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Sonnet Fear Poems | Sonnet Poems About Fear

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

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Fear Not The Wind

Fear not the fierce wind, o gentle heart
Though it may rattle the eaves
And give no ear to its whispers with nothing to impart
But shallow promises that hang, like dried, parched leaves

Listen to its mournful wails on the way to some distant shore
Leaving in its trail, the harsh rawness of a chill
And envy not; give pity instead and be sure to keep no scores
For the warmth of a gentle heart is by far, richer still

For who can fathom the baleful howls invading valleys below;
Billowing across the fragile earth and her boundless seas?
Is it in anguish that it protests; who can really know?
Or is it a mere expression of a mighty power that seethes?

Yet, judge not, o gentle heart, but like a blade of grass amidst a storm
Lay calmly into the wind; rely not upon your strength to stay strong

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Blind Panic

Blind panic

There was a warning came one day
It said disaster’s on its way
An old volcano in the distance
It could erupt in any instance

The molten ash came pouring out
As neighbouring village was in doubt
Folk were running to and fro
It seems they had nowhere to go.

Buildings were cracking one by one
Blocking out the golden sun
This thing did turn our day to night
As everyone was filled with fright

As the Earth did turn to lava
Many prayed to the holy father.

Vera Duggan  16 August 2014.

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The Mother's Loom

Dearest, why cry in vain to the black night 
fight its gentle intent to hold and rest. 
Why fear the loss of light thus malcontent? 
When ego is so false upon the loom. 

Dearest, what makes you think elation found
from harsh light will so frame your hearts delight?
Reality thus formed will not slay fright.
When ego goes so false upon the loom.

Dearest, husks of the Universal eye
soft grays will velveteen the fading light.
Walk on courageous in the Mother's night,
accept the silken comfort of the blur. 

All that is soft and gentle comes from Her.
Dearest Heart, loose yourself upon the loom.

*Dedicated to my friend Robin Gass 
and all those who fear dispersal in the dark.

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Sonnet 18 Parody

Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day?
Thou art much more shrivelled and much more cold
Rough winds shake the withered leaves of today.
And your stomach hath too many a fold.

Sometimes too hot your sister shines,
And often is your grey complexion dimmed;
And you always smell like my uncle’s swine 
Except your upper lip is less well trimmed.

Thy eternal summer did long since fade
And lost possession of that fair thou ow'st;
And Satan brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives death to eyes.

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For a Sad Souper

Sad boy, could anyone mend what's broken, And dry your salty tears, but with a hand? Is there anything we haven't spoken, Is there anything we don't understand? We have taken the rope, but not the pain, I hope you know that we wish that we could. We'll be here for you, through sunshine, and rain; And if we knew how to help you, we would. I know that you're angry with all involved, And especially those close to your heart. But surely, some day, all will be solved, And you will thank them for playing their part. So please read this poem, with thought and care, Remember that we will always be there. ~ For D (you know who you are)

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The Real Fear

The Real Fear...

The fear of darkness seems to threaten most
When one is lost and groping in the dark
Of self.  One blames unknowns—the devil, ghosts
Or even God—for fright that comes with stark,
Cold, empty blackness.  Courage will depart—
Just like a pearl dropped in a sea of ink,
Its glow will die—while fear's black magic art
Revives despair between each hurried blink
Of eyes which stare at shadows that incite
Imaginary monsters of the mind.
But oft these visions are the mirrored sight
Of what one sees within when eyes are blind—
   For darkness lights and magnifies the whole
   Dim panorama of the troubled soul.

© Sandra M. Haight 2014 
   All Rights Reserved

Contest: Dark and Deep (Old Poems Only)
Sponsor: Skat A

~6th Place~ 
Debbie Guzzi's Contest
Judged 10/14/2014

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In a Dark Dark Room

The moon is full and white, and chill, this night, 
it cascades past my open window sill, 
and all the color fades to dark from light,
a monochrome of gray which can't be stilled.

The armoire's oblong shadow strays across the floor.
I watch it from within my canopy bed. 
A nightmare gallops through an open door,
a Pooka black as coal with eyes that bled.

Its jaw agape and gore froths from his maw,
as it slowly paws the cover from my bed,
a scream freezes in my throat, a bird-like caw,
he dips down for me to mount, and I am led.

Upon this demon spawn, I scour the moor
'til dawn descends to belay this foul glamour.

