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Free Verse Loss Poems | Free Verse Poems About Loss

These Free Verse Loss poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Loss. These are the best examples of Free Verse Loss poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Double Phantasy

Mama, did you know the precious amethyst shadow hours
I spent beside you, cuddled cosy-close, nestled in blankets of light,
shawled in your red-gold hair? I kissed each tear you cried;
each one a starlight pearl forged from the depths
of your fragile soul. I rocked seashell-shut to each lullaby note
and silently watched as you rocked my cold, empty cradle.
Sometimes you sensed me coiled at your breast -
a small, balled knot of grief. You felt my tiny fingers plucking at you
as tingling shivers. And sometimes I bounced sunshine-free
on your knee, a giggling orb of light.

Little one, once again I felt you here,
entombed in the womb of this eternal everywhere room,
your spirit sifting through my fingers like hourglass sand.
Pain has blanked my mind wraith-white, but I felt
your lips nip the warm rosebuds of my nipples
as I pressed a lullaby to the delicate shell of your ear
and brief blessed seconds spun out like years.
My sentient heart will always hold you, my grip will never slip,
as my earthbound hands, human-warm, reach through time
and heather-shadowed ether to love and care for you.




18/6/2011

*'phantasy' is a deliberate misspelling, an amalgamation of 'phantom' and 'fantasy'

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Tissue Box

like visitors from outer space
they came with tears, and lined the sidewalk
long in face, and arms embracing
some (I have no inkling) who
they were or why they felt compelled to come 

dozens came with casseroles
a few with flowers, wads of tissues
tender words of helpless mutterings
many acts of generous offerings

don't get me wrong, I watched the suffering
expressed in words or acts of kindness
I watched it all, and felt the love
did not dismiss the warm compassion
returned it all, with pure compliance
a thankful heart, a swollen throat

I hugged these strangers at the door
to comfort them, who shed their tears
upon my shoulder, offered them
a place to share their sympathies
a place to spend their mercy, pure

                but, this was my child who loved and lost
                impossible........I can't express it

protected from the very start, by
loving hands, her dad's and mine, 
we watched her grow, and let her go
she grew from the vine ....into a rose
but life composed a tragedy, with goals
beyond our reach...beyond belief
beyond our wildest dreams
and left her with a loss beyond control

like visitors from outer space, we watch
as others come, and others go
they blow into their tissue wads
and empty the boxes one by one
and cry with us,  and then they all go home...

do we cry........?  Oh no, not yet...
instead we smile a grateful smile
and thank them kindly for the while
and for the ways they share their love
but we can't cry into our own clenched wad
of tissue from the tissue box
she needs us to be strong, somehow
and so that is the way it is, we vow...to hold back all the tears for now


                for, this was my child who loved and lost
                impossible........I can't express it
      __________________________________________





4/12/13

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Things That Seemed Poetic

Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

SEX AFTER 40

(WARNING  SIGNS)

You are old and fragile
Claiming to be a lion when in bed
In some way, you remind me of the walking dead
Your bones make sound when walking across the room
Rattling, as if they know your end is near
Confusing rigor mortis where muscle mass once stood

You say you have stamina that has no end
Until now, your back hurts when you move
Losing count of every inch that got away!!!
With your moods constantly changing,
I prefer not to mention the belly fat around your waist

Then you have romantic days, you plea to love
You chase down a Viagra pill with red fuzz
Seemingly, without adding depression to your day
Pill's are the only object expanding when swallowed
40 some, and you think you can romp around the room
I yawn, yet you are the one tired, next to doom

Dusty and old you boxer shorts
Can't remember the last time you stayed up late
Kicking the bucket every time I talk about S E X
Your hairline aged with time, bold and bald 
I forgot which one you recalled this morning
Perhaps these are signs of low testosterone 
Merely in the meantime............... R.I.P. WILL YA!!!


BY: PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Forty Today

Visited you today
as the sun set in the horizon…

the orange tinged carnations 
were a perfect complement 
for the skies
and for you… 
orange and blue
always remind me of you

the winds softly blew
and I just sat there
staring at the grass,
well more at your name really…

hardly believing
what I am looking at, 
that it’s been seven years

of missing you,
of just putting that reality
at the back of my mind…

But there are days,
such as today
which make me 
confront that reality—

I see your smile,
remember your laughter
celebrate your spirit
and your love

Tears, I tell you I have
the most stubborn tears
maybe because they 
make it so real for me?

