in the sun
The skin became the bark of a tree
the soul turning to brittle scars
for uncaring worlds to see.
is a pile of
old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
in the sun
the mind has smoothed over
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place
where watercolors swirled all day,
the heartworms kept at bay.
I'll stay hidden within the briar,
till the jewels of memories sooth
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
...stayed in the sun
free in a moment
but everyone wants it
a single second
oh so pleasant
now its gone
life rages on
here's the war
join the corps
there's the pain
that keeps us sane
the toll of death
taking every last breath
the innocence of youth
the freest of any moment
leaving now just the truth
maturity is your atonement
Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”
Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”
One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…
Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.
Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”
Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.
Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed.
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.
Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.
Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray,
“Lord, let this day be my last.”
For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Both quietly passed away.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….
Stood an old dog beside the stone,
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place.
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.
She smiled. “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too. His name was Pal.”
The sky fades
I'll be free
The good day
Eyes of Seminary – Zamreen Zarook
Every day in our lives has different fragrance,
God give us various things in abundance,
Day by day knowledge is gained in accordance,
Things depend according to the attendance.
Two years of studies,
Helped us to come out with various abilities,
Extremely joyful moments with buddies,
But life said every aspect has its boundaries.
Teachers become very friendly,
They approach us very kindly,
They speak on us exaggeratedly,
Because they know, if not we might behave badly.
Big shots in the school boundary,
These are years of foundry,
It helped us to find and go for laundry,
Marvelous days, fully packed with sundry.
Various angles the kith and kins are civilized,
It’s because our knowledge is enhanced,
Guys and girls turned well experienced,
That’s why we call it levels of advanced.
It's been a good run
To the back side of sixty,
The short side of time.
First Hollywood kiss
Behind a pink crepe myrtle.
Thanks, Patsy Werner.
High school was okay.
Didn't help me to focus;
So, my mind wandered.
Surfed Bonzai Pipeline,
Big waves break into lava.
What made me do it?
I wondered why I was there.
Smoking pot. Stereo.
Good fun in the seventies.
And three wives later,
I finally found true love.
We're still together.
My destitute heart,
Saved by the sweetest angel.
I love you, Sandy.
Sooners are my team.
Most winning football program
In the Modern Era.
I am retired now.
But I have plenty to do.
I've been writing more.
Perhaps I will write a book.
I have many tales.
I'd chase young girls; but,
Girls with a "grampa" fetish
Are so hard to find.
If I am lucky,
I will just drop dead one day.
With my peace of mind.
Yes, made a good run
To the back side of sixty,
The short side of time.
Get on your bike
and get out of my face
it smells of fish and oil
on the beach this peachy day
cape on my shoulders
to fly away
up with the seagulls
I sh*t on your face
Now that the body
has been properly buried
full of the scars
from the wars do I carry
I cannot believe
you all find me scary
I skip full of spirit for
despite this I'm still merry
For on this day
God smiled on me
gave me the sign
to renew my belief
and with his presence
I shall achieve
an eternal life
filled by my infinite energy (S).
P atrick is a special kind of man
A lways there to help folk if he can
P erfect is the way his children see him
A nd now they have to watch his lights go dim.
When it comes our time to be laid underground
Our voices now silent...we utter no sound
Our minds stop working and our thoughts disappear
We've finally ended those life living years
Some souls go up..some souls go down
Our bodies remain..six feet underground
We're thought of often from friends true and strong
After days turn to months some forget we are gone
So when you look in the mirror each morning think this
After a while you'll no longer exist
So grab life by the horns and enjoy each day
And if it's possible try to keep the grim reaper at bay
Love your wife your children and all of your friends
Your cousins your brothers ..all of your kin
And remember this..... Someday you'll be gone
So never live your life sad and alone
Smile each morning and throughout the day
Your time here is short...the days fade away
Enjoy your life... while it's yours to keep
Until the time comes for everlasting sleep.
i could sit here. day in and day out
thinking of the most proper way
to let the ink in the pen spill out
but as of late im feeling prehistoric
so much weight on my shoulders
and i dont know where to go
resuscitate my soul
look back up and head to the goal
so much evil around. i feel like the devils workin double shifts just to bring me down.