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Fear of Goodbye

whispers carry through the silent air
and linger for moments after which spoken
I take the time to let them echo inside my ear
before they fade and their presence is broken
shallow breaths in a rhythmic type of tune
wishing for the moment to last forever
afraid that goodbye will be said too soon
breaking the bond that ties us together
locked in a gaze only to be suddenly taken
away from what was cherished between
distance widens I pray to be mistaken
 from what is now being forcefully seen
fear running wild I struggle to meet your eyes
as the last whisper I hear is one of goodbye

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'Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death'

Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death;
I walk this earth devoid of friend and hearth,--
devoid of joy from the time of my birth
and from the first draw of my infant's breath.
An outcast and a pariah among
the friended, I exist without the mirth
and glee of those born of happier worth,
esteem and prize,--O would that I belong!
Still, I am loved of my dear family
and most loved friends, my books, and by my God
and e'en by my most oft-read poetry.
These things I cherish, honor, and must laud
with gratitude and thanks religiously
and be content as worms in a blesséd sod.

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        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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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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The Zombies of Halloween

An eerie silence wrapped the bog,
I dared not move nor speak.
The chilling blanket of the fog
Where evil beings creep
Conceals within tormented souls
Now stirring from their sleep,
And there within a fate foretold
Lie secrets they will keep.
Into the darkest night they prowl
To feed upon the weak,
And even wolves with frightened howls
Hide in the forest deep.
The terror of the living dead
Will feast among the meek.

Craig Cornish  Written Nov. 2, 2013
For Leonora's Halloween Contest
Modern Sonnet

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Kim Jong-un leader of the starving

I wonder what your thinking, in your country far away
And what on earth possesses you to threaten mine today
You allow your people to starve, munitions they are first
While daily people starve to death and many die of thirst

Your father and grandfather should have taught you how to care
Instead they shared their legacy of treating people unfair
Many live in work camps with three generations or more
Simply because they disagreed, so now all must chore

You live in style above the rest, have people who adore
But deep down, I believe that each person longs for more
You teach hatred and despise my country each and every day
For freedom and free choice would take yours away

Your people follow in fear, like robots in a line
I wonder how long they will conform or will it be your time
More and more try to escape, or die instead of live
In a country such as yours that takes much more than it gives

Each building,statue, memorial you have to tell a tale
Of twisted truths and travesties instead they often fail
For freedom is what's needed in the country you call home
Grow food instead of opium,and leave the people alone

You have the power in your hands to change what was past
Hurry please before it's too late you must do it fast
Do not start a war in which more people will die
Because your father and grandfather started it with a lie. 

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Sonnet Dialogue: Scorn in Duality, Lit Op 5

I  looked below and saw the dawn from here,
Disturbing may, below the light- a man.

“Oh, stranger most, shall I ask you with fear?”

“Dear one, you fear no one”, replied the man,
“Nor Him, you fear Him not for you are but
The holder of the strings of those you sight.”

A second by, I asked him in abrupt,
“The guardians of the roof, had they loved me?”

He voiced: “Their love are drawn in stitching crossed,
Exquisite yet details are course, you see?
The veil from where it rests you should have tossed,
Each thread in havoc, one chaotic sea!”

I spared a tear, his face did went outworn,
Afar the lake I headed. God, I’m torn!


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Who pays this roaring mass?
Which pretends it has nothing to do with me?
Yet keeps pulling its antenna, 
To watch what I do?
Who pays these seat feelers?
To gawk at me 
Even when I am yawning?
Who pays this swam

To creep into my bolts
And unlock the secrets 
Of My private business 
Who pays us?
 For I have been possessed by their intrigue
I find myself doing what they do
Yet I am not paid at all
I am going on strike

This boss has to pay me
Because I am becoming a workaholic 
yet earning Revenge 

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A Stone In The Cold - 5 Runner Up

The hunter hunted; the past comes stalking,
breath now visible, I quicken my pace,
dusk has fallen, nature is now talking,
autumn's chill causes my heart to race.

My eyes scan dense forest from left to right,
I stop, gain my footing in the thicket,
only branch and crimson leaves in my sight,
owls call out, and prey upon the cricket.

Voices seem to speak from the babbling brook,
cold stones, worn smooth, waters of countless days,
eyes are everywhere, yet nowhere I look,
something is near, I cannot get away.

Struggling, my arrow kept at the ready,
my once stealthy hand, is now unsteady.

This was my original entry for Debbie Guzzi's contest - "A Crown of Sonnets"

(This is also the first sonnet that I had ever written.)

