Ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passions now abide
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now, alone bereft.
Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left:
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide;
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now alone, bereft.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.
Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide,
we conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.
We conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief,
ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012
While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.
Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel,
And so before it I choose to kneel.
I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.
I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.
I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.
My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.
Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2012
sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013
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,
Pal quietly passed away.
Bob held Pal in his arms and wept.
“Oh, Pal…you’re the best friend in my life.”
Bob talked to Pal, caressed him until he fell asleep;
Then, sometime in the night, Bob finally joined his wife.
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.”
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for
Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain
Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin
I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail
Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled
Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss
How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run
I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance
James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011
Dear lover, why hast thou forsaken me
my miserable life now cut in shreds
If only thee had instead set me free
love, no longer sharing our silkened beds
To what ending hath thou denied my love
with darkness cast into our sadden souls
Once our future sailed on so far above
any lost, mundane and unworthy goals
There were eternal sparkles in your eyes
touching that declareth our loving so true
Now blackness clouds into our lost skies
crying, my heart breaks into missing you!
How sad! That you dwelleth within the dark
Letting deceit erase our loving spark.
Robert J. Lindley, 11-15-2015
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 100
archaic second person singular present of have.
archaic third person singular present of have.
You may have been told that "thou" and "thee" were for familiar use, and "you" and "ye" were
formal. This was not true originally, but it was true for about two centuries, roughly 1450-1650,
including Shakespeare's time. The previously plural "you" was used in the singular to signify
politeness and respect, which left "thou" and "thee" for all the other singular uses, ranging
from endearing intimacy to bitter rudeness. Eventually, the politer "you" drove out nearly all
uses of "thee" and "thou"; they survived mostly in poetry and religion.
(4)dwelleth - Wiktionary
dwelleth. (archaic) third-person singular simple present indicative form of dwell [quotations ?].
1611, Bible (Authorized, or King James, Version), Romans 8:11:.
(5)Declareth dictionary definition | declareth defined
Verb. (archaic) Third-person singular present simple form of declare. Origin. declare + -eth.
English Wiktionary. Available under CC-BY-SA license
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
The evening air is warm; the sky
ablaze, splashed in hues of scarlet red.
Lost in reverie, she sits on the porch,
on her favourite woven wicker chair.
Absentmindedly, she twirls her finger
round a strand of silver-white long hair,
reminiscing, eyes half closed, hairbrush
resting on her lap beneath a frail hand.
She smiles as images tease her mind,
momentary glimpses of carefree youth
which all too soon disappear, unrecalled,
lost once more in the hazy mists of time...
5th February, 2016
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2016
I can never be your fallen angel,
There can be no us in truth,
I don't wish to rip your heart out,
I must love another in my youth.
Your writing speaks an epic to my soul,
For that's what writing does,
It twists and twirls and winds around,
And makes us fall in love.
In these ways, and with my words,
I'll send passion to you,
You'll feel my love across the sky,
But I can never be just for you.
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2014
So confined to the boxes is she who
Tries to free herself from them
Breaking down barriers of all political and cultural design
Constructing opportunities and
Imagining their trite and expected
She, who reigns supreme in the art
The morning being the promise
The afternoon, the despair
The night, a restless dance to
So that it may all begin anew
And she may float with ambition,
Flirt with lofty goals
(Which are so very tangible once realized to a more substantial degree)
All through which comes the
The cerebral revelation
For her mind and the World work in harmoniously demonizing tandem to erase the sketches of a life
Of her own craft
Copyright © Christy Chow | Year Posted 2015
The Hours of Alzheimer
It starts ticking away slowly
Longer needed to search what’s known.
Watching the hand jerk
“Twelve is for noon, then?”
“Yes. Yes, Daddy! Just like that.
Twelve noon is lunch.”
