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Age Sad Poems | Age Poems About Sad

These Age Sad poems are examples of Age poems about Sad. These are the best examples of Age Sad poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

Dust From The Past

Looking back again, back into the past, 
it was written in sand, all those questions we asked
on those last days of summer, something was wrong
as the leaves started turning, and shadows grew long

There was dust on the tables, and the clutter remained
where never before, .... had it not been restrained
You were known for your grace, now your pride was at risk
Quickly swept, polished fine, brushed away with a whisk

This just wasn't you, having bricks without mortar
You were never unkempt ...now a life out of order?
You would never have allowed such things out of place
Something so small, would have been your disgrace

There was something to blame, something was strange
Even small tasks, we noticed, had changed
Another piece of a puzzle, fell into place
Your trace of bewilderment, when a name was erased

Your memory lost, and a world gone absurd ...
Then, once it was you....alone and disturbed 
Lost and afraid, but mostly confused
Forgetting the day, many things you would lose,
or someone you loved, so much undefined
shoved back to blind spaces, your words couldn't find

Dust motes collected where never before,
would settle, make home, in your mind evermore
Without any warning, without any sound
until you were gone, and the years fell around

Dreams that you had, were drawn in the sand
into the traces of dust of a far away land

_________________________________________________
Inspired by Isaiah Zerbst's Contest: "Pick a Title"
10/31/14

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Become

I close my weary eyes
I quake and tremble
The meaning of life losing its hold,
Losing its wonder
In this magnifying, mystifying Sadness

Where is the river, 
Where is the ocean
To drown these sorrows...

The dry formations in this barren land stay tall,
Pools holding life drying in the dinosaur wasteland 
I am bones...
I am bones sinking in the waterless chalk

I keep these eyes shut
To hide inside my meditations
My ears have grown accustomed to the silence,
And sensitive to the drops of tears
They dry too quickly,
For the sun is against the moisture
And all for the fossilization of my soul

Where is the river?
Where is the ocean...

I do not ask with hope-
I am too ancient to beg for miracles
To dream, yet, too long I have slept
I ask on account of who I once was,
A land so lush and plentiful
See now only the dryest thrive

I am bones on the brink of history...
The elements have claimed me
Life will return elsewhere
I am become by the rock and the sun

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse | |

Companion

The old man sits in his chair by the door
His dog lies beside him curled up on the floor
Ever since that day when the man lost his wife
that dog had, to him, been the whole of his life

With his constant companion through all those long days
he'd sit in the sun enjoying its rays
It seemed like for hours the old man had dozed
A faint smile on his face and his eyes tightly closed

The dog licks his hand and emits a faint whine
and looks up at his face as if for a sign
but the man doesn't move, just continues to smile
so the dog lays back down on the floor for a while

The dog gets its ball, lays it down at his feet
but the man takes no notice, just stays still in his seat
He nudges the ball as if he were saying
"What's wrong with you, why aren't you playing"

Then, as if in acceptance, the dog quietly sighs
and looks up one last time with adoring eyes
The dog keeps his vigil through the night 'til next day
ever since, that sad morning, when the man passed away 

Copyright © Rob Biden | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

over and over agin

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....
FAT
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
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
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?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
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
hated herself
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,
FAT!!!!!!
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
FAT!
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
smoking weed
doing nothing,
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,
her mom,
her sister,
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
and why? 
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

Details | Quatrain | |

Biology Teacher

What do you do all day, I wonder
When you're not teaching me at school
You have no ring on your left finger
And you always cling to that rule(r)

You speak as if we are listening
I admit you seem nice enough
Do you enjoy your current life
Or is it lonely, boring, tough?

Although for science you have such a passion
You look lonely, at least to me
I'm sure you must have a family
But do you have family you often see?

You talk and talk and talk
Do you think that I understand?
(My eyes are getting tired
But still I move my hand)

What do you do at home, I wonder
Do you live all alone?
No wonder you spend so much time here
You have an empty home

Copyright © Juli- Michelle | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Average Age 19

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

Details | Free verse | |

Forgotten You

Forgotten you
As your mind collects the memories of yesterday
Forgotten You
Epiphanies tie into knotty strings of realization
That very moment. . . 
You merely exist

Back then. . .those smiles
Those. . .distant laughs
Some you remember by name
Gone now maybe
Like the exhalation of the wind
Others dispersed in the world of arbitrary happening
Like leaves from falling, man-made trees
There is no doubt that they have
Forgotten you

Activate the bomb
Ignite the fuse
And you’re on next year’s history book
Never forgotten
But drained of all remaining good

That smile you gave
That happiness
The warm embrace so long ago
Salt-coated with piles of rubbish
Over last remaining mental spurts of comfort
Evil, evil, evil, evil, EVIL. . .
Always absorbed and remembered
. . .though never forgiven. . .