I look around me
and look for that sign

Nope, not there…

I say a prayer
and speak to you
thankful for the life shared

I kiss the date that you were born

and walk away

my reflection on the car window
misty

One last look around,

and then I see it…

a cat, as we drive away…

Skies now streaked purple and pink


**My brother would have been 40 today, May 6…

Copyright © binibining P.iNk | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Looking Down My Street - A Collaboration

Looking down my tree lined street the setting sun casts her glow upon the Chestnuts, Maples, and Oaks dressed in worn out yellow ribbons telling the story of friendship and loss strength and courage. How there was hope and there were dreams. That life wouldn't pull us apart. There was community and passion and smiles each time you went through that revolving door. We prayed, yes we prayed for us that we wouldn't lose you that we wouldn't be missing someone so true. I raise my head up to the skies washing away a lingering tearful cry and remember .... Your amiable soul, dynamic, invincible and unique Your stupendous dose of humor, indulging, infectious and unstoppable. Your enthusiasm to give, to share, and your boundless care Your friendship, a treasure trove of trust worth. Wherever you were, there was harmony, and a breath of fresh air You were a friend, who never postponed one minute of life You used every minute to fill ours with joy I raise my head high and remember i remember the moment my laughter died that moment when I asked why Why are the good, the chosen ones, to suffer for others 'evil Why do they go first, why do they die young Why are they now far, so far ? In that moment of helplessness and doubt In that moment when faith was provoked I cried like a child, I didn t need another hero, I just wanted my friend back I wanted him so bad to be near, to survive Once again I raised my head, I got lost in the sky, And I swear I saw him with these eyes And I swear, I heard him with these ears He said, 'Death is not for the living, I am so much alive ' Then, it was night ! I raised up my head, and a luminous star lit my once darkened sky with warm breezing light.

Copyright © Cupids Arrow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

INTERMINGLE

I wiped away a single tear That had fallen from my eye (You told me simply we were friends) You left me after only a year (But you conceal your aching heart) I often sit and ask myself why Looking back on our time together I remember those halcyon days (My love for you it never ends) I thought we’d be together forever (You told me simply we were friends) Now memories are a fading haze Your hair so dark with eyes of brown (Dreaming of you my heart ascends) So full energy with a sense of fun (Forbidden love keeps us apart) Always happy you were never down We’d go out together and have a run (You told me simply we were friends) You’d always reward me with a soppy kiss (But you conceal your aching heart) I’ll never forget the day you got knocked over Never a day passes when you I don’t miss How I loved my darling dog Rover 03~05~15 Do You Love me – Triolet ~09~26~14 How I miss you Rhyme - 09~22~14 Contest - Intermingled – Craig Cornish

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

The Game, Playing the Game

'I want you to use all your powers and your skills
I don’t want his mother to see him like this
Look, look how they massacred my boy'...
Don Corleone (Marlon Brando) in “The Godfather”
-------------------------------------------------------
Playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?

I drove home by that road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that road where our lives crashed, exploded and shattered
shattered in jagged shards of Silver-Saturn pieces

(This is where you must have seen the swerving headlights
What were your thoughts? Were you worried? Were you alarmed?
This is the spot, oh God this is where, where it all hap...
What were your LAST thoughts? What were your last words
when that pick-up jumped, jumped and flew out of that ditch?
You always said "WHAT THE"...Yeah, you must have said that)

Driving myself to madness playing the 'what if' game
What if you had driven just a little faster?
A little slower? Stopped to pick up something?
DIDN'T stop to pick up something? (Did-didn't-did...)
Stayed at work a minute longer, or left a minute early?
(What-if-what-if what-if-why-where-what-how)

Just what are the odds? Just what are the chances?
2:AM? Maybe one car, one car every 2 hours or so?
If it were a head-on collision, you may have survived
If on the rear side, perhaps only a violent spin
But no, no it had to be on the driver’s side door
It was 'perfect timing, a 'perfect' flash in time
(Perfect-imperfect-perfect-why-where-what-when)

I drove home by that same road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that country road you were driving; innocently driving
just trying to get back home...
 
Yes, playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
ISN'T it.