Very gently, oh so sweetly,
Out of love and kindest thought
Offering words and filling fissures
Keeping pace and instant beating
“The, oh, you know, the oh how silly, the the box thing”
“Yes, the box thing, the clock, Daddy. Says it’s 3 and time for tea.”
Now impatience starts its tapping
Chasms stretching longer still
Wanting this moment
to stop its running
“I I please fork I I food”
“Oh, of course, dear Daddy. Dinner time.
Here, your fork. ”
Lingering in the distance
This cavity expanding
“ I I I I”
“Oh it’s last course time Daddy. Some dessert, then time for bed.”
Dead of night
First published: Poetry Quarterly
Copyright © Heather Browne | Year Posted 2014
Yesteryear Her Heart Slept Upon My Pillow
Yesteryear her heart slept upon my pillow,
there warmth and tenderness softly lay.
Her life gone now, cut the weeping willow
shred the shadows dancing in my dismay.
Those magnificent nights we shared our all
drank in love, life and sweetest wine.
Holding on to her precious memories I recall
feasts upon which I again want to dine.
Forever faithful in our true love's passion,
eager for each new dawn's wondrous day.
Her touch and style never out of fashion,
I dare to plead for again whenever I pray.
There warmth and tenderness softly lay.
Two hearts melted together each new day.
June 11th 1976
NOTE-- This stanza below was pulled and the closing
two verses inserted to change the poem into a sonnet.
I'll always keep both versions.... My wife practically demanded
that I not change it at all! I replied, author's privilege and now
she pouts methinks.
"Life and Time destroyed the beauty of that rose,
a flower plucked from its heavenly spot.
Sad, a living death that in addiction she chose
and all our life and future she then forgot."
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
A Phantom Or A Dream In Reality
Was she not known for, kindness and grace
Loving deep and a sad fate:
Should we fail to bless her in our remorse
golden arrows to pierce our hides,
flowers bloomed hearing her sweet name-
where the cool shadows often reside;
a mirror wants her image yet again
she that made the angels cry.
Alas! Forever gone is my dearest friend!
Robert J. Lindley, 10-14-2015
Note-- Written for the next romance contest
themed on lost love...I am now into writing
as I did when in my early twenties. Inspired
by the memory of a dear friend that died back
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
In That Room, We Planted Love's Sweet Bloom Guarded
In that room, we planted love's sweet bloom guarded.
Highest hopes at any cost were sworn a love not lost
Cautionary tales about love's travails disregarded,
As future shadowy beast waited our love to accost.
In secret, cleverly hidden dark of night beast waited
Powerful and patient in darkest shadows it dwells;
For that moment- to strike deep the love it so hated
Thus send two true lover's souls into caverns of hells.
With its power cutting romantic flows of love's streams
Beast sent our lives into deep dives of troubled waters,
We never again to find depths of our fantastic dreams,
Love's realm once we welcomed, now we are but squatters!
What was once the beauty of our love now rests in tatters.
Fate decrees, deeper misery seas and only that matters!
May 9th, 1987
NOTE- An old sonnet that had note written-"To be edited"..
PRESENTED WITH NO EDITS as I now think it needs none...
And no ten syllable count adhered to.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
10 little kids are messing with twine
one got strangled and then there were nine.
9 little kids are hooking up bait
one took a bite and then there were eight.
8 little kids are playing with kevin,
one got tripped and then there were seven.
7 little kids were throwing bricks,
one got hit and then there were six.
6 little kids are eating chives,
one got sick and then there were five.
5 little kids are now at war,
one went down and now there are four.
4 little kids saw reality,
one enjoyed and now there are three.
3 little kids went to Timbuktu,
one got lost and now there are two.
2 little kids have spun and spun,
one fell down and now there is one.
1 little kid is all but done,
he runs home and now there are none.