on the road to redemption
you can take a seat up in the front section
just so you can feel the emotions
in this electric notion
i've done a lot of things that hide the halo
let it all collaborate when i medicate
now look at me, mind workin like plato
formulate a new path to take so i can
maneuver through all the mistakes
we all know we cant change what we've already made
but we can change the next thing we create
startin to sound like a serenity prayer
5 steps till im thirty
and the twenty four before i was never a player
found out when the lights came back on im strictly a lover
its the strongest drink for your soul, when its thirsty
so careful how much you intake or be left hungover
even worse be the one she ran over
i dont mean to come off like im too deep
but the obstacles made there way through just to scrape through
and leave me suffocating
just for me to re-invent a new way to breathe, re-decorating
is your life so complicated
you rather wet up your pillows and revoke from the life you live
just think of your kids mourning
theyll never see that pretty face in the morning any more
cheer your self up
you got a lot to live for
your a gem and im that friend
trynna appraise the value
that you dont see inside of you
just another day for him
searchin wonderin what his purpose is
running in circles
till he found a way through all the turbulence
Nopalero = one who deals with/sells nopales [edible prickly pear cactus leafs/pads]
Aiiiii, Jimmy --
what shall we say, now that you've gone,
worst fear realized: your body discovered,
days later, in your filthy Mexican rooms,
amid the soiled papers littering the floors
reeking of cat urine and layer upon layer
of dried and fresher feces.
These feral cats were your most faithful companions.
You thought yourself their benefactor
and, perhaps, their savior.
We were told that, after your demise,
when the door opened, all 21 fled,
never to return. You left us,
unbathed, smelly, shunned,
just weeks before your birthday,
having almost (but not quite) suffered
through 80 years, the last 30 spent
in bordertown Mexico. You, daily, crossed
the bridge to claim your mail -- which (for a fee)
promised to guarantee that you would be a winner
of lotteries, sweepstakes, miraculous windfalls.
You subsisted on senior coffees at McD's,
on your pitiful government assistance,
since you were unwilling to abandon your
You blamed your life on abuse by brothers
(all dead long before you)
and you could not understand
why richer acquaintances --
virtually everyone --
were unwilling to share with you
In the plazas, you were a familiar sight,
selling whatever you could:
you were "el viejo gringo," "el Jimmy," "el nopalero,"
and other less generous
(but, perhaps, appropriate)
You knew animals, had some expertise with birds.
Your chief preoccupation was yourself,
and your main complaint was that you
never got your just desserts.
But no one deserves to end
as you did --
unclaimed, a foreign body,
interred in Mexico
in an unmarked pauper's grave,
a "fosa commun." You only wanted
to be loved. RIP my friend;
I did not mean to be unkind.
James Milford Pierson, 27 February 1934 - 2 February 2014.
What I do to deserve this heartbreak,
this horrid and unnatural pain,
this cleche of events that strike me simultaneously
as the time ticks away,
and as the grinning faces pierce a whole through my soul
and my heart turns pale and slowly beats.
My heart is torn in two,
and I cannot find the doctors to stich me up.
I ask an old man,
how does love go about,
he smaked me in the face and went on.
The pain and the sorrow,
it is too much to feel,
too much to gain in one serving,
When I eat, I taste posion, not passion,
familiar faces turn grey, with ruby eyes and sharp fangs
they hiss at me, like a cat to a mouse.
I don't understand why I deserve this.
I am a good man,
who loves with open arms and a big heart.
With every hug I give,
I recieve a knife of betrayal in my back,
I feel the blood ooze from my open wounds,
suicidal tendencies roll through my mine,
but I quickly throw them out,
because Mama didn't raise no coward.
I see the blow, I clench my fists
and swing away,
God cries wanting to stop this madness,
Death laughs and soon joins in,
people join in and punch away.
I lay there on the concret blood everywhere,
my heart torn out of my chest,
each with a thousand knives stabbed in it,
as it slowly beats,
I lay their on the pavement,
looking up to the heavenly skies,
and as it starts to rain droplets of hope
I ask myself,
What did I do to deserve this?
Then, I shall close my eyes
and rest for awhile.
