I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here
I can’t get back in control of my emotions
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy
I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help
Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help
No matter that we've never met,
Compassion radiates from afar.
Rippling outward, gathering strength,
Expanding across the oceans wide.
A warm light like a rising sun,
Gently touches grieving hearts.
Distant strangers, I empathize.
Compassion has gracious eyes
For your sorrows and your tears.
With time, may it soften grieving pains.
Everyday, I still feel the sorrow
While hoping for a brighter tomorrow
Feeling the loss of you
It doesn't go away in the morning dew
Hoping that a rainy day
Might wash this pain away
In the light of a sunny day
I kneel down and I pray
Oh Lord, give me the strength to make it through
For the loss of a love I once knew
He's crossed over to the other side
This I say with great pride
For there he waits
Til the day I pass through those pearly gates
I am alone
In this crowd of empty faces
I have dreamed of many places
To call home
I am broken
There's no chance of fixing me
Who would listen to my plea
It's best unspoken
I am full of envy
The cute kids without special needs
They are flowers among the weeds
Ones families want to see
I am afraid
The years have passed so fast
And I'm down to my last
I feel hope fade
I am aging out
Escorted to the iron gate
In distress about to break
My future's in doubt
I am crying
To a God I do not know
For a miracle to show
To keep from dying
Sponsor: Frank's "I Am Contest"
My heart is broken beyond repair as another sad song fills the air.
My world crumbles beneath my feet and I cry myself to sleep.
I hope to find love again to help this broken heart mend.
And I pray with all my might that I will find peace tonight.
written 22nd Oct 2013
Even after sixteen years
still I cry your daughters tears
Every year on this day, will always be sad
known only as the date, God took my dad
1st June 1954- 22nd Oct 1997
Allan Thomas Holmes
It was the dead of night the cold moon gave a faint light.
It's melancholy glance covered the trees they were bare and barren of leaves.
A scream of terror pierced the night my blood ran cold with fright.
Suddenly I awake from this dream knowing what I have seen.
For you were taken from my side so I hang my head and cry.
I pray to God in peace you will be and I pray the same for me.
It was a beautiful day
A day of celebration, a day of thrill
It was the day of my sister’s 18th birthday
The most waited day of a girl to be a lady
and I? I was a girl that time and all I have to do is to
Observe and cooperate
And it was our most anticipated moment
To witness that celebration
and to witness our dear father
as the first dance of my sister
who was missing us for many years
because of separation.
Yet we didn’t know that, that would be the
first and very last day of the year that we’ll see him
His body was so thin
His face looks sickly and heartbreaking
He looks so different
But he remained calm and at ease
Michael Gan the first rose,
He stands and overwhelmingly danced for my sister
They turned and sway
They dance like it was the last
He was overjoyed
Filled with different emotions
Happy, touched, sad, missing us, and regretting
His heart jumped over him
He tries to catch his breath touching his own chest
We hasten him to the nearest sickbay
To salvage his life
His precious life, my father
Battling from death, loses his fight
His eyes wide open, no air
No movements, no smile because...
It was his last dance
I expect to find something funny in dying.
The bed unkempt like my hair
The room musty as my odor
The air moist
Unlike the dry rasp of my barely audible voice
My breathing labored as the crawling of the Sun
And in the eve the moon fullest at the last
And I will laugh with the man-in-the-moon
At the whatever-after.