Copyright © victoria ward | Year Posted 2016
Jab Meri Bechaini Mit Jayegi
Jab Mere Dilko Sukoon Mil Jayega
Yeh Khaalipan Mit Jayega
Do Pal Ki Chandni Ke Liye
Aj Bhi Zinda Hoon Main
Meri Khaamoshi Ke Ageh Aasmaan Bhi Khatam Ho Jayega
Kehne Ke Liye Toh Roz Marta Hoon Main
Thoda Aur Marne Ke Liye
Yeh Deewana Kal Phir Ayega
Copyright © shadab shaikh | Year Posted 2013
Smile in your sleep
A midnight temptation is in the midst of the stars.
Brightness feeds and eventually consumes the eclipse.
Individuals described as both boy, and female acting very young.
Both separated at birth, yet they roam every night while they sleep.
Yet, one day they met for the first time at North Eastern Heights;
An academic learning center, a school where everyone made memories.
There were plenty of times where Nick had football memories.
Niki was dreaming of one day becoming one of those famous movie stars.
Both would have been fabulous careers, but neither climbed the heights.
Thursday, the day Nick and Niki had both looked at each other like an eclipse.
Tossing, turning all night, the two wish to dream of each other, but cant sleep.
Both wanted love, both wanted money, both wanted to be forever young.
Smiling at both their baby pictures, Nick and Niki looked oh so young.
Nick asked Niki to be his homecoming date and one of his fondest memories.
Both looked at each other, gazing in their eyes, so boring one could sleep.
That night at the dance, the two acted as if they were dancing with the stars.
Boys and girls attending the dance made up a color wheel of a shining eclipse.
Nick and Niki were on top of the world; they couldn’t fall off the heights.
At the end of their senior year, it was graduation at North Eastern Heights.
These were the days they realized that they couldn’t be forever young.
That no parts of all life are going to be as shining as an Eclipse.
Even they, remember the things we hate too keep as part of our memories.
The only thing of there young adulthood that didn’t change was the stars.
Nick and Nicki gazed upon stars all-night, and smiled in their sleep.
Both they lay, laying down on the comfort mattress, smiling in their sleep.
Dreaming they both do, climbing the Appalachian mountain heights.
Camping by a fire in the mountain range the only thing present was stars;
One of the last things they saw was an owl, it’s cooing as a young.
The two lovers will always be remembered just as memories.
And suddenly it was all gone; the dream went away as fast as an eclipse.
A looming eclipse-
All alone, how can I sleep?
She’s gone, my erased memories.
I fell off the heights.
We were so perfect and young.
We were a pair, just like stars.
Forever the stars-
They enjoyed being so young
Sometimes we all fall off heights.
Copyright © Trent Turney | Year Posted 2015
Happiness in a Wrong way – Zamreen Zarook
In the notion of seeking happiness,
I thought of stepping in to nonsense,
I dream I could find success,
But I had only little access.
Every attempt that I lend,
It was an utter failure at the end,
My life was full of difficult bend,
But God is always there as a good friend.
My deeds travel in various ways,
Some times in subways,
Or in times it goes in highways,
But I had the belief, God is there always.
North and south families surrounded,
East and west friends are rounded,
Every time fear on death soughed,
I am trapped, and my merits are loaded.
Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013
Summertime…they say the livin’ is easy,
Flowers growin’ and the sun’s sittin’ high.
They say your Daddy’s rich and your Momma’s so good lookin’;
So hush now pretty baby…there's no reason to cry.
One of these days, you’re gonna rise up smilin’.
Take a look around and think you’ve got it all.
You’ll have your Momma’s looks, all your Daddy’s money,
And all the boys in town at your beck and call.
Summertime…Yes, the livin’ is so easy,
Laughin’, singin’, havin’ so much fun.
No time to stop and think about your future
And what life will bring when Summer’s done.
‘Cause Summertime, it don’t last forever.
Breezes cool and the leaves begin to fall;
And in your quiet moments, you'll sit and wonder
How you came so far, but have no love at all.
