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
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.”
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Don’t put your view all are blind
They can’t see ten or nine
They have determined they can find
Solution is already all know shrine
Bereave is not necessity it always dawns
Scarce barks all the day as unwelcome guest
Put your disguise on your veil
All viewed your deceitful hay
Shame on you for being that that
Looting always day by day
Poor creatures are suffocating
Swallowing your poisonous play.
Copyright © Deepak Chalise | Year Posted 2014
I sit at the window just staring to space
A woman sits by me, they say she’s my wife
I try to remember, I look in her face
I know she’s been with me for most of my life.
My memory’s dying
Of that there’s no doubt
Will I become trying
Thus forcing her out.
I try to be cheerful,
I try to be brave
But I’m oh so fearful
Of how I’ll behave.
I live now in anger, I live now in rage,
My memory stolen because of my age.
Copyright © Jim Martin | Year Posted 2014
I Cried For My Father's Death
I cried for my father's death then
but never for my own cutting pain,
That was not understood back when,
I felt my life had nothing to gain.
Life taught me few things are fair,
misery and pain follow every gift,
Although young with full head of hair
life gave nothing to spirit uplift.
Often in awe of power of the storm,
we forget the damage such inflicts.
Such folly too often is the norm,
sadly man's Nature allows such tricks.
Time onward flows, as old wounds it heals
Life does reward those,loving heart steals!
May 9th, 1985
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
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
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
This expanse of land has seen things.
Things all of us can only see in dreams.
It's seen war, it's gotten it's fair share of scars.
Bombs bursting, bullets throwing sand into the air like it's a volleyball tournament.
The sand running red with blood silently mocking our arteries.
This magnificent stretch of land has seen heroes' tears fall; dropping to their knees while sadness envelopes their fallen brothers but also looking up to their beloved whilst carrying a ring in their hand.
It's seen bright days, the sun glimmering over wet sand, footprints of past loves being washed away as the sun smacks the horizon.
This expanse of land...has seen things we can only imagine.
Copyright © Tyler Kisner | Year Posted 2013
you feel like you’re
it’s part of the
you will be falling
until there are no
day by day
part by part
is such sweet sorrow
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
I know you only want what’s best for me; I know you only want to help me
make a great name for myself, but can’t you see I am suffocating under your
help? I went to college to pursue this great passion of mine, and I can’t wait
to make a career out of it, yet, this one passion, this one experience-it is not
who I am as a whole. Thank you for your interest in when I am graduating, in
your interest in where I want to apply for a job and how I go about getting
that job, but I am so much more than that. I am a complex human being
made up of many talents, interests, and passions-this career of mine just
being one. Dear friends, please, let us discuss something other than
homework and those that have just got engaged. Dear family, please see me
as a human and not a robot on an assembly line that you decide the parts to
go on. I am galaxies, not one atom. Dear everyone else, you are suffocating
the life out of my passion before I even get to pursue it.
Please stop asking me where I want to apply for jobs and “settle down”.
Please stop asking me why I’m single. Please stop telling me to get a job close
to home, because it is MY life, not yours. Please see that I have other
interests, passions, and hobbies that make up who I am as a human being.
Every college kid, ever.
Copyright © Jessica Fite | Year Posted 2014
THE BUTTON-BACK NURTURERS
…. debt-ridden emotions and emotion-ridden debts –
Oscar Wilde on the Irish
Mothers and matriarchs, you toy the gutted room
Where sensibility is decaffeinated lace
Tireless in your role of martyr and your zoom
Lens to condemnation before an act takes place,
Your constant servitude serving only gloom
Creating recognition of what we all must face,
Death itself, never exhausted, a loom
On which your tapestry is woven, mace
Broken with your unbroken shadow. Love’s vroom
Never gets off the ground or into the race
And is absent save for endless debt, a womb
Of ever-diminishing returns, and the plain case
That you can’t own others, is yours alone to ponder,
In your violated abyss with its pain and rage and wonder.
Copyright © Rosemarie Rowley | Year Posted 2015
Alone In her chair,
she rocks and rocks
through empty days.
Cracked picture frames
of memories on the mantle
gather dust, in the back drop
of her life, where broken dreams
speak silent words, the bittersweet on display.
