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Sonnet Death Poems | Sonnet Poems About Death

These Sonnet Death poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Death. These are the best examples of Sonnet Death poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Sonnet | |

A Gentle Death

Avenge me not, for death has been a friend
and anger ill befits love's gentle wine.
All lovers true or not, must part, ascend:
rise, or fall, as life's trials their paths assign.

Still as bone, white as winter's snow my skin
by candle light, one can almost see inside.
My hair a gossamer halo, so thin, 
my eyes, my blue eyes, still contain the tide.

I am your fair Persephone, your wife, bride,
and soon I will return to you Hades
to rise born on cherry blossom tides;
when in the earth, I can no longer bide.

Bless gentle Thanatos for his death sublime
and Hypnos, as in sleep, I do recline.

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The Fighter

As beams through blinds half-open softly play
on mottled skin, and helpless, she depends
on doctors and on nurses, none allay
her growing agony that never ends.
Her dread is looming larger. She can’t rest!
She clings to life and ponders soberly
the reasons for and answers to this test.
There has to be some recourse she can’t see
beyond what they’ve endeavored yet to do!
What lesson has she not already learned
with all the many hardships she’s gone through?

She prays to have this last page left unturned,
but then that page is lifted, for that night
a breeze blows in  -  Her soul to God takes flight.

By Andrea Dietrich on Oct. 24, 2014
For the "Sketch a Character" Poetry Contest of gautami phookan

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The Rose and the Thorn

I shall nay know all the wonders - you hold
For all too soon the winds of winter blow
Scarlet petals withering in the snow
How cruel the breath that kills the velvet rose 

Tears - that canst’ bear the thought of letting go
Forever frozen in this empty soul
A broken heart forever turned to stone
A broken stem left now to stand alone

Alas! I find that life is bitter-sweet
As I stand holding only memories
Of a rose blooming in the summer breeze
Here beneath this old weeping willow tree

Once I held the sweetest rose - ever born
Now – in my grief – I hold the bitter thorn.


                    Author:  Elaine George

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The Memoir

Here in the final pages of her life			
She stops to rest a spell on empty lines		
Reflecting on the chapters left behind		
In valleys of a mind deep in contrite		
Where shadows battle with a blinding light		
Conflicting egos fighting on through time		
Their argument life’s reason and life’s rhyme	
They battle for the end that she must write	  	
Two equal pens held tightly in her hand		
Tears mingle with the ink spots on the page			
One pen telling truth one pen telling lies		
Her bleeding words like footprints in the sand		
On lines between a novice and a sage					
One pen she puts to death before she dies

Author:  Elaine George
Written: April 20th, 2014
For Miltonic Sonnet Contest sponsored by: Craig Cornish	

Awarded:  First Place

Details | Sonnet | |

Dead But Not Forgotten

There are many heads full of old age as beautiful
As the young age of years, past thus they are fully
They're all full of wisdom, integrity and knowledge 
In years old they've dealt with life and have 
                                                      conquered it.

Alas, many young men do not sleep, he may be 
                                                            at battle
Political or alien but they may be earlier worse
So the old can breathe safely and no longer tattle
Dismiss what youth meant but be converse.

Jogging into a gauntlet, then they being cut
Then they will utilize their five senses, so let 
                                                         it be
In dire consequences, they wish to live but;
If they could only live in tranquility.

I'm thinking of those who died and lived less grave
This is dedicated to the many dead and not saved.

Written: Oct. 19, 2014
Eve T.M.Carter

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The Waiting Sleep

I wait while wandering in empty dreams,
where everyone is lost and dying slow.
And in the distance are, unheard, the screams
of anguished souls I’ll never come to know.

The winds blow hot or cold here, rarely cool.
Leaves flutter out of sight, disintegrate.
Relief, if ever found, is minuscule.
I do not even know for what I wait!

I’m drifting with the leaves as they change hue,
concealed among them as they fall to ground.
And as they crumble, I’ll be crumbling too,
alone (as souls unknown hear not my sound).

And still I roam inside this wait I keep,
unwilling to awaken from this sleep.

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The Missing

She looks around the room with worried eyes. So many things are missing. What became of all her pretty clothes? With great surprise she notices her dresser’s not the same. The fancy music box that held her pearls is missing too from where it used to sit beside the picture of her precious girls there on the dresser. What became of it? She hears her husband walking toward the room and cries out as she sees him on the stair. He lies down on their bed. She feels his gloom, and then she knows. . . . He cannot see her there! She lingers, helpless, knowing she must go, yet hears him sob, “My love, I miss you so.” Written for Susan Burch's "Missing" Poetry Contest

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Goodbye Linda Marie

Eloquent, ethereal,
an artist through and through.
Her words alit on gossamer wings
as through our hearts they flew.

Each poem was written from the heart
and soul of our Linda Marie.
A visual portrait painted with words
for us, her audience, to see.

We thank you for your friendship.
You will be missed Sweetheart.
We thank you for the words you left us
before your sad depart.

Your beautiful soul, full of grace,
is in a far, far better place.


Details | Sonnet | |

Choices, Voices and Bad Company

Choices, Voices and Bad Company

Bang , bang , gunshots in heated night air sang 
jump back , be careful where you nightly hang
Fun, fun , going where the night action stays
danger waits hidden when nights replace days!

Kick it, kick it, time to chase the gals
beware safety gone if you hang with pals
So carry a shooter , step up your game
name in the paper soon may be your fame!

Hold on, hold on, your future life has game
you grab future rejecting drugs so lame
Stand up , a man that carries his own weight
yield not to greed, lust and all useless hate!

Live on, living to find your star and shine
Live on, love in life ,  love so very fine!

Robert J. Lindley  08-24-2014

Note: A sonnet that presents today's life choices are 
often far more serious when made than young
people can realise. Seeking action and thrills 
always come with a cost. Quite often a deadly cost!
Don't freely decide to get yourself so lost!
Been there, down that, long ago..

Details | Sonnet | |

Embers Gone Cold

I seek for warmth by embers getting cold
and though I coax, they will not burst to flame
I sit and mourn the heart of love you sold
that bode in tigress broken now and tame

my body shivers by the dying fire
I wrap around me words of long ago
that scorched my heart with burning tongues of fire
but cold sensations now my heart does know

before I close my eyes and drift to death
I hold an ember close to bosom bare
a searing pain induces gasp of breath
and yet the burn is welcome wound I wear

You left me cold, alone in night so dark
Love's fire died and left me not a spark 


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Written in a Graveyard

O God, to see let go and not atone,
  And not forestall that misery disguised:
This misfortune is mine and mine alone,
  And to that end I have philosophised!
Not to the wider picture tomorrow,
  But to the Sword of Damocles on high:
To love's memory from which we borrow
  And to know what it means to live and die!
Live and let be - for the end usurps all
  But expunges not the considered heart:
There is no wider picture - just a pall
  Of residual sadness for my part.
I am not best reasoned to reason why
That in death there are lessons to live by.

July 1989

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Death of a Flower

Down on row and pit and mortal flower
  The undertaker's men stood grave and bier:
And brave stoic death fills the living hour
  For ever more a day, a week, a year...
Where bathed in shafts of exalted light toll
  The bells of Mass and vigil in Greenhithe:
When in bound clay an unmolested dole
  Grimly hung the shadows in hood and scythe:
Yet I upon this ploughed earth sullen gaze
  And wonder what cold disconnect is death!
What sting its prick to a full end of days
  That dares to breathe on me its cankered breath.
Withered is the bud and brief flower shed,
Yet for a time its beauty shone outspread.


July 1995

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Death Blows a Hollow Horn

On pale horse a pale rider in the sun,
  Who makes his own our last valiant breath;
And on your grave sing the owl and raven
  In the shadows of the valley of death!
Where no graven image rise from its bones,
  Only a cold wormwood wind on death row
That pipes through the rushes and the tombstones,
  Where all that remains is what lies below.
But more, far more than this, your time to me!
  To that bosom of child, mother, and sire:
Carried away by a higher glory
  On flaming wheels - in chariots of fire.
Not hearts, not tongues bespoken go unsworn
When Death comes to blow his wreathed hollow horn.

July 1995

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Transcendent Love

Will you be loving me ‘til time is naught?
Your fingers only know of suppleness,
will they not flinch to touch skin wrinkle-fraught?
My beauty withers, cup reached emptiness…

Your love has set my heart aglow, renewed
‘tis ev’rytime your words lave over me...
Like soothing rain on desert sand subdued,
I soak it in, drunk for eternity

Do forgive me, for ever doubting you,
this pain has ravaged me, yet you’re still here.
‘Tis I you love, this I now know so true,
please stay with me, for death creeps in so near

Let saccharine lips meet for one last time
The windows close now, yet leave love sublime


Details | Sonnet | |

Let me go first

Let Me Go First

Gravity's getting stronger every year
and my final day here is beckoning.
My sure demise holds nothing that I fear
more than the pain that losing you will bring.
I beseech you love, let me lead the way,
I'll find that gentle place; return to dust,
don't leave me first, not for a single day,
just let me go and join me when you must.
Our lives, our love so very entertwined,
One mind, one heart two bodies came to share,
unbreakable these satin ties that bind,
I must go first and leave them in your care.
It was ordained the morning of my birth,
to love you 'till I lie beneath the Earth.

Details | Sonnet | |

Stark Endings on an Autumn Wind

Burnished bronze, tarnished teal,
flare warnings yield to winds of steel.
Their urge to jump, to flee and hide
cuts off the warmth for suicide.

They leap and land at such a cost,
far flung debris- refulgence lost.
They shrivel brown, dark fibers done,
decay beneath the wayward sun.

Their shredded shells in supine piles,
small hells ignite by human wiles.
Gray smoking wraiths slip out to sigh,
soar off to smear the flannel sky.

Green progeny will take their turn.
One chance to live is what they earn.

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I cut to see if I feel how it's like being human,
I cut to see the pain relinquish inside,
I cut for all the memories that remain to drain down in the sewage
What symbols life runs with death in that rusty pipe.

A slash here and a slash there,
What happened in the past?
A slash here and there,
Soon the memories don't last.

Scissors, knives, razors and sharp edges
keeps a bloody smile, no more weep.
Slice and dice, trim more than the hedges
And I don't care if I go to deep.

One scar closer to a never ending dream,
I don't care if I go to deep.

Details | Sonnet | |

Ashes and Flowers of White

The ocean softly laps the boat
as I watch the setting sun.
I drop the flowers and watch them float,
relieved this day is done.

Ashes are scattered in the sea
followed by flowers of white.
I watch an eagle soaring free,
flying into the night.

Tears slip silently from my eyes
as the waves gently lap the boat.
I turn back home in darkening skies
while the flowers and ashes float.

Alone, I head the boat to shore.
My heart, bereft, forevermore.


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Death Shadow

I've seen the shadowed knowledge of beyond
and have come to know life and death are one
To be tied to hidden dreams and their bond
and melt with the eternities when life's done
To tremble before the shadow of death
and yet seek life with all its reliance
May I honor every precious breath
Till' Earth claims my body in defiance
I'll be more mindful of the journey sought
When I cross time's bridge alone to succumb
and find death's door opened, unlocked as thought
As death's final shadow is life's outcome

What will it mean to stop breathing , to die?
To look at the shadow of death in the eye

contest Death Shadow

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A Life Sentence

Dear freedom, your sweet innocent voice seems
Now like a distant echo, lost in the wind.
Hopes lost in a set of broken dreams,
With heavy chains, to your heart of stone pinned.

Day by day, night by night, without an end in sight,
Tortured by the ravaging beak of time, flying
With wings of solit'de, displaying its might, 
And hatred-filled eyes, watching me dying. 

These chains around my heart like a vicious snake
Poisoning my soul with darkness and despair. 
A dreadful nightmare from which I will wake
And look into destiny's most wicked glare. 

I stand under shadows cast by heaven's light,
And into sleep I fade, witho't a fight.

Details | Sonnet | |



		                I forgive what you have done to me. 
                                          I love my murderer--but yours! How can I?

                                                                        ~Heathcliffe, Chapter 15~

                                          That is how I'm loved! Well, never mind. 
                                          That is not my Heathcliff. I shall love mine yet; 
                                          and take him with me: he's in my soul."
                                                                        ~ Cathy, Chapter 15~

                                                           Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte


Haunt you, I will haunt you, let me haunt you like the words of love that you left unsaid, Shadows will disturb and storms will renew longings for a shared grave. Come, kiss the dead! Remember the moors and our lost secrets that ran wild, petulant with pride and rage? Rain and time will shake your panes with regrets, This captive walks while you pace in your cage. Forgive the murderer, bury your hate, that cold sin that keeps us both company. Heathcliff, let down your final guard, I wait! Haunt me, will you not haunt me, Fiend, haunt me for I cannot rest while you burn with breath ... I spurned our life but you deny us death.
*By Cyndi MacMillan For Nette Onclaud’s Soul Partners Contest Couple used: Catherine and Heathcliff

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This Void

This Void

When the wind whispers your names in my ear
This void craves for a glimpse of your faces
Recalling times in a happier sphere
Now soured silently in empty spaces

And when drums pulsates your voices in force
This void yearns and grumbles for a tumble
As the teardrops fall, the mood changes coarse
While the resolve commences to crumble

And when the crescendo becomes unkind
This void hungers for specks of your being
To comfort the pain in this heart and mind
To make sense of this life without meaning

Though this bruised void accepts it is God’s way
Each summer breeze begets thoughts that betray

Penned by: Ronald Zammit
Dated: 25.08.14

In Memory of Andrew and Timothy

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord.  Job1:21

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The Rolling Seas

When the time arrives for me to depart
from the sunlit harbors of the living.
Take me aboard a navy fighting ship
and carry me back again to the sea.

Order the boatswain to construct a skid
made of wood and painted with fresh white paint.
Build it to hold a gray weighted coffin
draped by Old Glory with her stars and stripes.

Cruise the coast of my beloved home Whidbey
until full abreast with Ebey’s Landing.
Muster the funeral party astern
Play taps and slide me into the blue drink.   

Let the storm-flecked waves of the rolling sea
take this old sailor to his final peace.

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Patriot Guard funeral Escort

Patriot Guard funeral Escort
Loch David Crane
August, 2008

Today is sunny: with three dozen bikes,
some decorated cars,  a pair of trikes,
two dozen Marines: all of the family
and toddlers to set their Daddy free
into the Great Beyond beyond the sky
where loved ones send their veterans who die.
Below our feet the stones give way to grass
where they are neatly trimmed; and as we pass
the names of strangers stare into the air
and we look back, wondering who lies there.
I won't step on a grave--I'll walk around
so not to insult those within the ground.
	We ride at funerals honoring those vets,
	brave men and women we have never met.

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Star Struck

Many nights you’ve graced my sight
fair Orion, hunter and groom to the abyss,
and yet it would seem an eternity
before we would meet and kiss.

Bought you’d be, and brought to me
by the grace of He who waits.
So, when I die my heart can rise
upon your valor’s brace.

He’d rename Hatsya’s famed
so my soul could light the way.
Dearbhla true poetess of love
‘pon Orion’s sword held sway.

And up I’d rise at my demise
to crest the sky and space. 

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Deathbed Discourse

This past week I lost two good friends. The one friend I lost to cancer. The poor guy
suffered horribly. All through his ordeal his wife was by his bedside. I began to reflect
on this and I tried to put myself in his place. What would I say? What would I think
knowing I was about to die? Shortly after I composed this sonnet.

Weep no tears for me at this time and place.
A thousand eyes change not my destiny.
All living things must die eventually
Except my love for you, which I embrace.
Feel not sad for me looking at my face
Although it's old and wrinkled you can see
A budding rose should age so gracefully.
My time grows near my love; in any case
Your life goes on nevertheless my love.
So wipe those eyes dry of life's mournful dew
And think not this time undeserving of.
Life had been kind, more so, finding you.
A lifelong companion envied above
By angels and cherubs alike. Adieu!

Details | Sonnet | |

The Jaded Eye

Death is not death but a mask of great love
That protects us from pain in archived dust
Where vanity veils and desire dreams lust,
And the spirit's retreat is safe above.

Behind the mask like wings of woodland dove
A heart still beats, and footsteps break the crust
Of memory with shadows of her bust
Along the staircase of time and true love.

For love is eternal and cannot die,
Though a heart may pine itself bare to bones;
The soul that loves forever in the eye

Of God, a kindred spirit life enthrones.
The mask that fools the jaded mortal eye
Is but fickle flesh cradled on our bones.

ITALIAN (Sicillian) SONNET: abba abba cdc dcd

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A Haunting Love

It’s surrealistic in what I see
In the most unlikely places, in fact.
Especially when unexpectedly
They appear before wearily eyes, abstract.
Was eating my usual cereal: 
Shredded wheat with sliced ripen banana.
Staring back from my empty spoon revealed
A face, the ghost of my Marianna.
Startled, yet saddened, my head turned around
Expecting to see my wife’s lovely face.
Instead I had found a man with a frown
Mirroring back from a glass-door bookcase.
Her haunting visits, this angel of death
Will continue I guess till my last breath.

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On a Summer's Day

Shall I contend thee on a summer's day?
Thou art more vengeful and more aggressive.
Rough winds do shake the bleeding buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short to live. 

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven brands,
And often is his gold complexion grimmed;
And limit to the fear a mind withstands,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed. 

Details | Sonnet | |


        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.

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Juliet's Last Sonnet

Awaken from her maker's poison
Reality's her nightmare's reason
To run away from tombs that cover
The lifeless body of her  lover

Barefooted... So free to love again
Waiting for him with red cheeks of rain
"The Globe" is empty, Romeo's gone
In Stratford -on - Avon she's alone

A tourist's place - the guide is pointing
A holographic disappointing
Fragmented Fate of a lonely swan
A deja vue ... I might be the one...

The stage lights died, applause in echoes
The curtain falls on ghosts of heroes...

for John's contest " Shakespearean Sonnet"

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A trail of smoke fades to an autumn dawn,
as sounds of morning break unearthly still,
arising to the day, some life goes on,
while others have the fear it never will.

Some ashes drift about the morning air,
appearing as do snowflakes in a stall,
to restless breezes they drift everywhere
and they are spread about before they fall.

Each life that was, is slow in pure descent,
and longing for the earth turning below,
the mother of all life, where time is spent,
until time's all run out--it's time to go.

Down in the valley echoes from a train,
awhistling, here come the dead again.
© ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

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What Can I Do

The table is set, your favorite wine
Tender memories of all we once knew
Your contagious smile that made the sun shine
You're not here I know, but what can I do?

Just marking time, in this tortured charade
Grey days and dark nights to look forward to
I yearn for that quirky grin that you made
You're not here I know, but what can I do?

The book that I'm reading gives me a smile
I'll call you so you can laugh at it, too
Guess I forgot you had passed, for a while
You're not here I know, but what can I do?

I spend all my hours in thoughts of you
You're not here I know, but what can I do?

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Humble Earthly Abode

Ghostly apparition in light night sky
The moon becomes a fierce dragon's  big eye
Dragon flows outward fills southern sky high
Great awesome fierceness goes before it _sigh

Happenings as such are very eerie
Feeling my father's presence at his death
(Something that cannot be explained_ really)
Had this calming effect  in just one breath

Carried him to hospital  ill that morning
Never knew that today would be the day
Death would carry him away _no warning
Died in surgery_ spirit would not stay

As he left his humble earthly abode
His Eternal Spirit touched my soul

(When my father died, I had not been
told that he was dead but suddenly
I knew just an internal thing..I felt him 
brush against me as he went by..)

Sponsor:Carolyn Devonshire

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Deathbed Sonnet

And even after all that time had passed;
            my moon had set above another sun,
it seems my heart was still at odds with past;
            my tongue at war with words I left unsung.

This bed of ardor caught between my teeth,
            will thus remain, and even grow post haste,
where all the while, there's nothing I'll bequeath 
            excepting flowers scent, above my waste.

And so it goes with every vacant beast,
            as twenty-twenty sees - I should have done!
I should have said; I should have been, at least
            a man awake to seed his endless sun.

And as the night descends upon my thought,
            remember son these words that, I lived not.

© Kristin Reynolds 3 11 09

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Betrayed by Love's Lie

      "Betrayed by Love's Lie"

in quiet solitude reflection stirs
as soiled thoughts invade inner core of mind
a gentle heart, swallowed in grave, inters
beyond the golden twilight, peace to find.

promises vowed sway broken at dark seams
betrayed by lovely lies spoken sincere
a trusting naive soul lost lovers' dreams
extinguished passion flaunting hurtful leer.

tears tumbled as deceitful romance lied
swore to emotion's eyes were free to wed
a dagger thrust impaled life as flame died
spoiling sweet taste of destroyed marriage bed.

bitter essence lingers to haunt, to pry,
a callous charmer who betrayed with lie.

*Sonnet from P.S. Forms of Poetry.
*For Craig's Beautiful Lies Contest.
*Dec. 8, 2012. 

Details | Sonnet | |


Michael and Carolyn came home again
Their busy lives disrupted by death's end
Not knowing they'd encounter love unrestrained
By coming home for mom's funeral to attend
Life has some changes for which to contend
Michael and Carolyn were shocked to learn
Their mother wanted cremation as her end
No way was his mother going to be burned
That is not the way of the people here
The attorney handling her will added more
Your mother made her request crystal clear
Her ashes at Roseman's Bridge to be poured  
Michael could not believe what his ears heard
Francesca Johnson wouldn't say those words

Francesca Johnson wouldn't say those words
Daddy had bought two cemetery plots 
Mother to be buried facing eastwards
Richard planned ahead not instant on the spot
Michael so upset about how this was going
So attorney said let's open safe deposit box now
We'll discuss this when settled is the knowing
But a can of worms this box will open somehow
As the attorney opens the large box
Michael and Carolyn gather around
The lawyer pulls out a paper from tenderbox
He says bill of sales for equipment found
Carolyn picks up a manilla envelope
She looks at contents as through a microscope

She looks at contents as through a microscope
Pictures of her mother who somehow looks different
Then Michael's wife takes one to slowly scope
Sis calls Michael to come look at pictures that flaunt
Carolyn leaves the room after she pulls out more
She starts to read a paper with questioning eyes
A paper from the 1965 dated envelope tore
She comes back to the door calls Michael with quiet sighs
Michael comes back into the room followed 
by sis, he announces that they will look over papers
and get in touch, what's in the papers now shadowed
The letter contained words nothing to do with farm acres
The sting of shock of the letter within the papers
Michael and sis will learn whole story later

Michael and sis will learn whole story later
As they read the letter written by Kincaid
How his love for their mother is greater
Than an ordinary love, a love that didn't fade
Carolyn and Michael read Kincaid's  letter
Learned how Kincaid was cremated and ashes spread
At Roseman Bride, Michael said this man influence her
He was leading our mom and confusing her head
Michael asked is there anything else in the envelope
Carolyn takes it and turns upside down
A key falls out, Carolyn lights up with hope
At what the key might fit smiles out of frown
The discovery of their mom's short affair
The letter revealed a touch of what the key declares

The letter revealed a touch of what the key declares
Carolyn takes the key to a chest in mom's room
Opens, finds mom's letter that tells of love that was theirs
Until death a love that remained in full bloom
Their mother in a letter tries to explain
She wants her children to understand her
And what happened years ago, her reasons to remain
She had written three journals about the affair and lover
One journal for each glorious love filled day
She starts by telling them when it happened
The year Carolyn showed her prize steer away
at the Illinois State Fair, 1965, way back then
From letters to journals the affair's revealed
A side of their mom that couldn't be real

A side of their mom that couldn't be real
Mom wrote, Robert Kincaid came down the lane Monday late
He asked for directions to Roseman's Bridge with appeal
With Italian accented English directions tried to dictate
Failing to convey the directions off hand
She said, "I can take you or tell you the way"
He said, "I don't want to take you from work's demands"
She said, " Let me get my shoes, he watched as she walked away"
As they drove away to find Roseman Bridge neither knew
An affair began that stayed with them their lifetime
There was chitchat on the way as appeal began to brew
Appeal that led to a lovestory sublime
Later they a meal shared as night fell
Each was drawn into the other's swell

Each was drawn into the other's swell
Now Michael and Carolyn are learning of their mother's love
A mother that they thought they knew well
Thinking that they and dad were mom's only doves
Now brought home to attend to mom's dying wish
And settle legal affairs of the estate
Not deal with an affair needing under rug to swish
Grown children whom mom wanted to illuminate
Maybe Michael and Carolyn would understand
Her desire to be cremated and ashes strown
at Roseman Bridge to mingle with Robert's ashes their holy land
For in those four days their love was crowned
To a sad, so shocking, learning occasion then
Michael and Carolyn came home again

Finis' April 10, 2014
Sponsor: Cyndi MacMillian
Contest:Mov(i)e Me With A Contemporary Crown Sonnet
First try at this form>>>

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A Daughter at her Mother's Shrine

 "come fluttering words, come drifting words to me  . . . "

Dear Mother, for a while now you’ve been gone.
Has time for you seemed long beyond the veil?
For those you left, time painfully goes on.
Oh, Mother, can you hear me where you dwell?

I wish to hear your voice again. How sweet
The sound of it each day when we awoke.
Its dulcet tone each afternoon would greet
us after school. How kind the words you spoke!

