SAVED CONVERTED INVERTED CRUCIFIED DEAD BUT NOT YET BURIED
Kiss the ewe she never cries she never sighs she stays happy all the times we
try. The eye was stopped by a patrolman in the middle of my walk to the church to
lay my layman down to rest a night a bite of something not so sweet in bag to
help me live. He said ADDRESS what is your ADDRESS like it's the most
important thing to have NO eye said NO eye do not have a TUCSON address just
one in Flagstaff. HOMELESS he said. NO eye said eye have the ADDRESS in
FLAGSTAFF the one on my ID card. NO he said you are just HOMELESS in
TUCSON. He noticed that eye cared nothing for any of that. WHY did yew not say
that to begin WITH he said to me and eye just tried to ignore a man who has the
world to shrug upon his Atlast Shoulders? PHONE he said ??? No phone what's
your cell phone???
EEYE do not have a PHONE NO CELL PHONE eye almost cried.
NO NUMBER NO PLACE IN THIS WORLD TO CALL MY HOME.
The Indian has no feather he is saved now he is in Heaven beside the MEE. Live
in life wrap the world outside live the life of love and learn to live and love. Eat a
LOT of CHARLAX eat a lot of poems eat a lot of Fabels now.
Copyright © charles hice
Somebody’s Baby, lie still
Embalmed in pure white cotton,
Cocooned securely, like the babe in arms
within the shroud.
Seraphim cavort no more upon a form
once touched with shades of youthful innocence.
Somebody’s Baby, be sure.
Your time for dreams now spent,
No future beckons only time captured frame by frame,
Frozen in vulgar technicolor;
Close Up; Explicit, depicting genre yet unclassified;
The epic over exposed.
Somebody's Baby, be silent.
Grey and gnarled imposter in the cot
Metamorphosis contrives a landscape dry and gnarled.
No more seductress of tender ministry;
Solitary, silently; endures the travesty
Of human demise.
Copyright © CAROL ROBINSON
written 17th Sept 2013
When it comes to love, I AM poisonous
don't let me curse another, leave me loveless
For the first time in my life, I felt your pain and cried for your heart
my heart finally hurts, knowing I passed this pain from the start
Please find help to set your heart free
trust me, it's not a life you recover from easily
Damaged goods I told you, unrepairable
but some how, you managed the impossible
Unlovable for my entire life
yet you had no problem, getting me to become your wife
Yes, it's been more than both of us should have ever had to bear
at this moment, every cell in my body is overwhelmed, so I really do care
Please don't enter my life's pain and despair
you don't deserve it, you are so patient and filled with such love
I'm sorry I let myself fall in love knowing it would poison you
soul mates forever and eternity, my love belongs only to you...
Copyright © Denise Hopkins
The rise and fall of a broken soul; the pressure was too much to bear
The letter S was too brave to wear. He was a symbol, a pure form of admiration. Yet his life was
not his own; full grown; denied the freedom of one’s true life journey
He could never fathom an opportunity of free will for he lived to will free others who hide in his
The darkest shadow brought an abundance of light to the needy. And greedy.
An unadorned model of self-less love dug him an early grave being a slave to aiding. Although
help was never offered to a man that had a sense of direction. Every step forward followed
echoing steps behind.
His feet became a carrier. The load was heavy
Regret was constant. Where was kryptonite when he needed it?
Copyright © Kira Price
There's a void, now
Where once a steadfast heart beat time
The soul in perfect harmony with life's uncertain pulse
With those who clambered eagerly in solace or in joy
To scale that mighty pinnacle
The Rock, within the bosom of the family
There's a void, now
But marvel at the structure, the firmness of the ground beneath
The strata richly layered with wisdom of generations past
A fault free seam constructing firm foundations
Binding those within the bosom of the family
There's a void, now
A hollow cavern
echoing the anger and the pain
Trust time; it has no fear of finite elements
The source of unremitting pain
Within the bosom of the family
There's a void, now
So fill the emptiness and catalogue the memories
Harvesting the richness of their meaning
The fullness of the seed sown long ago
To bloom forever within the bosom of the family
Copyright © CAROL ROBINSON
Cold, callus, crying, shivering,
and covered in sweat.