Thoughts of youth,
still bring a heavy heart
and tears that never fall.
Instead of love, she settled
for his lust; lost, she felt his fist
more than his kiss until she knew
nothing but feelings of being numb, detached…
a young woman one day grew old overnight in an old chair,
slowly rocking away the past…memories often coming too fast.
In youth’s glow, she thought
beauty would last forever…as time crept into fine
crevices around her eyes, he grew tired of her, and she
thanked God every day for sanctity. Then, one day she didn’t.
Thick-skinned, loneliness settled on her neglected mantle. Middle-aged,
tired and starting over, she thought she had time to rediscover herself, her own
desires, but bitterness found a home. As years went by, she, too, gathered dust.
Now layered In despair, she hides her loneliness and trust. With a life’s worth of broken dreams, each day may be her last. Sometimes, a heart disregarded is worth saving...sometimes, it’s too late.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
I am not made a full blown beauty..
Nor I live a life of purity; charity & piety..
All I like to do is to live with identity..
Not of being a witty but a life of humility..
I tried to be a more social person..
Cracking out the shell I have put up..
Breaking from my own weakness..
Doing best in my found strengths..
I have craved to reach out to people..
Widening my horizon, increasing my knowledge and awareness..
Learning to acknowledge fellow human beings..
Regardless of who they are and where they from..
They said: "I must not do this as it is dangerous.."
but I stand to what I know: "Inside all human beings is the reflection of God.."
I give due and equal chance..
As my God have freely given me opportunities too..
We people are living in same earth..
Different are we because of status, faith or race..
Let not this be the reason for us to be divided..
Rather we must come in unison conquering divisions..
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2013
A fragile mind breaks
Wake upon the rock laden shores
A muffled heart begs to echo
Whispers lost among a velvet chamber
Dusk comes premature time and again
Dropping the curtain on an optimistic sunrise
If you never witness dawn
There is no tomorrow
Always the dreamer aches
Never awake to make real what he desires
The restless corpse walks blind
Dead ends seem fitting for one of the kind
Lost in the labyrinth of strangling vines
Love is the motive and the weapon
Taking root in throats dry from weeping
Sprouts of amnesia in place of smiles
A garden called heartbreak holds onlookers captive
The comfort takes hold, sets in the bones weary of searching
A plea for rest lands on deaf ears
The hollow boy tires of himself
The last request he will ever make
Lost and tired
He wishes to be weak no more
Copyright © Alexander Schwartz | Year Posted 2013
I'll make a way and seize the day
if only my heart would learn,
the morning dawns a canvas drawn
the hope for all we yearn.
Awake and shine
a sprightly twinkle
lingering round aging eyes
as seeds of joy furrowed in wrinkles
release the sorrows of sleepless night.
Back casts the image
A journey hardrock washed
a life bent senescent
of years best not forgot.
Weary legs lead the way
to pretty wild flowers scattering
Carpe Diem, let wisdom say
for that which youth is scavenging.
Smells and sights and sounds so ravishing
amble the aged called glory bound
prudence discovered mysteries foreshadowing
a time for the blessings I'd forgotten to count.
Copyright © Sarai Romani | Year Posted 2014
To the crux and cusp of Heaven's Hill,
I have staggered with burning feet
For 'tis Hell to take another pill,
But Divine to take a flying leap
My models in bottles, posing there
Glare at me with eyes in scorn
Do they not see my Soul's despair
That's haunted me since I was born?
It's quite obvious and plain to me,
Deluged in my ninety-proof
That I am blessed, unluckily
To have survived my Youth...
*written today, drunk on whisky
Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet | Year Posted 2013
Unlived childhood memories, and a past similar but deprived only by myself.
Copyright © Jason Earp | Year Posted 2013
You're strong and you deserve
For you brightened up my days
And I can't imagine you abandoning me...
I can see our friendship last for a lifetime
I'd do anything...for you
I'd sacrifice my life...for you
I could hike Mount Everest...for you
I'd give you all that you desire
I'd walk into the fire...
for you...don't deny it - it's true
I'd walk on hot coals...for you
I'd do the impossible...for you
I'm positively sure that
I love you...