7/1/2014

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Broken Heart, For Sale

I have always been alone
I have always been the lonely one
In the corner, quiet and silent
Inside of dreams to come

So with determination
I build and build and build
Possessions compounding
Wealth is the only scorecard I know

Now, it’s amassed, and I have it all
So with pride and confidence
I do what anyone should
I must purchase a possession of my desire

I read in the paper of a sale very fine
A Garage sale of many old antiques divine
Within it all is treasure so very deep
A broken heart of golden hopes

I am not sure how one goes about
Such a purchase, of infinite value
I am succumbed with depression and sadness
For all my wealth

I have not the currency to buy this heart
So I burned my money that very night
I learned, there is another currency of delight
I wrote words and music and poetic verse

My Snow White she refuses to awake
Even my heart at the bone it shakes
Vaso the empty vessel of life
Learned there is no currencies at all

To acquire a broken heart

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Aftermath

That December
I stumbled through twisted tinsel streets,
oblivious to ice and seasonal shouts,
muffled by snow-silence; a mannequin moving through mists,
quietly fragmenting behind frost-fragile walls of frailty.

Bleak winds blew open the hinges of my hypothermic heart,
wailed a wintry lament only I could hear -
ice-shrapnel words blown to lodge in my ear: you've lost the baby.
Those four words were spiked icicles, glacier-cold.
Hope disintegrated like snow-powder as they pierced me.

Streets seemed pregnant with the plumpness of babies;
their little doll faces reddish and cold,
their pink, gummy mouths demanding, demanding.
And my breasts were frozen roses,
too iced to feed their tiny need.

Snowflakes trembled like butterflies blown from the Arctic
or the feeble flutter of a failing foetal heartbeat.
The town became a barren expanse of white:
cold crystals drifting, acres of snow-diamond light.
But shops shimmered with heat, bulged bauble-gaudy

with the fatness of consumerism.
And I was reed-slender, my womb a hollowed-out tomb.
Everywhere, babies bloomed, precious as poinsettias;
mouths like petals, squirmy with hungry red cries and squalls,
echoing, echoing, as I squinted into the white squall.

And a ribbon of milk unloosed itself silently,
sudden and scalding, like a fountaining of tears;
a lacework trace soaking my shimmer thread sweater dress;
a single, small, white thaw as I silently unravelled,
stumbling through streets that spooled like silver yarn -

that December.





9/11/2013

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

A Child's Prayer

Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares down the darkened hall.
A solitary line of pink light sneaks through a crack in the door.
Fighting tears hanging loosely in my eyes, I listen.
 
“Please tell daddy that I love him and miss him.”
It has been two months since he died. Long, hard months.
“Keep him safe.”
His smell still lingers on his clothes in the closet.
“and bless mommy to be happy…”
How can I be happy, or even smile, when all I want is to be numb?
The tears burn in my eyes, but I can’t cry, or I might never stop.
“so that she will play with me like she used to”
I can scarcely recall the last time I was able to focus; to give her all my attention.
“help her to forgive me,”
Oh sweet baby, it’s I who needs your forgiveness.
“help her to love me again, even though sometimes I’m bad”
Oh God, is that what she thinks!?
“and please help me to find dolly so she won’t be scared tonight”
Ok, focus…just breathe.
“in Jesus name I pray, Amen.”

Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares into the room lit by a solitary pink lamp.
I sneak through the door, with tears rolling down my cheeks,
and enter with a promise, that all her prayers will get answered.

05/31/15

Submission for Prayertime Memories
Hosted by Isaiah Zerbst

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

The Task

The old screen door still welcomes me
as if it knows me, from before...
But after this...who'll pass this way?….
Will they use the rug and wipe their feet?
Erase away the grime and sleet?
 .....Or will they even care?

I feel my pulse and lungs collide
then, take a breath...and step inside
She had lived alone, the last to go
one somber dawn, in the old brownstone

No other sign her time was near
and silently, without fanfare....
death tiptoed in on hard wood floors
and took more than a glimpse of her

I've been asked to come, to clear the house
to organize, and set it right…
This all seems wrong…. 
to trespass on the throne of  life
that was softly lived, behind the gate
where thirsty roses bloom, and wait…

I hesitate….
to disturb the lace on drop leaf tables…
disgrace the quiet of the gloom
open drawers, snoop and sort, ….a pruning, 
of the good, the used, from worn and torn
My hands are able, but my heart declines..
what isn’t mine, to toss, to find, to mark, and label…

Echoes of her old straw broom
still follow me through every room, 
while dust motes in the window light
are like glitter in the afternoon…
Where is the charm that used to be
where cozy logs had offered light
keeping the long nights warm?