All good and gracious sentiments
Packed up in a box set nonchalantly in Downstair’s storage
. . .that chair with the broken leg in the corner of the room
That mangled cobweb holding a dangling, lifeless spider
A drowned sailor’s hat drifting through the current of the ocean
The single tear from a soldier’s vigilant, memory-stricken eye
The frustrating thoughts of a mute
The unchanged. . .HATED deformations

Forgotten you. . .
One soul brings to light weary, unthought-of happenings
Wedged deep into what she can only imagine
With not even a hint of understanding
. . .of the pain. . . .of the bewildering distortions
Of the ugly. . .
One soul merely vomits sickly verse after verse

As humanity embraces its downfall
The poet hangs onto her unjustifiable, forgotten. . .
Words

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

An Old Truth

Almost eighty,
But still quite spry,
Still living life
With joy in his eyes.

He loved to bowl,
He loved to golf.
Both lifted his soul
So he often went off.

One day on the course,
With his skilled swing,
He had a great score –
His favorite thing.

He rushed home.
He’d done so well.
He needed the phone,
There were people to tell.

He began to dial,
But lost his smile.
His emotions went viral.
He just stared awhile.

He leaned on the wall
Reviewing his friends.
Sadly, no one to call.
Every good life ends.

Still and amazed
That on this day
Truth had hazed
This part of old age.

Lost in these thoughts,
He pulled up a chair
And for the longest time
He silently sat there.



Contest:  Theme #4 - Old and New Poems
September 29, 2015
7th Place

Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Monoku | |

Back to Evergreen

                                        
The old man grew weary - lost in the forest of his memories

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sonnet | |

Old And Holding Aces

Old And Holding Aces

I am old, youth lost does so deeply hurt
no more whiskey drinking brawls,
now slow and tired, feeling older than dirt
I no longer chase the pretty gals at all.

I am old, bad knees and snow on my head
no more , wild nights out dancing,
watch late news, now fall asleep instead
gone forever are my days out prancing.

I am old, can see the doorway awaiting
slow stepping my way over there,
Love-life over, no more sweet mating
I now can only sadly look and stare.

I am old, just damn glad to have now made it!
Do I now, hold onto last two aces or do I trade it?

Robert J. Lindley. 08-21-2015 

Note- Sonnet mixture of truth , humor and 
a sad realty!
Poetic leeway employed in the line about -
"Love-life over, no more sweet mating"
As trust me, thankfully that is not  problem at all. 

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Sad Taste Of The Bitter Truth

Sad Taste Of The Bitter Truth


He tasted victory, rode an angry purple sky
He that so loved glory, never asked why
Waves splashing about upon a raging sea
there was no rescue, despite his dying plea!

Crying out for, true justice in his old age
dead were the memories of a bygone rage
Think of the sad futility of fighting on
when life means nothing and love has gone!

He found sadness and empty echoes rang out
that misery was Fate's first forward scout
Dark night engulfed him, his destiny came
no glory for one that fought in such shame!

He tasted victory, rode an angry purple sky
He that so loved glory, never asked why
Waves splashing about upon a raging sea
there was no rescue, despite his dying plea!

Robert J. Lindley, 08-03-2015

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Begging Again, Alone And Sad But Bold

Begging Again, Alone And Sad But Bold 

The moon is a curving flower of gold,
heartache you gave turned me so old.
Bloody daggers cut deeply into this soul.
Not forgotten was our sweet loving goal!
Lost dreams ache as sad stories are told, 
I beg again, alone and sad but so very bold!

Robert J. Lindley. 07-23-2015


nette onclaud
Contest Name	COMPLETE THE LINES! 

Line 6-   
The moon is a curving flower of gold,
Sara Teasdale

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Haunting of Missed Opportunities

As the sands slip through the hour glass of time
harsh realization dawns,
 such as the late summer rose ceased to flourish and bloom,
while the season grows short,
dead petals scattered by cold winter winds.
Yet unlike the rose, graciously accepting it's place in the grand scheme, 
man's self awareness becomes a curse upon his consciousness, 
to possess the knowledge of his ever nearing mortality.
Life's unfinished dreams chased away by the bitter rising sun.

