One need not read her horoscope to know
this woman's fate, and though wisteria
cascades sweet blooms of lavender like snow
outside her door, it's still Siberia
pervading the dimensions of her mind,
for not one fickle thought or patch of moss
can thrive where bleakest shadows are enshrined.
No bittersweet, no dew drops. . . only loss
surrounds her heart. She tries to reminisce,
but like a barren continent grown cold,
she can't perceive one particle of bliss.
She's clasping grief and cannot be consoled!
Wisteria's perfume is in the breeze,
but in her soul remains a winter's freeze.
For Janice Canerdy's Sonnet Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
When pain hits hard, you might feel like your soul
is bleeding out, but there’s no blood to see.
Your body is the part that takes the toll,
and physically you feel agony.
Perhaps the pain goes to your heart as though
a knife has sliced right through it, or you feel
it in your gut as if you took a blow.
No cut or bruise is shown, yet it is real!
When both the body and the spirit seem
to reach their limit, tears are overdue.
You have to let those tears go! Let them stream
and carry out the bitterness for you.
An empty tissue box becomes the sign
that soon, and hopefully, you will be fine.
Checked with howmanysyllables.com
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
I walk upon a green feathered hilltop
To find your soul, I lost long ago
Lay flowers where your grave says stop
and sit in silence till' the sun is low
I'll bow my head in search for loneliness
With hands trembling cradle tears that fall
And feel the sadness of emptiness,
while listening for the unanswered call
There is no time pain's loss can quell
No answer to quiet the question why
Life moves on and there is only hell
Searching for you, lost, my eyes still cry
I'll claim no noble dignity or deed
Find nothing alone on this hill, but need
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2014
The saddest sound in all the world,
The bagpipes weep as raindrop pearls
Land to take on grass-green hue:
Tears to mourn the loss of you.
Your boys line up with shaking lips
And breaking hearts to numbly grip
Your modest coffin; spirits brave,
They trek toward your dewy grave.
We follow you through wind and rain.
The pipes still croon their sad refrain.
We bury you with roses white,
A tragic yet tremendous rite.
And as you sleep beneath the ground,
The echoes of your life resound.
Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2014
Mother, I pray for your forgiveness as it was me,
I had to let you go and it never leaves my mind;
It was me who made the decision to set you free,
I was the one they came seeking for papers to sign.
There was nothing I could do to change your fate,
I would have done anything even given my own life;
The decision was so difficult and it could not wait,
My heart was stabbed with a blood-soaked knife.
With each gasping, breath you took in this world,
I kept asking is there nothing that can be done;
Oh I hated what had to be, it still twirls and whirls,
I asked the Lord why, why did I have to be the one.
Can you forgive me mother, for letting you go,
You were so kind and sweet and I loved you so.
September 24, 2015
For the contest, Forgiveness, sponsor, Craig Cornish
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
Of all the sorrows that so govern her generous heart,
Her love is the most unfair thing breaks her apart;
In her life everything is already signed and sealed –
And she evermore solemnly griefs her soul appealed
To cheat, to relinquish, or to commit suicide and die
The death that shall liberate her of her perpetual cry.
Has providence deserted her, so unkindly in all facets of life
That she so feels old, unhappy and like a desperate housewife?
For alone she weeps, breathless with melancholy; her pouring tears
Desolate with bitterness, anger and incessant grief of discovered fears.
Her heart is weak, her soul is weaker –her life is a scornful jest;
No endless joy, or liberty of love (a nice little girl by love depressed.)
‘Tis hard to dissever when love & pity have been merged in dim,
When all that she wants is to love and to be fairly loved by him.
Copyright © Choene Alley Semenya | Year Posted 2015
This is my first Petrarchan sonnet...
Grey days of loss and loneliness are here
Sad nights as long as shadows in the deep
No joy, no hope, no gentleness, no sleep
No ray of light predicted to appear
Just disappointment, emptiness and fear
And sacred dreams discarded in a heap
By some abyss of faith too wide to leap
In ruins lies the love we held so dear
Wise folk will say there will be love again
That suns come up, and suns go down, and yet
All I perceive is darkness, drear and grim
All I can feel is searing hurt and pain
My heart, my fingers, too burnt to forget
All blistered, from the flame I hold for him
Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2016
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 course
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
In Memory of Andrew and Timothy
The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord. Job1:21
Copyright © Ronald Zammit | Year Posted 2014
Soon, shall we plunge into the cold darkness
Adieu, long live our bright short summer days
I just heard falling, in shocking sadness
The wood's resounding on the pavement ways
The winter shall enter my being: ire
Hatred, quivers, horror, labor; hard, forced
And like the sun in her polar fire
My heart will be just a block, red and iced
Trembling, i hear each log that is tumbling
Mounted scaffold, has yet, soundless echo
My spirit, a yielding tour, resembling
Succumbs to the heavy, tireless ram blows
It seems to me, lulled by a shock so dull
A coffin been nailed, some where on the fly
For whom? dead is Summer, here is the Fall
This mysterious noise sounds like goodbye
I, of your long eyes, love the green bright side
Sweet beauty, but today all is bitter,
Naught, neither your love, boudoir or fireside,
Are worth the bright sea sun, or more sweeter.