The whirling sound of winds outside… 
whispered breaths of weaving looms
old treadled sounds of sewing hems..
peddled feet, and bustling, rustling
and those of clattering pans and potting blooms…

There are questions I want to ask
tho’ I can’t recall just what they were
no matter now….with no one here
I must be focused….on my task…
it must be done…

And now, …as doors of dark close in
I see, somehow, that fate has planned….
I am glad that I, with my two hands…
have witnessed with a smile within,
this cherished life, until the end

Within four walls, I hold it all
and now I know, what mattered most
Her life is held in loving hands

I stand here in the halls of night
content, I'll leave without regret
companioned by a day well spent…

                    I've been within …her company
     


....................................................................................................................

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

My Turn To Cry

I’ve distanced myself
I didn’t mean to
Didn’t set out to do it
An unconscious act of the mind 
For self preservation

My visits went to once a week
Sunday dinners that once lasted for hours
Became shorter and shorter
Until now its get in
Get it cooked
Clean it up 
Visit
And we’re out

Occasionally circumstances would
Happen and one would be missed
Oh well I’ll go during the week
Sometimes I did
Sometimes I didn’t
Today my heart cried to be near you

I entered the home and immediately
Settled my mood into the atmosphere
Funeral home-esque for lack of a better description
I speak in hushed tones
Slow my movements
And quiet my spirit

You want something
Oh thank you give me a job
What do you need???? Anything
I’ll gladly do anything

So many things hurt you now
You who were so tough reduced to such pain
Questions, answers, questions, answers
Over and over and over
This is the part I know
I’ve practiced this so many times before

You speak and in mid sentence you cry
Have I seen my sister,,you can’t remember 
Ever seeing my sister, have you seen her
Yes mom remember mom
My answers are calm
Almost rehearsed
Repeated
Sterile

You look searching in my eyes
Yours, sunken, confused,
Pained, with a depth of sadness
I haven’t seen before
I look away.

I meet all the needs you’ve asked of me
I pat you, hug you, pray with you
I look at my brother, the saint
He’s tired, worn, sad
 
I leave, I’m OUT
I drive
How’d I get here
How long have I been driving
The sky so desperately gray
Muted tones of nothingness
The air feels so heavy
Like a shroud encompassing me
Choking me

The river runs beside me
It rages from the wind
There’s no stopping its power
It’s dark and gloomy and brown
And suits my mood

I try to pray
HOW DO I PRAY
Do I pray for healing,
Health, life, death
Joy, maybe peace

I cry out to you
I DON’T KNOW HOW TO PRAY
I look to the sky and see
The smallest spot of the most beautiful sapphire blue
In a sea of nothing
And I cry

Copyright © Laurie Ginn | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

After The Abortion

Another would-be life slips down a hospital sluice -
a mangled tangle of tissue, a broken bouquet of limb buds.
Carmine carnage reduced to simplistic statistic.
But these hospitals are blanched mausoleum-white,
operating slabs are sarcophagi, stirruped legs are strung high

and a scarlet slurry seeps from between splayed thighs.
Death-pimp doctors are gloved and gowned, loom grandiose,
assume arrogance and surgical masks of indifference.
Feminine thought frisks to freedom now:
the biannual foreign holiday, career climbing and the company car.

Birth is an inconvenient blip on the social calendar.
Huddled horror-mute before my Philips flatscreen last night,
peering through the fretwork of my fingers,
a sickening frisson shivered through me; vertiginous waves
breaking on my body's shore, faintness flooding my head.

Today I cannot elude my abhorrence;
it overshadows me, obliterates former complacency.
Tonight people will be on the pull in club-clotted towns,
and bedsprings will squeak a soulless sound
as more life is made to be taken.

Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

Broken promises

Do you remember the first time we held hands,
you said you would never let go..
Remember when our eyes first connected,
you said you would never look at another..

Remember when our lips first kissed,
you said they would never touch another..
Remember when we first made love,
a tear rolled down your eye, you promised it would be us forever..

Remember when I said goodbye,
you said come back soon, you would wait forever..
Remember when you received my letters from the front line,
you promised you were still waiting..

Remember when you broke all your promises,
when I returned you were no longer present...
Remember when you first heard of my death,
did you stop for a moment to ask yourself why?

