I am old.
For so many years I have watched you.
To that little cabin you and your loved ones every summer return.
There are four a man, a woman, a boy and you.
I remember when I touched you the first time.
You were so very small when into the swollen river you fell.
I saved you with my powerful arms
My thick hair kept you warm.
To the secluded cave with a hidden hot spring I took you.
A blanket of leaves warmed you in your tired sleep.
To a spot well know I placed you the next day.
Your family rejoiced and praised an unknown savior.
Every summer I return to watch your arrival.
Your beauty has blossomed and grown every year.
Your golden hair is like a drop of sunshine of the forest floor.
Blue eyes are deep like the remote lake that no man has seen.
You found the fresh meadow flowers I placed on your step.
You saw the polished rare rocks I left there the following year
I listened in the darkness as all of you spoke around a roaring fire.
“Is there a Bigfoot?”
“Could Sasquatch be here?”
And then you looked into the darkness in my direction.
A whisper you uttered, “I know that he is.”
I have seen you when you are many, just four or now only three.
I remember 10 summers ago when just three arrived.
You, a man and a boy spread ashes in a meadow not far away.
So many tears they fell like spring rain.
As I do every summer I avoid the lookers, the seekers and the hunters.
To your beauty I return just to be still and gaze.
This is my last time you will fall under my loving stare.
Soon I will go to the hidden valley of my people to lay down for the final sleep.
I see you now with small ones of your own.
You have brought forth another generation to carry on.
I dare one final glace at your beauty so rare.
Tears on my face..I must leave you forever ...”Goodbye”
Even Bigfoot does cry.
Just moments later two children dart behind a large tree.
A giant footstep they see.
A golden hair woman of graceful beauty follows behind.
She looks and she knows.
She knows in her heart he is gone
She knows he has always been there
Into the air she whispers…”Goodbye.”
Copyright © Rob S
“Good-bye my daughter dear,” she said
As tears welled up in her eyes
“It’s time for me to go to sleep
This must be no surprise
The good Lord knows my battles
And my health is ailing still
He’s given me so many blessings
I’ve passed them to you in my will
I’m sad to say good-bye
For we have shared much joy
Remember me to Sarah
My grandchild I love and enjoy
I love you my daughter
These years together have been sweet
I’m so glad you love the Lord
And again we will meet
I’m not afraid of dying
‘Cause I know that in a while
Christ will call me from my grave
I feel my life has been worthwhile
For I taught you to seek your Father
To help you through every trial
He’ll always be there to guide you
With never a denial
I leave you in His hands”, she said
As she gently kissed her daughter’s hand
Her eyes closed very slowly
Against cancer she’d lost her stand
She’d been a wonderful mother
Teacher and true friend
Faithful to her Lord
And gracious to the end.
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2007-2012
Copyright © MAUREEN LEFANUE
Waving limply, she brushed windswept long strands of shiny black hair from her face. He could see a tear hugging the corner of her eye refusing to fall into the emptiness of parting.
In an instant he realized how much she loved him. At that very moment the Jitney driver sped away from the curb. Regret shadowed his heart as he boarded his freedom bird. By the time he crossed the oceans, regret formed a scar on his soul.
As the old man lay dying, he pondered his young soldier days in the Far East. A tear hugged the corner of his eye, refusing to fall into the emptiness of parting.
Copyright © John Wulf
The last time I took Pop to the big lake, the wind was so strong,
it nearly blew his wheelchair over, I knew just where to stop...
at the top of the hill, the windiest place!
I left him alone, he just looked out on the lake unblinking,
rewinding moments, that made him who he was.
In days past.....
He told me the story of his best friend in high-school, who wanted
Dad to go along with him duck-hunting on that sunny, warm morning in fall...
1940, Dad had promised my Mom (not yet married!) he would go with her
on a picnic in the bluffs along the Mississippi.... so he declined.
From sunshine and 70... to freezing white-out conditions up and down the river,
many lives were lost that day, including my Pop's best friend....
the Great Armistice Day Storm lived on in Pop's heart...
Dad went to his friend's funeral.
Or the time.....
Dad took my Grandpa (Mom's Dad) on the first vacation he had
ever been on! Grandpa worked until he died...... the Company
he worked for had tricked him, letting him work 29yrs. 11 months,
and 28 days, then firing him two days before his pension would kick-in.
Pop took him fishin' for the first time in his life! bought him a straw fishin' hat too!
Dad kept baitin' his hook and Grandpa caught 6-fish before Dad could cast a line!....
Pop called him 6-fish Bumford after that! and us kids weren't allowed to touch
Grandpa's straw-hat from that fishin' trip..... Dad kept it on a hook in his work-room
in the basement, with the words "Six Fish Bumford...My Best Friend"
scrawled under it on the wall (I still have it)
In a while, I knew it was time to bring him back......he had finished
looking out on his life....