And yet, love me, tender heart be mother,
Even for a wicked, unthankful one;
Be mildness and pass, sister or lover
Of glorious Autumn, or setting sun
Short task, the tomb awaits it is avid
Oh, let-me, my forehead on your knees,
Taste, while i mourn the white summer, torrid,
The late season, yellow sweet ray of his
Note: this is my own translation of the original poem intitled:
*Chant D'Automne*by French Charles baudelaire. it was translated by some poets. the best one is by :*Lewis Piaget Shanks*
i tried hard to keep the rhythm and rhyme of the sonnet though it was very hard for me.
Plz. check the following link:
Copyright © Lonely Shepherd | Year Posted 2016
Glowing Cloud On Mountain Top
I met you there, so very full of grace
single rose in your shining raven hair
Radiance beaming from your sweet face
couldn't stop myself, I had to stare!
Every moment since, forever treasured
nights glowed on, your smile a star
Everything since that night measured,
love raced in deep, like a speeding car!
Now time has given me such great sorrow
Heaven welcomed your spirit on in
Misery my food, heartache my tomorrow
forever gone my lover, my great friend!
Glowing cloud on mountain top now dances
I gamble that climb and took my chances!
Oct. 16th, 1973
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
Steel resolution, made a thousand times
To reach across black rift between closed hearts
Carefully constructed, a thousand lines
Rose incantation, enchanted restart
Dim hourglass of the blind excuse dancer
Clings desperately to its final grains
Dark wolf’s mouth slavers, he smells your cancer
Speak now, or forever we keep these pains
Knock on your door, thunderous echoes fade
Younger guilt and fear restrain me no more
Resolve not weakened, steady hand not stayed
Blade drains poison, flowing blood you ignore
One thing stands clear at your onrushing end:
It takes just one to break, but two to mend.
Copyright © Tom Quigley | Year Posted 2016
As I, Their Weak And Soft Human Flesh, Sat To Eat
I have seen stars blown to dust, red moons rising steep
lives taken by the billions where death is a must.
Candles burnt out , before their red moon falls to sleep,
great empires destroyed, their monuments turned to rust.
I have walked blood-soaked alleys with neck bone in hand
bleached white bones crushing under my stomping feet.
Seen millions die making futile heroic last stands
as I, their soft and weak human flesh, sat to eat.
My name is Power- greed , pride, lust are my black game,
cherishing each hour my evil desires are met.
Men have called me many great and dastardly names
paid that heavy price as death wins my every bet.
So few can resist my alluring and dark charms
As my temptations brings lost souls into my arms.
July 25th 1977
Syllables Per Line:
12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables: 169
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 134
(edited today before posting to meet uniform 12 syllable verse count)
Old Note- From my private journal 7-25-1977...
Wrote a dark one tonight as bad blood raced through my veins
wicked the fleeting midnight hour and its agonizing flow.
In my mind, deep hatred calls for dark and bloody stains'
never will she the dark demon, this my mad urge ever know..
A very bad time in my young life (age 23 years old, 4 months and 20 days), whiskey seemed to put me in a rare mood.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016
She Gazes Back At Her Path Of Destruction
Stir-fried, blackened hand that stole many hearts
well-done, the fleshy flesh that tastes so good.
Like a fleeing animal that jumps and darts
love and live forever if only she could.
In fright, scared of stiff, boring boredom
a queen fluffing up for the next throne.
Her smile could win any kingdom
Her cuts gash so deep--down into bone.
She gazes back at her path of destruction
another heart in her black crushing hand.
Misery, depression, pain- her sweet elation
clawed feet in the pit of hell, there she stands.
Let the dead now hear, her anguishing cries
as bolted justice now descends from clear skies.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016
I found your handkerchief today,
still folded in a square.
Inside a drawer put away,
as if you'd left it there.
I wrapped my hands around it tight,
then pressed it to my chest,
as tears began to cloud all sight,
my heart filled with unrest.
I searched to find you in the folds
though nowhere was your smell,
just mem'ries now, my heart still holds,
of love time cannot quell.
I found your handkerchief today,
reluctantly it's put away.