Remember when you saw my coffin go by,
did you ever visit the broken hearted soldier's grave..
Remember when you passed every flower shop,
did you think about laying flowers on my resting place..

You need to remember or my ghost will haunt you forever,
I'm knocking on heavens door, but they don't let me in..
Whoever said love doesn't hurt, never lost their beloved,
so, please remember, so I too can say goodbye..

Silent One. 12 August 2015.

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Fields Of Lilies -A Poet Destroyer Collaboration

Fields Of Lilies ~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~ I stand tall among the restful souls That has received restored innocence after death With a trumpet of harmony sweet fragrant bloom Drowning in tears that have been shed Soil sprinkled over me after I’m forced away ~ Loosen soil waiting to heal, Seductive scents sing throughout spring --before the frost of forgetfulness Hand carried beautifully before the bells ring A variety of fragrances, bewitch the afternoon From bulbs to everlasting fields of empty promises , ~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~ & Poet Destroyer 8/5/2015
Thank you for the privilege in the collaboration Your words are so beautiful and profound

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

These ribbons I tie as you leave

Blue – 
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.

Red – 
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
evaporating 
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.


Orange – 
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
Iridium. 
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone. 

Green – 
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs 
like dandelion seeds blown from 
My wistful lips when I was 
eleven 
waiting for them to bring back my wish.

Black – 
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from 
your father’s funeral.  

It was the only time I watched you cry.

There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through 
their watery colored reflections.


Pink – 
for the way your skin repels from my 
Touch, quivers as though my finger- 
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.

Purple – 
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss. 

You left her waitng..always.

I have been special to you,
she replies to your
overtures.

Her letters 
Who blush
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.

White – 
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.

They spit 
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.

My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.

We will divide our booty

Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold 
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.

Grey- 
for the morning 
now knocking on my window.

I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
in
the tangle of these vacant sheets. 



Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse | |

If I Cry

If I cry
It must be the memory
Of a skirt unlifted by a gust
To still a boy's misery 
And wipe my eyes dry
Of tears
For the way time sears
Us like flowers
And reaped my mother 
Before I was ready to let her go.

If I cry
I cry for days she sheltered me
From a child's web of fallacy
And put her spittle on my knee
Where bruised flesh 
Was a boy's view of tragedy.
I would press my face
Against her dress
And feared no goliath
Or loneliness.

If I cry
I cry for evenings on the porch
When she gathered us
Our feet white with blowing dust
And hunger like a miner
Drilling us
We had so little to eat some days
But she with prayers picked fruits
Of heaven's mercy
And we thankful ate together
And heard her ancient anecdotes
Of ancestors' exploits that floats
Still upon a manhood sky.

If I cry
I cry that mothers' days are meaningless
When the sight of flowers
Are frail veils upon a grave
And the customized Christmas cards
Will not sparkle her eyes
Just before the kiss upon my cheek
Honoring me for faithfulness
And knowing her love measures more
More than a day
More than the years that sums earth's decay.

If I cry
I cry for the love of my mother
For the woman and life giver
For God to bring
Order to this unruly thing
That spoons our purpose to a cup
Swallow us
Before the dusk with each sup
Of time, diminishing us
I cry for faith to hold my trust
Against the agony of loss
Death is a demonic disgust
That makes me long
To substitute all tears for angels song.

If I cry
Preserved my hope with brine of eye
To live again
Without death or pain
And run with my mother
Through the clapping ovation of summer rain.

Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Regret

                                     
I was the object of your affection,
Useful for a time;
Lost in the ritual of loving
The man I thought you were.
How much of me did I give you
In the gardens that tumbled over the wall?
In the home that was your castle
Where the inner layers of my being
Lay exposed, vulnerable and imperfect?

You took all that filled your own need
And left me devalued in humiliating silence
While you manipulated your scraps of power.
Your love was the fantasy of possessing
All that gives your existence meaning;
Your illusions trampled the passion
Tenderness and trust that was yours alone.                                              

With what do you fill the hollow inner spaces
Of your being?  Hiding behind the mask of greed;
Unwilling or unable to grasp the anguish 
Of those who bear the consequence
Of your flawed decisions.
Those who have no choice; the victims
That get in the way of your eagerness
To continue your dance
With the harlots of commerce.

And I am alone,
With the whispers of deprivation and denial.
Processing the pain of what I am
Who I was and what I might become
Between the no longer and the not yet,
Can I run fast enough to be me again
In this world where the mirage of being
Becomes ever more elusive?

Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

What the Eyes Cannot See


Kyoko walks alone in the morning tide, 
comforted for a fleeting moment by salty air.
She feels the same sand between her toes 
as when she was a barefoot little girl, in a time
she felt safe, when the eyes of her mother protected her 
like a suit of armor - before the mighty wall of water, 
the “harbor wave”, towered over her village 
near Fukushima, washing her happy childhood away. 
Her dear mother, her security, her everything
never came home that day. 

Many months later, her father, a local fisherman, 
has lost his ability to cry, laugh or tell her why.
His silent eyes, cold as frost, are dead 
like the poisoned fish he nets every morning. 
In many ways, Kyoko lost both of her parents 
on that haunting day - forced to grow up long before 
the water receded, before the nuclear leak, 
before this new, austere existence.

Night deepens the despair. She is loneliest 
when darkness invades. She prays for the crickets 
return. They no longer sing her to sleep, and the stars
have faded, no longer shining through her open window.
Even the grasshoppers have died…
from restless sleep, night calls her to the mirror 
to find her mother’s dark eyes staring back at her – 
a curse she hopes will one day become a blessing,
a hope that one day her father will look at her again...

With tomorrow, her greatest burden will return. 
She will wake along side the broken-winged butterfly
with her duties in mind. Then, she’ll wear her stoic face 
to the marketplace. Father says he will soon lose 
his fishing boat. She has heard visitors from the city say 
only a fool would eat the fish from nearby waters, 
the same fish she fries most every day. No one knows
the global impact, they say. She hears foreign words
like radiation, disease and mutation while she sells 
the shiso and wasabi root from their garden stand,
feeling fear she does not fully understand but one day will.
She only knows how to survive today…


For Debbie Guzzi's Global Poetry Contest, 11/19/14      

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

My weakness

        GOD

Wondrous of many blessings.
Smiling never a frown.
My prayers, Lord, are  suddenly being ignored.
I've taken a tumble of  fallen down
Lord, my life was plain and simple  
How did it come to this?
Lord, now I carry a  burden so deep
A torn up life not easy to fix
Hard to get my prayers before I sleep
Bleeding only internally!
Feeling very minutely!
God, have you deserted me or is it me who deserted you?

God, my Lord, my savior, how could you abandon me?
Must I drown in my own sorrow?
Must I wake up like this today and tomorrow.
Why have you left me, or is it me who left you?

God, I need you like never before.
When I wake up,
When I head out the door.
Tormented in a mood ring of stock
Heavily my tears hit the floor.
God, do you not feel me, or is it me who no longer feel you?

God, what is your plan for me?
What things did I not see?
I asked for you to forgive me in my ways of sin.
Why do you let him provoke me?
Lord, I forbid for him to win.
Relieve me from his gutless pain.
God, do you not believe me, or is it me who no longer believe in you?

God, do you not hear my call
My pitiful excuses make me weak and small
In your eyes, I no longer feel tall
I remain cursed in every single fall
Lord, only you can break this wall
Do you not see me on my knees
Must I beg and crawl?
I am at your mercy, crying out with grief
Open the path to the lighted hall
O' Lord, the day you judge me before your throne
Please tell me it was a lesson for me to stand up on my own
God for now I will end this talk
With the dignity to never look back
I ask if you were there on my endless journey of a relentless walk?

By:PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

A Love Story

The girl is an ultra-modern scholar, 
Belongs with an upper-middle class family. 
Looking very nice, smart, gets angry suddenly. 
She reads M.A in English at Presidency University. 
She is assimilating to the ideas of Shakespeare, 
Shelley, Keats, Neruda, Byron...
Fluently speaks English, loves cricket. 
Shoulders are shaken by expression.
She cries alone, laughs with everyone....

The girl is very good.

The boy is a post-modern educated son of a lower-middle class family.
He studies M.A in Bengali at Calcutta University.
He is assimilating to the routes of Vaishnab literature,
Ideas of Bharatchandra, Rabindranath Tagore, Nazrul, Jibanananda...
Writes poems, sings song, loves football.
He walks on the high-street and observes people.
He laughs alone, listens to everyone...

The boy is very good.


They are attracted by the opposite personality!
The  girl wants that her lover will be a modern man.
The boy thinks that his lover will become as the mind of his. 
 
They are changing silently
Losing individuality.