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Valentine's need apply

I gave up on you years ago
Felt love in my life had to go
Felt free and strong without care
Never needing wanting another there

Life has changed so much since then
Looking inside I take to pen
Wonder have I grown up yet
To include something more than a pet

Another February comes to be
Alone again hello, just me 
Valentine's day it comes and goes
Will I again receive a rosé? 

Will this be the year I'm ready to see
If someone can share their life with me?

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Startled I see my dream again tonight
Awaking from within me deepest fright
Creeping from out my misty eyed slumber
The beast inside me began to lumber

Catching myself in front of the mirror
Your eyes beside me, your shrieks of terror
Wax smelt courage, your trigger finger slight
Now you see me in a different light

Soft moonlighted skin dotted with twin holes
For my ravens guide me to sinful souls
Now conjuring up your holy spirits
Refuse you the truth because you fear it

And yet again I wake a lonely Knight
My dear, come here, promise I won't bite

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Keep it hidden

I'm sitting on the side of this cliff,
Looking down into the emptiness,
I know I am alone but what if,
I was not so god damn hideous.

Maybe I should not have gotten up today,
And all of a sudden,
I stand up and try to keep these feelings at bay, 
I need to keep them hidden.

Cause I can't let anyone see them,
Need to pretend to be dreaming of going far.
Buts thats why you are reading this poem,
Even though it seems so bizarre.

But I can't guarantee, 
That I won't just recede. 

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Whose Afraid of the Dark

Oh mother, dear mother, come make my bed,
for the sun grows tired and has lost its shine;
come bless the place where I will lay my head,
surround it with angels, all that’s divine.
Oh mother, dear mother, come bar the door,
count the slow clock's chime as shadows descend.
Eve's breeze is now listless, birds sings no more,
all the land lays in silence , till night ends.
Oh mother, dear mother, sing me to sleep,
drown the foul voice of fears infestation;
let us join strength, to one another keep,
safe here in your care, and consolation.

Dear father, please protect us through the night,
save us from all harm, till dawn brings us light

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River Deep, Mountain High

How do we ever know whom we've come to know
All we see is their periphery, externally on show
But what resides from within, can be River Deep, Mountain High
With levels we can't seem to count, internally they cry

Internally they cry, into a world we can't comprehend
It's no wonder they appear like this, if me, I'd be round the bend
One minute their world seems so right, suddenly a darkness descends
All it took was explainable, but a different signal they send

A different signal they send, yet it's receiver appears to know
What was there originally no longer appears to show
Just like a pendulum swinging, to the left and to the right
No middle happy medium, for when it stops out goes their light

When it stops out goes their light, and a darkness descends
Maybe it's what they had become, driven round the bend

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Brave like you

 I find myself not , eating, thinking, and sleeping
Sometimes , not doing things right in my life
The many obstacles , Im going threw
Just to reach one goal
The many blocks, I walk
Day or Night

Sometimes confuse on time
Wishing it was a dream
The moment , I heard 
You went to sleep
All, I keep saying is 
Who , understood me like you
For the many reasons 
I love you

I appreciated everything, you did
From the braveness, you gave my soul
The gentleness, in your words
For each teardrop, you wiped off my face
Now, my teardrops seem to reach the ground
While , I look in (Heaven)
Praying your looking down

Showering this fear off my skin
Feel my feet
They're so weak
But , for you 

I get on my knees
Singing and crying, to God
That my angel is you
So , I can whisper in your ear
Mama, make me brave
Brave like you

June 8th 2012

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Kiss This

<                              master of disguise menacing havoc
                                I fear not your pronged fork and wooden stick
                                but one illuminates from presents sight
                                tis I carries master key whom ends plight

                               brushstroke if must with your evilness twist
                               for I stand strong from an Hevenly bliss 
                               poke and probe away with your woven schemes
                               tis I'll be the one laughing though it seems 

                               your inferno fire from gates of hell
                               diminished by just one shake from this bell
                               so bring on your barriers and good grief's
                               tonight I'll be the one with good night's sleep 

                               sowing not fear of satin's smitten grasp
                               but turning check telling to kiss thy ass

Entry For
Thvia Shetley's
The Devil Made Me Do It
Sonnets Only Contest
G.L. All

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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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Many-toothed Thing

Many-toothed Thing

Nighttime has fallen across the whole land
And silence deafens the ear to all sound;
Darkness so deep that I can't see my hand
Or many-toothed things that are lurking around.

I feel my pace suddenly quicken with fright,
Supposing a ravenous beast is behind;
Some bloodthirsty, vicious creature of night
That can't be envisioned by any sane mind.