Summertime....They said the livin’ was easy;
Ain’t it sad how fast the good times fly;
And now, your Momma’s looks and all your Daddy’s money
Another sweet, warm Summer’s day they cannot buy.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Hi guys, please go through my poem wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare about imperial and blushing rose..
Glowing in the early dawn,
Hey my beautiful rose..
Your aromatic fragrance has touched my soul..
Each and every united petals of yours vibrates me, making me alive..
O'wild rose, You stroked my heart!!
Falling on my face, You are the one who don't make deceitful pretences..
You are the one who endowed me a smile as a surprise..
Your charismatic posture embedded in a deep space of my heart..
O'delirious rose, You flicked my soul!!
Wrapped by disliking thorns and spines..
Loves the spirit you cheerfully withstand..
My eyes are desperately thirsty to have a quick glance of your tendered feature..
O'chaotic rose, You twitched my nerves!!
Your dusky red colour..
enamoured my entire body..
Enigmatic cheers on my lips..
I wanna kiss you forever forever..
Holding you in my hands, bending on my knees..
O'ferine rose u reached the highest peak of my heart!!
Amongst the bushes and raw grass,
My heart got connected with you..
Chromatically waving in an air..activating my sense
Inspiring me making my d-day delighted..
O'glimmering rose,trustworthily you ignited passion inside me!!
Glimpse of yours make me kinetized,my blushing pearl..
Freakly taking a deep breathe,my blossoming chics..
Flaming love in my heart i can offer you..
O'amorous rose, for that You have to be mine..be mine My Queenliest love.. !!
Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare | Year Posted 2013
Love is a wonder
shared by one another
it's the only reason
I'm not six feet under
Love in which I believe
in a will to sustain
I give back to life, now
in dormant states of pain
The power of Love
may not alone be enough
locked inside my dreams
escape only from above
higher than any human being
has ever gone before
I must have evolved
rise above hate, great once more
My Father taught me wisdom
I am imprisoned no longer
now an beast not of burden
I am no lion, I am stronger
on my shoulder sits twin dragons
long awaiting the day
evil forces come forth to
take what Love is left, away
A Hero of Love light
are what the world needs
angels, not demons
exist where ever you believe
follow your heart's direction
and you shall achieve
objects of affection
rid of materialistic greed
My bright energy
has awakened to a fire
never consuming the source
as the flames just grow higher
that is the desire
of a product we call Love
Fear, the counterpart
what I was once made of
I am slowly learning
how to win when my peace
is harder to sharpen
so I have given my pen leave
the sword has its uses
I must say I believe
to vanquish the evil
in the minds too diseased
to serve any purpose
except their own selfish ones
tomorrow a new day
in the clarity of the sun
where we two are now one
and one done now does
bring about a great change
lit by the righteousness of Love.
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013
Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.
The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.
"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.
Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.
The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.
Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
Their petals are falling as their colors change
It wasn’t this way before but is it strange?
These roses are dying in delicate sweet sorrow
Will their love shed too? Or will it see tomorrow?
Petals and love falling slow like soft snowflakes
A little change in season is all it takes,
But will these roses bloom again in a new morn?
Will their love come back to greatly adorn?
Will their beauty be gone forever once it fades away?
Or will it come back to make everything okay?
For what will the roses be worth if their beauty dies forever?
Will the image and value from them permanently sever?
Will the light in their eyes suddenly become dark?
As their splendor and significance steadily grow stark?
Or will they rise like light at the beginning of dawn?
And be reborn more beautiful than a swan?
Copyright © Literrius Miller | Year Posted 2013
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!
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
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
Copyright © pat roswell | Year Posted 2013
I Love the elderly
so full of history
I love my generation
who kept me a mystery
I love the children
who's future, now bright
for I have died for them
to capture the light
for i understand
pain more than ever
once I released it
the anger got better
as it went away from the people
and into my music
without a single
reason to prove it
without a reason
to let Love's light in
I didn't, it found me
and lesser I sin
God and my father
both let me know
it would all be okay
so very long ago
even tho the road
would be full of pricks
even back then I'd tell them
you can all suck my dick.