Your words would flutter like wings of a dove
When each of us received your goodnight kiss,
And gazing at our dad, your one true love,
Your words, unsaid, shone in those eyes I miss.

Your flowers’ scent I breathe in tenderly
while praying that your words drift down to me.

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Last Breath

You were a shining Star.
Few of many in the sky.
Looking up so very high,
Not knowing why you are.

Close and set you are far.
Spinning flames  knot a tie,
I note a pattern just like pi.
Colliding with me you spar.

So burn it up and burn away,
Sow your heart upon a plane.
Chart your distance in the clay.
Burn it all up then call it sane.

The explosion in the sky is His death.
All burned up He has no last breath.

(R) Registered:  2013  Ann Rich

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Green Bananas

A time is reached in life if one remains Alive to tell the tale: those certain things He once performed routinely, ascertains The notion, habits must desist which brings About awareness: His mortality. Employment ends; Retirement is here. The monthly saving wanes. Frugality submits to lavish tastes. The thirty year Installment loan is paid. But now he’s glum. He now forbears purchasing bananas That are unripe for fear his death may come before they ripen. Shakespeariana Unfolding: Final act that yields a frown: The man’s demise, they ring the curtain down.

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The Last Leaf

Remember the days when life
Was all we thought about ?
It slipped by being alive
Could end when death turnout ?
One more among the crowd
To admire to whole tree
When the green leaves have sprout
There’s not much to see
On a tree that’s almost empty
It’s leaves spread on the ground
In one dead leaf there’s still beauty
That if looked for can be found
The last green leaf that has turned brown
Will still be beautiful after falling down

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Remembering Me

I have no wings, only cold feet of clay
And I'll never touch the farthest round sky
Days came quickly and passed along the way
Forgotten in silence, no one asks why
My dreams will never be rendered again
They all died in the hollow of my mind
Dispersing as fragments from my dead skin
Tattered reminders that I left behind
I lay in the black earth where none defend
Where darkness rules and only bones survive
While covering soil grows thick, I pretend
My bones are found, to show I was alive

I'll dissolve, only time will oversee
And lay silent, Remembering me

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Loves deadly spell

Together they live happily forever
in a life filled with sorrows and sadness
they will be together, always never
excluded from reality for life

Forever or never they live to cry,
away they will be gone with but a knife
the choice to live happily or to just die
A knife or life, forever or never

a quarrel, a death, leaving one alone
he lies on the ground, a knife in his heart
a plan, a scheme, its never to be known
She says to herself "we must never part"

Now two dead hearts lie, killed with the same knife
Why? Was it love or just a wast of life?

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Pearl of La Paz

Oh pearl of the world, opalescent daughter of nacre
Venus borne up in a shell from the shimmering sea
Had I known your loveliness would be a trouble maker
So gladly, so happily, I would have let you be

A dream so richly rare to ignite a weak man's greed
A burning thirst that only having you could quench
By night we hide, they fire a shot and then my dirty deed
The thieves lie dead before me but still the pearl I clench

Juana keens a high and shrilling moan of deep travail
I rush to them.. What can it be that causes such distress?
My son, my Coyotito, so cold, so still, so pale...
I damn, I damn, this devil's jewel that I possess!

Ahead a life of emptiness, that no riches can restore
Into the sea, oh witch's spawn, your curse shall kill no more!

March 8, 2013. Based on John Steinbeck's novella "The Pearl".
Natural perfect pearls of good size are very rare and quite expensive.

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Without You

Define your lovely, soulless heart in death
 To take my heart would be a risk; a storm
 You licked your lips to taste what i had left
 And jumped from cliff to rocks, i was forlorn.
 Upon my lover; roses wilt in pain
 For I’ve lost the one whom has no soul, and
 Was all this give and take with us in vain?
 I loved your soul and heart, we joined by hand.
 The brewing storm that took a life, took two
 For deep within your heart was love,
 And deep within my heart was you
 I’ll see you soon, i promise; heart above.
 For without you I cannot survive
 For without you I will not strive

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I want to say good night
But its night as yet to you
I can see darkness now
If maybe you never left

I have to say good night
Darkness has defeated me
Only your love can resurrect me
I am afraid to go now
But I have to go and live under the shads
Love me to my silent place

Good night when you see the moon
Flower me with roses from abandon garden 
Cover me with what i was and be now
Good night sleep with elevated power

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Slow Death

He lay dying_ slowly did his life pass
Watching others as they moved about room
As his heart failed, fluid filled him enmass
More than his body could handle consume

Legs swollen so that look like muscle man
Stomach swollen sounds as ripe watermelon
Lived a good life years beyond most lifespan
Pain in eyes _ don't really need this athlon

God how can in life some have to suffer much
The depth of their suffering you have shown me
Through the death of this pet whose  so soft touch
Touched our hearts to depth in death _ made me see

Instant death_ here;  then gone_ suffering little
So sad_ long death slow torture overbattle_

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The Dying Beauty

Lovely flower, how thee shines so brightly, But what hath you be, when the sun must fall? The sun must cease shining e'er so slightly, Then the sunset be your beauty's last call What happens when your morning dew has dried? Sprinkled reflection of morning passes What when the sunlight's golden hue has died, And you're all alone in dying grasses? What will you be, when your stem has turned brown? And there's no set of eyes to admire? What when your lovely blue petals fall down, And there's nothing left of you to desire? Your beauty shall forever be the past, And this death of your color be the last~

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( A Monosyllabic Sonnet )

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Oh, gentle ghost, you come and then you go,
with puzzles of the past, unanswered still,
your fragrance calls to mind, things I don't know,
from every word you give, I take my fill.

Tis life's great tragedy, you'd have me wear,
for all the days and nights, I've left to hold,
but spirit brings the dark, and takes me where
I reach the all alone, not growing old.

Your beauty is my breath--my greatest sin,
and has your mother known you all this well,
to say from where you come, where I have been?
The things she cannot know, she cannot tell.

       Oh, gentle ghost, I fail deep in your eyes,
         into a death that never truly dies.
                      ©  ron  wilson

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Catch Me If You Can French Sonnet

<               enticing to eyes watching mama's pink roses bloom
                 fourty years later someone else now cares for them
                 fresh cut daily and seen in her arms their long stems
                 tears streaming down face I sit under swollen moon
                 waiting watching for sun to come up again soon
                 to catch one more glimsp of mama's planted old gems
                 unfurling petals before been chopped or condemned
                 think I'll ask if can take one for my dining room

                 aroma bursting amidst thy supper's table
                 bowed heads we come and thank our Heavenly father
                 somebody still cared though sick and times unable
                 and answers it's door for which one has come bothered
                 to let bask in roses empowering fable
                 and not to be called as it's one's roses robber

French Sonnet is a poem with rhyme scheme
Syllable count is 12 syllable per line.

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Temporary Home

They’ve traveled from one house to another.  
Some may say they’re strong enough to go on 
Without a woman to call their mother. 
Attachment is pointless, soon to be gone.  
Another house that will never be home.  
Little children crying themselves to sleep,
wondering where they will be next to roam. 
All they can do is to hope and to weep. 

Will they love me enough now, I wonder.
Shall I go away or shall I stay here?
At night, I can still hear the loud thunder
of his footsteps drawing so very near. 

Though I may never find my one true home,
For love, I’ve found- I’m no longer alone.

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To Bring Clock Immobilized For A Moment

(A tribute poem to Connecticut Shooting victims)

Whilst time is not in our hands to bear
Whispering hushed sound, steals someone’s life
A lithe gunman brandishing gun to err
If only I hold time, I’ll stop the strife

The ephemeral laughter of childhood
Bequeath memories to posterity
Be an advocate for gun ban, I would
Parents felt like dry leaf in an eddy

I speak of my thoughts, hopes, and prayers
A glimpse of dulcet smile one last chance
Felicity in heaven cloaked the fears
For these children once have a dalliance

One by one, far and near, gunshot broke out
In silence, their presence you can’t live without

Posted also in (Jan. 2, 2013)

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Your head is dead a chamber vast and void
and nothing's what you think on anymore
forgotten are all things you once enjoyed
and are replaced by life the constant bore.

Your brain's been drained you sit alone and stare
all hope's run out, your heart is solid stone
from night to day and day to night it's there
the wish to be forgotten and alone.

You think and sink into Oblivion
not caring if you fade or if you die
but only that you shed the shell you're in
you've gone beyond the questioning of why.

You are the death, the dark of greatest fear
the song of life only the dead can hear.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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Hope's Glimmer

It should not have surprised me when I woke,
laying in the hospital bed, white sheets,
bandages, heart monitor, IV yoke,
nurses, and three empty visitor seats.
Psychiatrists asked questions, prescribed pills,
forced meetings, demanded group therapy,
attempted to find the root of my ills,
declared depression, and then set me free.

It did not surprise me when I came home,
to find it still broken, empty, and bare.
Laundry still piled in a haphazard dome,
and proof of collapse pervaded the air.
I failed in life and also failed in death.
There must be a reason I still have breath.

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You Never Learn-Scars Left Behind

Dad is pushing up daisies today. He did away with himself on New Year’s Day. He lodged a bullet into his own chest. Less than a week later, he was laid to rest. Down to Atlantic City, you and Mom would roam. All our depressed father could do was stay home. You desired to dump more money in a casino. Dad pleaded with you not to go. What a horrible scene you witnessed with your eyes. Our father fashioned his very own demise. Of course, you were filled with regret. However, you too easily disregard and forget. Even that didn’t stop you from losing your money. Do you think destroying yourself is funny? Robert Pettit

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My love, what shall you leave me with tonight? What words are there to mend my broken heart? Will our love be repaired with morning light, Oh, or will nightfall be our last depart? My darling, sha'nt I leave you without this, My eternal promise of love to you How could you pull apart this final kiss? Don't let such love fade, whilst such lovely hue So, before you give your final goodbye, And your anger and hate bury your love Remember what wishes, and dreams, will die And the future that we had spoken of So, I'll remind you with my final breath, My eternal love is as strong as death

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Almighty - Shower your love and bless us

 This poem is dedicated to those who are suffering from natural disaster 
 wrote by Mrs.Madhavi Suyog Pagare

 Almighty - Shower Your Love !!!!! 

 Ohh my Almighty, Ohh my Nature..
 Everything was alright, everything was fine..
 But what made you do this????
 That you astringently affected the Life of Divine..
 Why you had lend with with no mercy..
 You showered your gift in terms of cursy..
 Drenching tears of the exciting people..
 Pangs of separation happened between lovely couple..
 How much it is aching to there pity family..
 Everyone got acceleratingly disheartened gradually..
 Just now left with the new dawn and the iota of Hope..
 Hey nature please try to rudenessly cope..
 Mankind struggling for their last breathe..
 Please bless them for our sake under your sheathe..

 Please endow them for their wellbeing and glorious life ahead!!!!

By Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare

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Death of an Innocent

Observe this scene: a family is found
inside a grotto. Hear their sad lament.
They're rooted in despair while gathered round
the form of their adored: an innocent.

Without a warning, and with no delay,
there came the hooded one who wields a scythe
(that reaper grim that God alone can stay),
to take away a daughter, fair and blithe.

Unchanged through time is grief of those who love,
then lose a little one. And some lose hope!
Some search for answers in the sky above;
the light is there, but some in darkness grope.

Oh, see! Beyond the clouds and mother's wail,
an angel guides a child through a parting veil.

For Brian Strand's 
A FREE CHOICE AGAIN any form/any theme max 14 lines Poetry Contest
For Sara Kendrick's "Sonnet Me" Contest

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The Death Angel

Here of late the death angel passed this way
He didn't stop here to call one of us home
The death angel visited far away
'Twas this man from home who inspired this poem

Also a lady about a mile away(as the crow flies)
Died within hours of his life's ending
The man lived a long life had many birthdays
A lady who passed pulled family's heartstrings

She was younger with her death unexpected.
Lying down, never thought this would be last night.
Death angel came and she was appointed
Through the great darkness she saw the bright light

We were given a while longer to live
God called_ age not an anticipative 


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Whats the point of being so alone?
Its what makes me sick inside.
Running away is something I can't condone,
So I'll search for where my pain resides. 

The feeling cuts through me.
Like a rusty blade,
It'll leave a mark you'll see,
And send me to an early grave. 

This emotion is like a sea of black arrows,
Sailing through wind,
They leave me stiff as a scarecrow,
When will this end?

Cross my heart and swear to die,
The end is nowhere nearby. 

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Easy to Say

German sonnet

Call me, if you need anything.
Anxiety comes like the dawn,
her family and friends all gone.          
And, what do I know of death’s sting?
I notice how her face is drawn,
in honesty, I have no clue.
Easy to say, harder to do -
Call me, I’m one you can count on.

Beautiful line if followed through.
I think, what if she makes that plea?
Should I keep my schedule free?
Beautiful line, but is it true?
Call if you need me, sounds lovely;
what do I do if she needs me?


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Sea of Unrest

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.

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''We buried her in that grave in the ground''

We buried her in that grave in the ground;
it was her final, resting place--poor Mom!
Shaken, I wept but my siblings were calm;
only I appeared distraught and unsound,
overwhelmed at the sudden loss I found
too great to bear; it was like a huge bomb
had exploded in our lives,--like napalm!
There I grieving tears were profound;
it had been an upsetting funeral:
we buried her on a cold, wintry morn...
all there knew their places on arrival;
among them I wept, so tearful and torn
during the service and the burial.
In the end, I felt so dead and stillborn...

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A View From A Hospital Room

Checked the small view from hospital room I did
Doing this deed was just a simple thing
View top of trees but bottom half woods hid
Windows in building right, sun_ clouds mirroring

How many persons from car wreck slain
Thinking continues noise from hall distress
View draws me in_to outside once again
Are the crows high in nest now comfortless

Will my love whom on my bosom kept
Be kept safe_God will heal I am quite
Sure, even though now the time light has crept
The deciding factor will be tonight

At our home will he come once again to face
All the love and happiness in this place

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If I only had one day to live on earth's fragile dimension
I would pass by all fears that kept me standing like rock,
Dismissing stodgy impulses to win in a concrete contention
For my instincts to release, as new Gates arise and unlock.
Oh!The unfair world would carry on it's endless course 
And Time's vanity would sell promises still to human mind,
Yet, I would weep not for my Fate's erring horse,
Even if my ticket was expired, a Golden path would be defined.
Maybe I would send letters of love to lovers I craved all those years,
Or I would spend last moments with faces familiar and close,
Or even maybe I would find the one to die with me and plan our steers,
The beauty of this land I walked to leave and expiate near windy blows.
My soul ready for return would seek redemption upon the starry sky,
Reaching my Home I will wave to earth's wisdom, hearing it's long ''bye-bye''.

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Home to the Ocean


While dreaming of my childhood ocean ties, mem'ry's chandelier sheds light, somewhat eclipsed. The essence of the salt still stings my eyes; the rusty taste of iron hangs on my lips. The ocean’s fragrant spray not quite so fair as I recall; it makes me think of death. Many a moon has set since I was there; destiny speaks to me - my own last breath. The ocean’s soft waves bring dulcet mem’ries, my mama’s silk scarf brushing ‘gainst my face. Turbulent storms always left me on my knees under safe precipice back of our place. It is there my dreams rest as I stand by; it’s there I shall be buried when I die.
3 inspired by nette onclaud's poem from 6/12/11, Even After Twilight Loves We miss you, nette, and long for inspirations from your pen as you have time and energy. Meanwhile we read your poetry and pray for whatever keeps you away from us to end.

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Last Breath

The gentle wind warms my old wrinkled skin
As I slowly sink in the sea's soft sand
The gliding flight of seabirds seen again
Beyond gray contours where sea touches land 
Their soft silhouettes claim this final place
As I silently stare into the view
And find quiet edges my eyes embrace
Knowing all of us are just passing through
This moment of peace turns, as thoughts now come
To many souls who've stood here before me
And saw the same sky, heard the tides same drum
Wondered of their place in life's decree

As beautiful colors float in my mind
I'll hope the next old soul reflects in kind

written by Frederic Parker

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Brutal salvation

Sip that blood .. fill thy melancholic heart
bandage my deep wounds then dig me a grave
may my life begin if I shall depart 
for the mortuary life had me enslaved 
and my conscious mind cursed his sanity 
scattered am I among those frosty dreams 
to proceed my road to eternity
and satirize the life I won't redeem 
so tolerate my sin .. accept my wrath 
for in this perfect world am incomplete 
survived by death .. anxious for my last breath 
drift in grief as I flip my final sheet 
thus I rot shrouded by desperation 
till I'm blessed with thy brutal salvation

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Before the Trek

A path appeared where I had set my gaze. It reached from distant times beneath the sun. To travel it took all one’s earthly days, and soon, I knew, my trek would be begun. The Tidings Wind was echoing through trees - those stalwart prophets fixed along the path. Humanity was sounding in the breeze their mingled cries of grief and joy and wrath. Though barely could I grasp the nature of the journey I would take, I felt the thrill of leaving home, for Father told me love would greet me there below with my free will. I’d stumble, but I trusted Him to place His signs to guide me back by light of Grace.

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Architectures old and new are tumbled.
Small Japan hit thrice in quick succession.
The bewildered  nation deeply humbled.
Nature pummels with a mad obsession.

Tsunamis take all that is not taken.
Failed nuclear plants spread fear throughout the land.
The loss of life so great, folks feel forsaken,
Citizens too confused to understand.

We, the world weeps as troubles grimly mount.
With disbelief we watch each horror come.
The money costs much more than they can count.
They know that it has been a princely sum.

Brave warriors battle on in staunch defense,
For losing has too dire a consequence.

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Child of Love

Alive in hearts you served so well
Far b’yond the call; b’yond oceans’ swell
Come rain or shine you were always there
For family, friends and strangers cared

Child of love; reflecting pool
Mirror of your parents; God’s building tool
Foundation most solid, you withstood the gales
And mocking waves, arose, only to fail

You heard His call; you ran the race
Bathe in joy exquisite as you see his face!
God of Salvation, God of love
Who called you to Himself; your home above

Forever, you’ll be to your family left behind
Flesh of our flesh and of God’s Spirit, divine
RIP: Winifred Elizabeth Beryl Carey

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Our qualms doth not live aloft our dreams to confer 
Upon heavenly horizons where every soul shall dwell

Twas meant to turneth thy sight away from a lovers stare
Should sunshine always show, should seas forever break swell

Thou and thou maketh one long vow bound before holy eyes
As fate end lives to lure in new casts God maketh so endears

Why hath ye been sojourned in secrecy of where thine truest treasure lies
When in that divine next place, you will sigh at thine sight of no fears

Mustn't time only tell tales lived on by unvanquished surrenderers
Sailing cordially lost with us, addled no more but paddled on pent in pain 

Or herein reap rewards wrought upon death’s frozen oar bearers
Shores to shores, we promised ourselves cradles to returneth once again

Thus as adventure unfolds amongst ocean graves hushed we see
Where perpetual peace reigneth forever we are at last in love at sea

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Picture Perfect

"Stricken in heart over what might have been"
Anxiety settles as stillness falls
Quiet before the dusk slowly decends
Gratitude for a picture perfect pause

The doe's beauty within my line of sight
Birds chirp in the deep forest unaware
No danger from anyone; no need for flight
Deep within the underbrush noises scare_

Tiny twin fawns disturb silence with bleats
Waddlle over to mom for nourishment
All settles to quiet as fawns milk eat
Camera shutter never snapped event

Picture perfect scene set ready to snap
Gunfire rings out, camera drops, death entraps  

First line a quote from Mark's sonnet..

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A Futuristic Wizard Of Oz Remake

I found myself in Kansas, and with dread
saw endless rows of wheat ahead of me,
and so I clicked my slippers, ruby red,
and landed in the role of Dorothy.

Small folks with suckers sang me a sweet song.
Then finally I learned where I must go.
A road of yellow brick I skipped along
beside a lion, tin man and scarecrow.

In Oz I met a wizard not too bright
and wished to be in Kansas once again.
I clicked my heels and then a blinding light
transported me where rice grew on a plain.

A Chinese from two-thousand-twenty-four
said, “Girl, this no be Kansas any more.”

Epilogue: Everyone knew Chinese
and there was Universal Health Care.

Written by Andrea Dietrich/Aug. 27,2012

Inspired by Michael J. Falotico's
"Close your eyes and click your heels" Poetry Contest

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The Black Hound of Destiny (English sonnet in tetrameter)

As darkness takes our souls to hell
what has become of pleasant dreams
when death has tolled its final bell
no one remains to hear the screams.

Gwyllgi calls, the end is near
as demons dance across the land
their laughter chills a heart with fear
for fate has shown her evil hand.

Awash with blood to purify
the world of Man's eternal rage
no longer can our words deny
Gwyllgi's here to close our page.

And no demons shall rape and kill
for evil comes from Man's own will.

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Dear Stella, up the path, into the park,
deep shadows hide the trees along the Seine,
the quiet of the night accents the dark
and you can feel your breathing now and then.

The peaceful gloom, enveloped by a mist,
all black and gray and shades of morbid white,
accentuates the place your eyes have missed,
where someone waits, who's watched you every night.

This place, where gendarmes warn to be aware,
tonight is more foreboding than you've known,
and so you pause; you look; is someone there?
it's then you realize, you are alone.

The snapping of your heels you hear increase,
as if the hurry puts your mind at peace.

Engulfed, the path leads up and from the Seine,
and then you'll be out of this narrow pit,
but suddenly you feel the eyes again,
much closer than a glove too small to fit.

You struggle with your thinking, in a word,
to flee or just pretend no one is there,
and so you hum a tune you've never heard,
and place your safety in your mother's prayer.

Oh, Stella, Stella, in the spring you'll wed,
your sweet Gaston. Believe he's at your side,
and you will laugh at all this gloom and dread...
though courage might have found you, it has lied.

The shadows all are moving; you can hear
the groaning of someone who's all too near.

The quiet; crickets sounding no alarm,
but now a drizzle rain cools at your heat,
and tingles flowing down onto your arm
remind you of the friends you'll never meet;

quite suddenly, he's grabbed you from behind,
and muffles any sound you might have found,
you cannot scream, to hurt is in your mind,
but he's too quick, he's pinned you to the ground.

Who is this thing, your lover or your friend,
you might have pained...why does he want you dead?
or is this just someone who brings the end,
you've never known, with killing in his head?

You feel no teardrops, feel no blood nor fright,
there's only blinding, blinding, blinding light....
© ron Wilson aka Veebdosa the Doylestown poet

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The End

She just closed her eyes and that was the end
No tearful goodbyes not even a word
And all of the whys they were never heard
There were no more lies we had to defend

So ended our show and all it incurred
So far beyond woe no teardrop to rend
My mind won’t know it chose to pretend	
So great was the blow it must be absurd

My memory ran to our special place
Where kisses began in days of our youth
Where once a young man discovered his dawn

No future in sight just one empty space
Which stole all my light this vision of truth
So began the night for now she is gone

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As i traverse, never know when my sun will retire wholly
  As its gaze bump on whole, to split out my knight errant shadow,
Dusty and encrusted sole of mine, wild creatures hum their pitying elegy like a widow  While colourful grasses rest on their sandy and muddy couch delightfully.

The cloud coming with veiled complexion, my sun must go into bed, 
 The moon surfacing, the exact time for shadowy walkers,
Might stop in your hut to taps your wood like woodpeckers,  
Chide me not, don't let your eyes go red.

For, that which comes to a man goes to another man 
Maybe whirl whirl like wind or yours drizzle drizzle like rain, 
Which thou cannot trick upon, as thou lives among human
For, mankind race is a journey to the same terrain.

For traveller am i since birth put me on 
 Chide me not away, nor my time sit upon.

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                 My uncle Col, i would like to point out
\                that i have an idea whats going about
                 in your head and heart that you have gap
                 that`s a continuous running,just like a tap

                But i really hope that you can see
                that family love will always be
                there if ever you need it most 
                although you have son`s and grandchildren to boast
                And all that you need when you look above
                clasp your hands together,and you will have love
                `cos Margret will always be looking down
                to lift up your spirits your mood and your frown 

                                R.I.P AUNTY MARGRET X

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My Queen and Her Child

Run far away my unknown living child
Follow me across and up the brown stairs
For it is I whom makes your heart too mild
I will kill the sweet smell of your red hair.

Sweet queen, today you are to be no more
Please follow my cold living hand reaching
No more you are, yet death reaches no door
Enslaved you are, continuing, teaching.

I think of reaching for my hidden gun
Pray just before your sudden gruesome death
My jest toward you is not a damn pun
Silent I must not stay, even when deaf.

I can not compare your skin with one word
Turn away, I say, my disgusting sword.

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Daddy Lied

Daddy lied to his sweet little girl,
wiping a tear and a golden curl.
"You won't die" he lied, in anguished pain,
Kissing her face again and again.

"Don't Cry Daddy, it will be okay"
She said. "Just hold my hand and pray"
Daddy saw the doctor shake his head "No".
Then, he knew it was her time to go.

She loved him with a weak final smile,
"Lay in bed with me a little while."
He climbed in bed and held her tight,
praying hard to save her precious life.

Soon she fell into lasting sleep,
leaving behind the world to weep.

A normal old sonnet, for the beautiful lies contest.

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Ulterior Song

Expanding lead, the songs to dome and lands unknown,
where ancient schemes and mysteries denote the search,
the foliage leaves announcers are and shadows grown
transmit to find the final ports where souls converge.