I'd give up my life...for you
You still don't have a clue,
You were there for me
In my times of trouble and stress
You were meant to be
My sincere friend...soaking in my distress...
Bottling up our progress
Somehow I'll prove to you
That you're a virtuous, unselfish friend to have
You make my heart thump with buoyancy
You have no clue how fortunate you make me feel
Every time you're hanging out with me...
You tell me that I look handsome -
You have no clue how that makes me feel
Every time you encourage me...
Every time you remind me of how I look,
It makes me beam with contentment...
Copyright © J. W. Earnings | Year Posted 2013
Marian Kaye 2012
The Elements of Pain at Midnight
Can I be perfunctory about pain?
The sound of rain begins…
Having never had much pain
Old age brings opportunity
Why I wonder
Why explore the wonder?
It’s suspicious the way I hesitate
The cringe, the whine, the question and then
No embrace, just rejection
I sense a fellow creeper accompanying the rain
Still I haven’t come to the center of the experience
I lay there wondering about my reluctance
To be like Him
Whose presence is divine deliverance?
We celebrate, congratulate each other, revere, and even fear
And I was wondering about the character of
Small, little, even miniscule tethered and sharp teeth
The promise before craziness sets in
The knowledge is a pre-emptor state that shakes me
I am awake
There is no plan, no rain
There is no sacrifice embracing pain
Mom carries it floating on waves of time
She is laying there- prone and bone in place
A sweet secret smile on her grim face
We cannot fix the reminder of pain
We try to embrace
We hold her- strengthening soothing way
Yet our own pain is elusive- we hold back
Both hands out only to fall without grace
Like a child flying off a bike
We cannot tell pain to go-take a hike!
Still- I haven’t reached back to where I was in the center
Is that on the operating table?
I awoke with Domer on my mind
Wanting to erase the suggestion of even going there
The nightmare bad guy vs our friend Jesus
There is fear and trembling even physical pain
Bleeding from every pore
Think of His choices
There is no comparison with mom or a dream
Or the real world psychotics plotting
We cannot put two arms out resisting change
And stopping the window, the well the witness of pain
Still is there a center where one can rest
Where the tunnel of darkness is absolute
Where there is trust and truth
Where assurance smells damp and one knows faith and pain stops
Is then this the center?
Where we forget how we arrived and
We begin to believe
We see the light at the end of the day
The tunnel retreats
Our pain gives way
A child’s eyes are wide with surprise
Our delight we embrace the child of pain
The tears, the night, in the dark a tender rain
Copyright © Marian Baker | Year Posted 2015
elle n'a que vingt ans j'en ai plus ,elle le sait
elle sait que je ne serais pas un amant parfait
elle avait décidé ,apres un coeur brise
ne jamais tomber amoureuse, desormais
un coup de foudre qui a bascule ma vie
un tonnere qui grondit comme un lion affamé
un coeur blessé entre ses cotes elle disait
c'est un amour interdit, laisse moi s'il te plait
si elle savait qu' un poete n'est jamais celui
qui badine avec l'amour comme un simple jouet
les vers et les amours sont faits comme par gre
s'il y avait un desir d'aimer, il n'y aurait pas de regret
English translation coming soon.
Copyright © True Feeling | Year Posted 2015
Why do tears caress your soft face so frequently?
Why is it that when you cry and let out a large scream,
Which resonates from deep in your heart do you feel relief?
Why can you not find the arms of a mother or a lover who can give you the same relief as that scream? Where you born to wonder alone?
A lone being that has given all
Only to find that you have given a little too much and are now left bare.
No-one had requested that you commit to such a feat;
No-one had expected you to give it all
How can you not blame yourself when you find that you have nothing left?
When you find that all has been given and no-one is willing to share?
The cry is God given
When a child cries their protector responds and tries to put right.
The cry is not to be left unattended.
When you become of age however your protectors’ take on different forms,
A mother becomes a lover
And your tears are now for yourself.
Where are your protectors?
You frantically search for them but only find mocking…
You are of age now and your cries will be left unattended.