.......he was ready to go
Copyright © James Marshall Goff
I seen your face
I felt your embrace
And it just wasn't the same
I finally walked away without lookin' back to call out your name
Once you were my best friend
Once I swore I'd be yours to the end
But I guess its time to say goodbye
Many of times you have clipped my wings but now its time for me to fly
I still remember all the drunken fights
I still remember all the sad lonely nights
It was constant infedlity
My only prayer was to be set free
Thats not a place a girl can call home
Life is better when I'm out on my own
Sleepin' in alleys, living off dumpster buffets, and seeking dope
Stealing and lying is no longer my only hope
I won't fall for what you have to say
I refuse to cry for you today
I have come so far and moved onto something more
Life is better than ever before
But I guess its time to say goodbye
Many of times you have clipped my wings but now its time for me to fly
Copyright © Sara Beaderstadt
The day’s hot-the wind like a convection oven
Blows hot air in our faces.
My cap and gown insulates me
Baking me like a potato wrapped in aluminum foil
I desperately fan myself and look around
My eyes search for my peers and see;
The bros that survived school with me;
The others who shouldn't have;
The girls with memories already wet in their eyes;
The people I never met and will never know;
All desperately fanning themselves
In silence and in waiting.
We all are waiting for the same thing-
What's next to come.
For some it will be their names
For another a trip to boot camp
For many including myself- college
A couple can't wait to forget the tortures of high school
And a few will already be planning our high school reunion
because it was the best years of their life.
As I bow my head, not out of sadness,
but out of sheer defeat by the sun,
I scuff up my dress shoes in the clumpy grass of the field-
that just finished another infamous drawn out lacrosse season,
I'll be thinking about the 4 plus years, 8 seasons,
worth of drilling and conditioning I did in that very field and on the surrounding track,
With a flash of ivory across my sweating face
I'll be thinking about
All the nooks and crannies
that I sanctioned for the intimate meetings of my girlfriends
The times caught and not,
All the heartbreaks and rejections,
The friends made, the best friends kept, and the many lost.
The drama, stupidity, and immaturity,
Everything that was and used to be.
And, all this time spent waiting-preparing
for this one moment
You can't help but remember it all
And with one, final sweet goodby-
Copyright © Nicholas Bello
You do not stand alone in your Battle
Your battle is our Battle
We may not be there in body
But we are there with you in Spirit
We are there in every beat of your Heart
In every whisper of the wind
In every thought and every touch
Every breath and every sound
We are there with you
You are wrapped in an Endless chain of Love
In every link we each send you a part of us
We send you some of our Strength
Some of our will to Fight
Some of our Courage
The most important of them all
We send you all of our Love
If you feel you need more
Just give that Endless chain a little tug
And we'll be there
Tug til you need us no more
Then we'll know you've gone Home
5/09/2014 Dedicated to my Aunt Nini, Wilma Thomas Gamble for Mother's Day. Sadly she lost her Battle w/ Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer on 5/30/2014.
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel
He had replied.
Eagerly she dug
From her pocket,
Her other hand
On the wheel.
Her gaze remained ahead
Into the darkness
Of the cold wintery night.
It buzzed again,
The screen illuminating
The shadows of the car.
Would he be there?
Would he come over
After his shift at work
“What did he say?”
Another young voice replied.
“Give me the phone.”
Not fully trusting
She wanted to know.
She wanted to see the words.
She wanted feel
Of reading his words
She glanced down,
The screen now dark,
To press the keys.
“He’s coming,” she said
Trying to calm
In her voice.
Her heart beat harder.
How did she look?
What should she reply?
Gr8 C U L8T
In the same 2 seconds, she could have typed
Copyright © Rachel Kovacs
You have lighted up my world..
Now you're the one I am dreaming of
Dont you know,
I can sit here forever,
Just looking into your eyes?
The things I see there
Always take me by surprise
but I don't see you coming...
I see you standing there;
so close but still barely out of reach;
I want to be closer to you,
so I'm on my way...
I will be missing you
I will be missing the places we used to know..
wish i could carry you with me
I hope I make you a little happy too
I am not saying goodbye
I know I'll see you again
I would be crying in that strange city
and you wouldnt be there..
but I will carry on..
6.22.11 (my goodbye poem before I boarded the plane)
Copyright © Jeinara Odonio
If President Obama wants to release
all of the terrorists still incarcerated
at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba in a quick
and safe manner, just throw the creeps
into the Gulf Of Mexico and let the sharks
eat their sorry asses. These rat bastards
lived totally worthless lives and for them to
end up as shark turds at the bottom of the sea
will not only make the world a safer place
in which to live but as an added bonus,
the President will get brownie points galore
from the animal rights groups. If there ever
was a win-win situation, this is surely it.
by Jerry L Stevenson
Copyright © Jerry Stevenson
it was already dark outside
silence had totally ruined the night
only my lampshade in my room was at my side
trying to comfort me in all my sorrows and trembling fear inside
as soft tick-tocks of the clock were heard
my heartbeat increased its rate
I asked, “Are they reckoning that few time for him has already been left?”