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013
Love cannot bloom,
love cannot go on,
love cannot persue it dreams,
love cannot be what it is meant to be,
love cannot be where it is supposed to be,
if love doesn't have two hearts.
Love needs two hearts to be true,
Like water to a dried rose
makes it bloom in spring weather
with such glory and beauty.
Love cannot be true if one heart
doesn't love the other.
Care, trust, honesty and loyalty
in love it has no boundaries,
it has no color, it has no age,
like a fine wine or an aged whiskey
it grows better with time.
But love cannot fullfill without the other half.
If a woman loves man,
let her love him,
if you love me,
than love me, but if my heart is gone
and cannot be found in such relation with you
then I must halt, till my heart comes around.
If it never does show with the first light of morning,
then it wasn't meant to be with thee.
Come now, do not shed a tear for me,
a simple heathin, who cries havoc
when something doesn't go his way.
Do not cry, do not shed your one of a kind tears
for a souless man, for a heartless man like I,
but do not blame me,
if my heart cannot be found.
Love needs two hearts,
not one or the other can survive
without each other.
Love is patient, love is kind,
but with ever lover comes another.
And we will all fall in great and deep love,
be intoxicated with each other,
and our sweet kisses that God himself would shed a tear
for such beauty that still exisits.
Love needs two hearts,
you cannot have one, without the other.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
The Apple PASTURE
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.
Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011
Is It God We Trust? Or Leave In the Dust?
As our courts remove God from this great nation.
We are left with a confused and lost generation!
As God is taken away from our public schools.
A huge tide of immorality is what “rules.”
The Bible is often mocked and discarded.
It was on it’s principles this country was started!
Just about anything of God seems to get scorned.
So many “rush” to worship many ungodly forms.
As God’s name is often tossed and thrown out.
We tend to forget what HE is all about!
Too often, his plans for living are tossed and abused.
No wonder, there’s many who are lost and confused!
As people forget God and worship the fallen creature.
They look to themselves and “glorify” their features.
Many ignore God, and get involved in deep addictions.
And with this, come disease,
heartache and afflictions!
As God looks and sees this nation “bleeding.”
It’s his righteousness, that we need to be seeking!
If we would humble ourselves, he would hear our prayer!
He loves all of us! And he really does care!
Won’t you come to HIM, And invite him in?
Won’t you allow him to be your master and friend?
He brings strength and nourishment to the soul!
It’s only in him that we can be made whole!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013
This mind of my has always been my prison,
years authoring characters and now I am one.
I wake to the sound of type writer keys playing my symphony,
yet there is nothing but a flat screen before me,
Awards on the walls, handshakes with handsome men,
but the age on my face, that cannot be my reflection,
I have traveled many directions, inspected many voices,
swam in the decisions of many choices...who am I.
Clothing hangs from the back of rocking chair and I remember,
Oh I remember him and me rocking there, his blue eyes so bright,
and my fresh winter youth skin so fair. It was love and love
it could not compare to the daisy and drops of the sunshine.
I remember, yes I remember when true love was mine.
I feel the texture of the plaid shirt, smell the scent of him...
wait...I remember that smell and it is not him, but another.
Who? Could this ring on my finger give me a clue.
I stare out the balcony and try so hard to figure out who I am married to.
It was those kisses on my lips that tasted like the black licorice, his vice.
I must have been his wife, we were so happy all of the hours.
His love watered my garden and I bloom happiness flowers.
My smile warms with the memory of him. Tingles on my skin.
Love, love, love, I feel like running through the wildflowers.
but...double life. I think.
No, that was just a story.
I wrote him that way, that love beyond love.
He was just a character in my book.
He was real wasn't he...I lived many adventures with him.
I think. I think. I hid him away from sight, no one knew but us.
Yes, bless my stars, moments were ours.
but I think I killed him.
