The trip to church on Sunday wasn't long
Down dry dusty country roads closer roamed
Hearts did rejoice when singing love's sweet song
Precious memories now deeply intoned
A home filled to the brim with kith and kin
No evidence of the grief she suffered
When in her youth tales of such loss did spin
By age of twenty-five her life crumbled
Joys of a young bride with husband beside
Darling daughters three in tow~gone~from life
Oh, life issues such hard brazen blows inside
No longer was she a mother and wife
Her faith in a loving God never failed
She had strength of character which prevailed
I have been doing some research about my biological family
I found that my father's mother was married in her youth
and had three daughters which all died as did her husband..
She married my grandfather and then had four sons which
all lived..She never gave up her faith through it all..What strength.
Upon the pier of restless shore
she scans across the endless swell,
to end pain’s woe just like before...
her necklace breaks, in chilled farewell.
On edge of evening,clockwork races
with hope to drown in circling waves.
No more a chance to hold stars’ graces,
a wish tangled in child’s tomb, engraved.
Big dipper heeds her whimper, faint
as dazzling light soaks in deep sea.
Her infant harks ,” Mom, be restrained;
I'm here with you, through love’s glory.”
By questioning the bleak of days
her truth alights, as heart obeys.
Surviving after Suicide Attempts Contest
Sponsor: Anne Currin
by nette onclaud
Inspired by the following quote: "Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved." — Helen Keller
Why am I crying now; there must be a reason
Is there something my conscious mind’s trying to hide
Or could it simply be this humid, warm season
The torment of seeking answers can’t be denied
There are days when I wake with a smile on my face
Grateful for many blessings that have been bestowed
But after nightmares, I feel I’ve fallen from grace
Anomalies exist in my genetic code
Like my Mom, I struggle to break from depression
Never understanding why feelings overwhelm
Perhaps I pay for a forgotten transgression
Is it a smile or a frown today at the helm
Sometimes I have tendencies to internalize
But the causes of these I cannot analyze
*Written March 14, 2015, for Sara’s “A Penny for your Thoughts” contest.
The old twisted tree burrows into dreams,
more frightful here than in waking hours,
a wicked darkness pulses from harsh seams,
displaying its paralyzing powers.
Those gnarled branches are filled with sharp fingers,
clashing loudly in the wind's fervent fray;
over the whole valley this sound lingers-
is the only defense to kneel and pray?
Courage must face this tree with sharpened axe,
cutting through the thick bark, once and for all,
felling this fright, so the town can relax,
relishing in that evil monster's fall.
Please brave 'cutter, unleash those mighty blows,
and make sure that no new offspring there grows!
Oh heavy heart these PR men in power
Yellow waxen masks reciting lies
Discovered by research in college towers
Who watch flashing brains in MRIs
Recording as fear lightens lobes
Word and images recorded and sold by drones
For use by corporate men round the globe
Control both CEOs and worker clones
Yet life's free forces flow in city and town
For through the dark. forces strive to transcend
As ever bruised and bloodied onward bound
Through a jumble of fears passes the path of men
How intricate your mind. How it can vex!
A labyrinth that offers no escape,
its walls are glazed with patterns that perplex.
I glimpse inside. At times I stop and gape
at murals which reveal an iridescence.
But shallow are the joys you sometimes feel.
I turn to find I’m facing evanescence.
Intense emotions swell; become surreal.
They swirl with thought; descending, they exude
through dark partitions winding through your head.
The maze becomes a spiral to seclude
you from the world and me. I feel your dread.
Dark angel, trapped in strange and endless gloom,
to stay with you would mean to share your doom.