I began to feel, I was already in abyss of despair
the phone had rung for the second time
my mom and aunt once again were at the other end of the line
thunder storms blasted followed by a torrent of rain
when they asked me to talk to my dad to finally say goodbye to him
I tried to talk to him but he could no longer answer me
despite the silence at the other end
I didn’t stop begging him
I cried and cried out so hard
as the darkest moment started creeping through my veins
until my aunt answered the phone in lieu of him
begging me back to let him go, so as to release him from all the pains
to say the word goodbye to my dearest dad
was the hardest thing to do in my whole life
it had totally broken my heart and seemed as if I was losing my mind
so, I kept crying out and begging him to fight
he’s miles away and I couldn’t just reach him out or to be right there on his
I knew he can hear me, so I kept reminding him
about what I’ve promised when I went back home
to spend a short time and took care of him
I’d promised that I’ll fly right back home after my work
to take care of him again and walk him out of the door
together we supposed to walk around our house with his arms on my
my aunt begged me for the last time to finally free him
it was against my will but I decided to do what was best for him
when he was finally gone, I unconsciously screamed
alone in my room miles away from home, I was in deep pain
I felt like I was totally engulfed by the darkest of the night
I rolled my body on bed, crying out loud and hugging my pillows so tight
wishing someone had to put me into trance, so I closed my eyes
while in prayer, I imagined him waving goodbye
as he finally went up there through the brightest light
©2013by Leonora Galinta
Contest: New Poem
Poet Sponsor: Poet Linda/PD
Copyright © Leonora Galinta
Fear is my pain alone.
Death is what you wished,
so now let me go.
In my remorse I am scared no more.
For this pain and fear is all I have,
left to show.
When you bury me let go,
of what love and hate,
you have left to show.
For Fear and Pain is what you deserve.
No longer in my remorse.
Copyright © Tanner Anderson
Although you never knew it,my LOVE was always there;there were many who did tell you,I
was a son who didn't care.But lifes a funny journey,some parts are good and bad;your
passing without warning,has truly left me sad.I'll pray to God to give you,all the LOVE you
hadn't here,lets hope we meet in HEAVEN......so I'll see you MOTHER Dear. ~ Princefreakasso
Your broken hearted son PRINCE!
Mother decided to die without saying goodbye,didn't give me the opportunity;to shed a single
tear or cry.
My mother passed away a short while back and I was too late for her funeral.Just got to put
some flowers and light some candles at her grave.Let's hope the good Lord blesses and
keeps her until we meet again.
Copyright © Prince Freakasso
I saw your pain compressed in
Tourniquets and plungers.
Memories condensed to tears.
Cooling your hand holding bottles.
Dripping in puddles that flowed,
With white wind down glass tubes.
When you pressed for it,
I asked you;
Why you wanted too
So badly –
Maybe you did not hear me.
Then I asked -
For the attention?
But you were done talking.
“The affection is still free”.
I should try not to waste sentences.
At the hour of mid morning,
I remembered when I first saw you.
Walking up the sidewalk,
And I thought to myself:
Yes, I would - So I did.
Smiling ghosts made perfect faces,
Dancing off cigarettes on my front porch..
Yours ran to catch you.
As I watched with mine,
You walking home.
I pass a year and you in a store,
I heard you don’t cry the same,
Not like you used to.
You looked happy - I guess,
Or maybe it was, I hope you are.
Copyright © rob carmack
In memory of Bob
A true story.
It was in spring of two thousand when I first saw Bob. I’d just started working at Perth Dental hospital, and in fact it was my first day there. I walked up to the front door of this building, but it wasn’t yet opened. So I turned around and went to sit in the bus shelter which was just outside the building. As I went to sit down I noted a dark skinned gentleman sitting there with a happy, benign look on his face. He was about five feet eight give or take a little, and he was rather a thickset man who looked like he’d done his fair share of hard work in his sixty years or more.
There was something about this Gentleman that I could not quite put my finger on. He had a certain charisma about him; not the phony kind of charisma that one seen in the car salesman or the philanderer who messes with women’s heads, no, Bob had a kind of friendly smile for everyone that he met, and he seemed to draw people into him with his love, and gigantic heart. I knew as soon as I met him that Bob was most definitely for me.
As Bob looked at me and smiled, the whole world seemed to open up. He said “Ow ya going mate” in a loud ebullient manner, then we started to chat. Bob was like myself, a thinker, and straight away we started philosophizing about this, that, and the other, and it was like we had known each other forever. Then all of a sudden I found Bob talking about death, and the difference in the way the Maori people faced death, compared to the rather the silly way us white folk look at the subject with great fear in our hearts. Now this had always interested me, and somehow it just seemed natural to talk to this Maori gentlemen on this subject, and we spoke about it till the doors opened and it was time to work.