Abruptly—an alien noise makes me turn:
A snap of twig, or maybe dry bone.
My wide eyes see nothing, my gut starts to churn
As I realize the cause of the fear that I own.

The terrible, monstrous beast I can't see
Is really a different expression of me.

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The Fear Of Listening

Of all the scary sights that we behold,
The measure of our fear remains unmatched.
And even with the most horrendous mold,
We cast away the scene our mind has patched.

But shut the very eyes from which you see,
And darkness will indulge your mind for free.
For darkest shadows that inspire fear
Loom not in what you see but what you hear.

But spite the fear and listen through and through
With time you breach the sound with crimson blade.
For there exists so much to frighten you,
That in the end you cease to be afraid.

The time will come when fear will pass with grace.
And chimes become the tears of glassy space.

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The Yellow Bastard

I got this confusion, 
  I simply cannot sleep 
My heart is aching badly, 
  but I found no reason to weep 
A news from the men in the front line 
  That the war is near to ending, 
Yet nobody can ascertain 
  which side is going to win 
I pray for the brave men 
  To be home soon alive and safe 
A sound sleep for their children 
  They left home before bed 
I feed them with the hopes 
  That their daddies will win the fight 
They'll be back if not the morrow 
  Maybe after the next three nights. 
I am a yellow bastard 
  Who refused to join the rest 
Of their effort to gain freedom 
  While their own lives are at risk. 
I can see the shame on my face 
  I can taste my own disgrace 
My way of self-redemption 
  Is to wish our men all safe. 

Date & Time of Writing 
August 11, 2007 
1:11am - 1:53am 

A bit of history: 

Lt. Gen. George S. Patton, at that time the commander of the Seventh 
U.S. Army (but he was more popular as the commander of the Third U.S. 
Army towards the war's end), visited a military hospital in Sicily on 
Aug. 3, 1943. He walked past the beds of wounded soldiers, asking them 
about their injuries. Coming to the bed of a soldier who lacked visible 
signs of injury, Patton inquired about his health. 

The soldier, 18-year-old Pvt. Charles H. Kuhl, had been initially 
diagnosed as having a case of psychoneurosis. He told the General that 
he couldn't mentally handle the battle lines. "It's my nerves," he said. 
"I can hear the shells come over but I can't hear them burst." 

Patton, so enraged, slapped Kuhl across the face and called him a "Yellow Bastard".

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From An Abused Lady

I've known our end is here for sometime now,
but your sweet talking ways led my heart on
to think we'd overcome it all somehow
avoiding what is plain, our love is gone.

So now the truth, and cold reality,
comes to my mind, as sure as do your lies.
And I must put aside what you tell me
but not the truth that's in your lying eyes.

How you could beg my love then go your way
into anothers arms, I shouldn't know,
now time is gone when I'd have more to say
and so I'll simply bid you now to go.

   And if your fits of rage leave one more mark,
   your future will be bleak, and cold, and dark.
            © ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet.

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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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when we Hallucinate our known fear

When you hallucinate our unknown fear, In the act of offsetting the oracles.Therefore Forworning ownself from its sacrosanctity shear, Subsisting off at the expense of the rescissive cycle, & It is risked to be answerably clear of the recidivistion, On our ragout heads would yet behest fairer? In the greegree region, If the unbeknownst boko were only so tinder, Would not its saracenic harem stoke. So they shorn in the allotments of massive  alopecician , As trying tardy in some doubtful spoke, Men left out in its tincture realms, spun in 
the air like a coin to come to face the faced,Grappling with the Hecates seeing an unkingly estranged from what had besought men  engendered.

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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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Into The Gloaming

Twilight cast eerie shadows 'pon the tree
A lonely tree with frail limbs dark and bare
Reaching into dusk with despairing plea
Will the sun rise again this anxious year

Going into the dark gloaming is scary 
Twilight of life is an arduous time 
The setting sun against open field airy
Paints a picture of a future sublime 

Mountains that peek through clouds at setting sun
Rocky ragged, difficult heights to scale
When hair is white His love has just begun
He'll sustain me when my body is frail

Into the gloaming glide~ quiet time comes
Over the mountains many more lifetimes

Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Contest: One In Three: Write Beautifully
Scripture reference: Isaiah 46:4

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All the time

I know you but I don’t know myself
Now I am lost in you with no hope
I knew you and your soul enticed me
For days I watered you with love
I created the complete love incarnate
You compelled me like a witch
I delve for your love portions
But all the time there were whispers
Murmurs of the sweet love dressed
With a ginormous smile that covered
My little dove I trusted with my life
I ran among turmoil of miserable life
Thou I knew that your arms had spaces
Let go of my love now so I shall see eternity