Copyright © JD Caperton | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet | |

Sad Past That Haunts These Halls

Sad Past That Haunts These Halls

Where fled that glowing ghost of such lost art,
flame that glowed so brightly- then raced away
No bright stars on an astronomy chart
word-masters storming so far from the fray.

And what of the newer machine set up,
a lighter, rapid but far weaker beast
Should poetry have kept its golden cup
and hungered far more for its epic feast?

Where fled the glowing ghost of such lost art?
Ah pity, that some never dare to say-
In that vast space keeping souls far apart
They that know of epic past in its day.

Some few kneel, searching again for glory-
For new ending for this sad, sad story!

Robert J. Lindley, 11-12-2015

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:	 
Total # Words:	110

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

DO THE MATH

You can minus the clothes
Divide the legs
Add in a bed;
Get a VCT so diseases aren’t spread
Use a rubber just incase
You multiply; and he breaks your heart like a vase

but don’t take my word for it;
DO THE MATH
Use a calculator
She says, 
She’s got a perfect figure so guys try to measure
They try to calculate her
They wish to divide her heart and never leave a remainder
I whispered in her ear and told her
Don’t let a fraction in, cause bad boys will ditch you and then 
COCK-YOU-LATER.

Copyright © Chikumbutso Muyepa | Year Posted 2014

Details | Salaam | |

Yeh khaalipan


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

Details | Free verse | |

If I Love You

"If she loves you," they tell you,
"This will be a problem."
I am una niña, a little girl-
And you are too old for me,
Too young to know
What you're doing,
Too careless to be cautious,
Too Hispanic to be safe
In a place so diverse that
Teenage boys
Are always classified by race-
You are too beautiful 
To be resistible.
But I promise not to love you.
I promise not to need you.
I won't kiss you where 
Anyone can see, and I
Won't cry when you leave me-
Yes, I know you will,
I'm not so young as idiocy-
I can be your secret,
As long as you are mine...
And if I write you love poems...
I'll write them in the dark.
I'll recite them to the shadows,
And no one has to know.
You never have to know
I ever lied.

Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

Eyes of Seminary

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.

Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

OUR BABY GIRL TURNS 21

OUR BABY GIRL TURNS 21

ON 1ST JULY 1990~ THE ANGELS DID SOMETHING ALMIGHTY
FROM HEAVEN THEY SENT US OUR LIFE-LONG DESIRE-A PRECIOUS DAUGHTER TO LOVE AND ADMIRE.
TRUE TO YOUR NATURE YOU ARRIVED WITHOUT FUSS OR PAIN--THE FIRST TIME OUR EYES MET WE KNEW OUR LIVES WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME

AS A BABY AND TODDLER YOU MADE US SO PROUD
YOUR VERY LONG HAIR, GREEN EYES AND SMILE-
ALL THOSE GOOD LOOKS MADE YOU STAND OUT IN A CROWD
YOU STARTED TALKING EARLY WITH MANY VOICEPRINTS 
YOUR CHARM AND GOOD LOOKS HAVE NOT STOPPED SINCE
YOU LOVED YOUR DOLLS AND PRAMS-- DREAMT OF BEING A “SINGER”
 AND VERY QUICKLY LEARNED HOW TO WRAP YOUR DAD AROUND YOUR LITTLE FINGER
YOUR BIG BROTHER DEVON--BEST FRIEND AND PROTECTER 
MOST OF THE TIME YOU GOT ON PERFECTLY TOGETHER

FROM AN EARLY AGE YOU SHOWED YOUR LOVE OF SWIMMING
AGE TWO AND A HALF YOU WERE ABLE AND WILLING
TO SWIM UNDER WATER AND DO MANY LENGTHS
THIS WAS CLEARLY ONE OF YOUR SPORTING STRENGTHS
AT AGE THREE YOU COULD BARELY WAIT TO START PLAYSCHOOL
“MISS INDEPENDENCE”, WAS YOUR GENERAL RULE
THE SLIDE AND JUNGLE GYM WERE YOUR FAVOURITE SPOTS
 AND TO OUR HORROR YOU WOULD CLIMB RIGHT TO THE TOP!
AT AROUND THIS TIME, YOUR FIRST BOYFRIEND YOU MET-
 HE LIVED NEXT DOOR, AND HIS NAME WAS BRETT