I don’t think anything happens just by chance, and I definitely have this feeling that Bob and I were meant to meet, and I really think this was a major destiny thing. I have found during the course of my life, that as I am aging, I can feel something pushing me into a certain direction, and I always felt that Bob was part of all this; and I had much to learn from him. Although I have never believed in organized religion, and never followed one I have always felt deeply spiritual, and I have met many people who I learned from, and Bob was most definitely one of them with all his great wisdom and patience. As I came to know Bob, we had many dialogues together, on many subjects. Bob used to love music and could always have time to plonk away on his guitar. He used to come round to my place and we would play songs together, though both he and I were no Eric Clapton’s, I would bang around on my guitar and play the harp, while we would both take out turns at singing. We’d have a smoke or a beer or two, and we’d play songs all day long, ahhh, I remember those days well, the memories are so strong.
Bob was one hell of a man, I could tell that he had been a wild one in his youth,
But when I knew him in his sixties he was an icon of wisdom and virtue; he had a kind word for everyone, and gave all his time to anybody who needed him, always.
He used to hear me waffling on like an idiot, trying to make him like me [as I always did] but never once did he tell me how foolish I was, he would just smile knowingly at me. He used to stand there at the window for hours, just drinking in the trees, or the clouds in the sky, and yet he was so aware, I used to try to sneak up on him; it couldn’t be done. His awareness was incredible.
Then one day Bob fell ill with terminal cancer, and he knew that he had very little time left on this Earth. He lay there sick for days in intolerable pain, but you never heard one complaint from him, even when he only had days to live, he was still worrying about the welfare of others. When the day finally come for Bob to leave his shell; he was lying there in deep sleep, when all of a sudden he woke up, with a smile on his face. His children asked him ‘Dad, do you want some pain killers” Bob laughed, compassion written all over his face, and he said to them ‘Not one of you has a clue, have you’ and he died with a big smile on his face.
His daughter got in touch with me, and told me about his death, and also told me that his last wish was to have me watch his soul leave his body. I felt very honored about this and went and sat with his body [as Maoris do]. I got the most peaceful feeling come to me [which I presume was his spirit leaving his body] as I watched his silent body, a Mari war stick and a beautiful rose lay across his chest. I still see it, and I feel blessed by it. He was my Maori warrior, and I adored the man.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
It was a bright morning,
He sat on the bed rubbing his eyes to draw the curtains apart.
The place next to him in the bed was empty,
As the jewellery box without the jewels.
She was gone, for now and forever,
Not coming ever again, he new.
He closed his eyes to pray for his beloved as a tear,
Rolled down his cheek,
He wanted to ask God but had promised himself he wouldn't ever do that,
Why people cheat, why do they change? Why do they leave?
Those cuddling moments, all the fun moments,
All those priceless handmade gifts,
Didn't they mean even a thing?
Even tears don't fall down now,
Eyes don't get wet, mind doesn't get numb,
With her thoughts, letting her go was the only resort.
He knows he loves her, always will,
She is married now,
And now even he has bowed to the destiny.
He wishes, the best for her
Forever and Always.
Copyright © Sanyukta Sharma
Theres a very simple thing in life, and its called love. Love conquers all. Love has conquered me, finally. Conquered me by knowing, feeling, living unconditional love.
Born into love, live it, breathe it, fall in love, fall out of love, love has conquered you.
I thought my love for you conquered the love you didn’t have for yourself or the love you thought did not exist. And briefly it was there. My love has been twisted, abused, assaulted and antagonised. I thought this was to my detriment, but it is to my growth.
My love, my truth, my honesty has been distorted beyond recognition where by I no longer recognise you.
This is where I jump ship and leave you with the memory, memories that are.
Ups and down, in and outs, I have set sail for whatever comes my way.
Love is not measurable, love is not sex, love is not man or woman or love for one or other. Love is love. Love is knowing.
This is not love, any more. So saddens me to say.
Copyright © Paul Dollard
After waving his hand
to his beloved, a sailor gets into
the ship and prepares for
sailing across the deep, blue waters
Little does he know a flood
of tears are stinging the eyes
of his lover, wondering whether
he will still remain her husband,
or will become the ocean’s husband,
after drowning to her belly
Storms roaring with rage
every now and then,
she doesn’t see any wage
as a reason for her lover
to go and hunt a rogue whale
that capsizes ships
“Goodbye”, she faintly whispers,
as the ship sets for sail.....
with her other piece of joy
Theme of: Write me sad
Copyright © Teddy Kimathi
Many years have passed on by, since the 'happening' on that night.
A time before the Bigfoot scare was causing worldwide fright.
A sluggish eve and very warm, but simply summer fare.
I left the curtains open to let in the cool night air.