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Headless Spirit

Bats do fly on this spooky autumn night Land on an old tree that’s deader than dead There’s a noose that hangs from the greatest height Hangs over the grave of man with no head Sky has an orange tint to it tonight Pumpkins enjoy the color and absorbs Feeling the fear that’s in the air with fright Seeing now a witch with her crystal orbs Placing one on the headless ghost’s tombstone She invokes the spirit to come forth here Quickly he shows up, but he’s not alone Spirits from all around arrive that scare The witch knows her defeat and rides her broom She’ll get the headless spirit sometime soon
Russell Sivey

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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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Come Closer Love

Where nightmares wait to touch the soul with fear,
The path of darkness leads beyond the night,
Come closer; love, for I am waiting here,
To unearth desires in blood curdling fright.
A vampire’s kiss to set your heart alight,
As immortal dreams return to our sight,
If you should dare to step inside this place,
A hidden world that leaves no earthly trace.
Oh love I am so weary from the chase,
By name I call you here to comfort me,
My poisoned eyes hunger to see your face,
And let my lips set your own spirit free,
As we join in one immortality,
Even in darkness love is the only key.

Form: Choi's Sonnet

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what lurks within

can this be the room where the Ripper was?
Jack the Ripper killed a number of girls
killing ladies of the night without cause
and he gave Scotland Yard greatest more curls

his identity still remains unknown
maybe jack the Ripper wasn’t a man
the name Jack the Ripper is so well known
this room on Osborn Street home to a man

even though his identity not known
a nearby foot print seemed like a huge man
the real Jack the Ripper may not be known
his identity mystery to man

but maybe that room has all the answers
once it is studied by examiners

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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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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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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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Sonnet IV

O, my beloved, your dear voice I hear;
No earthly voice can sooth my tremb'ling soul
Nor calm, as yours does, angry waves that roll
About my little bark. The dragon rears;
His breath, like flaming billows, seeks to sear
My heart until my hope in blackened coals
Lies devoured among the briny shoals.
Then, just in time, you do appear,
And at your word, all doubt is driv'n away;
I hear the melody your voice does make.
The fiery dragon has naught else to say,
My love, not at his terrors need I shake.
My soul, it knows your master touch; at bay
He lies, the vanquished foe your voice did break.

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Robert Beach

With screams echoing through these halls,
Smoke begins to rise.
Retuning to these murder filled walls,
It's the past I have learnt to despise.
Lights flashing red, blue, and white.
Sitting up against the door,
We've held up one hell of a fight.
A knock on the door.
"You'll deal with my son first!"
They pulled my beaten brother by the wrist,
As they cursed, 
Ignoring my bleeding mother.
Scared and traumatized, 
We have survived.

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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

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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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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

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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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Lover's Light

A frightened heart will tremble when unsealed
And eyes of fear corrupt by need's desires
To suffocate a heart, to never yield
A pause,  if tendered gift not one of fire
This judgment caused by one that's insecure
To fill a darkened void by lover's light
And bask in glow from radiance still pure
Now kept in dungeon chained by heart's delight
To free this gift to soar without restraint
And flee the bonds of Earth on freedom's wings
And feel the tender breath not love's constraint
Release the fear that frightened hearts can bring

How long will lovers live with binding chains?
And trapped by tethered fear love disdains

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From Lady Thing - The Hackerwood Tales

Some thing in the ground
Her poor body found
Woke up and wanted to be
A thing in the ground
Without hardly a sound
That could crawl away to me
Out of the mound
And no longer bound
The thing is finally free
It sniffed around 
Like an old bloodhound
And found its way to me.

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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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        BOSNA RIVER - Sarajevo 1995
I love you death, and welcome all you're not;
no love, no hate, no failing and no gain,
no fighting for the things we haven't got
nor wondering about our latest pain.

Your mercy is a thing I surely bless
anticipating you, my only friend,
who brings conclusion to life's wretchedness
the only one who knows us in the end.

So come you now as I help you along
the Bosna's tried to drown me in my past,
but now I know your timing is not wrong
and so I live and breath for you at last.

Your nothingness is what I hunger for
and in your end, I pray there's nothing more.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

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I Love You, Death

           I LOVE YOU, DEATH
I love you death, and welcome all you're not;
no love, no hate, no failing and no gain,
no fighting for the things we haven't got
nor wondering about our latest pain.