Inspired by all the betrayal and heartbreak I've faced, by so many cowards who didn't want to recieve my love. People I had thought who were my friends, came with invitations of humiliation and hate, and now I see who my real friends are; this pen and paper... Have a good day.
P.S. No one should ever be shown this much betrayal and heartbreak. I wouldn't even wish it on my worst enemy. Have a good day!
I simply love being me
for I am so good at everything
step into my city and they
will tell you who is King
one day when I am hungry
I will swallow everything
then and only then shall I
inherit the stuff I dream
even then I promise
not to settle for satisfaction
at any instant half a second
I could spring into full action
so go against me? please,
you do not even measure
up to half of the goodness
that I hold tight like my treasure
still spreading rumors about me
to try and destroy my life
can't believe I let myself get beat by
a stripper and my self-intended knife
try and say I'm gay
even though we both know that isn't the truth
just ask any woman I been with
if they ever needed proof
they'll say I was the cream of the crop
as they took it all night knowing
I just may never stop
I own the status of a legend
now what you got left to say
when I bring it twenty-four seven?
I do not know?
Hand in hand we walked
together into Reception
Nothing could stop us and
together we were three
James and I LARP-ed Doctor
Who for fun
We talked and laughed for
Because no stress was in our
Anna and I smiled and laughed
And jumped on our bouncy
With nothing dividing us.
Side by side we walked
together into Year 6
Some stranger stopped them to
talk and broken we were alone
James and I talked about
Doctor Who for fun
And we talked and kissed for
But misunderstanding broke us
Anna and I still smiled and
And joked about our bouncy
But secondary school was going
to divide us.
With no one there I walked
alone into Year 7
And a stranger became my
friend and together we were
Violet and I both loved Doctor
And James found Dominic
So James and I talked for mere
And school started pulling us
Anna and I still laughed and
Still promising to be friends
Never letting it divide us
Suffocating and drowning I
walked into Year 9
Hating how I was and feeling
Katie and Chloe were so pretty
And Violet so funny and all
were better than me
James and I hardly talked or
saw each other
But we still made the most of
As we were like family, stress
couldn’t break us apart
Anna and I laughed but I did
not smile genuinely
Because the bouncy castle was
And our schools were beginning
to divide us
Dead yet breathing I stand
And I hate who am I and every
Fights broke us up and pulled
So I can feel Katie, Violet and
Falling further out my reach
James moved house to a place
And blamed me for never
talking to him
But really it was because of my
ex who was a girl
It was for something beyond
Anna and I were still friends;
only by a thread
As she did not know about me
And how school broke me apart
So this is me now; I’m all alone
No longer the smiling young girl
The only person talking to me
And the voice in side my head
You see; they all left me and
So now the only call I answer
Is that of my blades
And the darkness
That is constantly
Raised on a rock farm,
Eating blackberries daily,
And so did the world.
The bugs were relentless
Except in winter when they slept.
The days were as drifting clouds,
Time for dreaming, unfulfilled.
See the blue up there.
See the green down here,
How it alternates with snow.
To conjure a memory is to be reborn.
Friends, water, sweat,
And always-- books,
For out of books the days take their hue,
As I immerse in magic.
Far places, lonely steps, horses and plows:
The dirt gives its pleasures
and its treasures.
The hills sing at night and rest by day.
The years grow like dandelions;
Soon they are gone.
Yet-- I remain astride the years
While the people grow and fade.
The days are restless under the rod;
And days dwindle,
Moving brightly as a kaleidoscope,
Then dim as a low lantern.
In the final hour, as light flickers,
I stand and shave away the gray stubble
of the years.
Adding to the eons past, its’ content there to swell
Are the names of friend and foe, whose names we’ve known quite well.
There upon the Halls of Time, those names are etched so deep
As silent, lonely sentinels which eternity shall keep.
The clock will tick ‘til someday hence – a day we know not when
Our name is called and then installed as our recompense
For all we were, or would have been, reduced by that one call
To just another name … etched upon Times’ Wall.
Sitting alone here,
all by myself,
looking at a reflection that I do not recall.
I see a face looking back at me,
but not my twin,
no I see a pale face,
I see jealously, pain, sorrow, and a frown
I see all the negative.
I see fear,
I see nothing.