My spouse was in the land of nod with me not far behind.
That feeling one gets just before, sleep makes the mind go blind.
But something caused me waken and I did so with a start.
The lump I felt within my chest, was the pounding of my heart.
For, peering through my window and up against the screen,
Was a face of neither man nor beast, but something in between.
Was I fully on my game; I think I might have fled,
But reflex overtook my fear, as I sprang from out my bed.
And in the following instant . . without reason or much grace;
I grabbed the draperies in my hands and slammed them in its face.
Next, I flew from out the room and all the lights I lit.
Sat down with heart still pounding, to ignite a cigarette.
I used my freshly wakened mind to think about the sight.
The creature need be nine feet tall to peer inside that night.
I reasoned with myself the facts, contained within the scene
And by the time my heart slowed down; I thought it was a dream.
No way could I describe him, nor for all the years to come.
But when I learned of Bigfoot; I surmised it might be one.
I kept the 'happening' to myself, so as not to scare my sons,
As summer slowly ambled on, with blaze of fall to come.
Then nearly two weeks after; I awakened in the night,
As the screaming of my oldest child, was subjected to my fright.
A face looked in his window, even though his bunk was tall.
The creature was the one I’d seen . . same face, great height and all.
My child is now a granddad with slight memory of that time;
The summer of the scary thing when he was eight or nine.
With all those years behind me; I still wonder what took place?
In the open, bedroom window, with that awful, Bigfoot face.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre
Poetry Soup has lost some of it's lustre lately
There are probably a multitude of reasons
But it matters not what the reasons are
For me personally it is no longer the fun site
It once was when I first joined
A number of my favourite people
Have disappeared for one reason or another
Personally, I've been posting less frequently
Because of health issues I've been dealing with
Nothing serious, just adjusting to some age related changes
Bottom line though is I'm thinking
That perhaps the time has arrived
For me to shut down for a while
I'm a lifetime member so at some time down the line
My name may pop up again
So it's farewell for now but not goodbye
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison
From Judges 11.
His brothers cast the young man out, the child of an harlot;
He fled away to distant Tob before they found an outlet
For anger, more than what they'd done, to fully disinherit
And drive him from his father's house, though not for foul demerit
Within himself, but all for greed- it made them hate their brother.
Now Jephthah lives his life alone, without a father, mother;
He goes about with newfound friends, considered rather shady:
At least he does not get too wild; he found himself a lady,
And has a one and only child, a daughter like her mother.
She's tall and slim, with long, black hair; as fair as any other,
And loves to dance and sing and play her timbrels with the daughters
Of the mighty men of Tob, who play their music by the waters
Of the brimming banks of Yarmuk; lovely music, song, and dancing,
In the evening, in the twilight, which is wordlessly enchanting;
So much so that all the stars come out before the sun has drifted
Below the burning desert sands, thus Nature's course has shifted
From what it was, what e'er has been his want, his call of duty,
And all to see some pretty maids who sing and dance with beauty.
The Ammonites come, bent on war, on taking land and cattle;
They'd kill the men of Gilead and claim the spoils of battle:
The land that once belonged to Sihon, which Israel gained possession,
Then Joshua allotted to the sons of Gad and Reuben.
Thus Ammon claimed what was not his, but what he thought he needed;
And Israel must be captained well, or else they'll be defeated.
The elders ride in haste to Tob, to Jephthah's lordly dwelling
To find the man who would be best and see if he is willing;
But Jephthah said, "Did you not hate me? Did you not expel me
Out of my father's house, and now you come to me and tell me
Of your need when in distress? If I by some rare providential
Act of mercy be successful, will you lay aside resentful
Ways and set me over you?" And this they would; they needed badly
A man who knew the art of war, who charged in battle madly;
So they agreed and made him captain over all the forces,
The leader of the fighting men, the officers, and horses.
Then Jephthah vowed a vow to God, he said, "If Thou wilt give me
A vict'ry over Ammon, then returning I will give Thee
Whatsoever first will greet me at the doorway of my dwelling
As an offering of fire for a savor sweet of smelling
Unto Thee." And having spoken he departed to the battle
With his whole command of soldiers, with a clash and tramp and rattle:
And they smote and killed the Ammonites until the Plain of Vineyards;
In twenty cities passing through as Jephthah drove them downwards.
The town of Mizpeh heard the news and every mouth was voicing
The praises of their leader and his soldiers with rejoicing;
Then, as they saw him from afar, the townsfolk all assembled
To cheer their hero, now their judge; but mighty Jephthah trembled,
For as he came unto his house his daughter came to meet him
With timbrels and with dances from his door she came to greet him;
Her raven tresses bouncing, and her flowing dresses swirling;
Her face alight with happiness, and glowing as she's twirling.
She smiles at her hero from the battlefront returning,
But he cannot return it for the raging storm that's churning
Inside himself, and making him so weak and sick and frightful
For his daughter, lovely daughter, blessed with grace and so delightful.