Your mercy is a thing I surely bless
anticipating you, my only friend,
who brings conclusion to all wretchedness
the only one who knows us in the end.

So come you now as I help you along
you know you've tried to get me in the past
but now I know your timing is not wrong
and so I live and breath for you at last.

Your nothingness is what I hunger for
and in your end, I pray there's nothing more.
© ron wilson

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When I think about the fact that you are leaving,
It leaves me with a painful feeling in my chest,
Not even this high can get rid of that feeling,
Why did it have to happen so fast?

You told me to stay strong,
And you wont be gone for long.
I’ll just have to get used to not seeing your face every morning,
To me, it just feels too wrong.

Could you reassure me again?
That this is not it for us.
Just writing this is making my head spin,
And it makes my chest ache.

I just wish I could say another goodbye,
Just one more hug before we say bye. 

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When distant  daylight’s been  spent and spilled,
My lamp alone lights the curtained darkness
Of unseen fear,   which has always filled
The weary black pit yawning endless

Into the night;  and all the unknown
Terrors of the dreamworld
Conspire to extinguish my lamp lone
When the smothering  curtain is unfurled.

Oh,  how the dawn moves on leaden feet
To reach far into the shaded recess.
Oh,  let it make haste to meet
My  darkness with mothering succor and nearness.

       Awaiting the fear - it's deep  behind the lampless curtain. 
       Wanting the dawn - it creeps  slow and uncertain.    

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

Entered in   Debbie  Guzzi ‘s  Contest    “ Fear “

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The all seeing moon gave me a strange look, Freeing the midnight hidden within me, A starlit promise, days darkness forsook that haunt my madness almost tenderly. I’ve held an hour, cupped it in my hand, Now its ghost returns while others sleep, I bow to its will, obey its command, Forever it vows as nevermore creeps. Where should I keep the memory of light, How is love eclipsed by unfeeling dawn? Why can total silence muffle our might And the smallest glint be too bright and long? Weak, I gazed at the indifferent moon, Certain that the sun would shadow me soon.
*An homage to Poe.

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A Woman's Need

Passion arrives in his sudden embrace
It speaks to me in his smile and his eyes
It shows in his fiery touch and his face
wooing me, gently, to my sweet demise

With every kiss desire gains more ground
to conquer the wariness of my heart
should I be sure it is love I have found
I fear my need for him as our lips part

My fear leads me to question the wisdom
of one heart relying on another
It's not smart to wager the kingdom's heart
on a few sweet kisses from a lover

As I protest, he leans in to dismiss
and destroy my argument with a kiss.

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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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Tell of your unspoken and profound anguish
before the thickest night shadows vanish,
let light return as dawn brings in new happy tunes;
rekindle the lost flame of youth while spring blooms!
Find that court troubadour from distant France,
he can write another song and make you dance,
why waste tears that will dry up as light rain,
when your wish can be used as a pretty refrain?
This castle cannot offer you freedom and joy,
its walls are as impregnable as his might;
a faithful queen stands by her king as a sky lit by bright moonlight...
should you avoid the strong temptation that lured Helen of Troy?

Tell of your unspoken and profound anguish....
what's the sense of living without a wish?

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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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Fear Not The Darkness

Fear Not The Darkness

Fear not the darkness of a shallow grave
 laugh at the folly of living to save
Treasures on your greed filled list
 dance as if death does not exist

Forgive at least one unforgiveable deed
 let heart seek comfort not stir greed
Strike the fear from your lost soul
 dream of another very precious goal

A love that blesses all that which matters
 leaving behind the failings that shatter
A gift so often found when one looks away
 creating a heart that never ever strays

Fear not changes that send a greater life
 cut away such fear with a spirited knife...

Robert J.Lindley , 06-15 -2014

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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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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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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. 

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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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Fearful Courage

Fearful Courage

Courage is not the absence of fear
In Bruce and Sisyphus courage was there.
But in their foreheads fear did appear
Anxiety is the thing they could not forebear.

Deities instill in your mind awe
And you are to revere them in holy dread.
In worship, you are attached with a thread
The fear factor does not always abide by the law.

Marijuana imparted a spiritual vision
To the beaten ‘Beat’ poets.
The holy man in vision sets
His dream to succeed, to fulfill his mission.

Fear and courage draped in the same loin
Are in fact the twin sides of the same coin. 