Along the cause, the reasons change on saddened dawn,
foretelling prophetess from skies implements lies,
about the souls' ulterior  route - of dark drapes drawn,
beside the will of the cold winds that spell demise.

The ghosts define with howling songs the nightly dark,
souls hark the calls inviting them where feelings flare,
and angels confer skyward trip where they embark,
while blurry visions of the tears reside in glare.

Along the sorrow of souls gone, serene and calm,
spreads up the chapels' knell salute to skies' realm.

© 03-11-2013, All Rights Reserved
(A hexameter sonnet)

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Chiccory Coffee

C_Coffee with chiccory her tasty delight
H_Happy was she with saltine crackers buttered
I_Intellect above with which she was gifted
C_Character was hers, caring for others with might
C_Cancer took her good life as takes those polite
O_Opportunity she gave many others
R_Right she always did because of great light
Y_Yes with Jesus now in His great light alright

C_Chiccory coffee Louisana was her brand
O_Opened doors for me to see different view
F_For she was kind, gentle, loving, refined soul
F_Family she loved gave to them friendship grand
E_Entered Kingdom for she trusted, love her goal
E_Eternal life for loving people whole

Contest;"The Sonnet Man's Acrostic Challenge
Sponsor:Dakarai Cobb

(Chiccory__is an alternative spelling of the 
word Chicory..It is acceptable. This is about
my favorite Aunt.)

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(Note: it is rare that I make drastic changes to anything I write, but a friend made some suggestions about changing my poem DEATH OF MADAMOISELLE duPONT, and I agree with her. Here is the change, I believe it makes a much stronger poem...and very timely."
Dear Stella, there's your path, into the park,
deep shadows hide the trees along the Seine,
the quiet of the night accents the dark
and you can feel your breathing now and then.

The peaceful gloom, enveloped by a mist,
all black and gray and shades of morbid white,
accentuates the place your eyes have missed,
where someone waits, who's watched you every night.

This place, where gendarmes warn to be aware,
tonight is more foreboding than you've known,
and so you pause; you look; is someone there?
it's then you realize, you are alone.

The snapping of your heels you hear increase,
as if the hurry puts your mind at peace.

Engulfed, the path leads up and from the Seine,
and then you'll be out of this narrow pit,
but suddenly you feel the eyes again,
much closer than a glove too small to fit.

You struggle with your thinking, in a word,
to flee or just pretend no one is there,
and so you hum a tune you've never heard,
and place your safety in your mother's prayer.

Oh, Stella, Stella, in the spring you'll wed,
your sweet Marie, believe she's at your side,
and you will laugh at all this gloom and dread...
though courage might have found you, it has lied.

The shadows all are moving; you can hear
the breathing of someone who's all too near.

The quiet; crickets sounding no alarm,
but now a drizzle rain cools at your heat,
and tingles flowing down onto your arm
remind you of the friends you'll never meet;

quite suddenly, she's grabbed you from behind,
and muffles any sound you might have found,
you cannot scream, to hurt is in your mind,
but she's too quick, she's pinned you to the ground.

Who is this thing, your lover or your friend,
you might have pained...why does she want you dead?
or is this just someone who brings the end,
you've never known, with killing in her head?

You feel no teardrops, feel no blood nor fright,
there's only pain, then blinding, blinding light....
     © 2003 ron wilson aka veebdosa

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The death of soul steals slowly through the years
the fog of mind that's never known to be;
brought on by laughter, love, and hate and tears
the fate of all; so few can ever see.

It brings the withering of life. Now all it's leaves;
once green and shining in the morning sun;
now setting on it all, in evening grieves
for lack of interest in what life has done.

Compassion leaves the mind, once fired and prime,
and old and tired now beats the heart we knew.
Life now mundaned, by passing of all time,
there's nothing left the heart would like to do.

     Old man, you're numbered to your final breath
        your rest is not until it's done in death.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the doylestown poet

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Within his Eye

Within his cold eye he saw the future What facts are presented, of which he’s sure Death is imminent, which is surely real He fails to look beyond, he fails to kneel Only he can see the truth of this day Ending of life will come to his dismay Shouldering all this news he hangs his head The image of the skull will leave one dead Striking is the sight within the cold eye Emptiness exudes fear one can’t deny Reality plays its chord, who’ll listen There’s no speed given so do not hasten The skull’s in his eye, symbol of the end He must not harbor hate nor him depend
Russell Sivey Entered into Debbie Guzzi's "What Do You Make of This?" contest 3/8/2013

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      Crystal Ball
There look I from the very depths of me
to levels where no one can ever know
and in the dark where only death could be
a little light fortells where life will go.

'Tis just a sphere of glass, a crystal ball,
to show the way into eternity
a dome of light, a refuge from it all,
fortelling what is always meant to be.

Then as I gaze into the deep of it,
all time's been frozen to the light I see,
and, mesmerized, I drift through space a bit
so free of all below, referring me.

The beauty I have found within this sphere
makes death's event a thing I'll never fear.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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Gulf Oil Spill

Our ecosystem and wildlife can no longer be ignored
The devastation caused by the Gulf oil spill must vastly be restored

As anger and frustration surges across the Coast
The depletion of our environment, indeed we fear the most

Several past months, many lives have been erased
In the midst of these disasters, we can only look to faith

Now let us pay a visit to some underlying factors
Volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and other natural disasters

It was not in their intention for a high tech failed invention
Yell still they don't take into account the consequences of their actions

Efforts to contain this oil spill is more doltish than we have known
What more massive debacles can this single Earth condone?

Many local residents are now suffering from depressions
So think about what lies ahead, our future generations


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One More Day, Lord

If I just had one day left in life,
I'd rid myself of anger, envy, strife.
I'd hug those I loved dearly through the years,
And kneel to God, crying with bitter tears.

My prayer, dear God, extend my days to live,
For there's still one more person to forgive.
It's me, that comes regretting my despair,
Having lived a pauper's life seemed unfair.

I wanted to travel across the lands,
To see mountains high and the ocean sands.
How can I forget untraveled highways,
And be content at the end of my days?

For all that needs be done, God gives grace.
Fretting life ends, with hopes of better place.

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Not him who wears my face

Woman! darkly gleam is your work I esteem…love it!
From mountainous mountain top to valley‘s belly
I hear you pluck…on eagle‘s wings…onward pluck
How nice, your device visits and forces in their smelly
Glamorous cells, a glad evening‘s grief to run amok.

Then ever, of flowing emotions savour. Oh their deeds befit!
Skip a stride, hop a stride, and gleefully grin upon
Their seeds too – in their please full bliss and homely homes.
But a seed… …he who wears my face and is adorn
With a talking tongue like that of his majesty Jerome‘s;

When you, him happen upon, spare an empty glance. Clickaty-clacks too,
Mine ears must hear not near. And my nose, free must it be of your flu!
On scribbled accounts, oh read, ever shall you in your shrine;
And content shall I be having inked my fourteenth line.

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Die Granate

A relief from stress, such a sweet paradise
A deafening crash then a blinding light
Poor boy, your fate is sealed like loaded dice.
Due to beastly luck this child I must smite.

Perhaps he'll go where I have yet to behold;
This kind, bereaved, extinguished progeny.
Ill-fated boy, please reach those gates of gold.
Oh, child! Why walk the streets of Germany?

Fully at rest for all eternity,
All I can do is hope forever that
Maybe the last thing you saw wasn't me.
My last image? Your torn figure laid flat.

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''Like Edgar Allan Poe I live in death''

Like Edgar Allan Poe I live in death
and in dread of "The Raven," that dark rime
of gloominess in that bird of dark time
and evil spirits, ghosts, and haunted breath.
Contemptible bird! You've arrived from Hell
and from the nightmares of mine own bedtime
to punish me for my sin and my crime:
indifference to God and to what's well.
O hell-spawn, dreadful creature of the wing!
Must you condemn me for the dead Lenore
with the dark ebb and flow of your cruel sting?
Like Poe, I have crossed o'er your evil door
and into the abyss of this curséd thing....
O Raven! I, like Poe, do die therefore.

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In Memoriam

In Memoriam

Black tulips adorn her favourite vase
At this dinner table set up for one.
Her face distorted as if hit by mace
As she displays the medals he had won.

A clowder of black cats wail on the wall,
Emulating Chopin’s funeral march.
His parents just lie there and their eyes bawl
At the cenotaphs under the tall larch.

The thunderclaps join in the gun salute
For treasured sons returned in body sacks.
These are cold facts that one cannot refute 
Unless on haunting stats we turn our backs.

With their memories embossed on a plaque
Those stars and stripes are all now painted black.

Contest: I love rock and roll
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler

Upon hearing of Peter Kassig’s beheading
Paint it Black
The Rolling Stones are touring Sydney

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To The Niece That Never Was

Sweet little girl who snuck upon her mom
without plans already in place to meet,
you’re a tiny hero, a bitter balm
for the wound that left an empty car seat.
A routine visit that ended in tears,
and an operation for the next week.
My sister’s truth was a mother’s worst fear,
never to hold her babe, to stroke her cheek.

After the grim appointment, her eyes glazed
her heart rate jumped high, and her fever raised.
Illness would have stolen her, but for fate.
You had asked a favor at heaven’s gate.
Thank you for saving my sister, sweet one.
I wish though, it didn’t mean your life was done.


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from slopes to brines

She waited on the skyline, bloom and thorn
accordment of their oaths and thoughts at night
annealed recited entity - vows sworn
- the brave ascended to the Halls of light.

War-bullet traveled through the frozen air
companion loved - his stare embraced the ferns
- the laurel and the sage ascribed his fair
the stalwart chose the path of moon and ernes.

Dim lantern's flame her thought - on peaks beseech
ornate the winds surpass the granite plate
denounced the corteges and oaths to breach,
her highness steps, adorned demise, third fate.

And in the mists when winds bemoan in pines
their solemn words will fly from slopes to brines.

© G.V. 06-05-2013

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Pumpkins Swelled

Outside his home a Geek finds a surprise Three lit pumpkins desiring compromise They wanted people to know their power He soon found them giving him a shower The evil resonates from deep inside Each Jack-O-Lantern shows off its great pride Fear that one experiences from each A fresh heart is just what they do beseech The Geek not knowing his untimely fate Approached the pumpkins which he fears of late Pumpkins swelled and grew absorbing his soul He fell, leaving his mark right on the knoll Halloween is not what it used to be When children walked around getting candy
Russell Sivey Entrant into Cyndi MacMillan's "TIMELESS YET CONTEMPORARY, A SONNET THANG" contest

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Hope Of Renewal

As the last rose petal falls swiftly down
The last of the great roses of summer
What a great summer that was lived_you known
Rose had much character an affirmer

Fall approaches with sure desolation
Only bare branches with prickly thorns left
Mocking Bird nest with nesting cessation
Protected by the Rose as in a  cleft

Used up_bare waiting for winter's cold breath
Not knowing what this winter chill will bring
As the petals flood onto the ground_death
Hope awaits but winter comes with its sting

Will the sap rise again coursing through vine
Revitalization __ one  bud sure sign

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Reaching in Darkness

In the darkness he resides, awaiting Coming soon he will escape, to sure bring His darkness onto the world around him He feels his darkness brooding to the brim His strength exceeds the normal of power And he could reach out killing a flower He grasps the bark of the tree where he’s trapped Hoping he can reach in darkness, not strapped He massages his hands outside his jail Pulls with the essence of darkness but pale He can’t bring himself out of his prison His effort left him numb from this session Slowly with a growl the witch cowers back Tucking his hands back inside his pale pack
Russell Sivey Contest: WITH THESE HANDS Sponsor: nette onclaud Visual #3 12/24/2013

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Metamorphosed - Chopped II

Breezes brush through the window caressingly,
soft fanning wings powdering my skin;
night's black velvet pricked only by the porch light's glow.
Alone, I feel no fear. Gliding the dark, my twin
has turned gossamer wings toward my tiny light-
metamorphosed--a radiant night creature.
I breathlessly await like culminating event,
faith strengthened by this moth miracle of nature.

Heaven's windows are always flung wide open;
the porches blaze in one eternal, flaming light.
Souls released from dull cocoon entrapments 
wing into endless day free of sin's blight.
Life's thin film is splitting, revealing the heart;
spirit wings unfurl, lift and upward start.

November 2, 2014
Modern Sonnet
Chopped II contest

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Completed Then Go

Facing one's mortality isn't easy.
Would death be better hear ringtone swiftly,
unexpectedly_ pass from life breezy
to eternal life, sustainable upward drift. 
Or be granted extended life on earth.
Maybe through simple living great deed do.
Book about life's problems solved_ could birth.
Review life, help youth before bid adieu.
No way would want to linger; a problem
to family, unable to care for self.
No way have choice how I go, no stratagem
can alter what fate life gives oneself.
I would want all my ducks in a neat row.
Life's accomplishments completed then go_

Words used: ringtone, sustainable,simple living
Theme: 7)Eternal Questions
Sponsor: Cyndi MacMillan
Contest: Timeless Yet Contemporary A Sonnet Thang

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Life's Wild Side

standing midnight watch on the quarter deck
shipyard worker reported cries for help
Officer of the Deck sent me to check
on the portside sounded like a dog’s yelp

I knew of the barges on the portside
from port sponson saw man in the water
I tried pulling him out each time he’d slide
ship yard worker came and brought some order

a boat came to take us back to the pier
my white Dixie hat was pretty muddy
I later found out the man snuck out for beer
one week later my best friend was bloody

saved a life and loss a life in one week
I’m just thankful it wasn’t any streak

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      Doomsday Rock
In these, our final days before the end,
come in a moment, faster than the eye,
'tis easy to believe, and comprehend
what lies beyond the end, is not to die;

We'll go as one, together to the last,
a world snuffed out, by something closing in,
that's been ten billion years, and coming fast
but we won't see it coming until then;

the speed it flies is something out of dreams,
much faster than a thought, it will be there,
and what we see won't be just what it seems
until the last, we'll see it everywhere.

In this, the end, out of necessity
we'll all believe, then we'll be history.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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To Susie

When Death, the vast unknown, and all therein
Whose thoughts tremor feel I without reserve,
Always has been this strain upon my skin,
Absent courage and woe do strike a nerve. 
Alas, when I’m with you, I fear Death not, 
In short a time, my fear, I do suspend,
To be with thine, whose zeal I love a lot
Thy feel, thy touch, do make all dread transcend. 
A test to know my love, in sooth, is real  
Innate, with love, so filled, Death hath no clout,
For all, love poor, fear hath too much to deal 
The world may end, yet I, remain devout.
    To keep her long, I free myself of me,
    Only thy heart hath to look once, here be.

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For the Late Midsummer

Show me a clear midsummer’s day, and I
Shall reveal the coldness lurking beneath
For which the mortals heave a knowing sigh
In kind, the winter bares her savage teeth

Yet we, who know better than to implore
Play games with Time that are cruelly coy
Always to have less than ever before
And thus is the fickle manner of joy

To depart tenfold as quick as it came
Seeking first the ones who try to hold fast 
For all who dare speak that elusive name
Breathe tender eulogies of summers past

Fear not, for the blush of this earth entombed
Shall run our blood until we are exhumed

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SCIATICA - your best friend

You'll doubtless think my mind is fooling me,
or all my hurting's only in my head,
but pain is what brings on my misery
and makes my heart to wish that I was dead

and though my case is weak for proving it,
my lumbar's slipped a disk--and out of whack,
because of this my life has turned to shit,
and how I am, depends on how's my back.

My wish is you would have for just one day
sciatica I bear--so you could feel
in spite of what the skeptics have to say
my pain's excruciating--and is real.

   If you could stand a while here in my shoes
   the pain you'd feel would make you moan the blues.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa
for Facebook, Well this is a pretty picture of a storm coming
on Fort Knox, with me cut and pasted onto to
photo I took last week...

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Passion Untamed

What happens to passion untamed?

Does it consume one
like night does to the light?
or spread through one's body--
and then become ferocious?
Does it look like a savage beast?
or somehow turn into love--
like when two hearts meet?

Maybe it just remains there 
like a stone.

or does it drive you to the tomb?

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Sonnet 40

Half-gun will travel on the western front,
Beyond brothels...gunpowder of debri.
Myself the man that blissful bulletts hunt,
As he that shoots has lost his wife to me.

From dusk 'till dawn my death deceives the day,
By sun and shadows guns illuminate.
So swift did summer sin a song to pray,
Upon that grave my spurs would gravitate.

Herdsmen and hoarses hearken to the hyme,
Of fire flushed from weaponry with flames.
And as I bled my heart did hold the crime,
Of loving her that shared her heart with games.

Wounded by way of weak and stubborn will,
Dying at dawn, death on this western wheel.

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The Last Lullaby

Basking in the first rays of the childhood sun
Chasing the fleeting trail of the grasshopper
The ancient trunk of life, in its penultimate run
Embraces the horizon, steps towards the bar

So many memories twinkle across the sky
Childhood fancies, youth gilded of love and passion
The strength of togetherness, days passing by
Loneliness creeps in, a grey morn lamenting the Sun 

Heart craves for a return, yet the call of the sea
What pain cripples him when all bonds are severed
A distant lull encompasses the forlorn lea

Wonder peace ever found in the journey entire
Were souls paired with soul, relationships made real
The world slowly fades out, a voice heard loud and clear

Prasenjit Banerjee
Contest Name: The Poet-III by Gautami Phookan

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Drifting In the Hale-Bopp

The puzzle comes apart deep in the sky;
calls nothing that is concrete to the mind;
as far as we can tell and meets the eye
the reason for the tail's not ours to find.

We stand confused, and only guess at why
the wonder of it all has stilled our voice
did David Korish ever really die?
and is it all worked out, with little choice?

Mount Carmel but a coming of an age
the catostrophic ending of mistake,
what hope is there to ever quell the rage
appeassing what is wrong, for honors sake?

      Is there a sign that's ever flown the sky
       or is it just a dream where-in we die?
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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A Homecoming

I have spent many hours reflecting on my dad's last earthly days. How he stared silently at the room's far corner, in another place. At times, many visitors filled his crowded hospital room. But my father's eyes were transfixed, his face peacefully consumed. Though he could not speak, I questioned his mesmerizing vision. As I held his hand I knew the answer, God had made His decision. Angels had come for my dad as he quietly faded in that bed. His time of peace had come, but it was the moment I had dread. I wanted Dad to stay with me just one more minute, hour, day. But summer, his favorite season, had come, the time for me to find a way to let him go, Jesus was calling; so I kissed him goodbye through tears. As he took his final breath, a peaceful calm washed over my fears. I stared off into the distance, imagining beautiful angel wings of love, embracing my dad, then flying him to the eternal summer of Heaven above. * This is all true. I held my dad's hand and sang to him as he took his last breath. It may have been angels or my dear grandma coming to take him home. I only know that I felt comforted by my dad's peace. By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, March 19, 2012 First place in Touched by an Angel contest (Gail Doyle) Eighth place in Emotional Poem Contest (PD)

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sonnet i

Therein amongst the subtle fall of rain
That drips rhythmically upon leafy green
I hath now a dead love, woefully lain
Like deadened steps on the grave stones serene.

Though mold casts shadows, haunting and subdued— 
As rain's sleek menace cracked youth's lofty tomb—
Black boughs laden with black apathy, nude,
Line this grave yard as would a mother's womb.

These roses are not perfumed in anguish,
Yet, in hesitation, with them I lie
A solitude prepared for relinquish
That with salted derision, hopes to die.

And the meek mourn with ugly, failing grace
As the rain gradually quickens its pace. 

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The Sea Mist

Here we are, amidst
the roaring chaos,
Amidst the turmoil
of a sanguine sea
Where lightning
strikes furiously
Encumbering clouds
of serenity.

The wind has torn
your bones to white
And left your hearts
to the mercy of
And as the last
surviving light
We shall persevere
with each failing

Behold! The Ocean's
Womb is wide open!
The Terror of the
Depths beckons
Your wives shall
smile for your
courage is proven.
Let us strike the
waves with ardour
and might!

Only a tombstone
over the cliff
For Man had defiled
what was already

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Death comes much too soon like an awkward think;
Expect to live now in the space called here;
Calm feels day's high noon ere some broken brink;
Art charms fine allow in fond times right here.
Yield heart and body to soul's warm embrace.
Feel all things that come despite the disguise;
Ripe moments briefly inspire a sure face;
Align your life's sum and live each surprise.
Cheer has a sure way of telling your tale;
Truth blossoms wise choice as flowers now bloom;
Use authentic play to uplift things stale;
Reap clear, mindful voice as love transcends gloom.
Enter calm and bold the journey pathway;
See friendly death hold peace beyond decay.

Leon Enriquez
14 May 2014

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Soonn Deux

On the sands of time

How will his feet print on the sands of time?
The query he is so bothered to ask
Emirates, ere hit and run dashes his rhyme
And creates deep holes of vast pending task.

Will those little lights yet glow when he’s gone?
Or will they die off when he’s in that hole?
This, he meditates in his deepest lone,
Scribbles verse, should unexpected grips whole.

Placer orb was where he conceived this tongue;
Whence his momentary opt to torch the ground
Ere it will be too late to dong a gong-
Then the planet will guest still air of sound.

For the world abrupt visitors, he scribes
This anon writ, ere God sends His un-bribes.

©A.O, 4/3/2014.

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Unbearable Beauty in Scarlett

I look at her picture ... she'll never grow old.
A feathered headband on her small, downy head.
The pain will lessen, that's what we've been told
but we've so few memories of a babe , now dead.

Scarlett of name, a moniker bold,
for such a wee thing, fragile and young.
She won't grow into the name, will never grow old.
Won't learn to walk or talk or ever have fun.

I look at her picture, tears brimming my eyes.
She sleeps so peacefully in repose.
They say time will heal but I believe it's all lies.
The grief that we feel, no one really knows.

Her unbearable beauty left scars on our hearts.
On the day God reclaimed her ... we all fell apart.

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Grief Reactions

Grief has many faces, many aspects of life’s demeanor displayed.
Real grief swells the soul, buries the mind, and stones the heart.
I have both seen and felt, especially when death plays a part.
Everyone has felt grief in life, felt overwhelmingly dismayed.
Feelings are real and take control of everything to be remade.
Reactions are what persons do right from your heartaches start.
Even if compassion is the first thing painted in teary art.
Anguish shared together, sorrow between two; do aid.
Completion of misfortunes with shared guidance with all.
Taking their mind from undercover, slowly rising it up,
Invoking the soul to heal, crumbling heartfelt stones.
Only time will heal, whatever action caused the fall.
No one can predict or project the time of peaceful cup.

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Great Spirit here come I in humble prayer
child of your Bedonkohe blood and line.
I raise my hands to recognize you there
and plea you recognize this heart of mine.

I know you welcome all into your light
And let my way, as through this death I go, 
Be swift and sure, if bad or good or right
As certain as blood of Geronimo.

Look! Is my line not tied to what's his past?
And does this not bring us our only choice
To bide amongst the tribe from out our past?
To gather in your light, and raise one voice

Of this, our song, our voices unified
And handed down through time, where we have cried.
...............© Ron Wilson
Another very special Sonnet that just wrote itself through me...where do they come from? And how?

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Back to The Summerland

What matters not, now past and put away,
your welcoming brings on another scheme
and here you make your plan, you can not stay
much longer than it takes to build a dream.

In this, the place where beauty binds all things,
forgotten is each pain, you've ever known,
and here, the Green of life, it always sings,
of life to be, from where all love is grown.

Until you get it right, you shall return,
back to your Summerland, where you can grow,
into a life from which we never learn,
because of learning things we never know.

Your understanding is your final breath
And life begins in what we think is death.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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A Step In Dance

Sweet angel guide me to this place of rest,
My weary soul at last takes its final breath,
A single bell to mark another death
Yet beginnings wait in an angel’s breast.
For death is not an end of things to me,
As life begins and ends within this place,
There are many more challenges to face,
But for a while I will be resting free.
My spirit roaming here upon a cloud,
With she who bound my heart with her sweet love,
And took my oath to the heavens above,
Together now, beyond the hallowed shroud.
As one in life we shared in love’s romance
So again shall our spirits step in dance.

Form: Canadian Sonnet

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The Enemy

In a field of planted pines newly thinned
Neat trees in parallel rows lined up straight
Much more visibility once again
Cleaned and gleaned open for all to see fate

Entered in the open gate to escape
But the enemy can see every move
A blessing disguised fog came like a drape
Covering emotions he can make use of  

Behind a tree crouched upon the damp ground
Coated in fog, heart pounding, holding a scream
Waiting for the enemy to hear sounds
Of my breathing_or thoughts as they stream

Only the thick fog protects as he turns
Leaves through the open gate death is now spurned

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Sonnet to Suicide

Go this way to dusty death, And to this way the ground. Abandon all your final breaths, And learn not to make a sound. Bury yourself up to the neck, And tie the noose's knot. Keep your feelings in the wreck, And allow them all to rot. Take yourself up to the cliff, And look over to the sea. Outstretch your arms; give them lift, And embrace the death to be. Darkness rules your once clear mind When you lend unto it all your time.