It was like a whisper-
My wife delivered the sad news-
"Your grandfather was dead."-
And so he was-
Her eyes was awfully sad-
Touched me gently on my back-
He was old-
The time I started to noticed him around-
He was a relic-
He talked about the war-
The warring in the land-
Dispute over religion-
The greatness of the past Presidency-
How Marcos summary killed young idealist-
How my uncle survived the bullet-
And wrote a letter to Imelda to help him-
The hospital bill in exchange of his ideology-
How he comes on this land-
Answered the migration call-
In the Southern Philippine-
He was young-
He loves democracy-
He went to street and joined the protesters-
To end up injustices-
He tilted the land-
Grow coffee and Avocado-
He sniffed the salty wind of the Celebes sea-
As he stood at the cliff of Matutum-
Sometimes they sale fruits in the public market-
Those years of the early 60's-
While my mother was just a kid-
Then we came-
My cousins and us-
We sat at the table-
Trembling in the dark of dawn-
That was during our summer escapade-
While grandma prepared for us a hot milk-
Then he walked near beside-
Staring on us-
Preached the narrative of his life-
As I perceived-
He was a learned man-
Our pillar collapsed-
My knees gave up-
I sat on a bench-
My body drenched by my cold sweat-
My eyes drawn beyond the wall-
Like I search things on the mirror-
Tears lined on my eye-
An innocent face-
Stared back from the reflection of the clear pond-
"Eat it..eat it..eat it..",my older cousin whimpered-
We wore straw hat-
And a checkered polo-
And the place was cold-
That morning, we went into a brook-
We forgot time went by-
It was already two in the afternoon-
"Let's go home!", I don't recall who said that-
We walked briskly-
Hold a big salmon on our hand-
We were afraid-
The sky was slowly given up from the dark-
The rain started to pour-
Then we saw him-
He was there signaling us to halt-
Tending his carabao-
We gathered on the sofa-
Only the flickers of the light glows-
He sat on the dark corner-
Listened the radio transistor gibbers-
The mountain loomed in silence-
The radio announcer talked about the cold front-
The wind outside whistled-
At school he asked on us sometimes-
How things going on-
He bragged about it-
To his neighbors-
On his house at Tieza-
There was this book rack-
I sat there often-
Those stories about the Greeks-
The Filipino contemporary authors-
Because of that I love to stay in the library-
Hand gripped the yellow mongol pencil-
Scribbling some words on crumpled papers-
And hid it somewhere-
At college he went to our house at Silway-
He watched the television-
I read silently the Doveglion-
Near beside him-
He was weak and knew his end was coming-
I touched his head always-
He breath weakly and coughed-
How I love my old man-
My son likes to play beside him-
He was on his death bed-
Then my wife-
Was standing right in front on the workplace-
She looked at me on the eye-
And I knew the smile of there is something-
I knew he was gone-
written 23rd Oct 1997
So long I needed to visit
but my heart didn't listen
Letting you know how much "I love you so"
is now something, you will never ever know
Now that you are gone
I know I waited to long
If I could just have that one more chance
I would never treat it as just another glance
Now, you have become my biggest memory
for you have gone, to a place I can not see
Knowing that we will never again touch
makes me miss you, so very much
My children are still to young
to wonder why pop hasn't rung
My heart is now empty
for you, it always had plenty
I really do need to have you back
you were the "only one, who saw me back
I know deep down inside
you love me, more than words could describe
For it is only now, that I realise why you didn't want me around
you knew how "painful it would have been, to watch you drown
But, as long as I am still alive
you too, will continue to survive
For I will always be your darling little Denise
who hopes, you forever rest in peace
ALLAN THOMAS HOLMES
1st June 1954- 22nd Oct 1997
I remember your smile that twinkle in your eye,
you could make us laugh until we would cry.
Fishing and crabbing trips and your love of the sea,
all of these are now a part of me.
Whenever someone called you were always there,
a heart of gold you always cared.
Now you're playing cards up in the sky,
forgive me if a tear comes to my eye.
Remembering all the things we would do,
Uncle Jimmy I will never forget you.
ABANDONED SNEAKERS IN THE STREETS
As we walked watchfully along the way,
a pair of sneakers lay silently in the streets;
abandoned by flight or neglect. Their soles
have lost their occupant: gone to who knows where.
We cannot know the life they once shared;
for there are no footprints in the asphalt to trace
the path of their beginning nor the lonely journey's end;
neither is there a catalogue of exciting events experienced.
We will never know the lord and master
from whom they have been emancipated
to be left here only with the odor of memory:
an acquired anti-aromatic epitaph.
Swiftly strolling silently onward, we pondered
the sneakers’ seduced soul---rather than their sole.
One day this too, will be the fate of our shoes:
abandoned and left only with an acquired
anti-aromatic odor of memory.
In my cradle,
My tiny body was cradled
In my mothers arms.
My gem among gems,
I remember when I cried
You comforted me with
your soothing words.
Your re-assuring hands
Secured me till Death's
Cold hands snatched you
From me,a sucker I was
That needed you most.
Adieu! Sweet mum till
We cross paths again!
Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu
SORROW SPRINGS IN BLACK SAVANNAH
By Immaculata Ortner
Sorrow springs in black savannah
Where nature proved its pride
Silence sting like ancient drone
As dark melody rose
Winging high in spike like dragon spew
As discomfort swells in black souls
Our top was not so high
Neither was our thoughts wild!
