Poem | |
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT!
Emotional poster boards of doubt
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced
Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch
Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms
Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!
Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.
Poem | |
You thought you’d make a fool of me
I was so blind but now I see
So now you’ve had your little joke
Guess I’m just warning other folk
You’d look at me with those bedroom eyes
But your tender words I now despise
You broke my heart through and through
Well honey I’ve got news for you
Your designer clothes are now in rags
Packed up inside black plastic bags
Your cars been scratched and it’s got a dent
Your names been taken off the rent
You love to flirt, but you’re a cheat
You’re just like a dog on heat
But I’m now aware of your little game
No man will hurt me ever again
Don’t get taken in by charming men
They use you and just start again
From now on I am in control
Hey man you’re just an asshole
24th July 2014
Poem | |
"All Children Are Beautiful"
His heart of white deep, shallow wells, yet beautiful
He smirks a grin, with an ego that won't let me in' -he's beautiful
Bastard, of beauty, running ashes without a name
A face with no claim, a young man pounding from shame
What is his sin, he's beautiful!
I want to breathe from his ashes, swim through his veins
I want him to come into my light, like a good dame
I sing and tell a tale, A Bastard through the night
His eyes, I waged, I was young and poor, I was saved
Lying down, in the arms of my white knight
My hair, he caressed, he came to my light
The furnace burned, the night was fast becoming trite
A lover, he did it well, then went back to his wife
A moment so golden, the ages live, his son is born
Another Bastard brought into this world
Poem | |
Hold on tight
A journey begins
Not in the crowded city streets
A journey of high mountains
as close to heaven
that you think you can catch the stars
Pack your backpack with sad thoughts
Upwards ... the bag is heavy
I will hold you in your hand
Stop ... take a deep breath
Your journey has begun
Proud high mountains suddenly makes the backpack a little lighter
Follow your feet forward
The air is crisp and fresh
Even if you are tired
Lower your shoulders
I'll teach you to dance on the sparkling snow
Our goal is the top
The backpack feels lighter
Do not give up - we will reach our peak
Heavy thoughts erased
Abrasions and tired feet
Satisfaction - a major force
The goal is reached ... you won
Dance in the sparkling snow ... catch your star
The backpack is empty
The whole world is at your feet
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Poem | |
"When returning love, becomes to Late"
From her eyes
His name the name
She mumbles silently
3 rivers, 3 years, 2 many tears
She loves him endlessly
Sending her soul
A free feeling,
Finally, he fell
Engaging, equal to the spell
Morning, mountains and more
Move across a new age moon
His heart happily
Traveling towards hers
Dashing dandy, onto her dinner plate
Too long she waited,
She's not hungry, her heart self healed
3 rivers 3 years 2 late
Her tears faded his rusty name
Poem | |
Lightning flashed, blinded my innocent, trusting eyes.
Thunder ravaged my soul, and forced out my cries.
Destructive winds threatened, ripped me all apart.
Raindrops, the tears that ever flooded my heart.
Dark clouds were ever-present, in turbulent air.
Yet, no winds could stir the flowers in my hair.
No longer waiting for that storm to pass the hill.
I left it behind, and walked away by my own will.
A rainbow shined beautifully, yet arched into a frown.
As every now and then, the rain still comes down.
I have stepped right over you, like scattered debris.
As the sun's rays now light down a new path for me.
For Shanity Rain's contest - "After The Storm"
Poem | |
Pleasures of Moving on Moon
You have always charmed us by your beauty, O Moon,
Sometimes fascinating Heer and Ranjha*, and sometimes,
Mesmerizing Romeo and Juliet.
Sometimes you have spread your charms, on the monuments of Love,
Alluring the beauty of Taj*, in the full moon light of Purnamasi*
O, Moon how many faces of Love and Beauty you have,
When you stroll silently on a snow covered maintain,
The beauty and your grandeur becomes envy for the heaven.
For Poets and Writers you have immense stories and inspirations,
For Lovers you are more precious than gold and diamond,
For singers you are like the soul of their songs,
For Boatman’s, you are their sole companion of their silence and turbulence.
While watching you so intensely from earth,
I felt, as if I was wondering on the silver surface of you O, Moon,
Moving and feeling, no gush of wind,
No moisture of Rains and dryness of Sun,
No falling of leaves, in the season of Autumn,
No bending of rivers, flowing from mountains to oceans
No murmuring of birds while mating and chatting,
No change of seasons to engage my mind and heart,
Still I was fascinating to move on the silver surface of you, O Moon.