For Nathan's ......."INSANITY or DEATH"......Poetry Contest
Theme: Insanity to Darkness
I must carry this torch down to the cave
To shed light upon the walls of my heart
For, if not, I will take it to my grave
And on that path may make an early start
I cannot think of love, when love is what
Consumes my every thought in every hour
I gambled all I have and took my shot
Chanced my wretched life to fate’s cruel power
But love is what I deeply need to give
My life is not my own unless it’s shared
This aching heart with which I have to live
Must find his mate if he’s to be repaired
But first I must let go the one I crave
And leave this burning torch within the cave ~
Could I take love and push it out the door
Make it to die and breathe of life no more
Could I take love and with a spear impale
To make it breathe it’s last, I would not fail
Could passion be a personified I’d try
To beat and torment, then I’d make it die
Desire would be next my wrathe to taste
I'd murder it for what it’s laid to waste
I would inflict the cruelest agony
For what imposters these have done to me
I’d close my ears to cries of mercy made
Until I bury them and turn the spade
For they have only gifted grief and pain
And clothed my heart in shrouds of the insane
Will liberty ring out again,
beneath the cries of human rights
can freedom's name survive,
dissembling and lies;
Will duty from its prison flee
throw off its shackled memory,
is respect just a word,
spoken,but never heard:
How long,how long 'til I becomes thee ?
when ,when, will ego bend the knee,
the victim is not me
my friend,my friend,it's we.
Who rings this bell of liberty
truly sounds,our culture's death knell.
When I was young I use to talk to God,
in endless conversations in my head.
And I never thought that these talks were odd,
no more than when I knelt beside my bed.
I would speak to Him mostly every day,
asking for His help, for the umpteenth time.
And I would beg Him to take me away,
anywhere far from home would be sublime.
I lived in fear of my father's beatings,
from early on God was my only friend.
And in my heart I cherished our meetings,
yet the beatings and nightmares did not end.
Now I'm as cynical as one can be,
for where was God, when He meant all to me?
Written May 22, 2015 for contest "Prayertime Memories - Poetry Contest"
You wish to reach the deepest parts of me
To lure the abandoned child from her eternal sleep
To protect my shrouded frailty and soothe the storm within
But through no fault of my own, I could never truly let you in
You will underestimate my devotion, and burden my heart
Shatter my delicate trust, and at your hands, I'll surely fall apart
It would be wise for me to forget
Your eyes, your arms, your lips upon my neck
The heart knows no rationale, unlike the mind
But it holds the answers that logic unceasingly struggles to find
It's in my nature, it has always been my way
To seek comfort in solitary darkness, I find no refuge in the light of day
In my earliest years I discovered that no matter which love I chose
Far too many thorns mar a single rose
OUR MIDNIGHT PLACE
As certain as the rains do fall in spring,
will be my love, for you to have and hold,
and know you now--my rain of love will bring
to you, all joy of which all love is told.
No one could ever count the drops that fall,
and so is put together, love for you,
numbers cannot be given them at all,
though put together, one is what will do.
And every single drop adds beauty there
to something we can call a rainy day,
to fill with love, made up, from everywhere,
the drops of life that make love what we say.
Our midnight place, your front porch, dreaming of
each drop of rain that's filled with so much love.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa
Remembering that night of our last touch,
when nothing was between us we should know,
in love with loving you, and just how much
I wonder where in time do such nights go?
Forbidden like a box that's sealed up tight,
or like the flame that Zeus refused to share
with mortals such as we, and on this night,
Pandora's box was opened everywhere,
you were, that night, my first and only love
and always shall remain that part of me,
created from the earth and waters of
a night that Aphrodite made to be.
And I am more than blessed for loving you
forever and all time, as I shall do.
© RON WILSON aka vee bdosa
FIRST KISS OF OUR LOVE
I've just some things I thought your heart should hear,
since they've been weighing heav'ly on my mind,
so list' and I shall whisper to thine ear
with all compassion my poor heart can find.
You've touched me deeply with the way you smile;
such lips could sooth the beast of anyone;
and spreading love with looks must be your style
for every time our eyes meet, love comes on.
Now I'm about to kiss the lips of you
for this first time, I pray the memory
shall linger on through years life takes us through,
together, as I'm certain this will be.
This first kiss of our love will never end
and changes whom you guessed was just your friend.
© RON WILSON AKA VEE BDOSA
Oh, slaves of the nation who works and sweat!
Tired and restless--but still flee overseas
to support a hungry future that frets.