Time flows.
Love goes to another address... 

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA

Copyright © Sandip Goswami | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

winter (do not forget among the loss of flowers) me

winter
do not forget among the loss of flowers
me
beneath your death of snow

do not forget that bird of sun
the trees gave down there bending branches
to light the grass where love made little flowers

do not forget my love
the lights most fragile gift the sky
bowed low to give a blushing praise
to the joyful dance of star and moon

do not forget the nesting hope of spring
the freed sparrow of your fingers
the silence more deep then words

remember me in the summerless field
the slender moment bereft of rain
before life and you became

Copyright © orphani ..........o | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Under the Willow Trees

A path strewn thick with rusty leaves led to nowhere and everywhere in our fantasies, rescuing us from after school chores and homework pages wrinkled in time; a memory come and gone returns to me. Back home, under a row of willow trees, I weep for my childhood friend, for the innocence lost, I thought I could keep, for the faded line between joy and pain that suddenly comes with age; I close moist eyes to see you dancing in rain showers and climbing up rays of sunlight, imagination uncaged; running carefree for hours - just us, two, whether skies were shades of gray or blue. We said forever, a pinky swear I remember, naïve in our make-believe world. How many years passed by, distance growing between you and I? A phone call once-in-a-while became just a Christmas card once-a-year. I hope you always knew the truth, I loved you, my dear friend. Time cannot erase our laughter caught on the autumn breeze and the childhood secrets shared on that path strewn thick with rusty leaves, trodden bare each year come fall of winter snow. Our laughter now echoes in dreams, chaffing the row of willow trees still sulking low, moss brushing tears in timeless beauty, waiting for you to come home.

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

A Soul awakened

This battle brews inside me
The pain I feel in my heart ripping it apart
And my soul who wants to be redeemed

The movement of my pen beats in my chest
In my veins my words flow like the rage of rivers in storm 

I’m caught in these lyrics that Awaken my soul
That cry out for eternity 

Yet my heart is trodden
 at times I swear it is not beating

Our hearts rose up like kindred knights ready to defend our land
but the soul was fulfilling its destiny
it would not be beaten, no matter…
it had awakened to truth

but our hearts knew only torment
and could not understand
all that was happening,
that God had a plan

so my pain exposes itself
 in my thoughts manifesting to script
as it beats in my chest with a rhythmic pulse
that brings me to my knees

We had no time to prepare
Only to fight
Flailing around Hope
With all of our might

 as if it were the weapon that would save us from our enemy
for that’s all we had was our sword of Hope

This battle we were not prepared for.
Like a sneak attack, it caught us in slumber
when the army of death ascended upon our world

my heart said I love you
you are my universe and life has no meaning without you
I will fight till my shallow breath abates
Till your soul takes the last blow...

And I did!
We Did!

We did not surrender
We had no chance 
Our hearts fought a losing battle

My awakened soul shouts out with acceptance…
“you will one day know the reason, but not now”
For this is your time to experience 
what was lovingly bestowed upon you from our God,
who knows what we need

So now I write from my pain… It helps me to cope…

It is the sword I carry…

My only Hope

Copyright © Bernard Colasurdo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

We Danced in the Kitchen

Hearts mangled by grief
Lost in separate mazes
Cooking a half-hearted meal
A turn of the head, a quick glance
Trembling hands reach out...
Right hand in left, a gentle waltz
to sweet soul sounds on the radio
We danced in the kitchen

Then hold-your-baby-so-tight
Hold-your-baby-so-tight-crying-song
Swaying to Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes
'If you don't know me by now'...
Tear-soaked necks and shoulders
Melting into each other
Melting and blending into one
We danced in the kitchen

Oh how we danced
How we danced to the moon
How we danced to the dawn
How we danced in the kitchen

Sweet Jesus let it be so
Let it be so again
Let the music play on
Let us dance one last song
Let us waltz one last waltz
Let us dance in the kitchen

2/24/2013






Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Our Last Kiss

A string of white pearls adorned her neckline accenting that perfect little yellow dress her silken hazel hair pulled back showing off a most angelic face she was glowing and she couldn't stop smiling I remember it like it was yesterday she was so excited meeting a friend for dinner a friend that needed a shoulder to cry on one she hadn't seen in many a long moon. The clock struck seven and it was time to go I so remember telling her to have fun and I'd see her when she got home She gave me a goodbye kiss and headed out the door How was I to know? How could anyone know? It was a kiss just like hundreds of other kisses no, not your drawn out passionate kiss no, not the I love you more than anything kiss oh how I wish it were it was a see you soon sweetheart kiss How was I to know? How could anyone know? this would be our last kiss my last remembrance the last time I could say I love you for the restaurant she went to yes it was that restaurant the one where all dreams perished where empty hearts cry where mothers and sons fathers and daughters and dreams all died

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Unfettered Words

Sometimes, there is, between the lines,
a silence, that trembles with unspoken goodbyes
Expectant and charged, like a theater scene,
in the moments before the curtains rise.