Walking on your surface was a strange experience for me O, dear Moon,
As I was trying to feel the unique pleasures of earth,
While moving on your silvr surface, O Moon.
Kanpur India 22nd November 2010
Soon I will post this as My Photo Poem with the Photograph of Moon on my Blog and on face
book, which I took on 22nd Nov. 2010
• Heer and Rangha. The Indian Lovers like Romeo and Juliet
• Purnamasi. The Day as per Indian calendar, when we can see the full Moon.
• Taj. Refers to the world famous Taj Mehal monument of Agra, India.
Poem | |
Most go into a relationship protecting and guarding their heart
I do the opposite, mine is open wide right from the start
Others have built bricks around theirs, that have to be torn down
I slowly put up a layer each time a hurt makes me frown
With each rejection, disappointment, another layer gets laid
It's beyond my control, swish, swish goes the spade
Unkind words, untruths, the layer of bricks climb higher
Until my heart is safely buried away from the crossfire
Now protected by the bricks, I become emotionally detached
Only now able to see why we were inevitably mismatched
People love in different ways and have different needs
Next time I'll find a matching heart, before I plant my seeds
In time, the bricks surrounding my heart will turn to clay
Then dissolve into dust, for I'm too optimistic to live in dismay
The dust will be eventually blown away by someone with a open heart
And thus be the reason why every other relationship has fallen apart
Poem | |
I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,
A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.
The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.
The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.
Poem | |
Man's Quest For A Greater Future
Sunken man, a mystery in the making
earth gives and gives to we so selfishly taking
Blue sky, giving color to a tired, hectic life
time to sit to rest , to break from daily strife
Shattered homes, they decay as we flee
racing into a future we imagine , so rarely ever see
Earth eats up , the mess we so often make
shouldn't man rest, rest from all the greed and take
Parched and dry ground, foundation we need
as we cut and stab we see not all the terrible bleed
Mother earth a bounty, yes, tis Heaven sent
we must stop, enjoy before all earthly beauty is spent
A rest, a hope, before onward we often so foolishly race
We that take too much and rarely ever bother to replace!
Robert Lindley, 12-07-2014
Poem | |
i am with the roots
sending up my passionate blossoms
as a flight of rockets
Charles Bukowski, Penguin Modern Poets 13
I chose toile wallpaper
in muted blues
since pastoral scenes
refuse to budge
Pick that, girl,
and you get nothing else
I stood my ground
Our ninth move,
I only wanted
the repeating pattern
of that mill
would never turn
nothing was ever still
my mother lit sticks
of manic dynamite
which drilled holes in walls,
and drilled holes in my father
more chunks of himself
Afternoons shuttled me
with Bukowski or Plath,
Evenings, too, never settled,
the wind stayed up,
ripped pages from
But when hell
shifted even darkness into fester-reds,
I crept into pastels...
as untouched as the core of flame,
as motionless as Wedgewood
Poem | |
Tunnel of time.
Yesterday falls away.
Forgive, forget, find your freedom.
For Contest: An American Beauty
Prompt: Visual One
Date: January 10. 2015
syllable count 2,4,6,8,2
Poem | |
We can all sit back and review the past
Of relationships that sadly didn’t last
We ask ourselves just what went wrong
And our songbird sings a sad blues song
Time to move on and get on with our life
Deal with all our old worries and strife
We can only learn from past a mistake
Hope for better days with less heartache
We cannot predict what the future will bring
But I hope in time your heart does sing
And you find the one that you’ll adore
Restoring happiness to your life once more
24th August 2014
Poem | |
Humble yesterday, your intimate memories are now
bearing false witness, following our demise.
There are scattered whispers of a residential cloud
nine, that I called my own after the storm.
No myth could be written guiltier.
For beyond this stable armor of masculinity,
existed a worst case scenario that I had obtained.
It is no fault of your own, to interpret me with the
simplest guess, and yet, it would be the greatest
therapeutic comfort, knowing that you recalled my
brief torture. Here it reads.
The cruelest servant was obviously day one.
For as I showered in my own gloom, the clearest
joy accepted no hint of my presence.
The hours worked overtime to deplete every page
of life, that bordered around this broken clockwork
By now I merely existed by priorities merciless
hand. As I forced myself upon my studies, there was
no absence of absent guilt on call.
I realized this inevitable misstep, the moment I
stumbled into a single entity yet again.
By the time I found a conscience to shave towards
a better day, spring had already departed,
and I was just beginning to exit sobrieties
The cause to blame beyond myself was tempting;
to see the bewildered scene, as opposed to feeling
its complex wounds.