Wondering what has happened.
Not yet understanding this fate I’ve met.
What of a guy that stumbled around,
just trying his hardest to show he’d been found,
after all he had just been purchased
from the human pound.
That promise to you.
Man I broke it.
I told you Id stop,
and for a time I did,
but that stuff two blocks away,
my will power just wasn't work-n.
My wrist watch again broken.
Always from the look on my face,
you could tell Id been smoke-n.
You tried so hard,
but the mind wasn’t mine.
only a shell of what used to be,
all of me you were trying to find,
and I didn’t get this till my alone time.
I was pushing.
You were pulling.
Then it all pushed you away.
It was all down hill from here,
so naturally you couldn’t stay.
I sit here so sad
for the way you must of felt.
Let alone how you dealt.
Ill never understand how I could do this to you.
You're so prefect,
even your aura dances in ambient light.
You’re the best friend I could of had,
and that leaves me really mad,
that the rest of the world
may never know what we had.
The thing is I know now,
that you loving me.
This really was Much more,
than I loving you.
~Ha,Turned around this insecurity was always mine.~
Copyright © jay o'neal
Everyday I wake, I bathe in the river Jordan: taking with me the dirtiness from the yesterdays. Repeating the same sins, that were never washed clean. Reenacting the past and all its ways.
Copyright © Corey Brown
I’ve cut my hands on the broken screen door
of dreams meant to be deserted;
I can feel the rush of inclusion in a state of decay
as it gasps open against tucked in eyelids.
Smiles caught in dim headlights,
before the empty sway of drunken iron
drips from my palms as
inertia drives it all to fruition,
abstract revelations come to life.
My eyes stutter, fighting to
keep them alive.
I press reddened palms against
the dusty doorway, count in
cadence meant for a heartbeat,
and breath in harmonic patience
with something I wish I could understand,
but my sort of muscles are too weak to make an
impact, my palms have become imprinted with the wake
of trembling foundation’s sorrow.
….I look at them
pruned by the sour chaste of possibility;
rivers of emptiness run through my
I’ve mended nothing.
These dreams are stone,
and I am only flesh;
Pounding my fists against a doorway
that has long forgotten I am here.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Copyright © James Kelley
I did not like him when he was alive.
So now that he lies dead, nothing has changed.
Yes, I know this sounds inhuman, heartless
Or call it what you like but I cannot
Be a hypocrite. I’ll not eulogize.
In life he embodied all that I’m not.
This does not mean that I’d wished the man dead.
Like I said, I disliked him, not hate him.
In a word, he was an unscrupulous
Man--that’s right! Devoid of all principles;
Contemptuous of what was right and just;
A self-absorbed, egocentric brute
Where few if any will remember him
Except perhaps me, may god bless his soul!
Copyright © Albert Ahearn
Eye chased mye deer into the rough the golf was tough and leathery the ball
wound up in the gulf near the coarse leather coat the top coated layer of infinity.
When every internet address is placed into the category suited to it best and
every number has been named and everyone is best at what they do not just
where they are could it be hard to let them off to la la land to make them just to
understand the slot the slotted place therein. The lob lolly cained there was two
of them they rub and shudder expectantly in exctasy like twine boarding a fence
posting to the dead letter offices in all the land. The firmimentnation of the united
stations was attacked with hate the rabbit tripped over the log anon and said
quite frankly my dear eye don't give a darn who who is. They drugged the maiden
dragged her screaming from the bed the water stain will set in the rug don't ewe
understand it was to be this afternoon not later in the day not tomorrow anyway it
has to be soon after noon. The goon dropped a cup and he grumbled and he
gripped it in one hand and it slide like the banana peeling from the tree shaded
oasis banana vines green black men picking them forking bales of hey what was
that noise a student in the background just redialing all his porn so sure that all
those girls are doing time to make him worn. Egads the Chounds are about us
they have been released on Edgar come Allen forward POE. They foxed the
kittens and sometimes the medical officer gets some extra hush money to look
the other way is danger danger warning warning the alien is coming. When you
must explain anything a joke or silent laughter a penny for your thoughts the
hidden manna best sometimes to leave unsaid the thing so evident for iff she
has not gotten it a lenghty explainnation will not further it along the windsome
parapet the jester faking it has lost the thread the limits of the outer kind
surpassed in unbelief. Nothing is perfect in scrabble blast eye have noticed
sometimes there is only one tile left over but it still gives ewe the option of
scrambling the letters and it even tosses the tile up in a vain attempt to move the
thing in semblance of the shuffeling required by law in this game. Survival
dictates like a witch brewing portents in the ditch poor and sinful man disgraced
walking to the human race the chounds to chase.