SOON IT WAS TIME FOR  PRE-SCHOOL
YOU LOVED YOUR TEACHER--YOUR NEW FRIENDS WERE COOL
‘SPRING BONNETS’ AND THE END OF YEAR SCHOOL PLAYS
THE TEDDY BEAR CLASS GAVE YOU SOME REAL SPECIAL DAYS
NEXT WAS ‘BIG SCHOOL’ AND YOUR FIRST CLASS
WE WERE SERIOUSLY ANXIOUS BUT FOR YOU JUST ANOTHER ‘MISS INDEPENDENCE’ TASK
LETTERLAND, MATHS AND LEARNING TO READ
YOU EXCELLED AT ALL THAT WITH INCREDIBLE SPEED
YOUR ACHIEVEMENTS CONTINUED THROUGH GRADES 2, 3 AND FOUR
YOUR PLACE IN THE SWIMMING TEAM HELPED YOUR SCHOOL WIN MORE

OUR MOVE TO AUSTRALIA… SAD FAREWELLS TO YOUR FRIENDS AND YOUR PETS 
BUT, GREAT EXCITEMENT YOU FELT AT ADVENTURES TO BE MET
A NEW SCHOOL--“METHODIST LADIES COLLEGE”
NEW FRIENDS--JUMPING A GRADE-- MET WITH SUCH POSITIVE COURAGE
YOU MADE US SO PROUD IN THE WAY YOU ADAPTED
MRS. WILLIAMSON SAID YOU WERE THEIR NEW CLASS ‘ASSETT’
.
THE ‘MR BEE’ SPELLING AWARD AND MANY MERITS LATER 
WE ALL GOT HOMESICK-- BUT YOUR POSITIVE NATURE DID NOT WAVER
THE DECISION WE MADE TO RETURN TO CAPE TOWN 
CAUSED YOU HEARTBROCKEN TEARS AND A PERMANENT FROWN
ONCE AGAIN A SAD FAREWELL TO YOUR NEW FOUND FRIENDS 
RETURNING TO S.A. FOR OLD ONES TO MAKE AMMENDS

IT WASN’T VERY LONG THAT YOU PICKED UP WHERE YOU LEFT OFF AT ALL
 ADDED TO YOUR TALENTS WERE NOW TEAM HOCKEY AND NETBALL

AS YOU APPROACHED THE FIRST OF YOUR TEEN YEARS
WITH YOUR LOOKS AND CHARM, INEVITABLY THE BOYFRIENDS WOULD APPEAR
SHOPPING, MOVIES AND MANY PARTY SLEEP-OVERS
CHOOSING TRUE FRIENDS AND DUMPING THE LOSERS
DANCE SHOWS AND DANCING EXAMS… YOU EXCELLED AT HIP- HOP
 FUN AND OF COURSE THE DESIRE TO SHOP

THE END OF JUNIOR SCHOOL-- THE FINAL ASSEMBLY—AWARDS
TROPHIES FOR SPORTSMANSHIP AND YOUR S.R.C. PRIZE GOT MANY APPLAUDS
SAD FEELINGS AT LEAVING YOUR OLD SCHOOL BEHIND 
EXCITEMENT AT STARTING HIGH SCHOOL WOULD SOON COME TO MIND
NO PROBLEM TO YOU, IT WAS ALL JUST A BREEZE 
AS YEAR BY YEAR YOU CONTINUED TO ACHIEVE
SWIMMING AND ‘A’ TEAM HOCKY MATCHES ON THE ASTRO TURF 
YOU EVEN STARTED TO LEARN HOW TO SURF
FRIDAY AFTERNOON CHRISTIAN MEETINGS AND EVENING CHURCH YOUTH
WE WERE SO HAPPY YOU FOUND GOD AND HIS TRUTH

THE REST OF HIGH SCHOOL PASSED IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE WHILE 
YOUR LIST OF ACHIEVEMENTS REMAINED EXCEPTIONALLY HIGH
YOUR ORGANISATIONAL SKILLS WERE ASTOUNDING
COPING WITH TOUGH SUBJECTS LIKE MATHS, SCIENCE AND ACCOUNTING
IN HOCKEY AND SWIMMING YOU MADE THE TOP TEAMS
NO SURPRISE AT ALL THAT SWIMMING COACHES MOVED IN ON THE SCENE.