I yearned for this flood to cease constantly, in
However, the suffering hadn’t pierced my spirit just
yet. That cherry that ultimately left a mark on top
was my sick eyes.
Perhaps defined as the perfect fate for the already
faltered, was my cluttered throat, which
allowed no apologetic cliques to exist in air.
The devil’s vomit that would not pause until
more suffering regurgitated, and lastly,
the mindful ache that vibrated at its own
Friends could sense the hell that plagued my
sleep. So much that they offered their similar
battles to my faint ears.
I heard their souls, but never their hearts; only
mine was selfish enough for that luxury, despite
its hostile coma. But then, 5 months, 22 days, and
4 afternoon hours later, another chapter was introduced,
and it was entitled The Aftermath.
The acceptance of what could only be formerly
beautiful, came to be the answer that cured me.
In the end, I was thankful for the inferno, and
overjoyed that these words could be written from
Previous rose, as you open and fold these heartfelt
abrasions, be mindful of these moments that are no
longer bleeding, but rather teaching, of those bullets
that never truly miss.
Poem | |
My mind is free
My eyes can see
My thoughts are fresh
No more stress
The chains are down
I am grown.
I was just a big baby boy
No more playing with a toy
Now I think straight like a man
For I have been able to learn
Feeling so alive and strong
Great wisdom I have acquired along.
My heart is hard as a stone
My chords sing a different tone
The past is gone, tomorrow will come
Let day light find me home
I will plant new seeds
That will bring good yields.
The past I will forget
The future I will perfect
I will play my part
Tomorrow will be a start
In my heart
I will never welcome hurt.
Poem | |
Her Heart Thaws
Ice crystals in her heart soon departed
as she met another very broken hearted
Gentle man destroyed by very dark witch
untrue to feed her gigantic greedy itch
Now bloody swords have been withdrawn
sun emerges, wind sings a sweet song
Old scars vanishing without a trace
smiles sprouting upon each happy face
Scales of justice now right old wrongs
joys spring forth in melodies and songs
Life rewards those that seek true love
with sweet blesses from the heaven above
Robert J. Lindley, 09-02-2014
Poem | |
Unfulfilled dreams and wasted time,
Found out the hard way that you were never mine.
Moonlit nights must have made me loca,
Stupid me, next time I’ll definitely be smarter.
How could I ever think I was your love?
My mistake - I was a blind judge.
Took me a while to see through your silly, fake smile;
Took me a while to see through your practiced guile.
A masterful seducer, bet you think you are so cool,
Yes, I feel like such a damn fool.
Weaving a web of deliberate lies and deceit,
Your best subject is “How to Cheat, Cheat, Cheat!”
Don Juan has nothing over you,
Your middle name is “Master of the Game Two.”
But never mind, Lothario, revenge is a dish served cold,
And you're nothing to me now that I've broken through the mold.
Blowing your cover,
It’s your loss, lover.
‘Cause I will certainly recover
- Faster than you think,
- Faster than you can blink,
- Faster than a shipwreck, you’re the one who will sink.
But forget you, fool, I AM MOVING ON!
I’m outta here – GONE!
Poem | |
All those years flew away
Then of course the headaches
started when weeping constantly
at the unfairness of my marriage.
You need to know that I didn't
love him but I cherish the family
we've created, you, my children
are the center of my life.
My hardships coping with
my authoritarian husband
drove us apart.
I started drifting away to
avoid being at his mercy .
I couldn't help myself to
get around those roadblocks
that at the time deprived me
from walking through
a new path of change.
I was stalling even in my silence,
aware of all the deceptions
that had come to characterize
I had learned the hard way
to stay calm and pretend
that I didn't sense what was
happening to me,
and let time do its magic.
I wore this mask for so long
I didn't feel safe without it
exposing my true identity,
it had to remain hidden .
I stopped blaming myself
as I was able to survive
my pain over the years.
Time has elapsed and done
everything to diminish
my anxiety and eventually
allow my soul to heal.
I cannot tolerate seeing
myself weep anymore.
I started genuinely enjoying
every thought that passed by,
ready to feed myself with knowing
I would not repeat the same mistakes.
I ended up riding this roller coaster
of emotions feeling everything.
I was able to survive the pain
when I was at the bottomless
My walks alone under the
imagining and wishing I would
never see him again,
craving my marriage
to become a memory .
I started feeling that I found
my silence smoothed my inner anger,
my passion has been real despite
my original skepticism.