Copyright © maya chaar | Year Posted 2013
It's always nice to call a friend
When life starts drawing to an end
Maybe you should wait a day
Always find much more to say
But should you just forget to phone
You might find that you're all alone
Yet other things I start to find
Many friends have lost their mind
Not that they are off the wall
They all have problems when I call
Some just can't hear
Some aren't well
It's really hard
For me to tell
Some have no mate
A sorry state
Other know they reached their last
A long lost past
For them each day's a living hell
All's not good
All's not well
Copyright © Gary Kraidman | Year Posted 2013
Age's shadow throws its cast
Time for some to live the past
And yet I have this silly quirk
I'd feel much better back at work
So rather than stay home and snooze
I'm back at work
No time to lose
And with a staged real happy face
I join once more the working race
Ignoring others ripe with cash
Doing little with their stash
Their burned out wives no longer stay
With boring mates to waste their day
So maybe my new life's not bad
Then just sad.
Use your brain
It must be fed
Just move ahead
Get out of bed
New challenges will keep you strong
Don't waste these days
That's just plain wrong
Copyright © Gary Kraidman | Year Posted 2013
This place it just seems so hollow
Emptiness, it feels like I'm in a tomb
I just can't help but weep and wallow
When bitterness now fills my room
And yet again I'm drowning in sorrow
When ever the madness dose loom
And what as always seems to follow
Sadness, it's now doom and gloom
Always give never been one to borrow
The forgetfulness one would assume
Deep but I'd say better than shallow
Seems meangless but I'm just immune
If only my pride I could learn to swallow
It's the loneliness I find hard to consume
Always trying I am to look to tomorrow
Hoping happiness will be in full bloom
Here i was taken bits from poems a state of confusion
A new age and sublime some words fit well with others in other context
Just the way my brain works i suppose probably makes no sense
But helps me clear my head a bit at times
SO IN AWAY ITS LIKE AN UPDATED OR FOLOW ON FROM A NEW AGE
WRITTEN JAN 2013 BY MYSELF D ,SCOTT,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Copyright © david scott | Year Posted 2013
I don't know what to call these feelings..
Girl problems? Soul killings?
Better yet, confusion of emotion greetings.
Roller-coaster Life got me revealing.
Ache for the laughter and love..
Why does IT has to divide us?
Making me feel dejected
Leaving me with my sorrow sighs.
Miss the fun and foolishness
That enjoyable vibe and ridiculousness..
Why do I feel part of me grew up, and the other part is still a child?
Girl problems? I think i need a sweet cup of vodka..
I hope ageing is not as dull as how I feel right now.
If it is, I'll have to say my final goodbyes.. even though my heart cries.
Cheers to this Life dogma!
Leaving me with my sorrow sighs.
Copyright © Yoni Abai | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
I am death
Copyright © Michi Watts | Year Posted 2014
When gone is your glamourous feature
When pain rules and breathing becomes a torture
When limbs are failing one by one
And life is no more a fun.
Then and then alone is the test of your metal
Few can the unwelcome visitor handle
Few can take aging with grace
Others bewail and make frowning face
Look at the flowers, how they blow
Over time they fade and lose their glow
Yet they nod and emit their fragrance
Yet on the rain drop´s rhythm they dance
Why man digs his grave much before he dies
Why he broods, bemoans and cries?
Why a graceful aging he never tries?
Why his eyes act as a waterfall?
And his soul the demons of pain and agony maul
Aging and death are processes of life
The relationship with the world is cut through this knife
They can´t be avoided howsoever one tries
He bemoans, cries or in the flame of agony fries.
Sintra, Portugal, 12 September, 2015
Copyright © Mohammad Yamin | Year Posted 2015
How can I live my life
Always standing in front of a knife
So I'll get on the night train
And I'll go to Spain
I'll leave this kingdom, this life, and this shame
So there won't be any more pain
And so there won't be any one to blame.
Copyright © Blake Holland | Year Posted 2016
I was sad today;
Because you begged me
To think of your good points,
And I never told you any.
Rest assured there are many,
Very many, I would have liked
To have told you them
There and then.
I tell you so much about my past;
Quite a lot of which is conflictive,
As if several mes
Were struggling for supremacy.
Much of the time,
There was a pretty normal me;
Oh don't get me wrong,
I was always an attention-seeker,
But I really do genuinely struggle
To make sense,
I really do genuinely struggle
To make sense of me in the past.
Copyright © Carl Halling | Year Posted 2015