This place inside where all my feelings keep.
That lies somewhere between my heart and soul.
Should I, the guardian of my fortress seek,
Protection from those, who would see them stole.
So many times have you this bastion breeched,
With scant regard for all the dangers posed.
That my hopes and dreams should not be reached,
By eyes that only wish my heart exposed.
These inmates with their liberty restrained.
That strive against their shackles and their chains.
Am I their jailor too cautious to be blamed,
To free them no matter what their claims.
And if freeing them should reveal my heart,
I might be also freed.. my life to start
I've seen trebuchets thrust rocks into crowds.
I've heard the weeping of the wounded pray.
I've walked through blood clad fields and screamed aloud.
Not a sound or even a whisper came.
I've felt the bite of water and of flame,
The warmth of friendship, the breaking of bones.
And I've heard the drafters call out my name,
Said goodbye to everything I have known.
Marched on crimson ground as the sunlight shone,
Held our flag in victory and disgrace.
Celebrated as the bodies lay prone;
The memories I wish I could erase.
Still those faces haunt; those faces of fear!
Long gone they are and yet I am still here.
He walks in silence though you would never know
As he cares for those he calls friend,
Inside tears fall though he would never show
Like brittle leaves from a tree in the wind.
The years have washed his dreams away
Something that life will often do,
He forgets the simplicity of a yesterday
When in a child’s heart all dreams came true.
He cannot remember the last dream he had
Fearing life has played its part,
And the trials of living both happy and sad
Carve into stone where once beat his heart.
Compassion and love help our dreams become true,
And love could feel good… if he only knew.
I sit at the window just staring to space
A woman sits by me, they say she’s my wife
I try to remember, I look in her face
I know she’s been with me for most of my life.
My memory’s dying
Of that there’s no doubt
Will I become trying
Thus forcing her out.
I try to be cheerful,
I try to be brave
But I’m oh so fearful
Of how I’ll behave.
I live now in anger, I live now in rage,
My memory stolen because of my age.
Remembering this night of our last touch,
when nothing is between us we should know,
in love with loving you, and just how much
I wonder where in time do such nights go?
Forbidden like a box all sealed up tight,
or like the burning Zeus refused to share
with mortals such as we, and on this night,
Pandora's box is opened everywhere,
you are, this night, my first and only love
and always shall remain this part of me,
created from the earth and waters of
our night when Aphrodite let it to be.
And I am more than blessed for loving you
illegal though you are, it's what l do.
©ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
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.
Her life was full of joy and dreams
Expressing life and whatever that means
To live each day with new filled hope
Was the only way she knew to cope
Her love was hidden deep within
Full of passion,angst and sin
She loved a man she shouldn't take
Will she pay for her mistake
They shared their passion behind the door
Hidden from all, she wanted more
She deserved more than she received
And when he'd leave she cry and grieve
Upon a bed of petals she lay
Sobbing, imagining another way
The air is an easel of darkened hue
Under floating clouds, my breath meets the sea
Where tears on the wind linger to review
An anguish once needled by trickery.
Like a gull that rises on one blessed flight
Across the shores of hope trilling a dream,
It floats gently on murmurs that rewrite
The passage of sorrow eased by a gleam.
And zephyr flings its stars , its promised grace
In hymnal joy for my essence, now whole;
As keeper of strength through lessons embraced
These tears become holy waters that console.
When life is pierced by rainstorms that invade
I think of wind chimes as my serenade.
Gail Doyle's Tears On The Wind
In many dreams of you, I wish
If I could get my hands on the wings
If only I could come over to you now,
It would be the best moment in my life.
Alone in a cool evening
With the light of a candle and the breeze from afar
And then the moment would draw close
And the night would become our friend
And nature would support our breathe
And our dream would seem simple
And nightmare be far from us
For the moment would be the beginning of a new era
And the dawn would bring joy
Happiness and love
(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 Voicesnet.com (Jan. 2, 2013)
When true love's gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed.
And with their carnal touch consoled be?
When true loves lie and break my woman's heart.
When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?
When true loves lie and wreck all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.