With barks and claws gained from descent degrees,
if we must succeed-- oh, let us nobly work
so our blood and sweat may not fall to scrap,
veins swollen yet act by act we don't fall to smirk.
Freeing a flood of effort through thorns of gaps
though greedy compatriots act like monsters,
their eyes open wide but gone blindfolded by lies
some struggles and shout, aiming to conquer
bracing away from forms of guns and bribes.
Slaves are we but we're brave enough to replace
those crashing obstacles with lace of grace!
***Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name Your Favourite Old Poem #3
***Sponsor Cyndi MacMillan
Contest Name I CAN'T BREATHE: A peaceful Protest, An Anthology of Powerful Poems
4:29 pm; December 12, 2014
THE BOMBING OF DRESDEN
February 13, 1945
Pathfinders lit the night to show the way
for bombardiers too hungry for the word;
as Dresden's dark was made as light as day,
all hearts were stopped before the blasts were heard;
and as the din was heard by all their ears
the sound it made was not reality
but far removed from all the hopes and fears
and what they thought would never come to be.
They loved the Fuhrer--sin enough for all
to die the fiery death of sweet revenge
brought on by those who had enough of gall
to drop their loads in wartimes heated binge!
And when the fire consumed all that it could
the winter of their lives was understood.
Like the only word on the page,
Like the only page with a word,
Like the only voice being heard,
Like the only bird in the cage.
Like being paid the only wage;
The one without his vision blurred.
Like the only thought being spurred,
Like the only mind of this age.
Like the only leaf on the tree;
The only flower in the ground.
The only one with eyes to see,
Like the only one being found.
Like what it would be to be me;
The only pound making a sound.
One beautiful lie , an unvoiced sonnet
Words veiled with a crime that steals my hearts last beat
Slow turn of your mood shows me disquiet
With kisses warm and vulgar with deceit.
One pulse stills, our love was not the one love,
Just remains of a lukewarm cup of tea.
You steep and brood, one pineing the lost dove.
My broken wing lame, I fall into the sea.
Beautiful lies, my heart begs for your fires
To hear the words forged my way by anvil
Beautiful lies, hope grows dim and expires
Waiting for judgment by divine gavel
Tremble my lips , tears fall dry from my eyes
Protect me from madness, beautiful lies.
Destiny made a way out of my reach,
Instead of welcoming with open arms
Spread wide. To each his own! On my own, each
And every day, I did life no harm.
Priorities, other than me, came first,
Prior to closing my eyes and dreaming
Of better days. But, bad days made the worst
Inceptions; Days and nights double teaming.
Nothing prepared me for what I would get,
Though I really should have seen it coming.
Most of the time, both my eyes were too wet,
Evidence that God did not do something.
Next time, I will choose to abandon hope,
Trying to get by, while trying to cope.
Shall I compare thee to a most foul stench?
A skunk’s sweet-smelling aura more lovely
Than that ugly face which makes my fists clench.
Pray you leave; that we should be so lucky!
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is your pale complexion broiled,
To peeling, pasty, unnat’ral pink lines,
Reminiscent of a red lobster, oiled.
But soon, sweet sleaze-ball, thine sunburn shall fade
And leave in its wake, that china-fair skin,
Which glitters bright e’en in afternoon shade;
So strange I suspect you are but pure sin.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives my complete hatred for thee.
I wake filled with anxiety and despair
My body aches and is full of pain
My first thought is of what is not there
There is nothing I can do to stop the thoughts in my brain
I go to the medicine cabinet to take a pill for anxiety
But still my mind reels with thoughts of what I want
Why must I put this burden upon me
I’m trapped in a life where I must be nonchalant
As the day goes on it just gets worse
There’s a nagging feeling that I’m not me
My mind and body beginning to hurt
I hide inside myself so no one can see
Will I ever release myself from this hell
As of today there’s no way to tell
When true love’s gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed?
And with their carnal touch consoled be?
When my love lies,so breaks my tender heart.
When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start?
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?
When true love lies and wrecks all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.