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The Faraway View

Must I travel the same narrow road back
So long now I have been very far away
On this road back will I come into lack
Or will there always be a sunny day

This road back will I remain one who has hope
Can I accept that life may become more plain
Surely it will be harder to go up a slope
But for sure I'll never pass this way again

The farther I go the more that I listen for the bell
The bell that will carry me home through the air
Especially on days when I feel unwell
Even then I long somehow to go there

Maybe you are ready for this journey too
From a mountain high we'll both enjoy faraway view

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Glitterless and Bare

In a world swathed, in the darkest of night
She danced and she twirled, emanating light
The very place where, her dainty hands lay
Scintillated sparks, of glorious day

A woman touched, by celestial grace
Heavenly glitter, sheened angelic face
She traipsed high and low, aching hearts to bless
Lustrous glory, she clothed in tenderness

One day fairy, by unseen hand did fall
Shiny wings crushed, she was left there to crawl
Her soul's glimmer, now flowed out in her tears
Prostrate on the ground, weighed by bitter fears

With every sob, falling glitter left bare
Her magic gone, she gave in to death there

Eileen Manassian Ghali

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The Beautiful Somewhere

Now hark how brilliantly doth shine that place
So bright, of which the nymphs have spoken of.
A place where malevolence gives chase
To endless starry fields of sky above.

What I would sacrifice to situate
Myself in its divine vicinity!
A hundred thousand centuries I'll wait
To feel a flash of its affinity.

But then I was given a free demand.
An offer by three sylphs (of faith they lack)
"I wish you'd send me to that somewhere grand,"
Said I, "And never ever bring me back!"

And so, at once was I compressed to dust,
In life true beauty lies in thoughts, never discussed.

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Coming and Going

Glass and metal spread across the freeway.
Something like a melon, open, and dragged,
seeds and flesh intermixed on the freeway.
A families dreams, destroyed, on hold, shredded
and ended. What of the slow procession,
passerbys, looky-looks, rubber neckers,
just for a moment does their discussion 
cease, their hearts sink at the sight. The wreckers
truck stays their studied interest, do they peek,
Does stomach drop, head spin at the sight or
do they avoid the look they do not seek
to know? It could not apply to them for
they certainly would not be so careless,
and yes,life for them is just marvelous.

And Going
Once passed the horrid carnage of the crash,
as the view receded in the mirror,
the memory too, late meeting, loose lash,
exigencies of the day, perhaps, stir
up the old habits and the gas pedal
goes back down and the race begins anew.
The gore is replaced by  heavy metal
on the radio, turned down for a few 
minutes but now, thankfully, all things are
normal. And at end of the day when you
are asked by a spouse or a friend, "How far
were you from that crash on 680?" Do
you stop a second, having forgot all.
A family died, maybe hard to recall.

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Night ship

I woke to hear the sound of flapping sails,
With rigging gently slapping on the mast.
How strange a sound I thought within the vales,
Where from my window pane, a ship sailed past.
So dreary was its visage as it sailed,
On weary waves across the eerie sky.
The sailors hid their tears and softly wailed,
When captain death swept past them with his scythe.
The reaper turning slowly looked my way,
With eyes that blackened out the very light.
He beckoned me to board without delay,
While claiming that my soul was his by right.
And as I prayed to God my soul to save,
I felt the creaking hull and rolling waves.

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If I Had Just One Day Left to Live

If I had just one day left to live
Wisdom I'd share to my children I'd give
Just for a while we would sit down and talk
A last sitting for us all, before my soul walks

We would talk of our past remembering all the times we have shared
Look to your future for my last day I'm prepared
For a couple of hours my favourite films I would watch
The Shawshank and Private Ryan, with a Jack Daniels no Scotch

With the hours, minutes and seconds ticking by
My eyes will soon close and I'll say my goodbye's
I'll miss all of nature and the warmth of the sun
But most of all my children, my daughter and three sons

The evening now draws as I look back on my years
What little light I see goes, now the blackness appears

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Cade Poulous

You could’ve talked to me
You could’ve said anything.
You could’ve whispered.
You could stand outside yourself
and yell down the barrel of my gun,
and I wouldn’t blink.
You can sing your favorite
song over and over,
or receipt your favorite movie quote.
You could make gurgling noises with your
You could’ve leaned on me,
when your knees were buckled
and your sleep was distant.
You could’ve breathed on me,
when you were feeling behind
and no one looked you in your eyes.
You could’ve talked to me,
when your whispers were sobs,
and no one seemed to care.
I would’ve,
I could’ve, 
I should’ve been there. 

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Bewitched by a Sailor's Moon

Disperse the sun’s most wicked rays.
Exhale the vapor of the light.
Fill the soft fringe with halo fine.
Dampen the blackness of the night

Stain pink as if the weakest blood
has washed upon cobalt the skies,
cry out in fear for at the dawn
a cresting wave will sailor’s ride.

Belay, belay, the storm’s intent.
The rage incased with morbid fright.
Assuage the rampant fretting sun
“Ah, give me fair soft candle light.”

For in the morn there comes a gale
and pon a widow’s walk I’ll wail.

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Your Fatal Flaw

You seemed to be perfection in my eyes
Everything of beauty in you I saw
Your pure honesty left no place for lies
But alas, I’ve found your one fatal flaw

“What could this flaw be?” You ask me so sweet
Certain the answer could not be that grave
“If I know my flaw, I'll give you a treat
Why look so worried, dear? Tell me! Be brave!”

So with a heavy heart I pierce your soul
“It is pride, dear, PRIDE is your fatal flaw!”
You look aghast yet say, “Why this is droll!
Your argument is only made of straw.”

“FATAL….for from your presence I now part.
FATAL…for I bear with me, my dead heart.”

Eileen Manassian Ghali

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Vrbanja - Bridge of Death - Sarajevo 1995

You steal the light when there is none to see
when there is nothing left, you take it all,
For Sarajevo. just the shell of we
stands mesmerized; and backed against the wall. 

Our Balken moon's behind some branches bare
We watch it move so slow and lovingly
until it leaves the trees behind, and there,
is just the shadow of its smile to see.

No one may loose the power of ones dreams
to bathe in sunlight of a brighter day,
we stay to die where love's not what it seems,
you speak to us in words you never say.

Our sniper waits, across the Bridge of Death
in air so cold, we only see his breath.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa

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Dancing In Death

I dance in death to overtures of Bach
In the background violins softly play,
Body and mind start slowly to decay
Hear the tick, tick, ticking of midnights clock.
In death, in death; 'tis such a sweet scene,
Bach fades into the midnight hour.
The ending of song in all its power,
The beauty of death; ‘tis but a dream.

How could I dream that death is so sweet,
Oh, life why don't I cry out for thee?
I never knew death had honor and pride
'Tis a new beginning for a life complete.
The closing of mine eyes has made me see
Play on dear Bach, let me dance by your side.

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Decomposing Breath

You held my hand at the final goodbye,
No words of love could keep her scythe away,
My soul had gone before that fateful sigh,
To wait for you upon another day.
And as they laid me down to rest awhile,
I stood beside and touched your empty hand,
I thought I saw your lips begin to smile
As if your soul began to understand.
I will remain with you, unseen, unheard,
To hold you close when life tears you down,
I wait silently without breath or word,
And kiss your face when e’er I see you frown.
Though none may see the beauty or the grace
Of love; our love beyond this worldly place.

Form: English Sonnet

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walking down the coin

the coin is golden, 
the coin is rich
the coin is plentiful
the coin's a bi+ch*

the coin will entice you
the master will command you
the quiet roar will lull you
while golden coin covers over you

let it be a warning my son
a dire warning from grieving fathers
don't stand upon that golden coin
and drown in it like your brothers

no one ever wishes to behold a man's face
who lost his sweet boy to the golden coin's embrace

© Goode Guy 2013-03-28

*apparently there's a difference of what constitutes a curse word.

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I wake up screaming, sometimes crying.
I simply can't tell which side is lying.
Is it me, or is it my brain? 
I can't deal with much more because it drives me insane.
I see visions of horrible, gruesome things.
Like people who've been chopped to bits, and little dead kids that sing.
I can hear the music playing and it scares me to death.
I try to run away, but I get sicker with every breath.
I see people I love and others that I've never seen before.
If I ever see those strangers when I'm awake, I'll freak out, I'm sure.
Why do I have these nightmares each and every time I sleep?
Have I not cried enough tears for people I'll never meet?
I'll never understand it, but I guess I'll have to deal.
It only gets to me this bad because it all seems so real.

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The Gates Below

In mortal fade, in hidden earth below,
  The buried to the entrance gate are led;
Unto Acheron - great river of woe -
  To ferry across the souls of the dead.
Upon your lips, your eyes, a coin receive -
  A fare lest you be trapped between two worlds;
Allowed to enter but never to leave
  Where the waters of oblivion purls,
Where Furies follow and Hounds guard the gate,
  And souls are judged in Hades's deathless reign;
To wander the Styx and Lethe in wait
  Till rulers of gods and men part us twain.
The pit of Tartarus where the soul yields
Or sweet blissful isles of Elysian Fields.

May 2012

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Laughing Man, Pain Hidden

Laughing Man, Pain Hidden

A laughing man hid well his pain
 our approval he sought to gain
A hope that admiration would pay
 force the inner demon far away

Can any judge another man's soul
 we can only guess but never know
The mental pains cut ever so deep
 hammers preventing needed sleep

No plea, request or loud outcry
 no note explaining the why
Answer left to be only a guess
 misery now gone, soul at rest

A laughing man hid well his pain
so very sad but will happen again

Robert J. Lindley , 08-12-2014

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The Faith Not Standing

I never gave a thought to 
how I'd die
Nor live a life of gladness, 
love and peace
As sol'tude spreads uþon 
my slumbers, I
Am forc'd to consider a 
Time's decrease.

Some say the days are 
short and long, the nights
That breath in lasting, 
must be spent as well
Some say there lives a 
home for wrongs and 
For rights, it's Heaven; 
wrongs reside in Hell.

I look onto my death as 
Whenever Time dissolves 
and Fate retires
While wishing loss befall 
that potent call
I look onto my death as 
hungry fires.

Howe'er I die, I pray I'd 
live content
Or leave atleast, not 
minding where I'm sent.

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My house is leaking; doors and walls are pale
With faded paint. The floor is full of stains
I asked the owner, “Mend the problems pal
I can’t live here in this dirty dungeon

He snubbed me cool, “It’s all at your expense
You do yourself or just vacate at once
I cobbled here and there and daubed some paint
Yet looks the old abode stupid and faint

Elapsed years this way and my relic
Is crumbling now beyond any repair
It’s time I look for some new hiding niche
In my locale here or someplace somewhere

Ready I’m now to move to my new home
A kind and beautiful mother’s snug womb

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Only The Strong Will Survive

God gives not peace, it's only dreamt by man,
in all the world ,brought from catastrophe,
all things are made, since time was first began
by things upheaved so new life comes to be.

The weak must fail, be eaten by the strong,
and losers die the death along the way,
so new life grows, even if it is wrong,
there is no time the poor will have to play.

The lion who will lay down with the lamb,
will have a feast before the day is done,
and all the world will never give a damn,
nor care about the giants and their fun.

        The hunter takes his aim and fells the dove
          the weak in life are only dreaming of.

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Shadows of Dead Futures

My blood runs cold and thick black bile runs unhindered
Through my figure and no prescription drug can cure
This ice cold burning of my heart, no longer pure.
Nothing now will preserve, for you have departed.
By shadows of now dead futures, I am strangled.
My heart bleeds out its life like a bathroom ewer
Pours out water.  On a dark lifeless plane I tour
Like a gawking tourist, in town newly arrived.
Then I see your tranquil uplifting face, my love,
And it shines down brilliant upon me from above.
Through the greying mists of epochs past, you come back.
Your company smiles blond amber.  You do not shove
Me towards living but your ghost is, as a glove
To a hand and rose thorns, protection from bile black.

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When the time comes I will make a deal
With the devil for my soul to steal
When the need is too great to bear
Sell my soul so you will be there

When we can cruise down route sixty six
On our Harleys we will get our fix
When we’re riding side by side
When the time comes to finish our ride

When I’m think of amazing
I’ll see your name in a neon light blazing
When I reach out and there’s only death
When I feel us take our final breath

When I thank the world for the gift of you
When I finally die with my love so true

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Drunken Poets

Rain coming down with a vengeance
On this stormy moonless night
Flooding the barren seaside town
Where drunken poets used to write

Days were brighter, the gin was cheap
The place the trio used to meet
Lies and stories mightily spewed
Making their lonely lives complete
Tempers high and fortunes lost
Our trio's days would soon be gone
A spilled drink, an unpaid bar bill
A frightful meeting with guns drawn

They say the men still haunt this town
Empty souls roaming all around

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Sounds That Weep

The clouds are heavy moisture laden 
Dark and deep with sounds that weep, will they weep
With the surf, Palms, and wind as they dampen
Scene with mournful cries, sighs, and desire steep

The sun can not lift their weight but lies low
Behind their heaviness to see if they 
Cry out their sadness_over land flow
From the northeast a storm approaches this day

The chill of it makes room feel warm cozy
Inviting, a place to feel love_glow
Like beyond the long horizon I see
A place of warmth and love_no storms blow

Beyond the far away horizon_ wait
Perfect peace, joy, abiding love's fate


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The Alchemist

The Alchemist 
Howling moon shining bright in the clearing
Torch marked quarters cast a circle searing
Sinning sirens ringing the barrier
Seven brides of phantoms shall carry her

Choking incense, black clouds shroud the altar
Thunderous words shake! the pillars falter
Grinding dry herbs for these enchanting spells
Blessing all saints, while damning them to hells

Gloves marred with white chalk and cigarette burns
With a wave of the staff, the cauldron churns
Ashes to ashes to diamond crust
Body revives from the smoldering dust

Bloodcurdling shriek, succumbed like the others
Again failed resurrecting their mothers

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Tears, Blood, War

**Author's note: this poem is in honor of the soldiers 
that died overseas. Enjoy! :D**

Tears; they spill over eyes 
they cloud the vision of the 
cryptic and wise, 
voices cry out through the dense 
it's easy to tell that death is 
spring has arrived and the dahlia's 
in the field begin to bloom, 
the sunset lines the bloomed trees
in a line of gold and red, 
darkening the lifeless frames of 
the soldiers that have been 
shot dead,
like tears, blood was spilled
innocent men and women; killed,
sons and husbands and cousins 
whose lives were stolen from them, 
whose souls swim through the air 
filled with blood-lust, 
they died with honor; that's great! 
but war, it means nothing, but what 
it conceals; 
which is blacker and darker than 
it's own bitterness and hate. 

**2nd authors note: i have a cousin that died in Iraq and 
on the news i used to hear about all these people (u.s.a. 
and Europe and the u.k.) who were killed and this poem was born, 
i haven't written down till now. **

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Life, A Vanishing Mist

Life, A Vanishing Mist

It is so very late in my life
 a future pain awaiting my wife
A tragedy for my very young son
 years are short, life as yet so undone

Memories are signs that say very soon
 well past a shining three quarters moon
Pondering my demise and its effect
 hoping no duties do I ever neglect

What is a decade when it flies by
 or fears of no more future skies
A man can only pray to do his best
 ask God in Heaven to do the rest

Twilight now awaits its next hardened stone
 mortal man , sacrifice of flesh and bone!

Robert J. Lindley, 08-16-2014

note:  Pondering the future for my family when
 I am no more. I write my thoughts, glimpse my fear
and draw my sword in anticipation for a great battle.
A day, a month , a decade..? 
Ten years or so , to a soul desiring another 60 is a
bitter pill. Yet swallow I must...
 Not abitchin' at all, just a ponderin'.. lol

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When I see

When I see kingdoms rise and empires fall.
The pillars of the earth succumbed to rust.
There is a certainty about it all,
That everything will fade and turn to dust.
Young men will fight to stake their claim and try,
Usurp all others, who stand in their way.
And boast about their deeds but can't defy,
The sad and creeping loss to life's decay.
Death is but life's soliloquy, with just
The simple truths of life; it cannot lie.
Have any use of honour power or lust,
For all before it in the end must die.
Death is the moment, without pomp or woe,
Where the weary, are laid to rest below.

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On thy starry ride

Glittery was that sky Silvery was that carpet That on which rode the blue butterfly To show the way to the holy ballet Divine was that sight A star living with light Your face shining with might O my darling father, my knight! Gone was your soul, to that land Called by some as the Never-never land Alone and cold with fright I did shed tears that night! Blissful dance, harmonious ballet Pray life lead me there with thy cabaret!
15th Place Contest : Shooting Stars Sponsored by : Tirzah Conway

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The next few moments

Jiggling keys,he gave his crown a scratch
then took another look at his watch.
"You're gorgeous, now please get out!"
for the 10th time he cried out loud.

Out she emerged, breathtaking, as always,
dropping baubles, tottering in her Jimmy's,
Smile still smeared, they left that hour,
unaware of the timed out counter.

Tyres screeched as he sped,
"take it slow honey"she requested,
when, an unexpected brightness grew larger,
until black, and then, everything grew calmer.

With excruciating pain he awakened,
looking around called, "Lauren!"
the teary faces dropped and nodded,
"We're sorry" , they whispered..

Suddenly lifted by a whiff of heat,
all he could hear was his own heart beat.
limped out, made a futile attempt to find his dear,
and crashed with thoughts of future fear.

Shutting the door behind him,
reminiscing love, life, past with grim,
clouds of  "what if" floating his self ,
whole world reduced into a tiny elf.

Moving on is most important at present,
Realizing a  reason, he may not accept,
 he still breathes, for that very reason,
And, taking care of himself will never be treason.

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Mending A Broken Heart

Nothing as cold as a winter of black.
the world still moves, as if nothing has changed.
"a snow angel" i thought as she fell back.
she looked to the stars "they all seem arranged".
her eyes a sunrise on the Coral Sea.
Years pass people, continue in rejoice.
my despair endless, as challenger deep.
i long for her warmth, and ache for her voice.
her love for me eternally in stone.
love crashing down in a thunderous wave.
stars came and went but i stood there alone.
waiting for deaths sweet grip, by true loves grave.
when joy comes with curved blade and dark cloak.
time will mend the heart, it long ago broke.

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Negotiating's not part of our fame,
But bringing Death, and this we always will,
As certain as we have, throughout our game
Of Hide and Seek, and eager for the kill.

The crashing in of door, always our way,
Make no mistake, only the dead will know
What never comes to light of night or day,
Remaining part of where the dead will go.

Our aim is for the kill, destruction of
All things within the sight of this, the dare.
To anyone brought on by those in love,
Though innocent, we leave them dying there.

Don't look for understanding in our eyes
And we've no time for hearing truth or lies.
...............© ron wilson

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Living in Paris as un homme du monde*
searching for la belle dame* strolling
by the Seine dreaming of stars gliding...
when she starts her swift danse macabre*,
to forget she was a famous femme savante.*
In autres temps,* Marie was a beauty:
who conquered wealthy men in France and Italy...
her soprano's voice stunned them in each scene!
Ma belle Marie,* tout le monde*: from New York to Paris,
went wild applauding you in elegant Opera Houses!
Ma belle Marie,* you savored success and riches, hating the baby in your womb;
and not being satisfied, you attempted to mercilessly destroy two lives! 
Ma belle Marie,* get rid of that vile thought...replace it with thankful payers!
I came to Paris to be un homme du monde,* not to put flowers on your tomb!

un homme du monde: a sophisticated man
la belle dame: the beautiful lady
danse macabre: dance of death
femme savante: learned and cultured woman
autres temps: other times
ma belle Marie: my beautiful Marie
tout le monde: everybody

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When Greyness Rains Upon My Battered Man

When greyness rains 
upon my battered man
And brings to light the 
scars after my youth
I shall conclude my years 
a buried plan
Or wait for death to 
sprout the blessed truth.

A lifetime shall I wait if so 
To grow to youth again, a 
child anew
If life replaces death and 
skin, the bone
As forever and hundred 
days too few.

When hundred years 
become as broken wings
In timeless mire, 
dissolving man to myth
The scentless buds of 
words, unspoken beings
Are laid to chide and man 
to slumber-pit.

When greyness rains 
upon this youth of mine
I shall deprave myself of 
praising time.

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Human Being

Where has human being came from?
Global scholars continue to debate;
Several unsolved solutions still mum;
One result: Life will be terminated.

The spirit later will leave the body;
Man visualizes moving to heaven;
Religions taught different destinies;
Man’s belief in God is ever uneven.

Human lasts under the same sun;
Breathes in the same air to survive;
Searching for drink, food and fun.

Day by day, men's minds contrive
To destroy other believers on earth:
The killing replaces a sacred word.

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Unwilling Womb

WHITHER dost thou farther, my child,
Of mindless ardor conceiv'd, my poor child;
For his moral poverty thou makest allowance,
And his social sanity thou losest thy chance.
A pity, a shame, alas! A careless passion!
Fractured as it seems; seemingly fractured gift,
A tragedy, an unborn name, alas! A careful execution!
Live as thou wish'd, and wish as thou live'd,
That th' morrow brings her morrow's grief.
Th' obvious fault is but a fault in obscurity,
Awaiting her devourer, th' deserv'd peace,
Ev'r restful, as she ought and thought to be.

Wellaway! Thine eyes, nose and limbs assumed,
Whither dost thou farther with an unwilling womb?

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For Wynnis Johnson

Woe to mortal limits in death begun,
  For dust you are and to dust you return:
Now all that's of this mad fleeting is done
  But for sorrow and ash in dateless urn.
To do, and unto my lost cause to teach -
  Did I not this nobility disgrace!
Yet still you sought to seek, to touch, to reach,
  And to look upon the soul and its face.
I lament that age! That fear! That spoiling!
  And by your leave there is my tribute owed:
Like the thresher to the chaff long toiling
  You were as the driven wind that winnowed.
Real was my discontent - my fakery;
Yet you never failed or abandoned me.


Dedicated to a very special teacher and human being.
Rest in peace.

February 1994

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The Heron

for  my Father

My father is as noiseless as the bird,
Transfixed upon his pirouetting bob,
To angle fish his self-appointed job,
He speaks with silence. It is his every word.

Mirror to him, voiceless and unstirred,
The heron stiffens, ready to make hob
Among the flitting silver swimming mob.
Beaking his prey, he leaves the water blurred.

He rises like a spirit from the lake
to seek his nest, crowning a cypress tree,
At the utmost reach of my pursuing eyes.
Dad passed today. Contented with his take,
his creel pegged out, my father sought his quay
Eternal, at a height I can't surmise.

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The Vulture's Verse

The vulture's verse through windmill's blades is spun.
A shrill and acrid accent, most verbose.
With axle's grinds, symphonic sacred hum:
A scorching screech of stimulated prose.

The silent wordless speech that preys on dead,
Among the nameless wanderers exchanged.
A breed that lies and deviously treads,
An irony of messengers deranged.

The wav'ring windmill wearily withstood
The thrashing thunder, merciless monsoon.
And when the vulture's words assailed the wood,
The spinning blades of virtue made them swoon.

And so, the windmill's might repels the vulture's verse,
The windswept scavenger's remarks diffused, dispersed.

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Sonnet 21

Methinks my scale should not outweigh with spite
As balance should befriend the years I've prayed
To death;hello...and to my life, goodnight
Goodmorning Judge, how hath thy heart been weighed?

'Twas many a year ago my mind was bent
On burning bridges that belonged to peace
Thus my malevolent mind would earn its rent
By adding fuel to fire for flames to lease

But with good measure did I turn the cheek
And powder light upon faces unloved
For many and many years my tongue did speak
Wise words which walked on ears of all beloved

My Lord, may I enter thine gate with wings?
Les I'm condemned, and await hell that rings

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The Death of Madamoiselle DuPont

(continueing the Monsieur L'Vampyre adventure)
Dear Stella, up the path, into the park,
deep shadows hide the trees along the Seine,
the quiet of the night accents the dark
and you can feel your breathing now and then.

The peaceful gloom, enveloped by a mist,
all black and gray and shades of morbid white,
accentuates the place your eyes have missed,
where someone waits, who's watched you every night.

This place, where gendarmes warn to be aware,
tonight is more foreboding than you've known,
and so you pause; you look; is someone there?
it's then you realize, you are alone.

The snapping of your heels you hear increase,
as if the hurry puts your mind at peace.

Engulfed, the path leads up and from the Seine,
and then you'll be out of this narrow pit,
but suddenly you feel the eyes again,
much closer than a glove too small to fit.

You struggle with your thinking, in a word,
to flee or just pretend no one is there,
and so you hum a tune you've never heard,
and place your safety in your mother's prayer.

Oh, Stella, Stella, in the spring you'll wed,
your sweet Gaston. Believe he's at your side,
and you will laugh at all this gloom and dread...
though courage might have found you, it has lied.

The shadows all are moving; you can hear
the groaning of someone who's all too near.

The quiet; crickets sounding no alarm,
but now a drizzle rain cools at your heat,
and tingles flowing down onto your arm
remind you of the friends you'll never meet;

quite suddenly, he's grabbed you from behind,
and muffles any sound you might have found,
you cannot scream, to hurt is in your mind,
but he's too quick, he's pinned you to the ground.

Who is this thing, your lover or your friend,
you might have pained...why does he want you dead?
or is this just someone who brings the end,
you've never known, with killing in his head?

You feel no teardrops, feel no blood nor fright,
there's only blinding, blinding, blinding light....
© ron Wilson aka Veebdosa the Doylestown poet

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Foreign War

I know my son was inside with their dogs
And women dressed in uniforms who held
Their sharpened knives and made my son undress.
This is the way Americans fight war.