                                                                  Pradip Mondal

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Desirous Streams

Those nights disturbed by dreams of passion’s touch,
Her lips the rose inspiring gentle sighs,
That break the fear my heart demands too much.
The essence of her breast wears no disguise,
As pulses echo in love’s tender kiss,
In this desire there is no compromise.
Should darker fears then create an abyss,
Denying senses the wonder of dreams, 
Can one simple touch save a soul from this?
For love is blessed by the moon’s silver beams,
When lovers seek the beauty found amid
The joining of souls in desirous streams.
Those nights disturbed by dreams of passion’s touch,
That break the fear my heart demands too much.

Form: Terza Rima Sonnet

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Fear of Flying

The bird that flew so fast
It could not see the path
And was carried off in flight
Leaving the wind far behind...

so far above the course
It traveled with such haste
That fear stopped the flapping
And it came crashing down...

Romeo Della Valle- New York City

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Darkness takes corporeal form tonight
The evil resides in a human shell
The cold wind blowing, you can feel his might
Pain and suffering he shall soon expel

Fresh is the dark red blood upon his maw
The smell of death lingering in the air
His loud yell sends the crows off with a caw
Oh, pain and suffering he will soon share

Walking down the street while all are asleep
Hunting and searching for the first victim
His for the taking are these helpless sheep
Just one can make this future look less dim

He waits upon the bed of endless sleep
For the blood of the innocents to seep

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Look who's now looking when things fall apart;
Oblige the lacking in things left undone;
Invoke the slacking as lazy upstarts;
Trust your reckoning to corrupt your pun;
Ending is starting to be frightening;
Reach for the scary moments that hurl lack;
Invoice your tearing for random straining;
Notice the dreary figments in playback;
Give your weakness time to capture the vain;
Ask to suppress blues that bleed yet more fears;
Mangle the bleak chimes that gather more pain;
Appease your sad dues with urgency clear;
Zest drains away now in melancholy;
Empty sad endow life's mad tragedy.

Leon Enriquez
07 June 2014

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Sonnet 11

'Twas not a night I have not thought of death
Coming to me in seconds of my sleep
With hands of skull and bone to touch my breath
And take it from the lungs thy body keep

Wherefore shall I travel upon thy touch
Eternal sleepless nights above or low?
To take away the lust of air is such
A path I am in fear to cross and go

In fear I fumble words that will not speak
Weak of disease, alone and old in age
Thy faith is frail and will more even weak
This soul inside has yet not freed its cage

The nightmare is knowing that death is near
And stencils of the pain that's drawn from fear

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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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I love you death, and welcome all you're not;
no love, no hate, no failing and no gain.
No fighting for the things we haven't got,
nor wondering about our latest pain.

Your mercy is a thing I surely bless;
anticipating you, my only friend,
who brings conclusion to all wretchedness,
the only one who knows us in the end.

So come you now as I help you along,
you know you've tried to get me in the past,
but now I know your timing is not wrong,
and so I live and breathe for you at last.

Your nothingness is what I hunger for,
and in your end, I pray there's nothing more.

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The Choice

My Lady taught me well beneath the sky
That mine is not to fear eternal flame
For fear won’t lead me to her realm’s divine.
To fear her words and never ask her why
Condemns my soul with no one else to blame
As choices made, they must truly be mine.
Yet if I hunger for her paradise
She’ll cast me out without a second glance
For I’m not worthy to be at her side.
So I must learn the ways of ancient wise
And let her lead me in her wondrous dance
Across skies, where she is my celestial guide.
I love my Lady for herself, alone
She will not deny me, I am her own.

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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...

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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 of me,
and tingles from my fingers, to my toes--
abducted from my world of sanity,
I fall into a dark that no one knows.

And shaken to an end I can't embrace--
I feel its kiss--but never see its face.

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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)

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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

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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!!!

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missing link

Missing Link.

A sickly child lie
frail on the sofa in the living room.
A knock on the door,
His mother opened.
The man who entered the child knew it was his father.
Whose child is this?
“It is your youngest son” his mother said. 
The children in the street 
all had a father; the child had waited for him.
But his father ignored him,
gave chocolate to his sister and brother,
then he drank from a bottle,
his mother threw him out.
Next day asked his mother,” are you sure he is my father?”
She slapped her son’s face and cried.

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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

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The Gift Of Insecurities

The gift was in a very huge package
Alluringly wrapped in the palest pink
Card attached was calligraphic in ink
Any gift from him was not average

When opened with much delight, the contents
Caused insecurities to tumble forth___
Joy? Fear of failure came from these presents
Taking out least feared __verse__William Wordsworth

The essence of the gift to him was good
The sum of the gift to her was fear
Excitement at this stage of life she could___
Not get a grip__on hold her life for years

Should she not fear but just try to use the gift
God had given her time now spared her life

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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.