For I have love’s sweet child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole
Divine delusion the folks are
Benign sufferers we become
Their attitude is away far
Still the utopia has to come
Rarely much do we debate
In course of time the topic truly fades
Unduly anarchy the folks create
And our lives despotism invades
Wisdom lies never in existence
It alone rests in unrelenting struggle
The vitality is the coveted persistence
But a 'noble'folk does everywhere smuggle/snuggle
Let's all wake and reach the threshold
Where lamb and lion dwell in amiable hold.
A wave that grows from deep inside of me
to bring me down--I feel it start to grow;
its' only name--is called--anxiety,
where it comes from--no one could ever know.
As tiny needles prick my skin--I feel
sensation of a drifting tenderness--
that goes from here to there--and so un-real--
it leads my mind to only second guess
at what's invading for the death of me,
and tingles from my fingers, to my toes--
abducted from my world of sanity,
I fall into a dark that no one knows.
And shaken to an end I can't embrace--
I feel its' kiss--but never see its' face.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Desperately seeking companionship
Julie booked a cruise on a ship.
She met a very strange man there
with a beer belly and receding hair.
She ate the food and drank the drink;
the plumbing backed up, the whole ship began to stink.
For a solid week they were stranded there
with everyone running around in dirty underwear.
Finally the Coast Guard came and rescued them,
gave them cool fresh water and fed them spam.
Julie was glad to get back home but was sad she had no fun;
she contemplated her plight in life and decided to become a nun.
Julie knew that in a nunnery she would have no fun while there;
by this point she really didn’t care, at least she’d have clean underwear.
Each and every heart has lost its way
Xanadu is just fictitious, this you know.
Pain flows with love, as the wind doe s blow.
Love can be pretty or just as ugly any day.
One heart beats so different, in every way.
Dear lonely heart, listen to your spirit glow.
Each passing moment will tell the way to row.
Dream your desires, but live in reality today.
Revelations shall take your heart for a little ride.
Explosions build and fall, love has crescendos.
Veer carefully in passions lost, before you decide.
Eventual truth will guide you; out of these woes.
Respect your soul, don’t let your heart be the only guide
Every love shows, grows, though not without repose.
A weight bound tight inside of her prison,
Does no man acquire the strength that's due?
She sinks down deep as high tide has risen,
As her figure's swallowed by darkest blue
Resignating, do her lungs open so,
Oh, how she opens the gate to her death;
Crushed by the pressure, she rocks to and fro',
Not even with closure of one last breath
The waves crash above and smother below,
It was the blackest of waters she'd known;
Suddenly, pressure was letting her go,
And the most loveliest light was then shown
A pair of hands came for me, cold and wet;
Eyes upon me, and but a lovers set.
Oh the word that strikes mortal as of knife
puncture’s a wretched heart, a life in plight,
bequeathed in good faith, oh yes so rife
yet to a forlorn soul it does one smite.
Is it not that time of a lovers mind
under the moon and stars, nothing amiss,
where thoughtfulness of a heavenly kind
not the doom, gloom of an endless abyss.
So the word that disjoins is deemed to be
the ending of a friendship so extreme,
because together lovers belong, free
free of this word that loses self esteem.
Yet what to do if from this word refrain,
borrow from another “Auf Wiedersehn”?
© Harry J Horsman 2012
ON A SUMMERS AFTERNOON
Come sit a spell--we'll take a little time--
from out of life, forgetting what we know;
and talk upon some things I guess that I'm
much closer to--than things life's had to show.
Do you know love? It's funny how it goes
to almost anyone, who needs it not,
but be there need--and love--it never shows
like finer things of life, to those who've got!
Now does that seem to be a fitting thing
to talk about, as passing time away?
Or would you choose what weather has to bring
as here we sit--with nothing more to say?
I guess your life's been blessed--and filled with love
or you'd know what my heart is speaking of.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Binge watching makes us a couche potato
As we not work nor cut a tomato
TV is termed as an idiot box
We even don't wash our socks
Channels worry about their TRP
We search for their nasty USP
Since it is flooded with more ads
Liked immensely by our gals and lads
News however gets no more new
For it repeatedly does continue
My wife shouts at my kid
To make her write and read
Instead it pretends to cry
Liberate it ....let me try..!!