Copyright © Deborah Burch | Year Posted 2016
Fires burn waste and fire burns home
Igniting the ugly and the lovely the same
Roaring flames take lives and leave alone
Extinguishing for earth’s sake though lingers pain
Formerly were lives that mattered
And cats and dogs who once were brothers
And a place that stood not at all battered
Those children and grannies and significant others
But, the death of memories will vaguely play
The visions were given to strengthen souls
And will prevail on that final day
When man and beast enter heaven or Scheol
What matters is that all senses do see
Living through fires, lessons well taught to thee.
Copyright © Bonnie Jennings | Year Posted 2016
In Dreams, We Danced In Flowered Meadows
I wrote you, yet only to find silence
cast into shadows were clear sun once beamed
Was hiding so far away your defense
from my love that saddened earth and sky screamed
Where moonlight once graced our united stars
now empty sky holds its long, darkened veils
Polishing my hope, I ignore these scars
sending me through nights, red-hot burning hells
Stay alive, if need be wait in shadows
my heart endures, that Fate may give relief
In dreams, we danced in flowered meadows
WE AGAIN LOVE AND DEAR LIFE HOLDS NO GRIEF!
Writing you, to rekindle love's fire
upon ashes of its funeral pyre
R. J. Lindley
Feb. 23rd, 1975
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 105
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016
When last they kissed, and passion's lease
bloomed brief and sweet, Sir Shakespeare's quill
would set in motion a deathly chill.
For Juliet, he could not appease
to win her smile and would not release
a tranquil tale...but did reveal
this tragic poem, where lovers fell
and would break our hearts with spellbound grief.
Behold, your eyes will weep for her,
and empty arms will flail, for him
Young lovers swept away, in love
Misguided youth that we hold dear
and through the years we pray for them,
as songs are sung by mourning doves
Their love, was a fever, sorely sought
Of passion's quest, she would requite
to bridge the wage of family strife
But, delusion, rides deceitful plots
To think him dead, she had no doubt
Despaired, beyond her wildest thought
Disquiet of the heart cried out
And death, would dim the stars that night
Their song still lives, as stories will
Upon two graves, we linger here
Such love divine, is ours to keep
A sonnet binds them, ever still...
A love that cannot be compared
While swollen hearts, with anguish, weep
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
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.
Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2014
You didn’t come that dreadful night
Or in the morning with the rain
Even through all my pain
You didn’t come, with all your light
You didn’t come to bring me might
And as though my loss were your gain
You didn’t come, you did refrain
From coming to take away my fright
And now my heart is cold and bare
And now you may come and see
That no love could be harbored there
And this is what I will always be
Because you didn’t come and didn’t care
©Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.
Copyright © Glory Winzer | Year Posted 2015
you're somewhere dreaming, breathing, walking still
and in the world of living you reside
in hurting and in maiming is your thrill
you will not let the pain and grief subside
somewhere in this old world you have a place
your do your daily tasks and visit friends
there is no trail to find you, not a trace
yet poison cloud of hate on you descends
you live oblivious to heinous crime
the rape and plunder of a trusting heart
on satin sheets you left your putrid grime
mixed with my blood that flowed from poison dart
So to my heart you're dead and buried deep
My tears have crusted dry; I cannot weep
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015
One beautiful lie , an unvoiced sonnet
Words veiled with a crime that steals my hearts last beat
Slow turn of your mood shows me disquiet
With kisses warm and vulgar with deceit.
One pulse stills, our love was not the one love,
Just remains of a lukewarm cup of tea.
You steep and brood, one pineing the lost dove.
My broken wing lame, I fall into the sea.
Beautiful lies, my heart begs for your fires
To hear the words forged my way by anvil
Beautiful lies, hope grows dim and expires
Waiting for judgment by divine gavel
Tremble my lips , tears fall dry from my eyes
Protect me from madness, beautiful lies.
Copyright © Brenda Atry | Year Posted 2012
My vile tongue betrays me, rage defiles words.
A dragon’s flamed breath scorches far less.
From buried heartache, my ill soul’s duress
festers in mourning, locked tight and unheard.
Skies of ash smolder and silence the birds.
Their lyrics once earnest are lies professed.
Oh, dawn vengeful dawn, my foe to confess!
I’ll die with my rage, alone, I’m assured.
I wonder if death shall be my relief
from hours overwrought by lies and deceit.
My inner-rage boils, calloused is my soul;
a soul void of love and cloaked in its grief.
As chill of death comes to snuff rage's heat,
I pray for the love and peace, anger stole.
written 11/20/15 for John's Mad As A Hornet Contest
*Italian Sonnet - rhyme scheme abbaabba cdecde
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
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.