I am sitting alone,
in my room
white walls surround me.
I hear the trains blow their horns off in the distance,
and the cars and trucks roaring down the lonesome highways.
I can even the crying and wailing of sirens
blazing down the avenues,
"Where is the fire, folks!?"
The wind blows through my window,
moving the blinds back and forth,
and I sit there alone,
smiling and singing a little.
Sitting there alone,
peaceful and tired
wanting to rest my head,
but scared too face the nightmares.
Too hear the voices of the dead
call out my name.
And I sit there alone
thinking of what once was,
beauty and harmony nomore
in my trial of certainty.
My Time Has Come
My time is over here in this body
I am being called home as my work is done here
I hear my Lords voice calling me home
Although I know I will miss this old world
With all that I have seen and done
All the People I have met and talked to
My body can go on no more for it has reached it’s time
Rev. Samuel Mack, OMS
When this shell is gone
Here in this little ditty
I’ll tell you how I feel
I like to put my feelings out
And guess I always will
There’s one thing that does worry me
What I really want to know
Is ‘when I leave this blessed shell’
Will my words then lose their glow?
Don’t need the whole wide world to see
Don’t want that kind of fame
I’d just like some little group
Where people feel the same
As me, to learn to love my words
And gain from them some joy
I’d like to think that when I die
My art, they’ll not destroy.
I really don’t know why this is
It’s just the way I feel
I won’t know much about it
This fact, I guess is real
But still I’d like the knowledge
That my stuff it will live on
Even when, this shell I ride
Has been a long time gone.
9 August 2013 @ 1737hrs.
A full moon night
to my delight
what is so wrong
with doing what's right
nothing is right
after so long
no use in complaining
time to move on
The Dream Water one day
might take me away
farther from the comfort
I float on my back
then shut my eyes
my body now sinking
into ocean arms open wide
Now swallow your son
back to his nature
when he is no longer
needed to stay here
the next generation
are dooming themselves
they need my experience
to guide them through hell
Why should I bother
on my own, I strive through
I turn my back on the thought
of bothering to save you
alone in this world
my, is it spacious
I'm finally smiling,
never so gracious.
Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason.
So much laughter, so many tears,
Yet all that’s sure is the season.
To few, all my days;
So many spent simply breezin’.
Should I regret their waste
When all that’s sure is the season?
What’s it been about anyway?
Perhaps there is no reason.
Did so want to learn the truth,
But all that’s sure is the season.
Always tried to consider others.
‘Tis much easier to be pleasin’.
How many are my friends?
All that’s sure is the season
Felt the urge to make my mark.
Fame or fortune was my reason.
Fear of failure was my tether,
For all that’s sure is the season.
A man of Christian faith,
Hope God finds me pleasin’.
Fair chance tho’, I’ll go to Hell,
Yes, all that’s sure is the season.
So what of value will I leave?
Hearts and souls I may be teasin’
With too few words too few will read,
While all that’s sure is the season.
Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason;
But thank God for each extra day I search.
Still, all that’s sure is the season.
Show me who you are and i shall paint out broken columns on the valleys of her back as if such figure is un-common
i have found no beauty bending as the vines that are her hair and the frailty of man upon her back is what she bares
bleed her body for the harvest let them feast upon her soul for the nurishment of mother is leaps beyond so bold
she is like the flower growing in the deepest of dark forests,amongst the ivy and hemlock but her skin is much too porous
to concern herself with games that tantalize the men, as they marry on crusade it is her children that she tends
sheath your swords with her ambition and tip your arrows with her will, craft your armour from her strength and in the battle you will kill
come now children from the pasture and lay each upon her side, suckle gently at your mother although theirs pain she does not hide
though the water leaks from rooftops her leaves are thick and block the rain, as the water level rises cling to her branches with no shame
she is the stone upon the beach, once a mountain pound and breached
yet still her disposition clear to love her children that are near
inspired by Roots Frida Kahlo, 1907-1954
How queer the color of viscera
squarely foreign in my breast
To be the butcher and grim and goddess
All in one
Leaves identity succinct
Or identifies succinctness
If it has been
Then so it was always before
Therein is 'Peace'
Reposed and eyes rolling
Great, vacant saucers on vertiginous axis
She is quite the swollen beast
And on all fronts, she is terrible
If only you'll watch you may notice her growth
A malignant sort
An unwelcome appendage
I'd dash it out but I've already gone
Too pale and dogged in life to succumb
I curse her tenacity
She has a sister, I think
Or maybe a child
A child who lives down deep in my chest
A child who shrieks and tears down the walls
Perhaps she dislikes their pattern
As the dawn expells its authoritive cast; they awake, but are abandoned. They
turn--but their friend the sun ignores and they understand. They commune
their relationship and part with their memories; and sigh.