Confusing thoughts enter my mind
Combined with anger, sadness. ****.
The Lord, is my child to die?
If it is your will, please end him.

How could the Lord let this happen?
My sweet poor boy and his humility
He is nothing but a toy to women.
This is the way Americans fight war.

My family weeps for my son.
My country prays for their own sons.

-Caroline Youngless

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Three tragic convoys of unidentified people

leaving at last one by one their final plane
not yet having back their own name
on Netherland's caring and respectful shoulders
brought a bit closer by soul stirring soldiers

forty(*) shiny black hearses crawl at a footpace
lining up on a for the occasion reserved airbase
driving on cleared Dutch  highways and roads
forty unidentified victims their heaviest loads

finally heading home after such  horrible days
nation's crowds gather along endless highways
showing and sharing silent grief and paying respect
after that deadly sky high rocket impact

the Dutch population is applauding with heartwarming faces 
whilst strongest most impressive comforting tranquility embraces

(c) Elly Wouterse 

(*)This morning (07/24/2014) announced that today's convoy will be twice 
as long - 74 hearses will be on the - for them - cleared highways and roads 
.... and tomorrow... another motorcade of at least 70..............  

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For Herda & Wangugi

To become a man he has a difficult task:
he must be brave enough to kill a beast.
A tradition in his tribe, you may ask.
The boy is not fierce, strong, or fast in the least.

The boy has hardly a weapon, hand-made, and surely not a gun:
but a long stick with a sharpened tip, a spear.
This is the tradition, such hunting calls for a shun
from the village if the task is not complete, that is clear.

The lion is too fast, the boy cannot outrun it.
The boy must be silent; the lion is too strong,
and has spotted the boy, it picks up it's speed.
The boy was not careful; the lion too strong.

There is a stuggle, but the boy has killed the lion.
The boy is now a man in his village.

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Woman in a Graveyard

The lonely woman walks through the graveyard She feels like she’s within a crazy ward Skeletons rise, frighten her completely She thinks she chose her way incorrectly Zombies come to her looking for fresh food She fears this event is not looking good She hears dark noises coming from the sky Then she sees witches flying way up high Just before the skeletons grab her neck She screams at all the ghosts that call and beck They converge at once to tear her apart Just orange is what she sees at this part Pain envelopes her as she finds her soul It’s ripped out of her, she now sees their goal
Russell Sivey

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We Have The Knowledge Of All These And Still

Wherefore the pride in being proud?
Whence the deciduos beauty once to be moulded by a shroud.
Wherefore the exhilarition and glory in war ?
Whence these vain citadels brim out only harrowing tears.
Wherefore the joy in bamboozling others?
Whence from sin can't we run or escape neither.
Wherefore the pleasure in speaking irony?
Whence pronouncing the sweet can act as sweet as honey.
Wherefore the divide between richness and poverty?
Whence one notion stands before God and thats equality.
Wherefore the grief in the death of nears and dears one's?
Whence no tears brims while passes away others.
We have the knowledge of all these and still;
Mind will be in its own place till enlightment in our mind gets filled.  

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 Early jungle makes me a desire
To be alone in the belly of our dear beautiful mother
Because our growing up is such and irony
Which made me rejoiced each moment this time
That wishes were never allowed to be rose
For men of wrong mind to buy
There in my childhood irony moment
We fought as if it is created share hatred
We wish for all except one that pays a little pain
For i held back from all
As all held back from me and other all
Indeed, people taught that our life is a share pain
A sore injury to the world of love
Because i loved each moment my brother bleed from our father’s hell
I went behind the scene to celebrate my goal
kindly, the moment is always become
As i happily shun and damn the future
... who did you think you are with my future
I sometimes ignorantly murmur as a child
In my little kingdom emptiness, i rejoice in the brothers pain
A little hatred of thee, a more love of me
I love each time i am loved alone
To hate thee by my blood and cause sheepishly i became and honour
As this irony grows into something still ironic
I wish my pain could allow my pen speak plain
To cry such an awesome deep and sore blood
At each moment the rain of thee bath me thoroughly
To see thee share all to have me clothed
To borrow from the enemy to have me homed
even to lose all from the gods to make sure that i have all from the goddess
The brother even stole to have me meal
More like the blood and doing of the mother, it shared abroad
As brothers all lie to have me protected
 Much illiterate to make me the literate king
Oh bleed me death less i say this pain of love
Sisters risk of the night, the horror evil men to see a smile in this lips of mine
That i wish never remember the selfish boyhoodness
Ay! How i see my brother’s cry in his desolation
Not for him or for his little joy
But for the pain of a dear brother
To save all only to loose all to life a brother
Its pain of the ugly moment in a close death
It was determined and death paid of thee
But the brother and sister’s coming death
Woke brothers will up, sisters ghost down
I need to save my brother
Leave my life to save my brother
And take it once his breath is back
There the sacrifice of a dear brother made me desire
Never a child as this in my next world
Because you are a brother, a beautiful brother
A sister, very handsome sister that i hold dearest to my breath
And love dearest to my heart beat

Details | Sonnet | |


An omnipotent'd been ideated by militant clan,
Aeons tell how it put them through a social pace.
To set up abode or to relate races with astute plan,
God had its genesis;women-men needed it to seek solace.

As fact a woman conceives, is manifest
Man couldn't conceive of anything but God for law and lex.
Dyed-in-the-wool,they kept bending head for mending mind lest
They vex orders of war, worship and women for sex.

But missile killed gravid woman with faded hue,
Her baby survived in placenta of its mom of Gaza:
A whole race, policies, religion; yet nothing to rue,
As if all were busy computing to bring future bonanza.

No more sacred are our Temple and Church or Mosque and tomb.
Truth says:fetus Jesus'd been bestowed on Mary's womb!

Details | Sonnet | |

Black and White

Stars above and stars below,
On silent ripples alone I go,
Across the water, the trembling plain,
In the empty quiet I’m at last without pain

The dark of the sky is a balm to my eyes
My ears are caressed by the pines and their sighs
And the mind’s rest must come from the sweet summer air
For if that's not peace then how could it bear,

The vicious words that stream from every cranny:
The screaming mistress and the sobbing of the nanny.
She falls and hears the slam of the door
The father yells from the top floor.

In moon filled dreams I watch her go 
Swollen belly black against pure snow.

Details | Sonnet | |

Monsieur L'Vampyre INVITATION

     Monsieur L'Vampyre INVITATION 
I pray thee cast thy lot into mine own,
becoming dead, as I've become for thee,
to walk the night, to know you walk alone,
forever, lest you come and walk with me.

Or someone else, who's melted to your charm,
who sorely needs what only we can give,
the curse of life, forever free from harm,
not knowing death, but only how to live.

To sleep the day, and rise up in the night,
to suck the blood of those we've barely met,
all in the name of love, we make the bite,
and in a pain too soon we all forget.

       I pray thee lay thyself down to my fold,
        relinquishing your right to growing old.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Details | Sonnet | |

Waking up

Whispers all around me, but I don't see a soul
Feelings of dread and regret consumes my being
Is there some dark spirit around that I'm not seeing?
Maybe I'm crazy, but am I the one who's supposed to be playing this role?
Dreaming this reality up, yet it seems so real
Lucidity is ever so fluent; smooth as can be
Pretend time becoming a concrete fantasy
Regardless of where I end up, this is surreal

They say the white light is prevalent, but I disagree
A multitude of shapes and colors are profuse
With all of this around me, how could I not exist?
Reality is what you make it, I still am the real me
Time to make new and to really let loose
Haunting the past will be tough to resist

Details | Sonnet | |

Corvus Acerbus

She sleeps, her body lifeless in the ground,
A distant echo of memory lost,
And should her spirit ever dare be found,
Be sure you know you alone bare the cost.
For if her darkened heart should ever wake,
The soul of innocence shall surely quake,
As her sharpened talons mark out their score,
The purest truth shall kneel and beg for more;
On darkened wings she puts her love at stake,
She demands all that is make no mistake.
For she will take you to the realms of flight,
As on your own desire she comes to feed,
She will comfort your fear of darkest night,
For she is the angel to sate your need!

Form: Elemental Sonnet

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~Not Enough Time~ (Sonnet) They say she had everything to live for Did she? Perhaps, if she would had time more But in the end that wasn't just meant to be She was beautiful, like a rose, alone. Her mere presence like a star always shone Yet, like star from heaven one night was gone She fell. Her beauty 'mong mortals was lost Still, she walks this earth with gracefulness most Death! O Death! With his fatal kiss took her 'way Death had his way when for her came that day She seemed had it all, but, time she had not That ,still she had everything to live for Perhaps she did, wonder if just had more Time, but that was something she had more not. Dorian Petersen Potter aka ladydp2000 copyright@2014 December,20,2014

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LORD! We will be blessed with a heaven,
Where fountains of milk and honey will run!
Where no pain and tears will darken!
Where on desire, everything will be won!
Only around pleasure and beauty, but fear none!
Forever on, will dwell there immortally, yes unforgotten!
O Lord, but, I should adore this framed heaven,
These captive minds overlook a blessing; it’s a notion,                  
Ah this another life will free the soul from this dreading ocean, 
Where Fright of loss of a beloved won’t haunt me like a demon,
Where night won’t terrorize my soul of any misfortune,
Oh yes there would my soul rest with no fear frozen,
Will wear a smile when this disquieting concern will be abandon,
I say only this peace of heaven will make my heaven …heaven

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Diary of a Lover Gone Mad

Blood on my walls fall down with the rain
Twelve years and my conscience has driven me insane
The smell of rotted flesh scurries past my skin
Twelve years come and go; still alone in my sin

She was beautiful and all of just eight years old
Wouldn't let me take her outside at night for a lovers stroll
On top of her precious body I moved in rhythmic time
Hush hush darling don't tell these parents of you and I 

She bled and cried and wouldnt stop screaming
So I slit open her kneck and filled it with semen
If only she would have allowed herself to make love to a man like me
But instead she chose to be buried in my seed

Now nobody knows of the whereabouts of the golden haired child
Locked in my cellar, perfect, still and tamed of her wild

Details | Sonnet | |

Drops of Ruby

A gentle tap upon heart’s window beats
an invitation to an open mind.
Yet deep within, a distant soul retreats,
so hiding light behind an aspect blind.

In pools of misplaced loyalty she basks
by light of candle, blending with gone-bys.
Upon the floor, in drifts, beguiling masks
discarded now along with all the lies.

A drop of ruby liquid spills across
the stillness as she drinks to cloud the past.
Each break of dawn relights the pain of loss,
consuming love, creating spaces vast. 

A gentle brush of crystal ‘cross the wrist
brings drops of ruby swirling to the mist.

Details | Sonnet | |

Bike to Work day: escorting the funeral of Marine Albrak Omar

Bike to Work day:  escorting the funeral of Marine Albrak Omar
Loch David Crane
Patriot Guard Riders
September 2009

No more classes now that I've been fired!
Patriotism is my job: I’m retired.
The Patriot Guard rides almost every day
to bring a flapping flag line on display.
We ride to work with combustion and chrome
to bring the bodies of our brave troops home.
In a strange twist for love of our country
This Arab Albrak was a volunteer
who gave America his youthful years
to make Iraqui people finally free.
He gave his life:  I give my afternoon
remembering our heroes at high noon.
	Packed in ice, he came home to his Mom;
	his body was prepared by an Imam. 

Details | Sonnet | |

The Coming and the Going

By birth and death, the only things you know,
each one a sting, felt almost not a bit,
though circumstance, as through your time you go
would lead you to believe life's all of it.

You'll not recall the ways you were before
nor geometrics forming what you've been,
and what's to be is what time has in store,
that's never known until it can be seen.

There's not a kiss that lasts eternally
no matter how the moment makes you feel,
from lovers or Grandmothers, each will be
layed to the past, where nothing's ever real.

And every love shall end, as will each pain,
not ever to be felt in life again.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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Death Shall Grieve No More With Thee

Oh my beloved, methinks that thy heart
is like o’ that wither’d rose o’ autumn.
My shadow doth kill thy own strength apart
that I perceive thy thought hath neither bloom?

Why let our great myth doth bring harm to thee?
Walk on the path o’ life with such delight,
which my soul doth plead that thou hear’st its plea;
and in it thou see’st mine flickerin’ light.

If that other love’s bright as noonday sun,
why then, oh my beloved, thy heart’s sad?
Mine memory, mine breath beweepth, but none;
oft thou see’st my love for thee I once had.

Thy sweetest love to me always doth live,
let not thy heart, by my death, be deceiv’d! 

Details | Sonnet | |

Mark West

 (December 2nd, 1959 – May 1st, 2013) 

My Teddy bear still wears the cross you gave,
And fashioned by your working hands with grace
And leather strung—I slept last night with soft
And golden fur beside me, while my thoughts—
To earthen eyes of tears still standing brave
When sorrow looms, in time our hearts will chase
Your laugh, your smile, and pleasant sav’ry wafts
Of roasts and gravy bubbling in the pots
“Au jus, au jus,” you’d say with hand in air,
And finger pressed to thumb—when speaking of
The kitchen work in pubs so long ago.
Your party ways you didn’t hide nor spare
The essence of your faith in God, in love—
I’ll see you there, where milk and honey flow

Details | Sonnet | |

by rites

by rites we come into now
by rites we leave into then
by rites we mark the in between
by rites maybe we start again

by rites we say "I love you"
by rites we bring on progeny
by rites we launch into unknown
by rites we cleave dichotomy

by rites we celebrate today
by rites we mark contrast
by rites we are carried away
by rites we remember the past

by rites we reverently resolve
so, by rites kept, life revolves 

© Goode Guy 2013-01-04

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The Owls

for my Mother

After the failed attempt to kill herself,
She gaveled up a parliament of owls,
Repurposing every cabinet and shelf
To house her blinkless treasury of fowls.

What comfort came from a gross of hooded eyes
Strewn through her home, I could not even guess.
Yet urgently she unboxed every prize
And for it found some suitable recess.

As executor, I audited the owls.
Seventy-two, my final reckoning.
There was one I liked.  He'd pivot in his cowl
Like a startled monk, when shook.  His shuttering
eyes, like cameras, seemed to document the night.
Her night, I thought: her burden, and her flight.   

Details | Sonnet | |

Robert Michum 7-1-97 Jimmy Stewart 7-2-97 Charles Kuralt 7-4-97

         ROBERT MITCHUM-----7/1/97
          JIMMY STEWART-----7/2/97
           CHARLES KURALT------7/4/97
On lifes long road, who knows where are the ends
and when the ones we love leave us alone
what words express the loss of dearest friends
held oh! so dear, whom all the world has known?

Was this their highway junction to all time?
Our grief would be too great for only one,
and three together taken, shouldn't rhyme
but brings reality now that they're gone.

Out on the road, with Charlie, Bob and Jim,
we see ourselves in all they've ever done,
as memories, some bright and others grim,
from reel to reel, and love them every one.

They told our stories, every one was real,
as if they knew exactly how we feel.
               God Speed, My Friends
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

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KOSOVO the war that never was THE SNIPER

How can we forget this war, when no one knows anything about it?
      KOSOVO - the sniper
He hides behind the dirty window pane
with eyes all cold and void of any care 
in blinding heat or through a drizzle rain
his thoughts are only what has brought him there

his mind's not thinking that's a special friend
nor is that girl in love; he doesn't care;
the choice comes on with no thought of the end
and made, perhaps, because she's standing there.

His sight is set, and all she'll ever be
gives way to things her life will never know
and when she falls and lays there helplessly
his only thought, is she was quick to go.

     All in a breath, he's layed her to the street;
     and ended life to make his day complete.

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Valentines Wishes On Dresden

    Valentines Wishes On Dresden
Awakened before sleep had settled in
she peered out to the night of Dresden's way
and though her hero had no war to win
she blew a kiss to him, as if to say

"mein Fuhrer, this, your Fraulein dreams of you
and vishes you could feel this love of mine
I've done most everything a girl could do
but foolish, hope to be your valentine."

And then the bombs fell from a troubled sky
as if mere kisses from the Butcher's lips
before she'd even ask her Heaven why
her world was blown apart by groaning ships;

    the understanding of it all is rare
     in part because the world just doesn't care.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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RETURN TO HELL - Monsieur L'Vampyre

Tonight love flies from where love never seems
to occupy, it comes from time somewhere,
and long ago, from emptiness of dreams
you've long forgot, but they are steaming there

deep in the night, from where I've spread my wings
and fly into your life in need of me
but be aware, sometimes my love it stings
upon your neck but sets your spirit free;

and then we fly through all of time and space
into the mist that's lifting cool and blue
back to the forests long burned by the race
straight to the heart of love that bothers you;

and you will love me like you've loved before
when you were someone else demanding more.

Take wing my love! There's naught your heart should fear
It's just like deja vu or times gone by
look deep into your death--love will appear
your love will never let your spirit die

and all are just as undead as I've been,
the only difference is you you come and go,
while dying as you have I've never seen
nor had the peace of mind the dead all know.

but love is constant in my life and heart
demanding blood be pumping through my vein
and when you feel my bite you'll be a part
of everything I've ever been, again.

Yes you have lived before and loved too well
and that's the price you pay to live in Hell.

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Goneril & Regan (King Lear)

Ladies of untrue filial ingratitude
I doubt if you are genuine to the crown
Your love thrown to a villain's attitude
The old king sees now that love speaks than clown
Words. For ladies who plucks respected beard
And poison for love is what thou see'st
A daughter who calls love silent is heard
But who dare throws own self to the tempest?
The tool that united you against your blood
Stained and split you against your selves
You shall never be reborn in this world
If you were, you should not be your selves
Women of ruthless heartlessness who turn
Milk of humanity to demonic buns

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morning has broken

Morning Has Broken 

The sea is flat and motionless shiny grey as a cannon
at a military museum Saturday afternoon, sun, storm 
rain or storm will never bring life back to its surface. 
The shoreline too is grey and there are tanks around 
from a big battle that raged when a plane was shot 
out of the sky; a world war began destroying dreams
of thousand years of peace. The strand of life is filled 
with heaps of ashen bones and untold horrors. 

On Morpheus´s wings I land softly outside a small
lemon hued house, enter and make a cup of coffee.
As I sip golden brew the colours are slowly returning,
 the sky is summer blue with a few streaks of white,
remnants of night´s grief. Sun is yellow, so is straw, 
but the olive tree is as green as the ocean used to be.     

Details | Sonnet | |


Violetta gave Alfredo a camilia,
reminding him to bring it back when it had finally faded...
to seal their kiss without its aroma;
would he have kept that promise when it had whitered? 
In a lonely room, with light barely filtering,
Violetta lays in that bed sweetly thinking
of Alfredo's hand comforting her and caring for her in the last hours...
but Annina is by her side, not daring to spread
the sad news that Alfredo has gone, hoping to return before she dies.

Violetta's eyes can hardly see...but her hands
are wrapped around Alfredo' cheerful portrait,
knowing that his love for her is profound and endless,
by feeling the warmth of his tender heart;
and getting closer to death, she wishes he won't return
with a faded camilia...even in Heaven that flame will burn!  

Details | Sonnet | |

Seaside Sonnet

An October day – we could see our breath.
You and I had the beach all to ourselves.
Artwork in the sand – talkin’ about death.
You wanted to talk about somethin’ else.

You were watchin’ the clouds, and me, the waves.
You stayed close enough to borrow my warmth.
You talked origin; I talked about age –
prayed to witness when the tropics move north.

We outran the tide five feet to a time
till the fairy tale was an aftermath.
You said that love travels in a straight line
with language intercepting its path…

that words shouldn’t change the trajectory of souls;
that death’s a grip on a loss of control. 

Details | Sonnet | |

Angels Wings

Angel’s wings enfold keep you safe up high
I am sure that you can see me, as my tears I have to dry
To your picture I say good morning and goodnight
A hug and a kiss would make things feel so right 

Miss you so much your beautiful face and smile
Five years passed seems such a long while
An adult you would be, all grown up my angel boy
You would still be bringing your  personal brand of joy
Yet  memories of you brings me cheer
To help me through another lonely year
My little angel I must say
Love just keeps growing day by day

So sleep on soundly, till we can be
Back together grandson, and  your loving nanny 

On Thursday the Sixteenth of august 2007, we lost our grandson, the ideas for this rhyme came from nanny and were written by me, god rest him and keep him safe.

Details | Sonnet | |


We hear them now, the beating bass of drum,
the marchers, though loose-knit, from Wall Street's rolls,
too soon will turn to cadence; those who come,
all have no memory of Hitler's goals.

Their good intentions caved in, to survive,
to placing blame to where it shouldn't go!
And all too soon, the buzzing of the hive
lays every blame to things we shouldn't know.

Though mournful is the tune that plays along
to every drumbeat, calling for return
of nights of death--the old recall the song,
but much too late recall how bodies burn.

And Stars of David are replaced on every wall,
by Swastikas demanding rights for all.

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Would the Memories Devour Her?

Would the Memories Devour Her?

Sarah Jean sat slumped in the old black chair 
She could only muster a cold blank stare
Since the death of her son she didn’t care
Memories assaulted her-“Unfair!”
To take her youngest son and leave her here
She flinched at the thought of him leaving home
He dribbled the ball, spun, snatched the keys from the hook 
His golden grilled smile would be her last look
Lawrence leaped before her like a hologram
She could hear his voice playful even with a demand
“T’ Lady this just is not what we do
You taught me life was for living
Now you’re claiming that your life is through”
“Call me Mama, boy” she scolded “or I’m going to get you!” 

Rhea Dear

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Through time and space, you've come and found me here,
at first I guessed that you were only dreams,
that come and go, so far away, yet near,
and in a time where nothings as it seems.

Too much of you fell on me from the start,
from out of night, where winds of love are blown,
deep in another time, as if a part,
of all I've ever been and ever known.

Deep in a candle flame, that burning sight,
I feel you near, across the universe,
and touch your love, bounced from a satellite,
and make of you my blessing and my curse.

No matter--you've become my love again,
from out of cyberspace, where you have been.
..............© ron wilson

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Sarah's Sonnet

Sarah sat shoulders slumped as the kitchen rocker
Squeaked against the wooden floor 
Smells paraded in front of her
Onions sizzled in the heavy black skillet 
Complimented by the seasoned liver as it 
Quickly bloodied the flour while the gravy formed 
Would the memories devour her?
Lawrence leaped before her like a hologram
His Buddha face slightly smiling
“I’m going for hamburger and French fries”
His voice was playful even in demands
He dribbled the ball, spun, snatched the keys from the hook,
Opened and slammed the door and bounded down the stairs
And she turned to the stove never to see him alive again.

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Our Tommy Hester

This poem is dedictated to our beloved uncle Tommy Hester, who passed away at 1705 26th
July 2009 at the too young an age of 65.

                                                  To our Tommy Hester,

                                              a smile always on your face.

                                               Never was a man so loved,

                                                 so kind and full of grace.

                                             You will always be in our hearts,

                                         we were all brightened by your touch.

                                                   To our Tommy Hester,

                                               we'll all miss you very much.

              We all love you very much Tommy and you will be missed greatly x

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Death is a Gentleman

Death, He is a gentleman. Why? So you might ask. He invites you to his caravan, And offers you His flask. He is polite and courtly. With manners yet unmatched. You'll arrive in Heaven shortly, Following a primrose path. He will treat you as a peer, You are assured of that. You have not a thing to fear When He tips His weathered hat. Oh, Death, how kind You be, For You eradicate my misery.

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Uriah's bowels unraveled in the sand.
He thanked God for the gift of dying for
King David, who was master of the man.
Those Hittites never seemed to know the score.
Bathsheba was the prize that David sought,
Uriah inadvertently occluding
His royal lust, so winkling out a thought,
King David killed her husband by colluding
With his generals to make the Hittite die.  
Afoam with sweat, Bathsheba grinds the King
Indecently.  Beneath a yawning sky,
Uriah's writhing in the sand and gasping,
Holding his ****ing kidney in his hand.
I've never felt more sorry for a man.

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Girl of Pamplona

We dined where Papa shined his cutlery
to rid the spots before a lunchtime fare
she dressed in red, her cloak no bull could see
and bound so tight so men could see her there.

Her mounds of flesh and cleavage turned each head
they didn't know to dine her she was theirs
and easy came her love--she made her bed
with matadors who had the proper stares.

And then she raced the bulls in drunken dance
down cobblestones and dared each one of them
til she was gored and blood was circumstance
and trampled in the dung and dusty grim.

She realized her dream to her last breath
and praised the bull who brought her to her death.
© Ron Wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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Adorning Mourning

Desire, like fire, wires the soul.
Hope, holding, like limbs to the tree.
The heart like a person, tries to be whole.
Breath, like spirit, striving to set free.

Life, like love, living to displease.
Love, like life, living to decay.
Death, infecting things like disease.
Trust, like dust, crushed falls away.

And still, we sit still... pondering.
Words, like worms, infesting the mind.
On this path we'll be wandering.
Thought, like the path, is left behind.

Yet, we move forward from our pasts,
and know that sorrow never lasts.

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i.m. Ann, my sister 1947 – 1997)

Heads of fine purple strewn across cement
And yellowness heaped up in an airless room –
Travesties to which your heart’s golden fire-dust
Is an increment on pain.  You asked
If the pretence of caring had now vanished,
Was it real now, under the cracked sky-line,
Like your memories dammed up under the rain.