And he said, "O sweet Celena, you have cast my spirit downward,
For I've vowed a vow that's binding, and I cannot take it backward;
I have sworn to make a sacrifice of fire of whatever
First would meet me at the doorway of my house; but I had never
Thought that it should be a person, but a heifer or a doeling,
Or perhaps a dove or pigeon." Here he stopped, for tears were rolling
Down his cheeks, and rent his clothing as he stood there, crushed and grieving;
Amazed at what he'd done, and even now not quite believing
His hand must wield the wicked knife; his hand must light the fire;
His hand must end his daughter's life; his hand must build the pyre.
He stared at his offending limbs, said, "Would to God I'd lost them;"
For now he had to tell his wife how much his oath had cost them.
Then Celena, brave Celena said, "Perform what you have spoken;
For the Lord has taken vengeance and the Ammonites are broken:
Only grant me two months longer so that I and my companions
May bewail my virgin state among the mountains and the canyons."
One word was all that he could say, the one word, "Go," and held her
A moment to his bosom as his teary eyes beheld her;
A chain of gold about her neck, dress gay with colored sashes;
A tremble in her ruby lips, a teardrop in her lashes.
Then turning from her father, to the wilderness she stumbled;
Her eyes so filled with tears that down the road she tripped and tumbled,
And lay a while in the deep, deep dust that rose above her;
Then stripped her golden necklace, one gold ring and then the other
And threw them from her to be swallowed by the dusty powder:
"What good is gold?" she softly mumbled, crying ever louder.
Retreating to the lonely cliffs, the desert's jagged mountains,
Where desolation reigns enthroned, except for by the fountains
And streams that bring a thread of life, that ever downward trailing
Flows by the place where seven maidens gather as they're wailing
The loss of faithful friend, the favored, beautiful Celena,
Who would not flee, but e'er would be the dutiful Celena,
Submitting to her father's vow, though leading to her dying.
The place that used to ring with song and laughter fills with crying;
And music now is sighing of the maids and lonesome whispers
Of the wind. And those who danced are aimless wanderers and drifters,
Seldom speaking: consolation is but vain when 'tis imparted
To a soul whose days are numbered when its life has barely started.
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst
I still remember that day,
Now almost four years ago
Christmas morning at 06H30...
My birthday, a day of celebration –
One of joy, just like that with one phone call
You left me behind,
Tears and disbelief…
Our last conversation, a vivid memory
I remember asking, “Gummie what are you
getting me for my birthday this year”
All you answered were, “it’s a surprise”
I don’t think that is what you had in mind
But it happened, unplanned…
God saw it fit to take you away that day…
It felt like I was dreaming
That I would wake up and you would be in front of me,
That never happened…
Until today, I will never forget the last time I saw you.
That smile without words,
A smile that was also our goodbye.
I never made it to your funeral
But I know every Christmas,
You are there,
still smiling, the difference is
you are no longer in pain…
Name: Wilma Neels
Contest: Your "Saddest" Christmas Ever
Sponsor: Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Copyright © Wilma Neels
i remember like its yesterday when we first met.
Second Sunday of the cold July
few days to my parents anniversary.
you said,"Hi am Erick and I would love to know you!"
We exchanged numbers
we shared photos of places we been to
day till the wee hours of the morning
we would talk tirelessly.
there is no stone we didn't turn.
We did not always share same view
but always we agreed to disagree.
You kept saying, "I have found my match!"
We clicked so well!
The connection was undeniable.
Then that weekend you left for fishing in Ireland
we hardly talked
i was so miserable.
I remember thinking,"am falling in love with this man!"
That Sunday when you got a connection in London
the first words you said when were
"I have a feeling there is a big fight awaiting."
Though that was our first fight
it was the day we found our center.
It has been so amazing ever since.
We have had our heavenly moment
Skype can tell you that.
We have had our share of pain too
Whatsapp can testify.
Our major break up on your birthday last year
The down time we both went through
beginning of this year...
our friendship and our love remains a constant force.
Atleast not until lately when all the crude fighting began.
You say i blame you all the time
that am playing hard ball
trying to push you away
that i do not trust you.
But you been the one changing the game.
I understand your life is speeding up
but you forget the results of that on us.
Beyond chasing contracts and making millions
you forgot there is a bride back home
in need of your quality time.
You said you had thought of it hard enough
and it is better that we break up.
I deserve better you said
we are not happy anymore.
Obviously you have a point.
We are not happy as we need to.
I think i idolize you too much that i forget you human
in need of my affection as much as i need yours.
But you also forgot your duty
to silence my insecurities with reassurance and tenderness
like you used to.
Four days and five nights still i wait
that you have not given up on us.
But the silence remains.