THEY CULTIVATED YOUR TALENTS FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH
EVERY YOUR NIGHT YOUR PASSION SAW YOU DOING MANY LENGTHS
WEEKENDS OF GALA’S AND NATIONAL SWIMMING
S.A.SHORT COURSE, YOUR P.B’S, AND FAIR SHARE OF WINNING
TOGETHER WE CELEBRATED YOUR PLACE IN   W.P. SCHOOL CHAMPS THAT YEAR 
SO PROUD OF OUR BEAUTIFUL SWIMMER ALWAYS AHEAD OF HER PEERS 
.
FIRST YEAR AT UNIVERSITY YOU BECAME SO INDEPENDENT
 STARTING YOUR STUDIES AS A B.Sc. STUDENT
IT WAS ALSO THE YEAR YOU LEARNED TO DRIVE
GOT YOUR LICENSE—DAD SPOILT YOU—NEW CAR—RESPLENDENT


YOUR FAITH AND TRUST IN THE LORD STILL REMAINS FIRM
AS YOU WALK AND GROW SPIRITUALLY DAILY WITH HIM

SO MUCH HAS CHANGED, AND YET SOME THINGS REMAIN
YOU BEAUTY AND TALENTS SO EASILY MAINTAINED
YOUR  LOVE OF SWIMMING AND OUTSTANDING ACHIEVEMENTS IN WATER
YOU KNOW WE WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR NO. 1 SUPPORTERS
AND NOW YOU ARE 21, SWEETHEART 
YOUR WHOLE LIFE AHEAD OF YOU-- TODAY IS JUST THE START
IT SEEMS LIKE JUST YESTERDAY THAT YOU WERE BORN—
OUR DAUGHTER~LOVES BRIGHT SHINING LIGHT~ WE ADORE
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND TALENTED IN EVERY WAY 
WISHING YOU GOD’S RICHEST BLESSINGS ON YOUR SPECIAL DAY
HAPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY TO OUR BABY GIRL

TO HAVE YOU AS A DAUGHTER HAS BEEN A REAL PLEASURE
-YOU HAVE AND ALWAYS WILL BE OUR MOST BEAUTIFUL TREASURE-

(FOOTNOTE: OUR DAUGHTER WILL BE 23 THIS YEAR, HAS COMPLETED HER BSc. AND HONOURS DEGREE’S IN PHYSIOLOGY AND GENETICS AND NOW DOING HER MASTERS DEGREE IN EXERCISE SCIENCE. SHE IS ALSO A PROFESSIONAL TRIATHLETE—DOING SWIMMING, CYCLING AND RUNNING AS ONE DISCLIPLINE)

Copyright © Kim van Breda | Year Posted 2013

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

The Rememberer

She sits and glances out the window gray
The glass just mocks and fogs her weary eyes.
The dancing candle fails to light her way
As darkness causes heavy, weary sighs.

But memory just shades her vision more.
A cloak of lies, like ice, then stuns her heart.
Her weak and weary feet won't leave the floor,
The window tears her wilting soul apart.

The sun once lit her flowing, golden hair,
And moon once filled her eyes with silver light,
But past has killed the gold that once was there
And now, her eyes are darker than the night.

The days, we say, have worn away her life.
But she doth know that t'was her foolish strife.

Copyright © Emily Goodreau | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy | |

Raindrops and Teardrops

Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric | |

Debutant's Lament

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

Details | Haiku | |

Stone

In society
Alone and surrounded by
Statues everywhere.

Copyright © Jacqueline Rodriguez | Year Posted 2014

Details | Romanticism | |

Can you feel me

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,
without you.

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

Details | Rhyme | |

WEEPING WILLOW

The breeze of the morn she sought.
     Her eyes were wild, as she thought.
Her hands tremble like a leaf on a tree.
     She marked her steps silently.
Sylphlike is her frame.
     She was a lady not a dame.
Within a distance, she looks back.
     The mansion, she found, was in blackness.
So many skeletons remain.
     Her cape begins to skein.
Angst, she releases a sigh.
     The tears she would cry.

Lithe, she bends,
     as agile as the breeze as the wind.
Interchangeability she disallows,
     as she raised her head up to the clouds.
Perhaps, she thinks, life has been lived.
     Ideology misconstrued she perceived.
This lady was once of rank.
     But, now her spirit sank.
No authority does she has.
     Moreover, no one cares.
The breeze of morning she seeks 
     to find inner peace.