Surely some vital drops will float
To pull your rootless beauties into holiness
Even as they die in a still vase –
There is no picture to quite stir the heart
As these fallen crowns, noble as the chalice
Of Gethsemane, which yet held the terrifying
Dark secrets of the world’s crime.

As you winter in your youth,
Beheaded flowers your beauty, your truth.

By Rosemarie Rowley

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Aflight In The Hale Bob

The puzzle comes apart deep in the sky;
calls nothing that is concrete to the mind;
as far as we can tell and meets the eye
the reason for the tail's not ours to find.

We stand confused, and only guess at why
the wonder of it all has stilled our voice
did David Korish ever really die?
and is it all worked out, with little choice?

Mount Carmel but a coming of an age
the catostrophic ending of mistake,
what hope is there to ever quell the rage
appeassing what is wrong, for honors sake?

      Is there a sign that's ever flown the sky
       or is it just a dream where-in we die?
        ©  ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

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We are travelers

We are travelers of the shadow land,
Searching for the light; groping in the dark.
We are the withered souls; we are the stark
And grim reminder of that faithless band.
We have gathered beneath the fading star,
Where distant sounds are muffled by the night.
We are the careless ones, we have no sight
Nor any reason to believe; we are
The desolate, singing in the twilight 
Winds, keening in the valley of the dead,
Whispering of our fears and of our dread.
We are the watchers flailing in the night
This is the wasteland, bleak and filled with stone
This is the place of god and god alone.

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Note surge and sag,
Observe the flow;
Time stops in lag,
Heed dying glow;
In just a while,
Note pulse decline;
Glimpse dreary style,
Note steep incline;
Ending comes fast,
Sense a blurring;
See falling dust.
Note pulse oozing;
One hurl of breath:
Waltz ends in death.

Leon Enriquez
02 September 2014

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Reunited At Paradise Gate

Reunited At Paradise Gate

Hands of leather hold crying child
gentle touch, soothing , O' so mild
Widowed mother , hard life going past
food and water gone, can not last

War and famine take a heavy toll
on frail mother and very young soul
Flown past are the blasts of guns
fields rot with so many dead sons 

Hands of leather losing tender grip
another soul sent on heavenly trip
Crying child sleeps in peaceful calm
no more murders, bullets and bombs

Two hearts reunite at Paradise gate
early demise , victims of wartime fate!

Robert J. Lindley, 08-11-2014

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No Evil Bows (Heroic Sonnet)

I am the gray, damp, muted mist which slides 
Between the large, carved, marble marker stones; 
Alone they sit like weighted, gargoyle brides 
Above the dried-white, brittle, lambent bones, 

Now dead and silenced for iniquities. 
I glide inside the dance of death each night 
As wasted graves belch loud obscenities 
To rage against the blaze of righteous light. 

I am but smoke within a wicked wind 
But stand as witness to this brutal truth: 
The black of death ends not the pain of sin 
For evil preys on pulsing blood of youth 

And once possessed these young ones will be made 
A matrix of malevolence 'till death; 
Though even then no evil bows to fade 
Benignly, with death's rattled rales of breath. 

Do not take lightly words that I now speak; 
Great evil thrives when human will is weak. 


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If Tomorrow Never Comes

If i should leave this world tomorrow theres sum things u need to know,
The best days of my life were watchin my babies grow,
Im gonna leave behind a special gift for all my family 
The love we shared together, and the heart thats inside of me
Remember that ill always love u, but baby please dont cry, 
Because the love that i have is never gonna die.
I wanna tell my loved ones that i think that they are the very  best,
Just in case tomorrow never comes for me and i am layed to rest

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Death Of Romance

However we look, it takes so much space,
If only we could just leave it alone...
The same monstrosity we all must face,
Of an enormity wholly unknown;
This promise of a, yet, more massive hole,
To which we're to play both guest and host;
It's a performance of the score, the soul:
All that's forgotten, there remains the ghost.
The spit and the polish of the spirit
Is whatever's to be sought in essence;
The future's full, there's no need to fear it,
We are of Will, a much practiced presence.
    What more's contained in a whisper? A kiss?
    What might Love become before such abyss?

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A white façade and wedding cake tiers
will not return its vanishing roses 
nor silence the keening under piers 
nor disguise the danger that it poses.

O’er we grieving, the ceiling will press
with each sad step hear the floorboards resist,
Every creak that you hear will only stress
a foreknowledge that shadows can persist. 

Beware those curving stairs and do not trust
the iron railing, its strength do not test,
Below its surface hides layers of rust
as veiled as the dead unable to rest.

Why stay the night, I reason and posit,
Why leave at all, then whispers a spirit.


* For Catie Lindsay's Word Game Contest
**Inpsired by Poe's Fall of the House of Usher

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Rest gently now my love

Rest gently now my love and do not fear,
The harsh cold winds of winter or the snow.
That falls about these parts this time of year,
But think now of the spring and what will grow.
Remember too the gentle summer rains,
That cools the earth and make the heathers bloom.
Or autumn hues that blaze across the plains,
To raise our hearts and wash away the gloom.
And do not think that you will be alone,
To face the bleakest days and endless nights.
For you and I will face them on our own,
To hold on fast and set all things to rights.
For though the tide of life holds us apart,
My love will keep you safe within my heart.

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Born in a leaky roof
Chains normatively bangles
Where bales’ pay tribute
Their fate decided by others

Those who think themselves gods
Like dogs they penetrated
Only to recoil like serpents
Swallowing the hunters game

He violated their rule
And spoke against their doctrines
He slept but they were gone
Buried he was in our minds

To die a man
Is to forever live

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Death of a Sea

Mum’s courteous sprinkles denounced delusion cowardice.
And demented a destiny Willenhall to Bethlehem for life price.
But hallelujah brought my children forward for hallucination. 
My partner mended her menopause to hale hammada action,
Harangue lumps machinations to overtrade a human slice.
Israel a stone heart land death flags a fear of attack or terrorism,
Lord Jesus Christ, a Jew, no Christian, who denied not spiritualism,
Jerusalem a market of God religions fried portions of innocence life,
A stone wall divided God’s death and birth in hands of criminalism.
How religions equal educationalist never spoke about are defaming crise?
My spirit walked with truth and faith to agree to pray for World Peace,
To plain problems to seed love and needs to iron religious crease,
The mountain of sands were pouring dishonesty and greed lees,
A sea is dying and remind ‘Death is certain’ Oh human why you tease?

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Against the trees the bitter winds do blow,
Long burnished bare by winters baleful gusts,
They linger long through raging storms and snow.
And cling to boughs as friends return to dust.
These lonely leaves are but the spent remains,
Of lives long lived yet fearful of the fall.
What use of holding on, can it contain,
The sad and certain end that will befall.
Thus as the seasons come, the seasons go,
And life that springs from earth to earth returns.
There is a time to live, a time to grow,
And in between, the fate of all is churned.
What can be said of life that ebbs and flows,
There is a time of laughter and of woes.

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I stand before you, judged, a sinner be
relinquishing all rights, I might have had,
but pray thee quick, to judge the soul of me
then lay to rest--the sins that drive me mad.

I seek forgiveness, that's all of my plea,
for all I've been in life, as having fun,
and all the hurt--that's been--because of me
I pray put in the past, as if there's none.

I ask your guidance, on my bended knee
protect my days ahead, if there are some
and never let mine eyes again to see
the lust of life from where all sin has come.

   And Jesus, give me wisdom, now to be
   your servant who's been saved--forever free!
© ron wilson

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Death In the Cesspool

      Death In the Cesspool
Forget the dead, there faces never smile,
nor do they fret about life's uphill climb,
but if one must, 'tis good to cry a while,
remembering they've died from age or crime.

Or if you're of a mind to dance and sing,
while laying dead down to their resting place,
the world should never say a single thing,
as life goes on in its redeeming grace.

And if you think you'll never be the same,
what manner of a fool would want to stay,
here in this garbage heap and stupid game;
here in the pits of hell and death's decay?
        We'll sanctify the church. Nativity.
          The temple mount. The wall.
             And drown ourselves in pee. 
© ron wilson

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So stirs the heart of man, the great delight,
   to raise a banner high, the march of fate;
to lead the way, where only dark of night,
   might find a way to quench the thirst for hate;   
and lessor men will follow any call,
   of self appointed leaders of the day, 
the good, the bad, the dead, but butchers all,   
   one crowned in might, the other in decay!

To follow is the way, if wrong or right,
    determined by the one who stands at last,
we hold this  judgement, as if heaven might
    just comprehend the end that binds us fast.

      and when we see it come around once more,
      all wonder is what leads us on to war???
 ron wilson (aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet)

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Death of Soul

Today, I felt my soul dying.
A cry of help could be heard 
But none could be seen crying
For they class my obsession as shallow and absurd.

Yet I carry on with my daily tasks
To work through this incomprehensible nightmare
Amongst those who carry a veil of emotional masks
Waiting, as those who Love, as those who care.

And I close my eyes to save my mind from this plight
To save my heart from recreating its surroundings
In the hope that others soon see the light
Actioned by those cast from different mouldings.

Slowly, but, steadily,
I can feel my soul dying.

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Bridges of Sarajevo

So stirs the heart of man, the great delight,
   to raise a banner high, the march of fate;
to lead the way, where only dark of night,
   might find a way to quench the thirst for hate;   
and lessor men will follow any call,
   of self appointed leaders of the day, 
the good, the bad, the dead, but butchers all,   
   some crowned in light, the others in decay!

To follow is the way, if wrong or right,
    determined by the ones who stand at last,
we hold this  judgement as if heaven might
    just comprehend the end that binds us fast.

Our bridges to be crossed, are Hate and Death
Protected by our foul and Balkan breath.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson

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The grace of all He is be with us all,
as surely as the end, the promised love,
comes quickly as a thief, to bring the fall
of what the world's become, and dying of.

Behold how quickly comes, from Alpha's flame;
as naught can end unless it has begun;
the light of one who's called a holy name,
'twill light Jerusalem without the sun.

These words were said--to write--Omega's near.
And all who can will find the narrow way,
as prophesied for all the world to hear,
and then the bride says, come, this is your day.

Those hearing then, will come, from near and far,
to David's own, the bright and morning star.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa

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Leave Them Rejoicing

Leave Them Rejoicing

I would share joy with God, if I had just one day to live.
I would spend my time: weeping, praying, writing, rejoicing.
Death's separation from loved ones saddens those left behind.
I would pray for their strength with my heart for them weeping.

Prayers to give hope, guidance, and for mistakes, forgiveness,
Introspective contemplations and then, I would write.
For each one I love, I would leave poetic wisdom.
I would write poems of comfort to help keep goals in sight.

And if perchance a contention unresolved remained, 
I would say do not worry; we would have worked it out.
Expressing everlasting love would not be cut short.
And my love for them, they would know without a doubt.

Because each soul near to me was by Heaven's choosing.
I would gather them around, and leave them rejoicing.

© July 29, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen

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Monsieur L'Vampyre's Nook

          Monsieur L'Vampyre's Nook     
You're lost into the dark it's plain to see
out searching for a place to lay your head
away from cold, perhaps right next to me,
though if you knew, 'twould be your greatest dread;

all Paris is aware when death awaits
at this the darkest nook down by the Seine,
unnumbered are the souls cast to their fates
claimed in the dark, and never seen again;

there's blood to suck and energy to flow
out from the lost and into those who feed;
so be aware, the wise will never go
where undead wait for what's their greatest need.

       But also, there is something all around,
        perhaps the greatest love you've ever found.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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We love when where hurt
We burn with out a sound
So when lights give way to the dark
Don't run away
We love when the rain calls
When the nights moan
And time shatters into the ebisk of self consciences
Shattered into pieces and fractions of fractured screams
That echoes through the past, waking the regret we've shunned
And when it comes
Shocked are we
To find a stranger in the pond
Forced in to a submission
"But when?"

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The silent benediction

The silent benediction and the knell,
That greets the coffin bearers, hushed and slow.
The sacred intonation of farewell,
Whispers of the graces to be bestowed.
The incense gently permeates the air,
The congregation now begin to stand,
Recite the invocation and the prayer,
To call on Him to take him by the hand.
The soul is restless now to fly away,
To seek the ancient passage to the light,
And break the chains of anguish and decay,
To soar and wheel, enraptured in its flight.
The pews so silent now as by a spell
Awake, admonished by the closing bell.

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The scent of water

Hard may be the paths that are given to us Harder still they may be, when we choose not their way Yet, to abide to them we shall, always without any fuss For we are after all lost, blind and we need to find our way! This way that we do seek, is it not known as the end The end word known as death, the end of life and love If death be the end, then pray we do have faith on a ready stand Of course, life, at the scent of water does evolve! Holy water, sprouting from the root of mystery Pray do come and lead us all Take us there where all is holy Where always we hear songs of the choral! Life does not end with death, life gets renewed In this world, or another, by the Holy One, it is always brewed!

Details | Sonnet | |

A vivid experience

My mind finally past the brink
Of pure insanity;
Slipping deep into the drink,
As I lose my humanity.
Down, down, down into the thick red liquid,
Seeing the bloating corpses;
The thoughts in my mind oh so twisted,
Hearing their distorted pain filled voices.
As I swim deeper into the depths
I slowly become sick and nauseous;
Witnessing all of their gruesome deaths,
I begin to become conscious.
     I open my eyes, waking in a room ---
     Filled with guts and gloom.

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The day we die is peace to what's the soul
to fly into and through the dark of space
We join the love of God-- death is our goal,
into the light of Him and His embrace;

But as we go, one part we leave behind
'tis physical, and what we think's the end;
and buried in the heap, if we've the mind,
or burned and scatterred to the blowing wind!

Them bones that dry won't stand the test of time;
and if there's thought to be a bit of gold;
the search is on, through earthly grist and grime
to dig us up, so that our tale is told!

The curse of time is on the diggers head;
With little thought they make love to the dead.
© ron wilson ©

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Bequeath No Inlaid Jewel Brocade (sonnet)

Bequeath to me no inlaid jewel brocade 
If you are called before God calls to me. 
Your saphire blues and ruby reds will fade 
But give me fire that fueled your heart so free.

Your glowing flame a gift from God to thee 
As comfort balm to calm and warm the years. 
If death should call please gift your fire to me 
To stroke my soul and dry my bitter tears. 

If I am called I'll face death without fear 
For then your greatest friend in life is free. 
But hear these words I whisper while still near: 
As friends we've been but lovers now should be. 

Your essence does excite and light my life; 
So faithful friend become my faithful wife. 

Details | Sonnet | |

Blind Love

The romance between them female and male,
From her dying inside from all the pain.
Their love like a moon shining oh so pale, 
And them thinking they were going insane.

From the late nights of fighting and crying,
To the dates that went wrong in both their ways.
They both found out of each others lying,
And cheating that took place the past few days.

Punching and kicking, being tossed around,
The bruises, the blood, the black-and-blue eyes. 
She shouts and screams when she falls to the ground,
The neighbors don't help when they hear her cries.

But on the wedding day nothing is said,
And the truth came out when they found her dead.

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Death, His Friend He Must Embrace

Back bent,
Spine protruding from withered figure,
His face a creeping shadow,
Scattering, revealing pale ghost beneath,
Breathing eerier croaks from dark fathoms within,
Lips parched,
A bumpy mess of scales,
His eyes dug deep within the shrivels of his face,
Reflecting with joy his distant youth,
Quivering lost paper in wind,
As those lips part one final time,
No one listens to his great last words,
Expecting him to quietly slip away with grace,
Death his friend he must embrace. 

Details | Sonnet | |

Lost Love

The words of a heart felt letter "I love you I didn’t do it", fading into ashes.
The flames of the hostile words "I know you did it, admit it slut" devouring and edging the pain.
I stand, broken in shattered bits, my heart washed away by the rain.
Words of love actions of hate, "Drew don’t you see that it clashes?"
It is done it is over, turn by turn a wave of relief then despair over me crashes.
Mine, yours, ours, words of love, amore’ it is now my bane.
This heart of mine traveling a one way street in reverse, in the wrong lane.
Togetherness taken for granted in its death throes our relationship thrashes.
The wrath within loosed on a dying soul.
Eternity of blackness snuffs out loves last flicker.
This barrage is not you speaking but the words of your mistress Meth.
Venom of anger and distrust conjured by your other love has taken its toll.
Seething eyes burn me, his stinging tongue whips me with one last snicker.
My affection crumpled my heart empty, descending, and falling, fading, death.
                                                                                                           Summer Gratias

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Truly Me

		Misery me, thoughtless he
            shattered thoughts savage free
            my life shaking as a ship at sea
            silently calling all the powers that be
            then understanding comes to my heart
            I know we will never truly be apart
            for life and death are as one
            as the moon which gives life to sun
            I now stand and wait for you
            our days together so brief and few
            where did thou go
            sadness to my heart bestow
            I love you always more than
            thou could ever know.
            shattered thoughts savage free
            my life shaking as a ship at sea
            silently calling all the powers that be
            then understanding comes to my heart
            I know we will never truly be apart
            for life and death are as one
            as the moon which gives life to sun
            I now stand and wait for you
            our days together so brief and few
            where did thou go
            sadness to my heart bestow
            I love you always more than
            thou could ever know.

Details | Sonnet | |

What if

What if you opened that door
when you heard His voice
and made this choice
What lies in store?

After He enters in
and forgives your sin
what lies in store,
after you open that door?

New life now,and then,
when we begin again;
Truth sets us free,
His perspective to see

Placed as a son and co-heir..
open that door ..if you dare

inspired by Rev 3:20

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The spirit of Emily Dickson still lives... 
from her sensitive soul, words of hope 
and fortitude flow as spring rivers,
and their sprightly sounds makes one look.

And closely look into her life not lived for glory,
find those treasures she sew in a fascicle;
can her poems be appreciated and not annoy
the reader who seeks words not very humble? 

Emily ponders sorrow and death...being not afraid,
and while looking to the infinite, serene Heavens:
she accepts her fate and turns it into a quest of faith,
to make her journey a memorable one before it ends.

Let her gentle, firm voice warn you of an unexpected, fierce storm;
feel the cold breeze turn into a strong wind as she beats her drum.

My Sonnet is a tribute to Emily Dickson.

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When Death My Way Comes, Translation of Carlos Bousono's sonnet: Cuando yo vaya a morir

When Death my Way Comes, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s sonnet : Cuando yo vaya a morir

( I prefer the reversal in my rendering of the title for it highlights the inevitability of the moment. I have also not vainly tried to stick to the end-rhyme scheme : abba/abba/aca/cac/ since in Spanish - likewise in Malay – the terminations of substantives and conjugations of verbs proliferate in « a », that is, vowels. The English language doesn’t quite offer the poet such facility in rhyming. T. Wignesan)

This skin, this flower, this sapphire
these eyes, what’ll they end up as afterwards.
I would have loved you to be a moon which rides
in the calm of an eternally-swishing whirl.

I would have wished to eternalise you when I espied
slight furrows your sweet face drown :
To breathe life into you, that in your entirety you’ll live on
Even when you hear Death calling in my sigh.

I would therefore that you keep close,
so that I might touch you for a fleeting moment :
and know that you are safe, erect, whole. 

As with the oak tree to bend the wind wouldn’t dare.
As with the spring – the pennant.
As with the evening in its frivolous wear.

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2013

Details | Sonnet | |


        Young Love In Auschwitz
Not into life too firm, and dying slow
before the years intended for death's claim,
youth wasted by the way she had to go,
she never had the chance to feel love's flame;

nor cast her flashing eyes in teasing's charm
to courting boys, who begged her company,
whom otherwise would keep her safe from harm
and far removed from how life had to be;

though spring was on, the time for love's sweet breath,
in hunger is a pain that stops love cold,
and in love's place the hope for instant death
was all that kept her here, and growing old.

     Somewhere deep in her heart, his probing eyes
      brought feeling her life couldn't recognize.

Details | Sonnet | |

MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE - the foggy night

     MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE - the foggy night
As dark a night that's hidden Paris streets
from prying eyes, fell on the city cold,
there came I to the setting fog, that greets
the cobble stones layed in the days of old.

With naught to fear from gendarmes in the night,
I wandered through the dark, just searching for
someone who's lost at life and love, and might
be ready for what this night has in store.

And there just walking by the River Seine
face turned into her hands, to hide her tears,
a beauty bound to stop the hearts of men,
in days of youth or getting on in years;

  I knew at once that love was drawing nigh
  so set my path to where she met mine eye.

A welcome sigh from deep within her breast
breathed from her lips and begged my company,
so strolled we through the fog, and made a quest
of finding what was love, what could it be?

And reasoned she, that love was just a game
that men have made the rules and set to stone
and my requital was, that love's a flame
that burns as much as any fire that's known.

So as the fog hid ev'ry thing from sight
we set about to find what love might show
then loved we through the cold Parisienne night
down by the Seine, where only lovers go;

   and when I sank my teeth, I heard her sigh,
   that love must be the only way to die.

Details | Sonnet | |


Come go with me into the stormy night
where no one thinks to look for love at all,
but when you see my dark, you know it's right
our total love's about to make its call.

Come lay with me as thunder fills the air
and closes out the past, with all the pain,
then lightning spreads its fingers ev'rywhere
onto the dark--and then--the pouring rain

brings peace to mind, and sooths your crying heart,
as close I come, with searching finger tips
then find the spot--upon your neck--and start
to sink my love through heated, trembling lips.

  I set my teeth to do what I must do--
  to sip your love out from the soul of you.
© ron wilson aka vee  bdosa

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When all the sand's run out for yesterday
and here you stand reflecting on it all,
no matter what you do, or what you say
you'll never change the way time has to fall;

the sand's been piled onto the waiting floor,
announcing time's run out, as you can see,
all hopes and dreams now fade, to be no more,
as if the way it's piled is meant to be;

all Heaven knows you've done the best you could
to shape tomorrow as you'd want today,
but somehow things don't go just as they should
and sands of time don't always fall your way.

The best we'll ever do is turn the stand
and hope again our time goes as we've planned.
.................© ron wilson

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Self Pity

Alive this night, I try to be While candle flickers on display The room, prison, my lock, no key My bed, my life, in disarray My thoughts, unsure, they hold no weight The phone, its ring, no tone, no sound My family, gone, they left with hate So left, in tears, to one day drown But yet, die not, I am still here Thinking, long and hard, still no clue Can’t bring them back, the ones held dear So this, my life, I’m left to rue What is this man supposed to do? My life, is death, this much is true

Details | Sonnet | |


Teal titans stretch above the fray,
so sure they won't be swept away.
Like Aesops' ant, they don't prepare
for chilling end in winters' stare.
Their colors burst and start to run.
It hits them hard that life is done.
As drill-bit winds and fading light
Force feathered song to hasty flight.
Brisk crimson billows blot the street,
Then clot in brown piles at their feet.
The snap of bark, slim tendrils flail
as veins gone cold begin to fail.
Numb fingers scrape the windowpanes
to snatch what little heat remains.
From frosted windows' golden glows,
we cowards peek as each one goes.
They plea for help in eerie moans.
We can not help. They die alone.
Such public death, not for the proud,
White winds will wrap their silver shroud.

Their lesson stands for all to see-
Might we die too, with dignity?
But even more, they seem to say-
Be ready when it comes our way.

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Salem's Sonnet

A runner sent down from the distant hill
To let them know the evil has now flashed
So they now may pray together and mill
The lazy brown lake their witches are dashed 

Fine straw and dried wood piled and set ablaze
The screaming bonnets and flaming red curl
Ashes melt to a fine smoldering haze
Flames a breeze as hanging dresses unfurl

Children and dogs wander the village mead
Women return to stove’s simmering pot
Idol standing mules await men to lead
Diggers shovel in a grass vacant lot 

Christian justice has once again been found
As young innocent girls lye burned and bound 

© Copyrights G. Jones 2007

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  My Crystal Ball
There in I go to deeper depths of me
to levels where no one can ever know
and in the dark where only death can be
a little light fortells where life will go;

it's just a sphere of glass, a crystal ball,
to show the way into eternity
a dome of light, a refuge from it all,
that shakes my soul and lets my mind run free;

and as I gaze into the depth of it
all time's been frozen to the light I see,
and, mesmerized, I drift through space a bit
and free of all below, that I call me.

The beauty I have found within this ball
brings life as certain as it brings my fall.

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Death Of Socrates

    The Death Of Socrates
What reasoning has brought you to this place
where death destroys your gift of sanctity?
Before the fall of night, and in disgrace
yea, all those hating you, shall make it be;

they'll label you confused right to your end
corrupter of all teachers of the truth
convincing all the world, you have no friend,
and die for untold sins against our youth.

Your good and bad has brought you to despair;
all indecisiveness in what you think,
the crown upon your head, where once was hair
outshines the goblet from which you now drink.

     How can you bear this hemlock in such style,
      almost as if the world can see you smile?