Copyright © charles hice
lead my hand o' dear life
lead my hand
on this land
o' dear life,
until the end
o' dear thought
seed my life
feed me not in strife
bleed me joy from nine to five
lead me a journey of phases
a journey of ages
to face this
germinate in me a corn
a history of possibilities
a record of living to afford
a source to live
for this life
is a choreographer of life
a propeller of existence
an economy of spiritual commodities
a tear drop of opportunities
yet not so many does see its commonalities
an event of anomalies and regularities
lead me a way o' dear life
carry me a sledge on a journey of life
a terrain of survival and life
a gemstone for many
a pentagon of any
a model of penny
an artwork of joy
a string of life on a journey
a script of many
a stanza of any
from: 'journey of life' and 'on a journey',
>> ntema's unique poetry (nup)
Copyright © Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
Oh love do you really exist?
I cried when your call came to me
and left me sleepless in the twilight.
Your mesmerizing memories did fly as a crow
going away from home, spreading pity
of pathetic loneliness in ghastly forests
that glow in pallid colors,and a vapor cloud
devoured the gray trunks,the desiccated stems,
the rotting roots, and the lifeless land.
The pale plains did drive them insane.
This lifeless land did harbour many
ghosts in its hollows, who haunted
many travelers. Nightmares did rule
the day.Who are you to be happy?
Only sadness is allowed to be happy,
not you. A reaper stalks this realm
in search of victims. Try not to
hide for he shall find you quicker
if you try, for he senses your desperation
dripping from your temple.
Copyright © Victor Chavez
For what am I born?
Born to consume myself?
Born to get plucked off my leaves and get torn?
Born to walk on ice and feel the numb
Born to be criticized, cursed and yet stay dumb?
A loaf of bread,
A bed on road often pitted and tread.
An earthy dust laden skinny cloth,
is what I bear, for that further makes me an entity to loath.
For who shall open his heart and speak few words of love and compassion?
For who shall disguise himself to turn meek, for a poor beggar who even can’t
afford his own cremation?
Oh! Almighty, you owe me life of kings!
To balance thou judgment and demolish those dominant devils
Oh! Almighty you owe me royal raiment’s and ravishing rings
And make those boisterous heads droop down, as if hollow glasses
bespattered after fallen from hills.
Copyright © SAPTARSHI MUKHERJEE
IN THREE PARTS
Part One: The DOVE
eye picked up the dove now dead creature clasped him to my bosom brest
no sorrow feeling only life within my chest
eye enabled faith eye tossed the dove
upward into tree for landscaping seems to me a more decent burial rest
one word escaped my lipps eye just said JESUS
eye wish that eye could tell ewe that the dove it flew away
eye did not tempt the LORD this day
the bird went further on my throw
eye expected just to here the branches crashing at his fall
eye expected him to make a lot of noises there was none
no it did not fall
there is hope inside of mee still and yet that yes it flew
this dove to Heaven when it left.
Part Two: Dandylion
when the gardeners of the palace make the grass a certain size
they run the mowers side by side
to make the power gasses cut the grasses
every one of the now chopped to pieces dandelions gone
except mye one
in a state of childlike fate eye ran to edge of lawn and placed some of my
baggage down long enough to kick the dandelion down
a man my age just having certain fun
and smile remembering a childhood never found
Part Three: New Blue Jeans
the shortest part of fable five is this the three part not contrived
the jeans are long on legs so short and waisted wide to hide the layers eye
needed to survive a cold and cheerless night
eye tore the tags from pockets soon to hold my treasures of a man long old and
finding love in one dear place mye ewe she loves the way eye dress she loves
my look upon my face when eye just smile embrace
she must be smiling now at FABLE FIVE.