Her story, she feels, must not be shared
     too much pain to reveal.
She will not let the world in.
     A dead life ends.
The beginning of a generation is her discourse.
     She will stiffen her backbone and reform.
Solidify from the melodrama, she walks within determination.
     Her ideas begin to form via life manifestations.
She hears the past as if it was now.
     She frowns and shouts aloud.
“Why has my life defeated me?”
     The vision recedes and she feels that victory is guaranteed.

“Who will cut me down?”
     She ponders, as she turns around.
She had secluded herself to well.
     She was not the one to change that.
"When my existence," she reflects, "is so well kempt
     idiosyncrasies are mine to consider."
Remoteness defines the trees.
     She has entered the morning breeze.
Pulling her cape close, 
     she breathed in to establish hope.
Via internal dialogue she spoke.
     “I must linger in the unknown.”
________________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 17, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku | |

I Hope This Can, What I Can't

You uncovered
Your heart, my lack of wisdom,
Remorse can’t describe.

If time was replayed,
I’d have shared more heart your way,
Seen actions fore hurt.

I intended no pain,
I thought we could break cleanly,
But my thoughts were wishful.

Now I can’t undo,
And choose the outcome anew,
I apologize.

I hope this allows,
Flow, where feelings were stopped,
Recall hurts, even today.

Unable to salve,
What callous things seemed right,
Years cannot dissolve.

I thought I could solve,
The world’s pain extent with soft
Words, instead of hearing.

Copyright © Chaim Wilson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative | |

I WAIT FOR YOU DEATH

As you grow, happy moments shrink,
At some day, skin aches when you smile,
These are just ordinary lines, or
Maybe just exaggerated tales,
‘D thought so but no fraction of idea,
It could be real, as real as you dwell in it,
Just like another story,

How a freckled face glance down,
Why arched brows are falling down,
The crow lines of eyes say it,
When it aches to smile,
Wearing it which was disowned years back
Don’t spell or stare or nod,
May face lays as in absence of suspicion

Knot of rope around my neck, 
What changed or happened,
Somebody sprinkled dust on freshly painted canvas,
That Blush of youth _with self-indulged soul,
Beauty reflected in the eyes wide open,
Then agonizing hand interfered,
So made me wore this,
The face you don’t look at.

I have told enough, misery loses its grief,
If explained to satisfy that deaf ear,
Let it prevail, the dust,
Let me blacken myself in the stained canvas,
For that is what meant, and so,
Let this veiled face pray, in the shadow,
For the last breath, not for shrine,
Lived in mundanely and so did suffer,
Shall die in that ordinariness too,
If life asked you about my tiredness,
Don’t blame a name but a cure,
Which is desperately awaited, let her know.

Copyright © HINA NASIR | Year Posted 2014

Details | Romanticism | |

Love needs Two Hearts

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

Details | Imagism | |

Wisdom Jewel

By Gail DeBole
Written on  June 21, 2014
Updated on June 22, 2014

Hanging onto the chain of sunlight
Streaming in her room

She rocks back and forth
In the antique rocking chair

She will become tomorrow's antique
Dangling with a wisdom
That can no longer be shared.

Copyright © Gail DeBole | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

AN EQUAL SHARE OF VICTORY AND DEFEAT-Rhyming Chant

An equal share of victory and defeat...
greeting happiness, summoning sadness!
An equal share of victory and defeat...
rejoicing in light, trembling in darkness!


How we live and age depends on circumstance and time...
an equal share of victory and defeat!
Youth is pure glory when the body is not weak... 
an equal share of victory and defeat!
Before sixty we were vibrant, now frail and ready to die...
an equal share of victory and defeat!


An equal share of victory and defeat...
greeting happiness, summoning sadness!
An equal share of victory and defeat...
rejoicing in light, trembling in darkness!


Taste rain and feel sunshine, ignore wrinkles, age spots and such...
an equal share of victory and defeat!
Leave gold and everything behind, it's troublesome  for the rich...
an equal share of victory and defeat! 
Have we lived fearlessly or covered by a sheet?  
An equal share of victory and defeat!


An equal share of victory and defeat...
greeting happiness, summoning  sadness!
An equal share of victory and defeat...
rejoicing in light, trembling in darkness!


What we accomplish through life remains bright or bleak... 
an equal share of victory and defeat!
Gray hair means wisdom, neglect the puffiness under the  eyes...
an equal share of victory and defeat!
We came into existence to lead meaningful, not purposeless lives...
an equal share of victory and defeat! 


An equal share of victory and defeat...
greeting happiness, summoning sadness!
An equal share of victory and defeat...
rejoicing in light, trembling in darkness!






Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2013