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If you lie still and close your heavy eyes
and concentrate on nothing that you feel
as in a dream, where you can visualize
from out of no where, everything is real.

There is a long and narrow cord you find;
you thought was cut so many years ago;
out shining any sun that's ever shined
and made of things that only gods could know.

It's stuff of life, and leads to distant dreams
not ever dreamt by anyone before,
just then you know that nothing's as it seems,
and all we are is dreams, and nothing more.

      The blinding light consumes us in the end
          and it's a love no one can comprehend.

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 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

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Cast be thy fate to live in exile

Bated be your fair fluffed fleece

Face of said avenue beguiled

Ebbed a carmine masterpiece

Ebony landscapes you adorn

The eyes of thousands you have hooked

Whines sharp replicas of thorns

Question mark shaped be such nooks

Appeased the ice queen had appeared

Fabricating jagged thrills of mirth

A concept quite eerie, yet linear

'Til done apart by spineless dearth

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Unbekannte Tochter

1629 a little German girl of 7 years was burned as a witch because she could read

Condemned to flames because we heard her saith
She stood by knowledge she knew was the truth
A child unable to enjoy her youth
What happened to her right to choose her faith
With torture choice was stolen from the world
In blood they forced the word in fear of flames
And labelled nature’s ways as paths of shame
As heretics into hell they were hurled
Always, we remember the burning times
The name of a god that brought fear and pain
Lest we dare forget and it happen again
O men of the cross we know of your crimes
Condemned to flames because we heard her saith
What happened to her right to choose her faith

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As you'll go through life,
there won't be any gentle slopes
to climb and reach your height;
everything has its own merit,
only fear is the obstacle to winning battles,
so don't let that fear keep you from that victory:
conquer what was unconquerable,
and wave your victorious flag joyfully
with an enthusiasm too irrepressible!
Yesterday, many intricate thoughts of defeat
were clustered together and crushed by a doubt;
today, your are the supreme winner favored by luck:
so idolized by all and even envied by some...
for avoiding those gentle slopes!

Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci

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Symbolic Lies

Representation you do depict
Of a crafty liar who does subsist
Can’t keep focused in any type of thought
In fear of being noticed, in fear of being caught

A figure so grand, yet honesty you lack
Stature so appealing; strangers you do attract
Charisma and charm attached as well
Don’t get too close for dishonesty they’ll smell

Reeking of deceitfulness; the aroma engulfs you whole
Never believing the price you’d pay would be your entire soul
So go ahead and fool them; portray yourself as who you’re not
For all your lies will catch up with you and never be forgot

It’s amazing how your contentious has no remorse to show
It’s astounding how your dignity has vanished ever so slow
So go ahead and fool them for I know who and what you are
The time is nearing quickly for all that charm to unwittingly disbar 

© Stacy Lynn Stiles

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Brewed fear

In this poem you find me standing alone in the darkness of night. Standing in this same
place while the sun is up would have been of little or no consequence. Somehow darkness
triggers the element of fear in
Me. I become afraid and my imagination begins to play tricks on me.
When the bewitching hour of midnight arrives I begin to imagine that I see weird and
horrible specters made by the nights shadows cast by the wind swept branches of the trees
that encircle me. 
In frenzy and close to madness my mind begins to hallucinate. In a trancelike state my
mind thinks it sees three large ghosts. The ghosts are symbols of Mans three greatest
fears: The fear of poverty, The fear of getting old and the fear of dying. The most
destructive of the three (poverty) steps forward. And in a loud voice speaks. She states
that all my fears are two-fold. First, I fear the inevitability of old age and death and
the probability of poverty. That these fears are by my own hand because I cling to
ancestral fears that were and still are a mixture of ignorance and religious fantasies and
the cause of all my dread.

Standing in the silence of the night when
Heavenly sights disappear from my view
I found myself lonely and afraid. Then
As midnight approached the shadows turned to
Horrid, winged specters leaping about me.
I was mesmerized by their ghastliness.
Suddenly there appeared from their midst three
Giant ghosts standing before me possessed.
The largest of the three stepped forward. She
Began to speak in a thunderous voice.
"Your fear is two-fold: You fear what you see,
Us! At the same time your fears are by choice.
You cling to ancestral fears concocted 
In ignorance, steeped in religious dread."