Walking towards my cottage
I knew there'd been
a reason for it.
Somehow though the wilderness
enhanced the beauty around my
the clouds were getting thicker
running inside towards
I realized that I liked being
in control of my own life.
13 October 2014
Poem | |
I cannot rest with uncertainty,
What is this trial brought to me,
Oh, I have moments, dear agony,
Turn the key in the lock, set me free.
Struggles my lips for a simple kiss,
Words, lovers’ words, that I do miss,
Trembling fears I cannot dismiss.
Never had my heart ached like this.
Confined within my own shadows,
I cannot fathom where the sun goes.
Stagnate the air, no wind blows,
Sleepless the night the body knows.
Has the world forgotten this tongue?
Skin on my bones forgets to be young.
Echoes of my words that once were sung,
Now they pierce like wasps once stung.
Trapped inside my own head, unsure,
I feel the sickness infect with no cure.
These hands they move in motionless blur,
Reinventing the meaning of literature.
Voices, inside my head, they apply,
Rhythm to the meanings definitions deny.
Quietly I peek into solitude, asking why,
I shouldn’t unleash the demons, so I try.
Smirking in the shadows like sand upon a shore
Perspectives of a prisoner dance upon my floor.
Teasing the paper, a world to explore,
Primal are these needs that explode from my core.
And I then I wonder, do I really need you anymore?
Poem | |
Just forget me,
and walk away,
It wasn't meant to be,
So why try to stay.
Don't look at me,
When you walk by,
You don't want to see,
If I start to cry.
If you like her,
Then leave me alone,
Yet, here you were,
Talking on my phone.
What is it you miss,
Do you remember when,
I can't take this,
Never see me again.
When you do go,
Just take my heart,
Do I need it, no,
You tore it apart.
You go your way,
And I'll go mine,
Don't worry today,
Because I'll be fine.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
For Giorgio V.'s contest - Relate Your Poem To One Of These Quotes
The quote I chose was -
6) "Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go."
- Oscar Wilde
Poem | |
The countless persecuted, time after time,
Raked across the coals that rise
And pour from fissures in the sand,
Tumbling red over black, scorching vast fields.
The indelible vigor of life turned to sooty dust,
Decorating pastures with the shells of men and women.
Memories frozen, encased in docile defeat.
Rise, rise from your carapace and into the pale moonlight!
Let the lux empower you with an energizing intensity.
Let it cleanse your fields of blood and ash
And displace the horrors that dominated
And crushed you under heel.
Raise your banner to the fickle winds.
You are the paragons of your order.
Poem | |
Some things that are broken can never be fixed
Like hearts shattered, as glass on the floor
What felt like love, don’t no more
No distance No time
No rhythm No rhyme
No song No Dance
No Coincidence No chance
Hey if distance only makes the heart grow fonder
What about time, It only makes you wonder
What about that time we were together
At the place we use to go
You held my hand
I stared in your eyes
The telephone ranged us
Back to realty
Mic check one two one two
I looked back and where were you
Gone without a trace, or explanation.
It felt like a plan shot down from the sky
Or a child falling from a building
Right before your eye
Or a laboring mom with great anticipation
Only to be told that it was still born
Yeah that’s a heart breaker,
Yeah that’s a Faith Shaker
Yeah that’s a breath taker,
Who are we to judge?
What more can we say
If our heart got broken
We got what we deserved.
Poem | |
My clone, all day it follows me.
The person that I want to be.
It always says that it is me
But never really is.
My clone, it knows another way
to see the world I’m in today.
But it is different in one way,
it has nothing within.
My clone, it wants to find out now
who is the better one somehow.
It acts and talks just like me now
but still is just a version.
My clone is gone forever now.
no more life left inside now
because I fought it and just now
I slowly watched it die.
Poem | |
his first day of school
classroom door is open wide
she peers in the mirror
how the years have flown by
Tanka 3 Contest Andrea Dietrich
based on modern tanka
short long short long long syllables
~awarded 6th place~
Poem | |
Why don’t I feel sad …why don’t I sit and cry
I am simply in limbo
Our lives have changed forever
Mum has moved out of her home
She couldn’t stay in the house with you no longer there
She kept expecting to see you in your armchair or standing by the window
I have no tears to cry …
Guess I shed them in the weeks before you died
After 18 years of helping you both my life is back to being mine
I am sure in time I will get used to it
But now I simply feel empty and confused
Death is a part of the cycle of life
I thought it would be easier for me now you are gone
But it’s harder than ever
15th March 2015