For I have love's sweet child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she's whole
Flashes of bliss
My littles soul bless.
Allowing my cheeks a blush
And my heart a rush.
Letting go of sorrow
And accepting a blissful morrow.
Drying up my tears,
Casting away my cares.
Flashes of bliss,
Showers of happiness,
Torrents of bleessedness,
Moments of bliss.
Now and forevermore,
Bliss shall my soul bless.
Those drapes of snow, which out my window dance,
like thy white arms, that my warm heart surround,
are ghostly visions false, heav’nly rants,
deceiving my mind, of no substance found,
replacing grey fact with hard diamant,
enjewelling e’en mud with improper grace,
painting most pure what proves of beauty scant,
giving unto sin fair virtue’s clean face.
They swim in billowed air exposed to gust
like dreams upon a too-convincing stage,
and when the earth dooms these to that cruel must,
and when that fond myth is proven a mirage,
mine eyes shall swim in moister element;
for tricks are fouler which are heaven-sent.
I never summoned sadness to my cause
And yet it fell full to me, neverending
A darkness envelop the soul, to pause
To leave despair, a depth I'm descending
When did time become a realm so cold?
As beauty faded away in silence
When love was shaken, the heart foretold
Loneliness will appear in love's absence
Grief flows fluid, while in quiet repose
To fill the emptiness, when love has died
Reflections fleeting, do not but expose
A need for a flickering light, to guide
Summoned by sadness, with no knowledge of
To feel a heart grow cold, without love
Believe it or do not, life is a gift:
do not resign yourself to its evils
or to its troubles and many, great ills;
O no! your purpose, though you feel adrift,
will never leave you—it will buoy you up
and keep you afloat: this know that God wills.
He shall anoint your paths on the high hills
of His Jerusalem, and fill your Cup
until it runs over—rejoice! Have heart!
For you are not alone in your sorrows
and pain, for God and His angels take part
in the despair and trials of your disease:
if you hold on there'd be more tomorrows
for you—it's a promise that you must seize.
The eyes I sought, where wishes and dreams are
Have reached out to me with their welcome care
Lifted my spirit to travel as far
And give of my life, of which I will share
To stand upon farthest hills in sunrise
And face tomorrows with warm gentle ways
Replace the tears of yesterday's demise
Beneath the bending boughs of passing days
To know the eyes I found, quietly wept
From the barren space, where seeds of life fall
To see a tear silent, that the soul kept
And hear the soft echo of a child call
Can I hold within the knowledge to know?
The empty pain felt, when nothing can grow
Hear O maiden, on whom desire springs forth
It brews mine soul, chiming taste after port
Have thou detour, pursuit never will cease
Inside dungeon, dwells memoirs begging peace.
Not once does sole eddy whispers’ depart
Birds dance at lightning’s amazing glory,
Nervy morose obeyed deadly loch art
Baffle tongue shields the shame of thath fury.
Autumn for willow vale, bright morning frost
Exalts unto thy blossom: chilled breeze toss.
Adieu for day, thwack wilt kindle cost,
Extreme snide flits; Dank! Flout insolent loss.
Once again, thorn manifest lover’s hope
Outre’ wish from her behest painful pop.
Never mind; we all have brain but not intelligent.
Misunderstanding and disappointment is living base;
Harassment and mischievousness why do we face?
Is someone responsible somewhere for this dent?
Is hell or heaven a living standard an approachable hint?
We waste our present to plan tomorrow or to analyse yesterday,
We never estimated our progress but celebrating a birthday,
The entire life education fails to teach us mankind,
But modern human is living in a ghost tent.
Eats smell and spreads stink but not avoiding mint.
living in waste; searching better taste for standard living,
never learns a lesson, crime is his fashion for care giving,
Why do i disturb others and like sound sleep for more relax?
Always looking short cuts and direct rout for a clean shaving.
Despair that drags me down like gravity
(like a black hole that swallows up all matter)
leaves in its wake a hollow cavity;
O God! My pain's so great I think I'll shatter!