Copyright © charles hice
DOING WHAT THE JESUS SAID
Eye am risking the loss of some merits to at least prove to some of you that to do
the works of JESUS is the right and lawful thing to do the man was just like me
he seems to be a homeless and eye asked him to share my food he said no he
was taken care of a food card from the service. Eye wound up giving nothing but
a courtesy yet my blessing is unending the words that JESUS speaks are meant
to be the life we breathe and giving is so certainly the thing to do. Not bragging
unnecessarily just letting people knoe to do the works he says to do. Offer
someone food if they can take it it will help you if they refuse it you can eat it
seems to me there is nothing there to lose. Now the food eye have to eat is better
for the act of sharing even the man is not eating with me the food it's doubly
better in proportions. Show me the house that's built on stilts that's built on sand.
There is a temporary church that meets inside the main church building they
usually start the service at nine thirty today they went out on a run away there was
no church service even eye usually go just to knell down near the table and thank
Jesus for the offering there there is Coffee and some coffee cake and other
things as well but today eye am on mye own attempting more than one thing at a
time it seems beyond the eye trying to stay hooked into the wonder of this life for
it seems like GOD is just like Santa Clause to me when we have it in our heart to
do he sees it just the same.
Eye still carry my raincoat my umbrella even though it has not rained for many
weeks I'm ready. The place eye like to visit has been pulled out from under me
the preacher needs to visit his own prayer room just to see how dark his heart is
to become without his love. He warned me not to trespass and so far eye have
not been back but the wonder of it all is that the place still seems to stand a
monument to decadence a monument to disgrace. They knoe that eye am
homeless eye still walk the street without a place. The blankets in the dump
seem so nice when eye am cold. Foolishness or wisdom tell me preacher what
would you do when the sky was falling would you stick your turkey neck up to the
rain and then just drown or would you find a church with a poor doorway to get
dry. The path is narrow the climb is steep and harrow the preacher fast asleep.
Eye cry a homeless to the end of time.
Copyright © charles hice
Lustful hearts are too hot to hold
And depressed ones are just too cold,
These dear old hearts can't be touched
Even if they find someone they love too much,
It'll never be propper... it'll never be right
Even if they find pleasure in physical delight,
No but these hearts must change if they hope to be held
and find the illusion that they could be held... dispelled.
Copyright © Literrius Miller
The decadence of Society, RUDE, has finally sickened me; the only thing to do is
pray to GOD to quicken me when he bumped me and all eye did was make the
references to his ancestory his intentions were just nominal he wanted to survive
and they think that they are GOD the man was nice until eye started to converse
with him it rally hurts there feelings when eye have a less terse verse the Mexican
bumped my bag and actually hit it with his arm in an effort to move it out of his
way HOW ROOD is that he was in my way and no where for me to go the traffic
was thick and the curb was near my foot
then the boy looked super surprised wiping the glaze out of his eyes Oh, he had
surmised it He said this to the Driver “I am not even listening to you I am talking
to someone on my Rude Cell Phone
and he pointed to the window with his cup so carefully held up to keep from
spilling and he gestured at the man to sit somewhere else just go away eye am
so rude eye am the rudest man alive today the man was trying to dominate
someone that will not be ruled over by another man and so he lost his battle plan
his rude was wasted then eye almost let it go but had the last word out the door
One thing was certain they never even noticed me
never saw me as a person they just played out their ruminations
just giving me the benifit of their public conversation the girls talked non plussed
non pulsed and non stopped they never cared for anyone but them they kept the
confab going even into coffee time THAT stuff that you are wanting me to have
just keep it with you and take it with you please just SHUT your mouth like that
and then she left another string of profanity pointed back in my direction and the
damage had been done now here's this poem.