No, I know, my husband found out and I made it a rouse,
Confuse the fantasy and reality and under rug swept.
I remember I wept when I etched his headstone.
I choke back loss.
It was his funeral all over again and I am the only one to attend.
I remember my husbands face now.
A soldier for years, handsome in his uniform.
He brought me flowers on our first date.
Roses, I wonder if I put them in water, they would die if they weren't kept wet.
Where do I keep the vases, grandmother left me a very nice one.
She made it years ago when I was just a child.
I broke it once and she smiled.
Roses are red.
I remember Red, he was my cowboy in the second novel I released in print.
My editor, she loved that character, she would chant "Let's take Red to bed".
Where's my pen, I should write that down, Red would make a great cowboys name. something sexy, blue eyed cowboy with a well knotted rope.
I always did like cowboys.
Where the hell is my type writer?
I got ink for it yesterday while I was out looking for a new record to play.
I feel so defeated.
I was always used to that. By the time I published my sixth book I learned to live with very little sleep. I held tight to the night by the coffee pot I keep.
In fact, I smell coffee.
Oh I remember the first time I met Red, he took me to a cafe for a cup of coffee.
His fingers shook with nerves, mine too. I knew right there I loved him. His blue eyes were like the waves of California's coast, he loved me the most.
I walk the hallway holding this flannel shirt in my aching fingers, how did they get so sore. I need warmth more and more. Handsome men in photographs follow me down the hall. I remember meeting the greatest poets and authors, and this photo on the end, a handsome soldier holding a little girl with pigtails. I think that was the cover art to my fifth novel.
I follow the smell of coffee.
His back to me, my face feels the warmth of love, I know I am never alone.
I hear the clink of spoons on mugs and the humming of a tune.
He turns and looks at me.
I scream. This is not right...he is not my husband.
No...no ..no..what about the kisses...where...
double life...no..it was real, he was real,
this man holding my coffee mug, no that's not my husband.
Stay back, you don't exist...I want my husband back.
My heart aches like loss stabs me again and again.
I cannot breath...
"MOM" I hear a woman's voice from the hallway
and everything fades to tear blurred memories.
My lips crack under my voice and all I hear is my whisper...
"give me my life back"
Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
Breaking me down , With every word they say .
Breaking me down , Til i start to hate my self for being different .
Tell my self either i have to be nice or be a hoe , So this group of girls can like me or this boy but i am not being my self though ,
Following the crowd because i don't know who i am yet , Following the crowd soon i will for get ...Me .
The person i see everyday in the mirror aint me thought , She is just some basic girl trying to fit in and the only way she dose that is by pretending .
Like this is a movie and she just trying to play he part .
On the out side she looks cool , But this world is picking her apart .
She trying not to explode , But everyone thinks they know who she is but they don't .
Telling all these fake story , but when the time to confront comes they become a ghost .
They are no where to be found , But they don't know that these words are breaking her down making her hate her self .
And she's seeking for help but there is no one to help her , So she scream at the top of her lungs Help ! Help !Help , She is becoming some one else ! Help ! Help ! Help !
And she wait and she wait , But no one comes , No one because she ran the all off .
But all she can think about is what her mother told her , baby girl that mouth going to get you in to some big trouble ... !
But she never listen , This young girl caught up in the world , Not knowing what she want . Really knowing nothing at all . Realized something , That is she if started to think it might just save her life.
And she argues with her self i do think and her self answer why don't you think twice .
And when you do think why don't you think about what is going to happen tomorrow no just at that second .
Why don't you think about you future , You claim you got one but at this rate i see you not having one , I dont even know if i see you alive . Unless you can change for the better , Unless you can change .
Its not always the people AROUND you sometime the problem can be your self .
And she knew that , and after she ask for forgiveness and ask for gods help .
She stated on the journey to finding HER SELF !
Copyright © April Jones | Year Posted 2014