En zo mijn lifde (and so my love
ik hou van je (i do love you
ik can romans schrijven over ons (i can write novels about us
ik zal waarschijnlijk een Mills&Boon versie van ons schrijven (I will probably write a Mills&Boon version of us
als dit is waar onze altijd eindigt (if this is where our forever ends
dan will ik dat je weet (then i want you to know
HET IS EEN MOOI LEVEN AAN UR ZIJDE GEWEEST.(IT HAS BEEN A BEAUTIFUL LIFETIME BY YOUR SIDE)
should you decide to change your mind
you can come back anytime
but like yourself
i too will need a few days to figure out things.
when we vowed for better or worse
you should have known that this is one of such ugly times.
You should have never left.
Goodbye my love.
Or is it?
Copyright © PENINNAH NGANGA
Please forgive me for what I've done.
Take away these lies and promises that I couldn't keep.
Dig a grave, where I will forever sleep.
Take away these memories there no good to me.
Let it burn through my skin to bone.
Take away this love that I yield no more.
Let my ashes burn deep to the pores.
Take away what's left of me.
And let my mistakes pass on.
Copyright © Tanner Anderson
His walk into town would prove fateful that day,
As his mind wandered idly while finding his way.
His footsteps were brisk like fall chill in the air,
Past Wellington Gate, south of Denby town square.
He paused for a time as the hearse passed him by.
Its dark, somber outline contrasting the sky.
Stood still as it turned in through Wellington Gate,
Down this last dusty byway of sorrow and fate.
A pair of dark geldings, black plumes on their heads.
Seemed subdued in their manner while carrying the dead.
Their hooves beat dull thuds on the cold, hardened sod:
Alerting the devil, but more hopefully, God.
The box in the hearse lay there stark and austere.
Poor souls final journey, last trek anywhere.
The small group of mourners now somber and mute
Trailed after the hearse in reluctant pursuit.
His thoughts then turned back to concerns of the day.
The errands in Denby that had brought him this way.
His footsteps trudged on toward the town just ahead.
On past this bleak place with its fields of the dead.
And the day passed by quickly as he made all his rounds,
Attending to business before leaving the town.
Then an overdue visit to a friend from the past,
Would leave his mind reeling, in tumult, aghast!
For Nell Reed had returned from her home far away.
Nell Reed had come back, never more would she stray.
The scene he had witnessed at Wellington Gate,
The pine box, the mourners, lamented Nell's fate.
Then a blow to his middle - sharp twist like a knife.
Twice now he'd lost Nellie the love of his life.
Nellie, oh Nellie sweet child of his youth.
How could he accept this - admit to its truth?
She now lay in her coffin - pale, cold, not a sigh.
No words would she speak, not one single goodbye.
No explanation of the times in their past:
Of unanswered questions, he could now never ask.
He then found himself back at Wellington Gate.
Fall shadows had lengthened and the day had grown late.
Dead leaves of November swirled under his step,
Invited him follow to where Nellie now slept.
The despair that he felt huddled there by her grave,
Made him seem as a man now most surely depraved.
Harsh pleas for the answers to questions long asked,
From someone once cherished, now part of the past.
Where had she gone while he fought in that war?
Why did she leave, did she love him no more?
Upon his return, mind and body all scarred,
To face life without her - so sad and so hard?
He cried out in frustration, old sorrow and pain,
As he knelt by her grave there on Evermore Lane.
And the day turned toward evening, but he did not see,
Trapped there in his memories with no place to flee.
Then he sensed someone else, just behind, but nearby.
A young man with Nell's look, most especially her eyes.
In his hand was a letter, tinged yellow with time-
Nell's neat, tiny script penned on each faded line.
"She told me about you and what you once shared,
And asked me to find you, to tell you she cared.
She wished you to have this," his voice held a plea.
"Her last thoughts on this earth were of you and of me."
"The letter was written a long time ago,
When I was a child, before I came to know.
The man I called father, in the days of my youth,
Was only her husband; a well hidden truth."
"He raised me and fed me and treated me well,
But he never did love me and I always could tell.
This letter from mother should bring you at last,
Answers to questions that have troubled your past."
And the son placed the letter in his fathers cold hand,
Waited a moment - made a half-hearted stand.
But he turned then and left - back through Wellington Gate:
To the place he had come from and his own earthly fate.
And his father by the morning, lay frozen and dead,
On Nellie's cold grave with the message unread.
He never did view those last words meant for him,
It grew too dark to see as the cold night set in.
He succumbed to that cold and to Nellie's mute call.
And died where she lay on the last day of fall.
And the years passed on by, like the years always will.
They now lie there together, both silent: both still.
And all who'd remember lie near them as well,
No one now survives for this sad tale to tell.
Yet the legend goes on of this man and of fate.
It's still whispered while passing by - Wellington Gate.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre
even Loved by me,
his smallest acquaintance.