They say their good-byes in a tone of fullfilment, but aface their anxieties
toward the skies for hope; but are denied. A clouded sky brings a chill in the
air and a rustling of rakes and flames.
Old as hell, written in HS for publication, circa 1971 by me. When I was young in the 60's in Ohio, we burned leaves in our backyard; sometimes our household trash too. You had to be me to be there GV. Count me in as last place. Take care.
Her eyes, though once bright, are cloudy,
Shrunken and fragile the form
That long was brimful of vigor
And a will to outlast life's storms.
She stares past a blank horizon
Through a door that I do not know;
The colors she sees are mem'ries,
Scents and sounds of the long ago.
A kaleidoscope of faces
Turns merry-go-round in her mind;
While trees out her window whisper
Soft lullabies long left behind.
The sound of my cheery greeting
Draws her back to this metal room,
Away from a creaking rocker
And her mama's sweet, gentle croon.
If is not my name she whispers
As I bend down to kiss her cheek,
But a name more dear than ever
Mine was is the name that she speaks.
"Papa," the feeble voice quavers.
I'm no more a part of her world;
The grandma that soothed my sorrows
Is once again Papa's wee girl.
I hereby retire from this website, poetrysoup.
Thank you so much for reading my poems through
the years, and the awesome comments. I have fulfilled
my obligations to myself, I hope you continue to read these.
I have met a friend who writes awesome poetry on Facebook.
I will leave you with his, and my links.
and have a good day
be someone and make the most of it.
I rend asunder and
Crumble into dust
Before my very eyes.
No answers forthcoming
To my many questions,
Most important, "Why?"
"A fool are you,"
I stand thinking.
"There is no disguise."
To worry so about
What matters not
In the by and by.
Trials have strengthened.
Sorrows kept me human.
No point to analyze.
"Life is for living,"
An ultimate truth
I finally realized.
Sooner than later
Might have been better,
Had only I been wise.
I rend asunder and
Crumble into dust....
A twinkle in my eye.
you whispered sweet doubts into my ears
but i was so blind to acknowledge the fears
ill never regret how i felt for you
but you seem so far gone, i don't know what to do
i only did what i thought was right
but i guess i lost all fear and extinguished the light
Bay, i wish i never left
but its to late to take it back
Bay, i wish i had some sort of sign
to know your OK
i have this horrible habit of making a mess of things
you might think it funny
but i jump when the phone rings
i hope you dont blame me for what happened
but then again it must have been my fault
i guess all those times i apologized were in advance
for the heartbreak that i probably brought down upon you
bay, im sorry, im sorry, im sorry if you ever read this
you'll finally understand the way i still feel about you
nobody ever said it was easy
but nobody ever said i would fall this hard
i miss you
please bay, im sorry
From deep within a silence grows
Vastly spreading, yet no one knows
No one knows of what's to come
The Feeling is sudden, then it's done.
Often with pain, fits of sorrow
The Feeling leaves nothing, not even a morrow
With much haste, take one last breath
We all succumb to The Feeling of Death.
The fading fire
The fire has gone where it must go
I've lost ferocious, sensual glow
Yet with it comes a love so strong
So gently sweet within it's song
With winters sweet maturity
The love that always lives in me
Becomes a lovely loyal force
Been tempered by such sad remorse.
Those days are gone when the body sang
And just one thing in mind did reign
It's gone from heat, to cosy warm
Warm, summers breeze, no more a storm.
When looking back, where would I be
If I had another chance at me
I'd choose to be here in the warm
Where love is gentle, not a storm.
21 September 2013 @0653hrs.