Copyright © charles hice
They took a cart with four wheels scootered by me just to almost hit my foot they
tried to run between the bus stop and the bench where eye was standing waiting
for the bus just missing one that left me almost got the dust she flipped at me
with her middle finger she had to knoe that eye was there she meant to make me
feel bad so what she said he was not there at the stop yet this old man found
and scrounge is better than a gang and take this poem is for FOUND things
sarcasm is lost inside a deep dark hole I don’t want to take it with me overheard
and listened to the conversation all anew again in my imprinted memory as I
pen, this; ODE to rudeness, eye have been told there is NO LAW against cell
phones or decent public conversations Its hard to see he is my poor brother eye
keep my own needs simple and eye travel light,
And keep all of Egypt on my back, but some people need the even more security
a four wheeled
Shopping –cart can afford them the demonic teachings of the classroom just
made me realize that eye would leave my education in the great wastebasket of
the sky eye would learn some other thing eye would leave the classroom without
thinking never embracing death and the mark of the rejection of the lord the
millennium mark the 666 mark of the beast called SATAN.
Rood rud - Show Spelled Pronunciation [rood] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA
1. a crucifix, esp. a large one at the entrance to the choir or chancel of a
medieval church, often supported on a rood beam or rood screen.
2. a cross as used in crucifixion.
3. a unit of length varying locally from 51/2 to 8 yards (5 to 7 m).
4. a unit of land measure equal to 40 square rods or 1/4 acre (0.10117
5. a unit of 1 square rod (25.29 sq. m).
6. Archaic. the cross on which Christ died.
[Origin: bef. 900; ME; OE rōd pole, crucifix; c. G Rute rod, twig ]
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc.
Copyright © charles hice
On a raft in the river tied to a tree, lived in an old woman of whom most folks made fun. She didn't talk much, most thought she was dumb. Kids being curious, and the summer being hot, the cool of the river drew our disobedient lot. We kids soon discovered the crude raft and the tent. We oddly made friends with its strange occupant. Tried as we might to find out her name. All we got was a smile from the toothless old dame. One thing for certain we kids soon found out. Social graces she lacked, but her kindness made up for that fact. Times being tough and money being tight, often we kids confided our plight. She didn't care if we were dirty or poor. She loved her little friends all the more. We didn't mind her fashion was lack. She wore a dress made from and old "tater sack." What troubled us was she didn't have a name. We didn't care from where she came. One day as we sat on the bank, a thought came to mind. We were disgusted with folks being unkind. "Everybody's got a name," said one. "Let's call her 'Tater Sack Annie'", said another, so it was done. Annie smiled at us. She liked her new name. She didn't say much, just smiled again. She motioned for us kids to her camp for lunch. She always fed our whole bunch. Fried taters, catfish and greens. All of us believed she was a woman of means. Several summers went by. One year the fall came. A saturday night, folks out for a lark. Didn't see Annie walking home in the dark. Somebody sent, and a somber Sherriff came, "Anybody her know her name?" He spoke to the group. Two boys stepped forward, both knelt to a stoop. "That's our 'Tater Sack Annie'", they spoke in a low tone. Both their faces ashen and as white as bone. Today in a churchyard no monument gleams. Only a simple stone reads, "Annie a lady of means."
Written by my grandmother Sandra Burch
Copyright © Ashley Abraham
I have not eaten today,
But my heart is filled
Not hungry of affection.
I had a fill of you last night
A fill of you for a life time
All around us are walking corpses
Corpses of political disregard
Humans of no nations
Even when they are bona-fide citizens
Your blood and mine flows in them
The government abhors the poor
Feeds them with empty promises
Shoves them through the door
They pay the bills
For social amenities they can’t find
Pay taxes for their castles
Government built in the air
But we know their ancestors
Filthy dogs eating from the king’s crumbs
No; Lets not unknot the knot
Soon a messiah might heed us
In heaven’s book of life,
I heard the poor names are there
In here’s book of life
It is deleted.
Thus, in your head,
Lays your kingdom and glory
Get rich or die trying
Or; be their poor and keep sulking.
Well, like them I saw…
I have not eaten
Flesh gone weak to skeleton
The solitude of love within
Keeps me living; I am breathing
But I am moving,
Towards your direction
I see your beam
I feel new
When I see you
From my heart
Seeps through the rays of the sun
Its fun; this love on death line
We survived the genocide
We survived the war
We survived love
We survived us
I love you too.