I can't seem to escape this black abyss,
this giant hole in my poor, shrunken soul
which starves for happiness, for that once-known bliss
become now so black like the pitch of coal.
But, like to the star that explodes in death
to then gives birth to its second child,
planets, moons, comets, asteroids, then breath
to man and all Creatures of the wild;
So Hope's hand gives to me this second chance,
this oft' assumed Joy's least remembered dance!
Death Of My Lover - Monsieur L'Vampyre
Out of my bleakest darkest memory
that I'd endowed to what must be
there came a burning to my mind
as cold as life to me.
For all the will I had, and how I tried,
to find a place my soul could hide
where I'd be safe from all alone;
short of my lunacy.
In all the secrets of my love's desire
that first showed with her love for hire
I never knew her failing heart
would take her life from me.
In mine own madness when she died away
the tears I shed were night and day
in search of where she might have gone
where life just doesn't see.
There's not a thought I didn't call to mind
as possibilities for me to find
the place she died into that day--
and there -- love might send me.
© Ron Wilson aka veebdosa the doylestown poet
THE BUTTON-BACK NURTURERS
…. debt-ridden emotions and emotion-ridden debts –
Oscar Wilde on the Irish
Mothers and matriarchs, you toy the gutted room
Where sensibility is decaffeinated lace
Tireless in your role of martyr and your zoom
Lens to condemnation before an act takes place,
Your constant servitude serving only gloom
Creating recognition of what we all must face,
Death itself, never exhausted, a loom
On which your tapestry is woven, mace
Broken with your unbroken shadow. Love’s vroom
Never gets off the ground or into the race
And is absent save for endless debt, a womb
Of ever-diminishing returns, and the plain case
That you can’t own others, is yours alone to ponder,
In your violated abyss with its pain and rage and wonder.
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
You are called faceless
BECAUSE YOU ARE SHAMELESS
YOUR MURDER AND MAIM
SENT TO THE INNOCENTS
GROWTH OF GERMS
INDEED, YOUR INTERESTS
TO GOD, YOU WEAR FEARLESS
TO EARTH, YOU WEAR BOKO HARAM
YOUR PENULTIMATE RETREAT
INDEED, MEMORABLE HEART HEAT
FORWARD YOUR RETREAT
TO THE SPEARHEAD OR THE GIANTS
OR, DIVULGE YOUR IMAGE
NOT GENTLE BOKO HARAM
Phillia; oh My brother of life,
Brought through time and wrought though strife.
We've met this day through unblood ways,
given this test of heart we've made.
With youth we bled from youthful knees,
Carried the hearts of youthful dreams.
We grew into the Brother's we are today,
given this test of heart we've made.
Phillia; oh My Brother's, Son.
My heart hurts for his hearts one.
Time has taken us different ways,
But with this old ticker, Phillia remains.
Well into the shadows of life we've claimed,
settled minds and unashamed.
Captured essence of solitude,
Phillia; oh My Brother, I think we made it through.
When we have strangled virtue at her birth
And evil thoughts are all that we can find
We cannot take a draught of cheerful mirth;
Escape from this black prison in the mind.
When friendship and esteem have been foregone
And lone as buzzards circling are our hearts.
Remembrance of past joys will not come
And soon from us the last love will depart.
When wickedness draws down our minds to die
And hatred seems to cloud the very sky
When we don't look to see the winter geese go by
When all we do is moan and weep and sigh
Then let's remember all we have not lost;
Knot firm our souls till this dark grief has passed
In the valley of souls flows a river
of sorrows—a river of great despair.
It's a spiritual death that we all share,—
which napalms our lives and eats our liver.
Beware! Its undercurrent of wet doom
drowns us with heartless glee—it does not care,
and burdens us with more than we can bear.
We're like occupants in a cold, stone tomb
for whom can be heard and felt the death knell
where heaven's desolate and God is dead,
as if we are a breath away from hell.
Here, where cautious souls dare not walk or tread,
we are like phantoms—like ghosts in a shell.
Yet, we fear not hell: but Despair we dread!
