streets are filled with crime.

I beg like a dog, for a scrap of food

Because I don't have a dog gone dime.


I try not to look in mirrors

I don't like the image I see

I avoid my reflection in windows 

There's a pathetic, wretched old man, staring back at me.


I pray that in Gods Kingdom

There's a new home waiting for me.

One where there is no hunger

No pain, and no poverty.


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Destiny of Flower

What's the luck of flower?
A poor little thing,
Drooping down in fall,
Getting picked in spring.


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Twin Buildings

Cock-crow precipitation -dripping
from the eaves stores cry, “no, no they weep.”
Ciao to the sun-god and the dryness coming
the conurbation awakes from sleep.

Crows roost on high-wires caws calling 
begging their searching for initial treat.  
Five wire, barbwire, steel-post line falling
in a fissure many feet deep.

Placid the zephyr over edifice telling
depressing the stones before the heat.
Echo of first footsteps selling
clamors and calmer of shod feet.

Poltergeist reflects in structure reaping
apparitions where once stood the heap
of trice crumpled twin buildings
a hole were prior the blameless sleep. 


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Words

They say words can heal
the most difficult of times,
strengthen your resolve 
and ease your mind.
But these are more than words,
they’re tears from my pen;
think of them as a warm embrace
offered by a grieving friend.
Please accept my condolences
and these words of mine,
written to comfort you
during a most difficult time.


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The Worst Warriors After Wars

Having suffered years of grueling tyranny, 
Sand is still red which should be tawny. 
Iraq has become a land of widows 
Men are cruely killed there in rows. 

Due to war when families are separated, 
Children are those who are worst affected. 
Phan Thi Kim Phuc is name of that woman, 
Who became goodwill ambassador in 1997, 

UNESCO gave her this honorable position 
She was photographed in a piteous condition, 
During the Vietnam War, in her childhood. 
But every child victim's luck isn't so good. 

War ends, in some years country recoups, 
Civilians honor their patriotic brave troops. 
Injured soldiers medicated at country's cost, 
Children loose their shelters when they need the most. 

Educatlion is far from such kid's dream
They have to leave their self-esteem
Fighting for food, having memories of terrors, 
After a war, they are the worst warriors. 


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Freedom

A simple, pretty girl from Asia
Not asking, to give her a pity;
For she is, really, not a Geisha;
If, she wanders around the city.


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Kopela

Welcoming the freshness of early morn
With a youthful, vibrant smile;
Yet, the masters scorn
Towards you, with their usual vile!

O Kopela, do not hide in a cell so small;
Patiently, just do your every day’s chores; 
Into a goblet of salt, let tears not fall;
Ponder not, for the olden days of yore!

Take with you, the wireless phone
For when they make a call after call
Especially when you’re alone
Readily, you can answer them all! 

O Kopela, come to the blooming garden
Scented flowers in different color; 
For your shivering spine, will be freshen
And will lessen your unending dolor!

Dry your tears with fresh roses
For sure it will make you fine,
Helping you forget the bad bosses
And you’ll see the sun will shine!