In the dream that I'm in, I am southward bound, 
so I assume it is autumn 
And it resounds through the changing season
with the words never said,  things never did
and with more forgiveness, and threads
of reason and understanding
....

Debris fills the gutters, and shades are drawn
Wild thorn-berries have been picked,
Trees are barren, naked, without a sound
Grief is thick, from the fog that was a cloud
And through limbs of questions never asked, 
each branch has stretched with some neglect
and light of sun, still filters through
holding deep regret

Leaves are adrift, as if disturbed,
littering a speachless sky
Unfettered words we never cried
clamor up against the sky
still pleading to be heard.

Leaves are crushed and swept away,
by a bridled hesitation.

No summer arias have ever been sung,
and words to say have disappeared.
Vaporized and turned to dust
Sunlight dims, and I am thrust
into the void of too many wasted years






______________________________________________

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

A Practiced Sorrow

You’re dressed in gray, and
tattered like the clouds
that hover above you.

Frozen
with the look of a person
who knows of his own
approaching death.

Like the willow that cradles 
dawn's mist of unwept tears—
a practiced sorrow,
earned from decades of watching 
the slow meandering river,
as it draws closer, 
and the banks weather and fall.

Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse | |

Time's Loving Deceit

Anger flies with swift wings
As tedious pleas for more time reverberate through his mind
He is the servant of Time- yet takes the blame
When her clawed hand unwinds the clock
He, the sovereign of the dark, the one and only truth!
Is at the front of the onslaught of screams

He moves soundlessly, a shadow in the world
Tormented whispers scattering around him
Fear spreading wildfires' shrill promise
Mercy, a withering carcass in a crude burial
He became Hope's last regret
When he became the prince of darkness,
Forgoing all he once was, and all he could have been 

When he sailed away from home, his love for Time burned
He had loved her, caressing her supple frame
Faithfully staying by her side,
And Time managed to wrap her cruel talons 
Around his frozen heart
Dwindling him down to nothing more, than abject self-loathing
And she trapped him within her bondage, for eternity
Now he wanders, over and over again in his servitude
 A trapped guardian of the dark

The fog horn groaned its complaint of “too.late”
Under darkened sea that once birthed horizon
And Hark! a maelstrom of black ink 
Behold its terrific evil and terror! 
A swirling whirlpool announcing you-have-been-fooled
And the cries of fright forever ruled
Scream in delight—“He suffers our fate…in pain we celebrate!”

He no longer looked along the swirls in terror
But was now part of its ferocious cycle
Tears mixing with the agonizing laughter
Amidst salty moans and tepid sweat
 
Soon… exhausted by the chaos… he sank into a most foggy pit
Ashamed, naked, barren of all past wit
A cowardly frame, shivering in unknown terrain
Inside a place where Time is gone….
But always looming in the brain….

As the errant fogs lift,
The grizzled trees’ feet curl in sensuous fervor of the cold
He envies e’en the trees, with heartless relish of their misty exhalations

Under shuttery breath he no longer truly breathes,     … he sighs…
Might I never reach the heights of even the mel-lowed fog? 
Shall I burn upon the dead leaves, rising only to fall?

From that day forward,
He wandered blindly
Both loving and loathing pulsing tempos of silence 

“I’m still in love…” He whispers softly. “Oh how I am in love…”
The dark that once befriended him almost smiles now…
…then why do I feel so alone?
The wind blows in almost an unnerving jeer
A cool wisp enunciating Time’s uncouth rejection
For she loved no one, yet all
Loving with a cruel wish to watch the other fall
How many has she taken, he would never know
For in shadow comes confusion and woe
—and the voices he hears do not sound of his kind
But who am I? What am I? 
A slave in Time’s forever grind…

8/30/12
A very special collaboration with Rebecca Larkin

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2014