When I was dewy-eyed I dreamt of love,
of a kind of love fit for a virgin
for whom romance betrays no vice or sin
for God or man to shame or disapprove.
But I, unblessed and cursed as from up above
by Providence, quit as Misfortunes won;
Having lost all hope for love's boon, I spun
myself away on the wings of Sorrow's dove
into the rough lap of a subtle whore,
a trollop to whom I gave my chastity
who then confessed to me there were three-score
more she's had,--I cried, "What cruel irony!"
But so long as there's breath and hope outlives,
love will come and when it comes: it forgives.
Now virtue's not the providence of kings
And vice is chosen by so many men
The intimations when the church bell rings
Are words that do not end with an Amen.
Now sacred acolytes are driven by power not love
And children fearful to reveal their plight.
How can we trust the smoke and pure white dove?
How can we know the darkness from the light?
And yet there is a store of store of sacred signs
And rituals that may give a person grace.
Symbols are expressions thought divine.
And allocate each person a pure space.
Though we destroy in envy and in hate
Evil's not our necessary fate.
Sara L Russell 10th July 2012
The painted lady waiting in the wings
Now parts her lips to sing her lover's name;
She enters, arms spread outwards as she sings
Like some fantastic orchid made of flame.
She scatters fragrant petals in the hall
And yet more petals round the master bed
Her sweet song echoes like a linnet's call
Her swirling silks are edged with golden thread.
Then comes a telegram from overseas
To say her love will not return again
The lady falls, still singing, to her knees;
Her heartbeat speeds, like wings beating in vain.
Such is the way of love made through a lie;
Like chloroform, to kill a butterfly.
I talked to mum and brother and they say you are not doing well
Mum says the last time she saw you, you were better
She says you are worse now
Your once clear eyes, are now yellow
Auntie showed me a message you posted three weeks ago on whatsapp
Before you went to India
You sounded so hopeful
India couldn't do anything for, you are at terminal stage
A topic we hardly talk about because of your age
But we have too
There is no time left too
The only time we have,is to love
My most memories of you, of us
Is when I was entering puberty
I remember embarrassingly asking you about pubic hair, breasts, adams apple
In my homescience assignments
You were so good at answering them
You were so good at teaching me that new world I was about to enter
You were a great mentor
And those chapatis, OMG!
I remember your cooking lessons
You were so good at making that bread
With it, we were well fed
Thank you for being an awesome cousin
The only time we have, is to love
Sitting on the floor with a bundle
in her hands, cannot let go.
Experienced before in a cradle
but then with joy and glow
With an aching heart she holds
on to him, praying an eye will
open for one last look, she prays,
in her heart it will be a thrill
The sorrow felt in her heart
cannot so easily be calmed.
Gazing at His face so sweet
But now sleeping and cold
With caution she mourns, there will be gain
of the promise that they will meet again
Painting’s title: PIETA
The sorrow felt by the Virgin Mary at the death of her son Jesus
The folks are indulged in strange pervertion,
Which is for us beyond perception.
They want us not to mingle nor socialise,
Without minding business they do supervise.
Their attitude is ever apathetic,
Never do they care for the person prolific.
Their recreation is finding flaws,
Plucking others' flesh with talons and claws.
They flaunt like a pious prelate,
Never value our feelings delecate.
Superiority is their ultimate attitude,
Only to suppress us with plentitude.
May on Earth, awake the dawn,
To brighten the lives of Prince and pawn..!!
He, the best racing driver of all time, seven times
he won the championship and he was able to retire
still young and now very rich; yes the gods had smiled
upon this lucky man. What did they have in mind?
He had defied death hundred times was there a price
to be paid, a man with brutal skills and killer instincts.
Winter holiday, we saw him skiing down a slope,
lost his balance and fell, a banal accident one that
we laugh about, but his head met a rock and he lost
He lingers in his bed doesn't know his name, maybe
he never will, this hard fall from glory it is not fair
that he should live life on soiled bed linen till he is
dead. No mourners, but relief that at last his unjust
suffering is over and hundred books about his exploits
will go unread on dusty shelves.