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His love, is unconditional for her
Neverceasing, like the temporal track
But I just wonder, when his mind will turn
And he'll realize, she doesn't love him back

She puts him in consistant agony
With immensly harsh rejection and lies
Then she turns as sweet as a spring peony
Thus, his affection grows more and more high

Forever and always a battlefield
Are the antagonizing games of love
And I feel, that if they don't quickly yield
His soul will fly to the heavens above

It is urgent he is brought back to earth
Or invisible myraids become hurt

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A cold love of a dark lover

burning dimly like a fading candle light
wrapping the hearts of lovers in the dark
surrounding them in total night
that's baron and cold and stark 
none can give merciless nightmares
none except the cold, dank dark
slaying the lovers heart like a blade; 
smeared in Black death 
for no lovers love is left un-dismayed
a cold wind submerges the broken 
heart in a quilt of cold,
and wraps its new love in a 
light so golden and warm,
being slayed by the very death 
that lured it to it's clutches; 
smearing the new blood, 
making the dying one ask, 
"What is this love? i do not know it, what is it?"
not all love is together, 
a lover's love is broken, 
so many pieces, so much pain on both sides.....
one may think that the heartbreaker will 
see his own blood thirsty lie, 
for it kills him as well. 
it leaves him in a dark and lonely hell. 

Details | Sonnet | |


It happened on a beach near Savannah,
An unnatural odor on the wind;
A crime spree that started in Montana,
Abruptly came to a violent end.

The killer’s body fell limp in the sand,
His spirit released with his final breath.
An angel appeared and held out her hand.
A fate shared by all, confronted with death.

She led him away with wings made of light,
He followed her lead, ignoring the smell.
Into a domain of stygian blight,
Eternally bound by torturous hell.

Beware the angels that wickedness brings,
Never forget...even demons have wings.

Details | Sonnet | |

Death Comes

The time of life has come to halt
for the grim reaper owns my soul.
His timing and acuteness never fault.
To take my life is his goal.
The shortness of a love once known.
The greatness of my internal fear.
While as he enters i sit all alone
and i begin to shed a tear.
My fate with chess betrayed me
through the hourglass i stare
the time has come for me to leave
my body and soul no longer an even pair.
My body still lies where it fell
my soul for eternity will burn in hell.

Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet 6

Now ... tell me the truth at 80 spaces .
Oh yes monthly at no extracted cost ,
trumpet swans announcing "All-New" "Chases"
... Gameshow w-/ only purpose " Just stay lost".
scratch that ... start at the count ... three Faces.
flicker on screen , once more , spider webbed frost.
Pulse of cheekbone ; paper Artic traces ...
Hailing to the Fanatic's RoseArm crossed.

	... Why just imagine , All times // All places ...
Daydream reality clearly embossed 
by Our pristine chords reading "All's Debased" ...
Job to do ... hands join ... Avert as off tossed 
I may stain ... lip gloss ... gulp of life wasted.

All Presents, Our Situation Hostage .

Details | Sonnet | |

some poor child

i can hear it far off in the distant night
the loud and sobering cry's of some poor child
the sounds now express his never ending fright
what could have gotten his guardian so dam riled

eats me up deep inside if i have to hide
i take off into the night to save a life
i ran beyond my self i ran with a long stride
and in my hands there rested a really big knife

busted through the door the boy lied there on the floor
waited one night to many i think to my self 
if only i had not waited a second more
it is a  bloody knife laid up on a shelf

and there she is down in the corner for ever
to remember her part in a wild endeavour

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Cuchulainn's lament

A sudden thrust: the scraping sound of steel
Against the bone, careering from the blow
His balance lost, staggering as he kneels
Upon the earth, he tries to staunch the flow.
The bloodied sword now dropping to the ground,
His battle rage now slowly dissipates.
They seek each others eyes but make no sound,
Just silence at the sadness of their fate
Three days they fought, no quarter given still,
Three nights they met to clean each others wounds,
Today they knew that one of they would kill,
And in that killing both of them be ruined.
Watching his brother slowly slip away,
He cursed the games of kings that made them play.

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Nectar of Life

nectar of life from a distant throne shadows breathe in a constant drone dewdrops lose their glorious bright And colors seeping back to white chaos churns the rivers grime o'er smooth stones made of time filters pure, ancient golden goal creative essence of the soul whittle away chaos gray write the words you have to say somewhere in each waterfall poetic feeling of a distant call paths to journey made quite clear with all it’s folly, sorrow and fear essence of a greater power love breathed peace in final hour envisioning Nova of one’s death goal to love with each last breath

Details | Sonnet | |

What passion wins when saught

What love is too fragile, that shatters without any notice.
If one is raged in time, never was there passion.
To so many birds happens frail edges in their nests,
but once lost are wingless, and do fall to rodents.
Pinned with swords to the walls that bleed their regret,
is what the impassioned experience, when they fail to grow.
Rather than deploy trials through stress, they breath what is.
Unressted heads beat steadily among those that seak most control.
Unless heads compete for control, for then, sacrifice proves passion.
Only to those that pursue engraved traces of fate, continue.
Balance life in an order that's prior to our motions,
helps the world of after shine better through Karma's tests.
Proving worth comes purely from passion, convincing death to except.
No one should ponder the life that's yet to come.

Details | Sonnet | |


Grief hurls sad pains in sudden change;
One drowning tryst that swiftly kills;
Instant refrain of gripping strange;
No more to kiss with sensuous thrill;
Gloom sets the stage for swirling tears.
Awkward this feel of stormy rain;
Wet teary page that fling harsh fear;
Abrupt goodwill attends grim pain;
Yes death is here with profound charm.
Grim reaper knows just what to do;
Instant my dear the sudden farm;
Flame of life flows now out of you...
Tell in sure tale the last array;
Swansong and ale going away.

Leon Enriquez
10 July 2014

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The death of me lay waiting in the dark
down candle lighted steps, before mine eyes
as my love held the blade, to leave the mark
upon my neck before I'd realize

yes I knew she was there, and filled with hate
a murderess if I'd do as she thought
but I had other plans, to change her fate,
and lay her deep with all the pain she'd wrought;

my derringer was cocked and firm in hand
and chambered were both silver tips for her
whilst I had in my mind, and had it planned
in self defense I'd fire, be as it were.
     just as her wolf man died the night before
     from mine own hand behind her bedroom door!
      (less of orgasm he was humping for.)

And how she cried as he drew his last breath
I nearly had compassion for her spell,
forgetting how they'd made my life a death
and that his soul was borned straight out from hell

but grabbed she then my pearly handled knife
my very favorite blade of cutlery
I used in gutting pigs, or end the life
of anyone who'd do a wrong to me;

So down theses cellar steps she's led the chase
welll knowing I would have to end her days,
lest she could beat my play, and save her face
and then convince the gendarmes of my ways!

     I heard her breathing Paris, her sweet sound,
     but couldn't place the point where she'd be found
      for silver tips to put her in the ground.

The creaking of each wooden step gave sway
as I tried to step lightly down the stair
until the last was stone, and had no play
she held her breath, and silence filled the air!

The shadows from the candle's dancing flame
there on the wall made nothing for a clue
so stepped I through the dim, to stalk my game
and then I felt the swish my blade can do!

She missed her mark, but cut my sweated skin
enough to give more credence to my tale
and fired I silver tips, through satin thin
and to her heart--you should have heard her wail!

     She died as she had lived, a fool for me--
      and looked too sweet for gentlemen to see,
     And so I beat her one more time for free!

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The gloom of death gone bad so near that night,
as circumstance played out a mournful tune,
and echoed through my brain, as if it might, 
give credence to the shadows of full moon;

and buried I my virgin, thin and bare,
she bathed in lilac, head down to her toes,
I laid her sixteen feet, to keep her there,
and marked her with a headstone no one knows,

and lest the devil wolves, who love her dear,
should get a sense of lilac in the night,
and smell their way from there to over here,
then raise her from her tomb, as sure they might!

I could not bear to end her chastity,
and so she died a virgin just for me!

She was an early purchase, just a child,
just seven years, from gypsies passing by,
and in her eyes the look, both free and wild,
yet of her bondage never questioned why.

All ladies saw her beauty, as she grew,
and changed from childhood to maturity,
to be more woman than they ever knew,
and virgin that she was, was due to me.

But at her end, her body was afire,
and yearning for the love I would not give,
lest I should lay to waste, in my desire,
the greatest beauty of this life I live!

So sleeps my virgin, as she'll always be,
unless my passion gets the best of me!
© ron wilson akaVee Bdosa

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Romeo's Lost Love

Romeo, I beg thee to take me away,
My life is empty without you;
I shall perish before I see another day,
Because my life without you is through;
Take me away from this horror and hate,
You are all I need in life;
Romeo, you are my fate,
Take me away and make me your wife;
Together we’ll spend eternity,
Happiness our only plight;
Our whole life spent just you and me,
I’ll flee with thee tonight!

She never met him, she drew her last breath,
Their once infinite love, consumed by death.

~For Dr. Ram Mehta's Sonnet contest~

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Black Death Lies

Recalling the days not so far away,
Hearing experts speaking to say,
We had not enough oil today.
There was not five million to sway.
No, no, we had not enough oil here.
We depend on foreign oil so clear.
What do I see plastered in the news.
Millions and millions per day we lose.
What, we did not have is ruining, life.
Millions of dollars spent in strife.
Sea life, peoples lives in peril.
By what we did not have by the barrel,
Now we know; we were lied too, big.
Black Death, we had not, flows from rig.

Details | Sonnet | |

Fate's Seal Never Yields

Fate's Seal Never Yields 

A storm so dark and so very blue
fate delivers it's first misery clue
Earth and sky rapidly melt into an urn
soon, so very soon , comes my turn

Rain that spins so out of control 
 pelts down upon newly born souls 
Awakening thoughts buried deep within 
of the mortality of we lesser men 

Short lives spent in duties often delayed 
with dreams imagined but never quite made 
Regret of the coming last dawn lingering around 
like a lonely fish that is dark water bound

Ashes heaped upon a very wearisome head
Sleeping soundly in a very badly made bed

Robert J. Lindley  11/23/1977

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Now thy battle’s won and thy traitor slain.
The good King’s son is princely heir anew 
And honor is due to the worthy Thane.
Beware, for envy oft forgets virtue.

The trusting master visits loyalty
Alas! False friend is he, we are to learn
Treasonous betrayal we are to see
Glory dies young whilst thy greed is eterne.

Power, that corrupt foe, brought greed and hate
And whispered in thine ear of blood and death
For three weird sisters vowed he would be great.
Blood will flow from the dagger of Macbeth.

Think not upon’t else the heart will grow cold
For death is the end of such tales of old.

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Summer Tempest

Summer Tempest

My love! May you be eternal,
If you are my dream, day should never dawn,
You are my goal, you are my terminal,
If you are my shadow, sun should never be gone.
If you are my hallucinations, they should never die,
If you are my swoon, I would never revive,
If you are my laughter, I would never utter a cry,
My soul, from you, I derive.
May you be like summer tempest,
That pours on me all the sorrows of thou,
You are a treasure I need to quest,
Every time- tomorrow, yesterday, and now.
You are my sadness, you are my glee,
Sweetest thou, I live for thee.

Details | Sonnet | |


Tell Father Time I haven't need of him;
my heart is good enough a metronome:
it sings my life and sings my requiem,
and when abroad, it keeps me close to home.

It keeps a record of my brisk hellos
and documents my burdensome good-byes.
It keeps me ever wary of my woes,
but thankfully as well my loving ties.

Tell Time his Death need not come visit me;
my life has vowed to reap me in his stead
with memories of pain but more of glee,
enshrined in gratitude and shades of red.

My heart keeps time but at a different beat,
a far more pleasant pace, less grave than sweet.

Details | Sonnet | |

Run From the Sun

“Run run run run
He’s coming-it’s the sun!”
He burns down our houses
And sets fire to our trousers

Run run run smack
I hit a tree and everything’s black
My group went on without me
I’m beginning to see

It wasn’t a tree I hit
It was a deer and now he’s lit
I’m surrounded by plants
But most of them are covered in ants 

I splash water over the deer 
(I had trouble putting out his rear)
I sit down and begin to eat
Surprisingly it was a treat

I realize it is getting late
And set off to tell my tribe what I ate
I managed to find my group
And joined them as they sat for soup

We fell asleep after the last flare
At night we were attacked by a bear
Everything suddenly stilled
As my group watched me get killed

Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet XII

With skin so pale you resembled a ghost,
And lips as red as the cherries you ate,
You were, by far, more beautiful than most.
With a mind so smart, and a heart so great,
If only, if only, you loved me, too.
To me, you were all that mattered in life.
And I knew that my love for you was true,
But without your love, I was filled with strife.
Lying side by side one cold, wintry night,
Our bodies' heat fogging up the windows,
I declared my love for you with delight.
But you did not answer and quickly rose.
I loved you as much as my heart allowed,
But then, you left to join Him in the clouds.

Details | Sonnet | |


The grace of all He is be with us all,
as surely as the end--the promised love
comes quickly as a thief--to bring the fall
of what the world's become--and singing of.

Behold how quickly comes--from Alphas flame
as naught can end unless it has begun
the light of one who's called a holy name
will light Jeruselum without the sun.

These words were said--to write--Omega's near.
And all who can will find the narrow way,
as prophesied for all the world to hear,
and then the bride says--come--this is the day.

Those hearing all will come--from near and far
to David's own--a bright and morning star.

Details | Sonnet | |

The Succubus I Date

You’re the succubus at the edge of my bed
that use to call at night. I was nearly dead.
You would climb on top of my creased corpse 
and claim my soul through the fleshy pours
still letting off the last remaining heat of life.
You laid your naked body on mine in spite
of the fact that you had already taken
all the religion I had left for praying.

And now, in my last blurry waken days,
you still perch yourself like a bird of prey
over my bed post and laugh at the ghosts
of my past. You have some reason to boast.
You crept up while I was half asleep
and covered me with the purple sheet.

Details | Sonnet | |

A Childs Happy Ending

The cold tears fall like forever fast rain. They will not stop their relay races. Not a single laughter can stop the pain. The falling shower soaks up the laces. Children learn to cope with their aching souls And their wanting dreams seem to fade away. Presents for them are eternally dull. The days pass by without a single play. Hope is all they have to get through the time. Summer turns to fall, winter turns to spring. The blissful days they could never call mine. Some of the children gain their golden wings. Now they are in heaven where they belong. They will be remembered for their sad song.

Details | Sonnet | |


Let all the wrath, unmercifully divine,
we have to muster, lead us in our quest,
and bring Athenian rule to be in line,
as sure the gods provide they fail the test,

all in our time, for Lacedaemon rules,
have we not made of man the equal to
the sight of death, upon the plights of fools
resisting all the means that we can do?

Their setting sun has risen in the east,
before the dark, those left will have to burn,
their knowledge is their fat, and only feast,
for all they know, they've yet to ever learn!

Now let the blood to flow down from the hill,
as if the flood has come and made the kill.
© ron wilson

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Written in Quiet Anger

'Twas the first day of school and all was well,
   And marched the town children in happy tune:
 Till the school bell tolling rang its death knell
   For the dead and dying who died too soon!
 Alas folks, there is none so Godless, none
   So dangerous as a fool with a cause!
 What happened at Beslan won't be undone
   Until the cause of peace gives hatred pause.
 A schoolyard is not a theatre of war -
   No child a legitimate enemy!
 Are mens' hearts so black - rotten to the core,
   That he finds refuge in atrocity?
 What inbred mind-twist maggot filth would foist
 On little children their terror of choice.


Dedicated to all those innocent children who
Lost their short lives in the massacre at Beslan.

October 2004

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(Dedication: In loving memory of a 
family friend who died this Friday.)

Feel how I feel in sadness now;
All will be well though I am gone;
Rest dear and heal what pains endow;
Exult and dwell on lovely dawns;
Walk with a smile and live with zest;
Enjoy the thrills that come to you;
Love helps you style your cheery best;
Live with fond will as laughter cues.
Flaunt your sweet ways and be at peace;
Our time well-spent is a grand gift;
Recall our days that brought increase;
Note love's expanse that ever lifts;
Opt for happy, sweet memories;
We've come to be: fond souls lovely.

Leon Enriquez
27 June 2014

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The Dead Around Us

The darkness of the hearts of man prevails;
it stalks the weak, in harsh reality;
all evil is the way, and love, it fails,
and death is all that life can hope to be.

All bitter is the end, for everyone,
though swift is death or brought on from the years,
there's not a thing that won't be dead and gone
from doomsday rocks that end all of our fears.

What fool is there to say we will survive?
there'll never be one trace to even show
that here lays man, whose soul, once so alive,
and no one will be there to even know.

The dead speak to the dead, they're all around,
but few have ever known to hear their sound.

Details | Sonnet | |


You looked too deep where no one's seen before
into the very deepest part of me
where hides my very breathing soul and more
I'd not allowed the world to even see.

You made your way right through my heart and mind
and opened doors I thought were locked up tight
through mazes quite complex that twist and wind
into what makes me tick, but out of sight.

The walls came tumbling down--you stripped me bare
between two heartbeats you came all the way
to see my greatest fear that trembled there
and then you let me know you wouldn't stay.

I sit and look out windows to no where
and think of all the nothing that is there.
© ron wilson (aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet)

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            VAMPYRE WEDDING                               
I make you mine tonight, to have and hold,         
   to lie forever in this love I feel,                         
I bring an end to ever growing old,                         
   and close your eyes, to all that is not real.               
I give you love, that others never know!        
   The joy of life found only in its end!                     
And dressed in love, we go, as we must go,                  
   into the dark! The night! The only friend!                  
I give you death! Then take you ev'rywhere!                
   To know all things; and answer to no-one!               
To have it all! To do as you would dare!
    within the dark, where life has surely gone!                
        I make you mine! I sink my teeth into          
        your waiting flesh, and drink the love of you!

Details | Sonnet | |


Don't worry little girl, you need not cry,
we know your tears, and feel them every one
and all too well, though many have to die,
you will go home again, it is not gone,

but merely re-arranged, or burned at most,
the place called home still thrives for you one day
to dream and build again, a fence, a post,
four walls to keep you safe where you can stay,

and never see again man's evil eye
nor feel again the hate that brought this on,
and though for now you sit alone and cry,
the bombers and the butchers will be gone.

Your home is safe, and waits for your return,
Though nothing's left, except what will not burn.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa

Details | Sonnet | |

Inlove With Her And Novacaine

Never knew love the way I know it now
Never will I know even when I ask how
She left and that was all
I'm trying desperately to climb outside this wall
I grip the roses stem and blood drips down my wrist
I drop to the floor, put my hands on my forehead while in a fist
We shared an oath from our lips to Gods ears
I placed myself in front of her knife to the heart to quench her fears
It killed me to love and lose
I'm losing sleep so I smash my clock back to snooze
I can't believe I thought she was the one to save me
It turns out she was the one to enslave me
My trust ran deep like blood coursing through her vein
I need to numb the bitter taste so I use novacaine
The thought of her is making my heart race
My walls are gone and now I have too much space
I think my loss is starting to hit me
I can't breathe at the thought that she will forget me
I fall from my knees with my face sideways on the floor
I grip the rose tighter & tell myself I don't want to love evermore
I'm fighting the truth and reality at this time
I'm in too deep, I'm too weak to climb
I feel a cold running through my veins followed by a last chill
My eyes are awake yet my body lie still
The lights are dimming and my life is flashing in spurts
I guess this is what it means when they say love hurts...

Details | Sonnet | |

Today's Special So Have A Ball {Kyrielle Sonnet}

Happy Mother's Day to all moms
Spilled milk and yet you stayed so calm
Painting coloring on your walls
Today's special so have a ball

Heart shape cookies I made for you
Ruffled laced stapled and then glued
Words inscript made you feel not small
Today's special so have a ball

Lessons taught Oh so very well
Back in mind words begin to swell
So sorry mom I missed your call
Today's special so have a ball

Happy Mother's Day to all moms
Today's special so have a ball

In Loving Memory 
Mom   {1934 -2005}

Happy Mother's Day 
To All Moms And Stepmoms

Thanks Again Joe

Comments:   The Kyrielle Sonnet has 14 lines (three rhyming quatrain stanzas 
and a non-rhyming couplet). It has a repeating line or phrase as a refrain in the 
last line of each stanza.  Each line within the sonnet has eight syllables. The 
French use the first and last line of the first quatrain as the ending couplet. This 
reinforces the refrain within the poem. The rhyming scheme for a Kyrielle Sonnet 
normally is: AabB, ccbB, ddbB, AB -or- AbaB, cbcB, dbdB, AB.

Details | Sonnet | |

Death rides in

Death rides in fast on his large pale horse
hooves violently gliding over gravel
nothing can stop him or alter his course
An enigma for you to unravel

his hooded cloak black covering white bones
his sharpe scythe gleams in pale moonlit night
he'll ignore your pleas and laugh at your groans
he is the angel of the dark and light

You will only ever glance him one time
once you've seen, there is no turning away
you will hear 'come with me, for you are mine'
far too late for hope, much too late to pray

look into his eyes, there are none deeper
and know you're face to face with the reaper.

Details | Sonnet | |

the going insane

     SARAJEVO the going insane
Could anyone explain the going mad
of someone that your life's depended on,
or how, the sanity, all they have had
grows weaker until all they've had is gone?

You know their love's been such a part of you
but life had reason that it couldn't stay,
and in your heart you know the love was true,
it did not end, it only slipped away.

To watch, as those you've loved, grow weak in mind
is watching death--in all your eyes can see,
and helpless, all your hope is but to find
that death is not as slow as death can be.

   It takes a long time knowing all is gone
   and longer finding reason to go on.

Details | Sonnet | |

For my Son . . .

Alone on the wings of an angel I feel at home
Far above the earth I must admit I'm not alone
With the early morning wind I kiss your rosy cheeks
And every night before you sleep I take a few peeks
I see you there growing up with each new day
I look down and hear your  every fervent pray
I watch the way you walk the way you seem so out of touch
And once again I take this time to say I love you oh so much
I write this now because you seem to think I know you not
But my son I wish to say you make me proud for all you've got
I feel you cry for me when you seem so lost
Remember son I'm here for you, do not forgot
Each and every day I look at you
You always stay within my view

This poem is for my 10 year old son from his father who passed on 4th June 
 . . .For all the times he cries for him . . . I know Hamza

Details | Sonnet | |


Through the graceful cones of your loud speakers,
Prayers go out to Alla al Akhbar.
And like a flag waving in a prophetic breeze,
You are a blindfolded hostage weeping on your knees.
In your fair root neighborhood of Shudada,
Stryker vehicles crackle past your ancient walls,
As tanks smash through deserted homes. 
And the endless stockpiles of artillery shells,		     
The mortar rounds, rocket-propelled grenades, 
Electronics for making bombs, were simply small caches,
Left by nomadic insurgents, cells long slipped away.
But you, sweet holy city of Falluja, you will live on,
For when the foreign snipers on your roofs are gone,
You will live on as the city of mosques, city of graves.

Details | Sonnet | |


i was alone watching, a thousand trains leave a thousand platforms behind
caught in a storm, whistling a furious tune in curious concert with my mind
leaves fell far from fall, grass lost its spring
a parched, picket fence bawled beside a rose-less bushes' sting

amidst all this a rusted swing swayed without cause
beside the murderous perch of crows and their 'caws' 
atop a gazebo
that someone stopped painting long ago

waiting for the return of a sun
that was somewhere beyond
too many grey skies to care
and I remember just standing there

beside an empty railroad track
hoping that final sigh that escaped me might bring you back

Details | Sonnet | |

SARAJEVO - the Sniper

      SARAJEVO - the sniper
He hides behind the dirty window pane
with eyes all cold and void of any care 
in blinding heat or through a drizzle rain
his thoughts are only what has brought him there

his mind's not thinking that's a special friend
nor is that girl in love; he doesn't care;
the choice comes on with no thought of the end
and made, perhaps, because she's standing there.

His sight is set, and all she'll ever be
gives way to things her life will never know
and when she falls and lays there helplessly
his only thought is she was quick to go.

     All in a breath, he's layed her to the street;
     and ended life to make his day complete.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson

Details | Sonnet | |

SARAJEVO the anxiety

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 to the soul I own
fortelling what has been and what must be
from Sarajevo where my life has grown
into the death I recognize as me.

I'm but a vagrant never meant to know
too soon forgotten like a Balkan snow.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson

Details | Sonnet | |

Longevity Thy Mistress

Sonnet LXX

Pt i

Let it be known that naissance is of late
significant that this longevity
shall live as long as these words shall donate
Affairs of the heart in their brevity,
Not a thought nor a whim should a thief
though if renditions are morbid as bleak 
fully aware that due to mere relief;
in as much that if as old as antique
Thou hast with heart in this old oak of thine.
Lest not we forget the marriage of will,
though it is fixt that the next birth of time
should the shroud of an existence so thrill.
Could those legions who've augmented claim
Mediocrity, forsakens his name.   

Sonnet LXXI

Pt ii

Thou hast paraphrased a psalm though as a chime
which has altered this, the scenery as such
therefore proceeding with his life and time
Can bring, so it appears, a Shakespeare touch
his versions up till now have been bestowed,
though this upon suspicion how we grieve
protected by the way we read each ode 
Like any mistress decoy, should she leave.
That death be the upheaval from this urge
of beneficials openly seduced,
For future ventures death within a surge
that loving brought, existence introduced.
Fruition, in that acorns reimburse 
The moving apparitions plays rehearse.