This poem is dedicated to the abused tribes of Rwanda and Nigeria during their respective civil wars resulting in near human annihilation. Though time has passed, we still feel your pains chilling our bones. The survivors.
Copyright © Isioma Esemene
Search and discover
The remarkable elderly
And upon their acceptance
You will earn their loyalty.
And they will remember your kindness
As a blessing from above
That you have bestowed upon them
Because you've just earned their love.
Brenda Elizabeth Rose
Copyright © Brenda Rose
Every time I think of you
I’ll see your smiling face
In your hands you kept my heart
And within my arms your embrace.
We had our share of ups and downs
We didn’t always see eye to eye
Remembering the times you made me laugh
Made it easy to forget each time I cried.
We always stood up for the good in each other
And with God’s help got rid of the bad
What better a family could one man have asked for
Than the one I’ve had.
I thank you for all you’ve done
I was blessed to have you at my side
Your job as my guardian angels is done
Now God’s angels will be my guide.
When I needed you most you were there for me
Now there’s nothing more to worry about
Although God’s always had it
He’s got it from here on out.
This is how I will remember you.
Copyright © juanita smalls
In times of joy and in times of pain
words are the only elusive attempt at portrayal
Daunting Contraptions Contracted in a few fleshy pounds
hidden in a bloody swirling cesspool hiding in our skulls
Thoughtless explosions of verbiage fill the pages of
time & space in this place, feeble attempts at nothing
merely interjections of uselessness. We canter down
these halls of life opening doors & closing others,
doors hard to shut are better left open. To breath the
breath of life through these pounding heads of humanity.
Beating its burden of confusion & false hope straight to
the source ... producing order? What a concept in this place
as to say a controlled explosion our existence is
the oxymoron that is all. We live the days like
the pun of some joke that's been forgotten.
We soothe our souls with others expressions, broadcasting
feeling to the masses. Ideas thought for someone else
helpless sheep in this hillside pasture we're spinning on.
Songs of hope & joy inspire & drive others to the end. Confident
that more words will help in the future. Addicted to
others feelings & ideas to produce our own. Mindless bites
gurgle out real life for ratings while we all watch
ourselves and turn back to the box. The box should
falsify our existence but then the black emptiness that
has become our hard existence. Tired lonely
followers dancing till the end ....
Ah the end
Copyright © Barrett Allen
I met a hand with eyes but no vision
He touched me but only to fill his hunger
And I with a heart floated with anger
I wish I were a human
But not of this hand
I just asked one day but only within
The muscular hand was no less than a muddle head
In life it was panting for death
And I In death panting for the former
He knew he could free me
But his knowledge is destined ignorance
Alas! His heart pumps only blood, no care.
To my one day
I croaked to his deaf ears for years
But for one day
Neither a day is left nor a drop of hope
My heart pounced on request
And his on the lust to have me
I swam in his desire not in his concern
To my one day
I croak now to the world
Enchained in all this ego
Is there a hero out to rescue me
Oh I know the world is all a dark mirror of life
I know this just in one day
That my day has come
Copyright © Rakesh Arava
Beneath the fuschia painted sky of the setting sun,
war torn houses still burning,
razed into rubbles along the river banks of rio hondo,
with walls devastated by bombs' explosions,
and one by one the ceilings began to fly.
The river's shallow but crystal clear water,
with green sea weeds,mussels and oysters,
once our childhoods' undisturbed playground,
instantly became the unholy graveyard of the
slain MNLF fighters,
decaying cadavers scattered everywhere
like worthless pieces of garbages,
worst than dead animals,
arms detached and eaten by the dogs displaced
by the war they had created,
brains splattered by bullets on mangrooves' roots,
and face swollen with worms appeared beyond recognition.
While the river that once flowed with
the rhythm of neo-gothicism,
singing with the sweet harmonies from the
birds under the falling rain,
but the chords suddenly went out of tune,
disturbed by the torrential beat of a
violent human upheaval,
the orchestra of war bombs,cannons, and guns raised
the flags of war concerts,
and the water ran wild with the musical
note of destruction,
hysterically dancing along the melodies of blood,
a tragic symphony of death.