When strangers flirt and raid our shores in with minds of wolfish beats
Our words and swards were sheath
And the voice of our chanting drum was trunk
Groaning grey in grievous tones
As darkness shades our doomy world
They traced our path in search of liquid golds, yet with books untold
They crack our walls with no defence, speak with hoot like owl!
They create a route of no return
Where blacks goods sniveled
They cleared our greens and dent
Our springs, yet we flinch and flee in fear
But though our nights, were doomy dark
The sun could rise in place of moody moon if brothers where brothers
Our wings could mount the stormy wind if friends we trust where truly friends
And the green we have would be truly green if tooth that flashed were purely white
Then our tales of pride would glow
The Northern wind to South did blow
and left a kiss upon my brow,
I least care for the other ones,
From where to where the Western runs.
Within the sailcloth’s native flight
down all the oceans could I write,
but good from it can’t come to me
as wonder I at open sea.
You blew me fast on to a shore,
to a sailors will to survey more,
in time did courage I equip,
set sails to my beloved ship,
on a voyage thus I was again,
to shelter once more then attain,
at open sea I wondered long,
Inspecting where the skies went wrong,
why won’t my Northern Wind descend,
when this sailor does on it depend;
but still the promise that I made,
to your choices my silence bade,
when will you see that I had kept,
on stranded days and nights unslept—
my silence close, with lips concealed,
when bitter truth this life revealed,
through torrents that did daunt my being
still vexing moans I kept from fleeing.
If seas could only lives reset
and baptize me to you forget,
would gladly drown in all of them
to this misery just condemn,
but only in my tears design
could I now reach that land of mine
where my silence shall leave me too,
life as a beggar there renew,
upon whose shores I would down lie,
to hearts content then cry and cry.
The Northern wind to South did blow
and left a kiss upon my brow,
I least care for the other ones,
From where to where the Eastern runs.
R.N.Khan, © 2013
Just last night I had a dream you were there I held you tight.
I smiled at you with such delight like watching the sunset into the night.
You whispered sweetly into my ear " How I love you my dear".
As I held you close that night you then disappeared from my sight.
Then it all came back to me the sadness of reality.
For I will hold you close no more my heart broken upon the floor.
As I sit here in this place the tears will run down my face.
I had a dream just last night......
I promised I wouldn't write any more sad poems this week
I promised myself I'd enjoy the warm weather with every beat
I promised I'd dwell on the light no matter how flickering it lit
Sad news keep pouring, I never promised me of none of it
Am afraid to move, afraid to hear, afraid to know, if only the world would stand still
cutting the line, turning the page in front of the mirror
removing your name from the door
because it should be irreplaceable
I can not write anymore
of this fierce absence
that doesn't fear the ice of the night
that doesn't break itself
in the dark depths of your distance
it's the most terrible night
it's the most suffocating
and paralyzing Winter
in the broken dream
of a bright mirror
it was yours, and it was mine, just yesterday
and was shattered at a stroke
in an only instant
ruining into smithereens sharp
with whom, devastating me,
they cut my soul
in the smallest arid fragments
on the threshold of our house
when it lacks even the verse, and you can not
you can not turn the page
in front of the mirror
and you only can
remove her name
from the door
because it should be
Where birds are two
We ask:where is the eagle?
Where trees are two
We ask: where is iroko?
Where men become two
We ask: where is Okonkwo?
Gut in the forest of Titans
He roared in the jungle and
Frightened those in the streets;
He stood the wrath of a tiger:
Made morsel of his gut
And status-jacket of its skin
Since then he wore not goat's skin
His was tiger's batik.
Because of fight,he rested his head on pestles
Because of fear,he knitted his heart with cables;
In battle, he killed in dozens;at home,
He marched on dozen fowls
If we did not see him in battle field
Did we not see him at home?
When fear was wild
With its tongue of flame and fangs of blood
Only Okonkwo stood,stood akimbo and spat:
Which chick eats beads like beans?
Which puppy eats elephant's scapula?
Which demon stands Chinua Achebe?
When woodpecker pecks trees
Does it also peck plantain tree?
When thunder strikes,
Its honour is certain:
Songo king of pebbles
Masqurade in war front
He that we could not confront
And lobbied the bully to wrestle
But made the bully's skull his cup
Man of brawn, man of brain.
Where is Okonkwo?
Big Iroko that blunted axes
Where is Okonkwo?
Bellows that spat fire and melted metal;
I say where is Okonkwo?