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2014
I Kiss the rain for it hides the tears
As they flow down my face
All the bottled up sadness and fears
They won't look out of place
For no one can tell that I'm in pain
How heavy my heart may be
When I stand up tall and kiss the rain
The drops will hide so no one can see
They say the rain will cleanse you
Just Like a shower or a bath
So I'll use the rain to renew
To Decide upon a new path
So kiss the rain when you need to
No one will know but you.
Copyright © Jennifer Marie Oliver | Year Posted 2013
(Poetry Form: Sonakit) - with Free Verse, or Blank Verse interspersed between the verses of the Sonnet.
I have been one brought low in grief
my bedfellow a monstrous thief
my spirit felled by thoughts of one
whose voice no longer sings the sun
Slow rain began, plopped on dead leaves
dripped on my shoulders through my hair
felt not the heavy rain drops there
yet felt the crush of darkness near
not darkness brought to us by night
nor dreary sky from lack of light
Warm memory pushed away the now
of how we strolled here hand in hand
I walked beyond the path we shared
and nursed the pain I’d not been spared
day unto day consumed with dread
at home awaits an empty bed
adverse to point my steps toward home
and haunting dreams of flashing eyes
now closed in silent death-mask font
forever blind to need or want
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
Your sudden departure caused glum wonder
A blow that was sinking deep into core
Panic and tough refusal grew under
Death by the final course was to blame for.
Fidelity is dug from a soft spot
His bittersweet timeline has proven such
Makes to think if love is worth the long shot
Little bit of drama for a soft touch.
Yet too forlorn to accept selfishness
Detaching duties of a well-wisher
Comfort is given to a reticence
Ignorance to the acquired fresh blister.
My dear friend grilled upon reaching the cure
To after one’s own heart that was thought pure.
Copyright © Maria Rheza Mae Rubio | Year Posted 2015
The glaring sneering Sun has
Beat me down to the pavement.
The hot the heat
The flaring has won.
The. Violent engagement beastly
Beaming steaming gleaming
Dazed AMAZED seeking shade
From deathly rays.
Prone to bemoan the scorching
Phase of days of UNFALLING RAIN
Nick named SMOKRD AND turned
FIRE STARTER SUN
Churned and burned
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2015
Water flows; formless form.
The broad stream moves only ever forwards,
Curving along the contours of life.
Here, a rock disturbs the placid surface;
Giving form and character to uniformity
Of existence, enduringly. There, a pebble thrown
Far from the edge creates a momentary
Ripple, a brief moment of happiness, excitement,
And then is gone. Yet within the silent waters,
The pebble has altered the parallel flows,
An unconscious eddy that spins and whirls,
Hidden from the world above, insistent thought.
So it is with you, metaphorically the bridge
Across my river from whence was thrown
The pebble that disturbs my serenity still.
Copyright © Edward Clapham | Year Posted 2015
The rain-god bursts in Himalaya regions
With snow-covered mountains and deep forests
There’s Kedar temple for Hindu pilgrims
Coming to worship the god in thousands
Sanctum Sanctorum inside the temple
Of Kedar revered by millions of Hindus
A bleak picture of purses, bags and shoes
All personal things lay strewn in ample.
Outside the temple vandals had free hand
Houses, cars and what not flooding in
Thousands of people dead or stranded
Millions waiting to hear about their end
There’s no right or wrong way to cope with pain
Time, can renew and permit you to mend.
Contest : Grief by Shadow Hamilton
9th place win
The Kedarnath temple, one of the four pilgrimage centre for Hindus world over, is in the Himalayas at the height of 13,500 feet. There was a cloud bursts and then heavy rainfall which was about 375 percent more than the benchmark rainfall during a normal monsoon. It is feared that 20,000 people have died. This happened around 14th to 17th June, 2013. There is a news now that the temple will reopen. On 1st of October i.e. after nearly 95 days. Surprisingly, there is no danger to the idols of the Deity Shiv or Nandi , the bull.
Please visit my blog, if you want to see the video clips on the tragedy
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2013
To be innocent is to be entirely unknown, even to oneself.
- Djuna Barnes
I am free at last to be silent, to lap
In the quiet of your promise of promise
Like the pear tree in the garden which feels
But does not ask, why such beauty here?
On rainy monsoon days locked in
Wanting to explore the sea and the galaxy,
The tree beseechingly asking the rain,
That I may not be gauged from your gaze,
To be by one companion remembered,
Name scratched out on the asylum walls.
As I was cancelling out ideals
I saw in the forest the tumult of life.
The remorse of a nymph once a virgin,
The stars were there, but of accidental origin.
from IN MEMORY OF HER
Copyright © Rosemarie Rowley | Year Posted 2015