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Sonnet 5

If fear itself is fear, fear not the dead
With birthdays and departures on their stone
We hold the fear of death inside our head
Until the day our coffin keeps the bone

Perjure thy fear of life under the mound
For fear fondles a lie with every breath
It will not be thyself inside the ground
Only the copy of thou fear of death

The price to pay for living is to die
Emerging from the shackles of the flesh
Why not enjoy a slice of life with pie
Before thy life and unknown journey mesh

Nature of life and death change on the lever
And life is death, as death is life forever

Details | Sonnet | |

funeral of a stranger

he lived within the village I know
and yet I never knew him though 
we didn't actually live far apart
his passing leaves me not unhurt

for in the knowing of his existence
and his reputation for excellence
I now feel the void of his passing
today our humanity's under staffing

the expressions of so many now
laughing past their grief some how
to their history when he was here
their times spent together do endear

each to the other - from past to now
I'm touched by this stranger anyhow

© Goode Guy 2012-05-18

Details | Sonnet | |

Quiet Departure

Quiet departure.  Tissue warning

Her life was drawing to its end.
She was content, although she knew
She will greet death as an old friend
Who will soon come to her rescue.
Death will provide the final cure.
Relieve her of her agonies
Which cancer forced to endure
 and grant her merciful release.
She slipped away before the dawn
Still with the smile that she had worn.
To lull us in to thinking she.
For once was resting peacefully.
She knew her old friend death would come
To take her hand and lead her home.

Sunday, 22 January 2012

Details | Sonnet | |

The Sonnet of Valeria Botello

Deep voices from the earth call out her name
Growling and rumbling, corpses from graves
Summoned by the devil, she cannot tame
The monster within, locked away in caves

Her name is a folk tale, forbidden lore
Her lips are untouched, as evil deprives
Her voice is an omen, harbinger roar
Her touch, a death sentence, no one survives

Demons from the depths of hell, here to take
Wicked deals made long ago, ink still wet
Always on the run, death left in the wake
No one understands, the curse that’s been set

Beauty on the surface, pain underneath
The girl who runs from monsters with big teeth

Visit my blog to read the rest of my Free Supernatural Poem Novel:

Details | Sonnet | |

It Was Like Yesterday

                            If only Adam and Eve were still here
                            There 'd be no need pondering over it indeed
                            One will die whether you 're afraid or intrepid
                            No matter how long we live grey hair
                            Leaving wombs for graves is the whole idea
                            The old dying is no misdeed
                            Memories of past of this old woman are vivid
                            Her grey hair hugs obituary,all humans' affair

                            It's still like yesterday regardless of longevity
                            In the mirror,she smiled at her wrinkles
                            She sees all what did years back in memory
                            As if they happened fast in few eye twinkles
                            Rest in peace is written all over face already
                            Shortly,yesterday's nephews are now uncles

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And How I Missed You

When to the dust my bones do lie
Bugs will eat the gray from my eyes
God will take me, body and soul,
Then throw me in a deep dark hole
But hell will have no place for me
So I'll be flung unto the sea
Where the tempest shall spin and shout
And say, "No way," then spit me out
Across the grasslands, I s'pose I'll roam
A ghostly soul without a home
Oh, not for any evil deed
Nor any planted evil seed
No wicked sin I committed
Kept me from afterlife permitted
Though it's all nice, you can believe,
You weren't there, so I asked to leave.

Details | Sonnet | |


Middle age men, look in this clear mirror
and spot those gray strands of hair:
they may seem ugly, but they bring wisdom;
look again, you are still vibrant,
and accomplish more than those who won't dare:
tell them to live as you have... 

Lines on these foreheads are the furrows that
make us so conscious of our existence,
and death is not far from life's painful truth;
we think of the future as a time yet to come,
but we live it this very moment...not realizing it:  
and with spirit and courage, we race to stay alive...

Each year another gray hair is added to our increasing age;
can we accept mortality, and not reject discontent and rage? 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Details | Sonnet | |

I Am Haunted With '''PTSD'''

UnWanted Feelings,
UnExpected Bodys
That Lye In Battle. 
To Crash N' Burn
I Am Haunted By 
The Nightmare, Open

"Quivering Boy" I Say 
Stand Up Face Your Inner
-Beast Fight A War; Throw
It To The Closet And
Be Done With It.......
No I Can't A Scare Can 
Never Be Washed It Still
Haunts Me Even At Home.

No Excapes: No Exceptions
The Guilt That Lyes On A Blanket
Of Ash Is My Shame..... No Question!
I Am "Haunted". With PTSD!!!

Details | Sonnet | |


We were three, though unequal but warriors
Like the herdsmen we were
A glance tells of Our Genesis
All bound in one future

On our way came ghosts white
Scepter they posed  
Extorting and painting us white
Suddenly we woke, we the warriors

In extricate we intricate
Till they went as they came
Our dreams climaxed in one faith
Far not from there, one said to another

Thou are a ghost
What I heard was groans, our fate I know not. 

Details | Sonnet | |

Darkness You Fear

I look at you and i see myself Hatred bubbling between us Can't Change the past or stop the pain Just wanting to be held again Sex and drugs over powers you You slip away into the haze of the past And I can't keep waiting To see how long this lasts So I scream into the night The fire burns within me I have to find a release from you Because if I don't I'll fall into a blackness The tears run down my face But I hold back my dying rage You were once in a lifetime You laugh and smirk, its all a big joke The ultimatium is what you wrote The knife in my heart is getting deeper And it burns with eternal flame This pain will never stop You are all to ****ing blame So I stop all the fighting I let myself fall into darkness The voices in my ears stop I'm in need of an intervention All I see is a dark cold world The pain I feel is released And I become the darkness you fear

Details | Sonnet | |


     DRESDEN, GERMANY 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.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet.

Details | Sonnet | |


Deep in the death, the vastness of your eyes
that reaches into times eternity,
I go, a vagrant, soon to realize
you are beginning and the end of me.

The fear of born again brings me to tears,
of living one more time, as I have done,
and unsuspecting, all my greatest fears
are realized again, and life goes on.

You look at me and bare all you may find,
I am a delicate, and easily to break,
and you can see me hiding in my mind,
from your first look, and I can only shake.

     The book of me is now one empty page
      and all of life has just become a cage.
© Ron Wilson (aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet)

Details | Sonnet | |

Romeo and Juliet

Romeo and Juliet fell in love
their families were worst of enemies
as though he fit on her hand like a glove
Romeo was hiding out in the trees
they the enemies, were star-crossed lovers
the lovers hoped to take the vows of marrige
they made love underneath the covers
they did not ride in a carrige
this happened in the fourteenth century
her mother wished for her to marry Paris
the ending of their lives' are tradgidy
they misobayed Verona's king, Escalus
this was love that could not be seen by eyes
Romeo and Juliet took their lives

Details | Sonnet | |

A Rose It is life A Rose It is death

When smelling a Rose of beauty and life it’s life soon to end it’s consumed by fear, With perfume and thorns it will grow in strife But with death upon, there’s not but a tear. When you silently wish for life and love, a Rose! in spring’s sweet bloom, brings this with joy but it’s frozen by winter’s crystal dove and Flies away unremembered like toys. A Rose is Life singing a perfect song it’s melody like snow gently falling. A Rose is Death, for fear’s mercy is wrong if it would take it’s life at Death’s calling. But you know the truth of a rose’s life it will be stolen as if by a knife.

Details | Sonnet | |

Arbeit Macht Frei

Where are these cattle cars taking us to?
  Instantly a stench travels through my pours.
A sign translates “Work sets you free.” For Jews?
Children are shaking from their very core,
men on one side, woman on the other.
We’re stripped of belongings, to the showers.
Chaos breaks out, a scream from my mother.
Nobody runs to their loved ones, we’re cowards.
The flames burned such a beautiful hue,
crawling up the skin of the innocent.
Thousands of bodies scattered around you,
causing you to be only vigilant.
These cattle cars have taken us to death.
This is not a prison; This is hell on earth.

Details | Sonnet | |

sonnet of salem

the dark woods 'round
fed by hallowed hell fires,
blasphemous bells toll
echoes of satan's ire.
lifeless loves, livestock & lifestyle lulled
dolefully to sleep,
dust to dust
as we all must.
will i, peaceful & saved
in God's earthen hands be laid?
surely, lest to some devil is given the spade.
for evil hearts i yet weep,
as pure souls can savage demons surround.
did christ forsee a cauldron from the calvary mound?

Details | Sonnet | |

Death beneath my feet

The dead brown maple leaves litter the path
Where  I walk. Others of its kind dropping
From their lofty homes, victims of the wrath
Of autumns chilling gales, unrelenting
And tellingly- stark reminder of death-
Companion through life all of us must face.
I tread over brittle corpses beneath
My feet in their final resting place
And I am reminded of my sister
Poor soul! Who died one chilly October.
I remember the maple leaves that stirred
Around my feet that day she was interred.
Lifeless entities swirling, hurling down
Atop her casket deep beneath the ground.

Details | Sonnet | |


How old are you--young man--why do you stare?
  The world awaits for you to raise your soul--
though fettered to the wind--and ev'rywhere,
  in time a dream will make you free and whole--

to walk again--the Valley of the Kings
  and ride upon the waters of the Nile--
where spirits bathe, and Nephritite sings,
  the secrets of the past--for yet a while,

the world is obdurate of any scheme,
  that brings new life--once death has made its' call
though greater men than you--have known this dream,
  not one still hides behind his secret wall--

  and no remains--stay hidden to the past--
  if golden chains are known to hold them fast.
© Ron wilson aka vee bdosa

Details | Sonnet | |

Suicide Escape

Sitting here listening to voices unclear,
Not knowing why she does what they say,
She sits down and listens in fear,
Holding herself, she will try wishing them away.

She tries to reason with the voices,
She says they’re not really there,
They say she has two choices,
She argues that’s not fair.

Her parents think she’s crazy, they worry that she’s lost it,
It causes too much pain for her to see the tears in their eyes,
They fear that one day her wrists she will slit,
She knows now that they see through her smiling disguise.

Her mind the Devil will rape,
As she plans her sweet suicide escape.

Details | Sonnet | |

Robert Fisher

I wrote this poem shortly after his death on January 17, 2008.

Bobby Fisher, chess savant and master
Unparalleled among the best that played.
A champion, a genius, destroyer
Of chess opponents, this day passed away.
You either loved him or abhorred the man.
There wasn’t middle ground. His time had come.
Eccentricities never lost his fans.
I am the proof, e pluribus Unum.
In life his brief existence was tragic
Perhaps in death we’ll gain understanding
Of genius. Chess his forte, his magic
Preoccupation gave us deepening
Enlightenment of Caissa, his mentor.
His spirit now with her forevermore.

Details | Sonnet | |

Obscene Serenity

Scars on my heart,
Scars on my wrist,
It tears my soul apart,
To know that I cannot resist.

As the razor cuts trough skin,
The adrenaline is agonizingly sweet,
Yet I know I cannot win,
So I set myself up to be beat.

Then blood it starts to flow,
A seductive temptation from my vein,
Soon I can feel my heart start to slow,
And my mind is filled with a beautiful pain.

My suicide you shall call an obscenity,
While it is my own peaceful serenity.

Details | Sonnet | |


What matters not, now past and put away,
your welcoming brings on another scheme
and here you make your plan, you can not stay
much longer than it takes to build a dream.

In this, the place where beauty binds all things,
forgotten is each pain, you've ever known,
and here, the Green of life, it always sings,
of life to be, from where all love is grown.

Until you get it right, you shall return,
back to your Summerland, where you can grow,
into a life from which we never learn,
because of learning things we never know.

Your understanding is your final breath
And life begins in what we think is death.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa

Details | Sonnet | |


“Look! The aging poet sleepwalks again.”
“Sir, should we wake him from his nightly tour?”
“No! God no! His heart could not stand the strain.”
“He’s heading for the open study door 
His ambulant steps on the floorboards creak
With every step along the corridor”
“Listen! The bard is beginning to speak
Let’s heed his words, step softly on the floor.”

           “Where do you lead me
             Erato? Oh! The study
             What for may I ask?”

He sits at his desk with his pen in hand
Writing vigorously on a tablet
Almost as if it were by some command 
His outline cast a dreamy silhouette
On the study wall caused by the moonbeam
Shinning through a curtained opened window  
“He writes with eyes closed in his dream”
“Be still! He calls out the name, Erato”

                  “Erato, you say
             This love poem is my last?
             How so, may I ask?”  

The poets hand stops writing a moment
Than briefly begins again then desists 
Completely; lays the pen down and laments
While rising from his chair clenching both fists
Then begins to walk toward his bedroom 
“Should we read what the old bard has written?”
“Not now!  Let’s follow him back to his room 
“But...” “Please keep quiet! He speaks once again.” 

                       “Erato I have
           Finished what you asked of me
               This is my swansong.” 

The old poet reached the side of his bed
And gently slid under the bed covers
A smile appears than wanes. “Is the bard dead?”
“Yes! He’s gone where all the poet lovers’
Always go: with the lovely Erato”
“I hear a lyre! Do your ears hear the same?”
“Yes! It plays for another poet’s soul
That enters Erato’s love poems domain”
Standing at the old poets study desk
The two men look down upon the tablet
And begin to read the verses expressed
This saddest of nights both will not forget

                  My Swansong
In life all things must always reach its end
My life is no exception to this rule
True love was writing verses with this pen
And know for sure I had not been a fool
Love was all I had to offer in life
Expressed in many forms of poetry
Each I shared with my friends and loving wife
Intent was never a commodity
My time has come; the flame of life grows dim
And everything I have seen in this light
Was through the eyes of love I owe to Him
My hand grows weak, my effort ebbs tonight
I see your face, your myrtle crown and lyre
You strum the strings, sweet music to my ears.  

Details | Sonnet | |

The Leaving Of The Dead

     As each day makes a desert way
     A star falls to vanish in the sky of dark
     Left are the others in the groaned world of our days
     As each day beams, we lack in the part.

5.   When will these missing flowers be found ?!. 
     To those we show our tattered feet.
     The Owners of Land, where our germinations were bound
     Now, being the ancestors of our fruits fleet

     As the breeze blows, so they die.
10.  Waving to the spirit world of spell,
     To leave the Lizards on lie.
     Who knows who would hear tonight bell?

     For the dead leaving, and the leaving dead; where is their home  ?
     In  God’s heaven or …Devil’s hell?

Details | Sonnet | |



Oh! Death, a mystery thy still remains
A fearless murderer that forgets justice
A thief not of night but of time
A stealer of worthless items

Oh! Death, how happy you-make the bereaved 	
Thou are too real to be true
A professional in a career carnage
Too sophisticated to loss a battle started

Oh! Death, you tame the proud and the tough
A body made of air and a movement in gesture
So helpless thy victims always are
Like Israel in front of goliath

A friend to the deceased, but an enemy to the living
(Sighs) Oh!  Death, Spare me not.

Details | Sonnet | |


 The last of feigning death, love now abides,
 tuberculin, infectious, inside her breast.
 She breaths emotion where your hope now hides,
 and clings to what Melpomene knows best.
 Dear tragedy of love, deep in her eyes,
 to love we die, or never love one bit.
Your soul--once doomed to Hell--see now it flies
 renouncing every hope of ending it.
 Consuming as is love, the hate must flow,
 each seething, creeping, loathing will to fly,
 amongst what hope is left, one thought will show;
 to know the deep of someone, one must die.
 All of your will, which dieth, less for cause,
 has ended short of knowing who she was.
 ©  ron wilson

Details | Sonnet | |

Grim Reaper

With waning moon below the Horizon
the darkness fell upon the slumbered town.
An even darker phantom fell upon
the people. (Death) had descended and found
its quarry. Walking silently among
their homes until he reached a wealthy man
asleep in bed. He touched his eyes, erelong.
At once, they opened wide. "Oh, bogeyman
begone! Oh horrible dream, thou leave me!
You dreadful ghost! Who are you? I'm lord here!
I'll beckon servants. They will hear my plea."
Be silent fop! Your time has come. Give ear:
Your hedonistic life has caused much pain.
I send you where the conqueror worm reigns.

Details | Sonnet | |


Even in death let me contemplate you
Where you are in void sockets framed in bone
The brain all dried out, my features unkwown
In life or death before, weighted by you

Even in death, I do not dream of you
As being true, nor sorry that I'm gone
While all your courtiers trample on my throne:
The little world of dreams by which I view

Them as maggots migrating through your pores
And you moaning, a fragment on the shores
Will fill the vacant vortex my soul soars -
From death, for suff'ring love's spite without cures
Cannot suffer yet again your disgiust
When death too becomes tennant of your lust. 

Details | Sonnet | |

Until death do us part

Most of us at one time or another take this marriage vow. At the time it is usually a rote
recitation because we are young and our attention is on other imminent matters. And that's
the way it should be. Nevertheless, if we remain married and outlive a spouse we are faced
with the same thoughts, doubts, questions and helplessness as the man in the following
poem. Verse 14 he does the only thing he can do to express his love for her before the
casket is closed.

She laid upon a cold and stony bier
within an open coffin lined with silk.
She didn't look the same: Her face appeared
to have an ashen color,white as milk.
In life her comely facial features glowed
a lovely roseate. but now she is dead.
Forever gone from me. My head is bowed
in prayer and sadness all around. I dread
the coming years without her next to me.
Is life important anymore?, I asked
myself. Her love is still alive but she
is motionless before me with the mask
of death and delicately folded hands.
I gently touched her golden wedding band.

Details | Sonnet | |

An Ending

No one understands what I’ve been through
I have no friends but many enemies 
The pain that I have caused still holds true
Worlds are full of people I am to please. 
The razor blade slides across my wrist
The red liquid drips down my shaking hands
My head convinces me I won’t be missed
My sleeping mind brings me to far off lands.
The end looms nearer as the light grows bright
The pearly gates above stand wide open
St. Peter sees my name and his face light
The gates are waiting and I proceed in.
	Heaven is the place I am to last
	My scar filled wrists remind me of my past. 

Details | Sonnet | |

Tall Sea Grass

When I am gone and have ceased to be
On Kansas plain and green Missouri hill,
Just scatter ashes on the tall grass sea,
Where winds are strong and evening air is chill.

Don't take the time to sing those songs too grim,
Just sling my soul up high toward one last God--
Think back and say: "I do remember him"--
Like dust I'll blend softly into the sod.

Yet when there's no remembrance of this life
In those we touched so many years from now,
That knowing will cut deep as any knife--
Immortality becomes us somehow.

And if we wish our words to swiftly pass,
We'll write on wind and rain in tall sea grass.

Details | Sonnet | |

A Mondo Gory Poem

Faces of Gore (1999) is a mondo shockumentary video that depicts graphic footage of
bloody, mangled bodies which guides viewers through explicit scenes depicting a variety of
ways to die and violent acts. I wanted to try my hand at Mondo genre poetry. I promise you
I’m not a nut case. I’m just a highly imaginative poet.

An ominous cloud lingers in my head
Portending pernicious consequences.
My sixth sense informs me what lays ahead
Foretelling dire events in sequences:
At first, a flash that's followed by thunder.
But it’s not what the mind is telling me.
A cloudless sky, than smoke, and no wonder
A bomb tore asunder all that I see.
The blood, ash and bone, dismembered bodies
All littered the site once a theater.
The mayhem and carnage that I foresee
Was the work of a lone perpetrator.
A marquee lying that stood heretofore
Reads: Coming attraction, “Faces of gore”

Details | Sonnet | |

Judgment Day

We are but grains of sand in life’s hourglass
Plures inter plures waiting our turns
That slowly penetrates the narrowness
Of time ending all our worldly concerns.
The moment comes like a thief in the night:
Silently, stealthily, assuredly
And in this sleep of death things are put right:
Our past dreams become bits of history
Involuntary intervals of life
That has reflected our immortal souls
And there are never any two alike
Spirits on trial that will defend their roles.
In the end, though, we go our separate ways
Some ascend while others will face the blaze.

Details | Sonnet | |


There is a man standing in the rain in a cemetery in front of his deceased wife's gravesite. He appears to be crying. Her death occurred years ago and left him with everlasting grief. He is resigned to this fact so everything he sees and hears casts him further into this state of mind.
This day is no different than all the previous times, except this time, the rain, a bird and a sound of bells contribute to his continued descent.

The rain concealed the tears he shed today.
He cried this way so many times before
but always alone. No rain can wash away
his anguish, anxiety... nevermore!
A tiny feathered harbinger alight 
her stone and cocked its head. A drop of rain
upon its beak that seemed to weep in sight
of him, a tear; then takes to flight again.
A distant tintinnabulation from
a church’s belfry pealed so mournfully.
He muses: fleeting wings of death had come
and taken from me so prematurely
my lover, leaving only heavens tears
to drench my heart with sadness all these years.

Details | Sonnet | |


Sitting here all alone I reach for you
But then I remember yoou are gone
Never will I see your face again
Missing my best friend

Why I wonder late at night
How can I make this right
Inside my head I replay the since
It feels like a bad dream

I had just said goodbye to you
I knew what you planed to do
You was going home to see your kids
You never saw him where he was hid

I heard about the body found the next day on the news
Than I got the call telling me it had been you
He raped and beat you as you screamed and cryied
Than he cut you up and lft you to die

The news man was cold and heartless with the story he told
What about her children and her soul of gold
What of her family and ones left behind
How do we deal with no leds to the crime

The officers say their doing the best that they can
But sometime I wonder do they understand
What it like to have someone you loved just took away
And noone have answers when their babies say

What do you do when a ten year old aks you what to do
Because they are sceard to walk to school
My best friend is gone and will never return
While her killer is out enjoying the sun

I wish I could find him before the law dose
because then he would learn how it felt to lose something you love
I wouldn't kill him I would let him live and stand trail
But i would give him a loss he could think on a while

Details | Sonnet | |

Bleeding Ink

She bleeds in ink
Writes in blood
She's at the brink
of falling victim

She cuts with verbs
and sings with glass
she cries herself to sleep
And prays for the depression to pass

Water runs in her veins
Drinking blood
to subside her emotional pains
she falls victim to decadence

She bleeds ink and cries blood
she never had a chance of staying victim

Details | Sonnet | |

Vision of Juliet

Her love was now gone, to death, departed
So young, so innocent, why must he go
It was their lives, she thought they had started
But, now buried, under deaths winter snow

It was their plan, the priest, he was certain
Had given a vile for her to then drink
To awaken, to see him, t’was their plan
Alas, he lies there, with never a wink

Oh pain! This could not have really happened
His blood on the ground with sword by his side
If only it went just as they had planned
She holds him now close while starting to cry

Her life, she then takes. No living without
Tale of true love, is what this is about

Details | Sonnet | |

Death Without Faith

I wander this eve through a garden of stone
Each stone is set with words so marked
Though I feel safe, as if it is home
I feel so cold within the dark

I cannot help but feel so personally alone
As now I am standing, I cannot laugh
For I see now on new placed stone
The words of my own epitaph

My head then bows before this scary sight
The view so steals the warmth from me
I cry, I know I’ve passed, this night
I’ll wander earth eternally

Oh faith, lost faith, I’ve cursed my grave
As earth’s now the master, I am it’s slave

Details | Sonnet | |

Vain of the Old Man

Throughout time I plunder vast lands in vain,
Striving to live with dangers verge to strike,
Nibbling off of dieing shrubs with pain,
Loneliness takes it toll with no new sights,

An old man i am with a hardened soul,
Blood of old wounds stain my rags with deep red,
Rough with grief killing what my tears can hold,
Creatures strike when the shadows are not dead,

A small flimsy hut made with sticks and stones,
Blown over by every haunting tempest,
The nature of this vast land has unknowns,
As a blanket of old age forces me to the lowest,

Deprived of my loving strength I am weary,
For my day has come for me to die sully.

Details | Sonnet | |


Gazing at my body there on the floor,
feeling more pain now than ever before,
I see the gun lying there by my hand,
a pool of blood there where I land,
I see my mother as she opens the door,
then all is lost in her screams of horror,
My father rushes in, Pulling me to his chest,
screaming my name and trying his best,
He knows when he feels my cold damp skin,
my time on this earth has come to an end,
I see pain and hatred burning in their eyes,
How could I do this, I don't want to die,
I'm  sorry, I'm sorry, I try hard to scream,
yet it is useless as if in a dream,
Terror and Sorrow flooding my soul,
Oh dear God I just didn't know,
The pain it would cause those left behind,
how I forever have scarred their minds,
Now it's too late the pain they can't hide,
just because of a selfish act of suicide.

Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet to Brave

I stand in sun, in light before the heat,
On hills which cut the wind as not to blow!
I see before me hallowed ground below
Where we the free, intern our brave to keep.

Bright crosses white in light in rows they sleep,
No more they wonder of the right or wrong.
They wait the bugler's tune and hero's song.
Our eyes from row to row will only creep.

We ponder on the question which will rise.
If freedom's won -was worth so many bones?
Our tears that fall on grass and cross of stones.
Yet answers not to rise when tears we cry,

For miles our view sweeps histories of war
To brand our souls with trust the brave ones bore.

Details | Sonnet | |

Spiritual Wind

The thoughts of spirits at night ,bring chilling fear.
The wind blowing,or is it the spirits showing there near.
They ride the wind not knowing where they come or where they go.
Your hair standson end as the wind decides to make the leaves dance a show.
You hear a whisper coming from the wind as it rushes through the trees.
My insight tells me its two spirits chatting like the mating of two bees .
We all get that feeling that there is someone behind us ,and we take off in a dash.
Maybe were not so paranoid,especially if the wind is blowing,but we do not know 
where they come from or go in a flash.