Sheath that swallowed sword
And locked out its handle
For Chinua Achebe ,the author of : Things Fall Apart.
I have hid mine heart,
Within a prison cell,
Dark and cold,
Whose key, only you hold.
I have buried mine memories,
Within the sands of time,
None is bare,
Those secrets, only you and I
From thenceforth do we part,
From light and into darkness
do I tarry,
E'en to the close of my time.
The memory of you, doth
E'en as the flowers, sprout on
And as the sun, doth shine,
E'en on the viper,
So I, e'en through the curse of
E'en to the sunset of my life,
These memories, a constant
How fast our hair grows gray!
Before we pray
Our evening prayer, the night falls.
Before coming success and fame.
How has it dawn on us so soon when we hadn’t even achieved much?
Why has the marketplace ceased to buy and sell so scanty the streets wither away
The clouds becomes more darkened as smokes ascend randomly our fields are on fire
We can feel the rain but it has lost its coldness
I hear more voices than I usually heard
This time of crying and wailing rather than chatting and hailing
chanting and singing songs of war
Dust and gun powders like fog fill the air,
with great rumble the battle rages
The long night tarry on nobody has awakened
Some privileged to pass on to the other side
Total transmission from what we see now
Carcasses litter the streets as we run from pillar to post
Yet not so sure where the lot may fall
Great assets lost in hot zones, they shouldn’t have taken the guns,
Gravesides more frequent than bedsides
When did we become such serious foes?
That tears can’t seem to mend?
We let our children die by our own hands and still squeeze our sorry faces
How valuable is this trophy, hope it’s worth the pains we are feeling now?
We match in battalions, onward we go
Faces brimming with boldness and courage,
Though fear still takes its partition
We leave behind loved ones not so sure,
like walking into the lions cave to kill or be killed
Jumping over strip wires, nice try
Only to step on landmines
A time to team up with death taking from one end
While it continues from the other side in its own way
Orphans, widows and widowers we make at will that which we had once pitied
What caused this sudden change?
So unfortunate many fighting ignorantly yet arrogantly
Now we pull down our once fancied walls to build more refugee camps and fill them
We overstretching science and make of men expendables
A time we show how much we can take
What we depict now is wickedness rather than strength
In this game
Come forth children
Wiping thy weeping eyes
While I hold you in my bosom
At the ramshackled scenery.
Weep not children.
Wipe thy eyes though they behold corpses-
Squashed bodies of loved ones:
Though I weep, I call thee to me
And I shall hug you to sleep
While singing my lullaby.
Oh the littered town? Corpses asleep-
The sidewalks filled with rescuers’ prizes-corpses:
Sirens weeping in the rain, rescue workers working to death:
Oh! Children, weep not of the dead,
But weep for the Earth.
Death on Highway 12
For James Gilman, c. 1970
“Among your saints give rest, O Christ,
To the souls of your servants
In a place where there is no pain or sorrow or grief
But only life everlasting.
May his memory be eternal.”
Memorial Hymn of the Greek Orthodox Church
In the white bed
Between the lanes
Wrapped in a black overcoat
A boy lies dead.
In Christmas thoughts
Hurrying across the lanes
A hiss of air
A muffled noise
Some metal distorted
A last breath.
The lights on the Christmas tree
All memories to cling to dearly.
This story is told by the howling wind
And smudges on the snow
My heart is made of sorrow.
Taking the blade to your skin
To drown out their words
Feeling like the pain is all you can control
How did it start?
Their taunting words whispered in your ear
But for a second, just stop
Wipe those tears from your eyes
Don't worry about what those hypocrites say
'Cause you're better than that
I know it's hard
But darling, please stop
I know it hurts
but put away your blade
Just let your scars fade
'Cause you're stronger than that
I know that you can stop
I swear, it will all get better in time
Can you trust what I say?
I know you won't forget these days
the low points in your life
It's gonna take some time
For you to realize
I know your pain
it's hard to stop
But just trust me
i'll be there for you
So, throw away your blade
You know it won't go away
Don't let them get to you
oh, I'm so proud of you
You're winning the battle
And you're already halfway there
But this is only the beginning
Don't add any more scars to your precious skin
I can't stand to see your scars
The signs of your pain
The sight of your blood
flowing from your vein
Like tears from your worst days
I know it's hard
'Cause I was just like you
I know it hurts
but you're gonna make it through
Upon this gloomy and terrorizing day,
clarity is obscured by the clouds colored gray.