Want the ow to go away, want to
go to last Thursday,
To see his joy
Ray was my teacher
On Thursdays, four to six
He taught patterns and continuity
Of the literary past, EN 281.
A big name for the
He died Wednesday,
The day before Thanksgiving
Two thousand fourteen.
Many are sad,
I too, am
Rate my professor
Rated him a four point eight,
Good, even great, but read what
all students said for him
to know his rank,
to know our loss
to know our sad.
I was a late addition to Northern Michigan University
I had planned another year at community college, but
a job opened up for my wife in Marquette, so I suddenly needed, two weeks before they started:
classes, guidance, a mentor, I needed someone to care about a situation they never heard of till now.
Ray Ventre was the head of the English department, Ray cared, he set me up with classes including 281.
A more enjoyable class would be hard to find.
A more enjoyable teacher, impossible.
The joy he had
The special kind
That never fades, but grows
Like cancer of the heart
Spreading into all
And live for
The happiest days.
His heart was
Too large to last.
Goodbye Ray, and thank you for teaching me.
Copyright © Dan Helppi
Alone I sat waiting for the it to come it never did
My heart began pumping as my neck began to sweat that cold dark night,
Petrified and unable to move even the smallest of muscles to make movement.
I heard a creaking in the floor below me, I lay still with fear and this feeling its not Ok.
Knowing now my only option was to run and release myself from this horrifying place called sleep,
Trying so hard with much effort I swiftly swing my feet over the bed still stiff and terrified ,
I let out a scream deep from my vocal chords as something grabbed my ankles I froze,
eventually gaining strength I shook free on my hands and knees I went down hard to the floor.
Questioning what has brought me here to this awful place?
As I crept towards the door in the doorway a man in a dark suite cocky smile points at me with his devilish eyes and leaves me with a hurt in my body of sickness to come and drained of all life as he grabs my throat holds me up close and whispers
Copyright © Michelle Belanger
Gail Angel Doyle has now left the site
Her inspirational poems were a pure delight
I’m heartbroken that people here have caused her distress
She wrote a blog that she was leaving then changed her mind and wrote one saying she was taking a break but sadly now she is closing her account.
24th July 2014
Copyright © JAN ALLISON
It is all I can do now but wait, and watch
Her plump crimson belly rise n fall
Like a ruptured bellow
She squats defeated on her perch
Feathers splayed, hiding her tiny claws – clutching
Her perch is sturdy, yet deformed in its peculiar way
As branches are; in nature’s own unique way
Perhaps she has considered this deformity reflects
The nature of her disability
For she shunned the new perfectly doweled perch from day one
Preferring to sit upon her crooked stick
Her little black eyes blink then rest in a half open stare
Watching me as I fuss inside her cage
I watch her beak slowly open and close, imagining she’s trying to speak
Are her silent words at the heart of her imagination?
Do I hear her say goodbye?
Have I been selfish in ignoring her past?
Her life before the accident…
So I gently offer my finger as a temporary perch
A palliative gesture, a sign of compassion – tender recognition
She blinks again and her eyes remain closed
What is she thinking, my little friend for so long
Inside her silent pain
I recall the Vet’s final words
“There is nothing more I can do, I’m sorry…”
I recall the time we met
At the foot of our glass window
Your dusty smudge imprinted upon the glass
Your broken body not far away
I nursed you back to health
Encouraged you to fly
Yet crippled, you became part of the family
Part of our little world
I don’t recall the moment she hopped on my finger
I only remember wandering amongst those memories
Tangible to another being, loved just so
I don’t recall the moment she lay down
Her little crimson belly stained with the tears
Of so many years
Tears I now recall
I heard her say “goodbye…”
Brian Johnston’s Poetry Contest - Challenge Title 'Words - The Heart of Imagination?
23 Oct. 2014
Copyright © Mark Trichet
I saw this picture and it reminded me of many great and endless thoughts, dreams, wishes, but mainly my old life and how much more fun it could be now that I am older.
If life used to be that beautiful and spontaneous why the hell did I let it ever end. Not just the girl- not even the girl. That passion for life, for the smallest thing t hat I take for granted now. On the picture it says love or lust.
Why not loving lust-lusting for love. Waking up in the morning laughing for no reason and having an adventure every day. I feel like I went to sleep eight years ago and I am just now slowly waking up.
Better late than never.. to be honest this picture helped my self-induced coma. I simply felt that if I let myself feel for the person in the picture the way I did and things turned out the way they did. Well it kind of made me an ass....It also made me appreciate things that I never would have. I'll be the first to admit that it is been way overdue. When I see this photo now I just smile and it reminds me that I am capable of whatever I want. I miss that feeling and I can' t believe I let it take this long. Any way, I am ready for a new life; I am not sure what is in front of me, but I am ready to find out.Ten years later she came back and we were engaged but karma didn't agree.Though when i wake up i always smile you see.
Copyright © Jai Bankson