Copyright © gianni pansensoy
The time has come
For me to say goodbye,
I'm going home to Jesus
Please don't cry.
I love you all unconditionally
Without a doubt,
From the oldest to the youngest
There's nothing to be sad about.
I know this won't be easy
Because it's hard for me too,
Knowing I'll see you all again
Keeps me constantly thinking of you.
To all my sons and daughters
Instill in your children all that is good,
So they'll learn to seek to understand
Before being understood.
Grandchildren, continue to do well
As you have always done,
Extend your hand to one another
Until you all become as one.
To all of my other family and friends
I truly do love you all,
But do understand my phone is ringing
And I must answer this call.
Keep me in your hearts
Know I've always loved you,
I have lived a full, complete and content life
And it's because of all of you.
Forever Yours With Love,
Copyright © juanita smalls
I had a talk with God
Just the other day
He invited me to his kingdom
And then asked me to stay.
He said the time had come
For me to leave my earthly home
To come to live with him
And be seated by his throne.
All my troubles, pains and worries
Were to very soon subside
He said my new life begins today
So I went ahead and complied.
I know it doesn't seem fair
But everything's gonna be alright
God is taking care of me now
As I rejoice in His light.
When He saw what was happening
He didn't want to see me suffer
He came down to protect me
His love became my buffer.
My friends, my family those
Who were with me my last days
I'm sorry to have broken your hearts
But this was the only way.
I know it's hard to understand
Why it had to be this way
Even more why it was me
I truly can not say.
All I know is I did
What God asked of me to do
As for which I was rewarded
When He said "I love you."
So don't be discouraged
Our day will soon come again
Keep me in your hearts and memories
We'll be together in the end.
Copyright © juanita smalls
Oh! Wingless Bird,
Say a word
What painful life
Have you suffered with your wife!
She led you there..
Oh Wingless Bird,
She brought a sword!!
With just one swing,
She cut your wing!
She had posed as your dearest,
Your only nearest!
You never knew!
Blind were you in love,
Pray to God above..
With just one wing now,
Try to manage somehow..
Hurt to the body is not mattered,
But the heart is now shattered..
Cut your wing,she flew away,
You thought she was with you to stay..
Eyes filled with tears,
Had seen ahead beautiful years..
Oh wingless dear..
Please come here..
Have no fear..
Copyright © Nishitha R
blood drips down
locked the door
the stinging starts to fade
everything becomes a blur
i know lay in the tub
in the cold water
my my arms stings
then the pain fades
i go under hopping not to come back up for air
and i feel my body going numb
i open my mouth to get a water in and blood
i tell myself to stay under
and then everything fads away
no more pain
my heart stops
the pain leaves me
my dead body is in the tub
TO NEVER BE FOUND AGAIN
untill someone starts looking for me
when they find my body
it will be to late
Copyright © Andrea Trudeau
this is a picture of an actual Kingdom Hall
Ode to Edgar A Poe
Ode to be remembered with three red roses and a half a blanc of wine the
certainty of summer in Ravenswood combines with sultry summer pines and
odors of the firmament decay to play a mournful tune of odious deliverance. How
can such playful creatures of this life become so dark at night time coming to the
Earth to preach a GOD of everyone of Earth to say this world is pleasant when
poor Edgar knoes it's not? He never seems to want for sympathy a poor man's
plot is seldom visited the visitor is not out a lot the roses at three p the half a
magnum drank he stank he must say some words at grave like Quote the Raven
Eleanor never more have a drink old plank would anyone come and leave a half
of soda and three small purple flowers on my grave? But reminisce about the
meeting done they grabbed me by both arms but not before my head was
pressed against the glass of double doors and tossed hurriedly away outside
don't listen to the homeless one he stinks he sleeps in clothes unwashed how
can anyone like that can knoe his GOD? Then eye turned a swollen eye upon the
meeting place and did a little dance a little prancing just in place and cried Jesus
hallelujah yes they threw me out of judgment hall please bless the place eye
dance. Poor Edgar cannot prance. CharlaX loves his stance. Half a soda and
three purple flowers every Easter on a poor place to stay someone reading this
may do so to remember me this poet needs to be.
Copyright © charles hice