Restrained tongues may not have much to say,
but those tearful hearts express the *flay.
Oh, so much grief that can't be delay'!
due to the love one's that from since lay.
And, as those left behind gasp for breath and pray,
even so, the wonderful memories they'll potray.
*Flay-to strip the skin or hide off especially by beating.
A warm, glowing September night.
Nondescript small town bar with
people enjoying fine company and revelry.
College football game just finished.
Some friends finding a table and
a deck of cards. Pinochle.
Smiling, joy and laughter. Lively conversation.
Good will and companionship hold sway.
"A dollar a game?"
'Saturday Night Live' on the tube.
There's a wedding dance. Some of
the girls are going. Have to change, though.
No levis in the ballroom.
So and so went to get slacks and a blouse.
Is everyone going in one car?
The warm, festive atmosphere inside
mirrors the night.
"Are you going to bid or go with your girlfriend?"
Someone at the bar's entrance shouting,
"call for help, someone is passed out in
the street." We rush outside.
Across the street, Crumpled.
Lying on her side. Tossed cruelly
to the indifferent concrete.
Approaching a lifeless form.
Warn everyone else to stay inside the bar.
She gasps involuntarily. Her body struck numb.
Struggling just to be. Seized in the
fleeting moments it takes to surrender life.
She had changed in her car.
Struck, carried, then tossed recklessly on pavement.
Kneel, be there, pray.
It was all anyone could do.
How could someone do this and flee?
Up the street an ambulance.
Driving the wrong direction, but coming.
In the other direction. Half a block away.
Her dress shoes.
She never made it dancing with her friends.
Ambulance and police. In good hands.
Radio messages. Red, white, blue, and amber lights.
Being transported. We watch her leave.
Childhood innocence and denial lie
to the inmost self,
"she is going to be alright."
Moments pass seeming like hours.
An ambulance driver and policeman
walk into the bar to share.
They knew everyone would want to know.
They affirm a creed of caring.
She is gone. Too much impact.
Too much damage. They call each and
every person in the bar "good people" and
reassure that nothing could have been done.
The pleasant aura of a fine September
evening dissipates in waves of grief.
Something always fills a vacuum.
Replacing the glow are tears and emptiness.
Questions without answers.
People crying, sharing, holding on.
It is a close-knit small town.
People living to share the 'good times.'
Now called on to support each other
during incomprehensible sorrow.
People leaving by twos and threes.
Transformed from a balmy, glowing eve
into shadow and sepia.
The dark specter of death is tangible.
Surreal. Inescapable. A somber metamorphosis.
Time seems frozen in the emptiness.
Reality strikes us numb.
Not doing well keeping emotions in check.
Why try to hold it in?
Cry for the loss, an exquisite life.
Cry for the family. Cry for the friends.
Cry for the loss of purity and innocence.
Elegy for Innocence
Too late to cry and mourn yourself,
Bitter sweet the result of eternity,
Departure of no return, evaluating sorrow,
The wide road to destruction I took,
My cry ran through crescendo and beyond,
The stamp of eternal sacrilege placed
Struggling to secede the wrath, is unimplicable
The ocean of fire ran to taste my blood.
Lamentation on the dark faces of the inmates,
I see myself like a rich man, begging for a hand deep of water,
Tasty for restoration for millions of century,
Reminiscence brought memories, but all chances lost.
My worst enemy now my accomplice,
I ran from Canaan to Babylon,
If again chances is given, I will live without guilt,
Though the holiness of men is beyond His foot,
How better is the truth I rejected for pride?
Pride is a serpent causing destruction,
The winds hear me; take this message to my brothers,
For the result of pride is unimaginably not imagined.
Stabbing vitals with words is your pleasure
got me listening to music, the cure
so ill take robert smith's advice
'Cut Here' and 'Boys Dont Cry'.
'Pictures Of You' will wipe from my mind
ill 'Closedown' and sing this 'Love Song' tonight
'Strange Attraction', an infatuation
a combination of a 'pornographic' mind.
red tank is darkening slowly
'Saturday Night' never felt this lonely
my skin will 'Burn' in this blood tub tonight
do what it takes to get you out of my sight
and here will lie, this 'Bloodflower' of mine
a momento of my psychotic mind
i will ly remembering what used to be
all is lost, my mind is free.
'The Last Day of Summer' is the loneliest time
seeing blood has never felt this fine
its 'Just Like Heaven' some might say
So here is my song, today is my lucky day.