i have many regrets
i didnt say sorry enough
i didnt visit enough
i didnt call enough
i wasnt embraced
by the warmth of your arms
long enough
the same arms
that held me
as an infant
i cannot speak of my regrets
guilt settles
where words should be
so many words
were left unsaid
instead,
i wandered the
hospital halls
youre no longer the
man i remember,
the strong,
intelligent man
that is where my regret lives
i wish i had more time
with you
forever,
your grandson
To the friends I value – most are authentic,
which means they also are a tad eccentric!
Thus, friend, with you I can say anything,
and blessings to the table you always bring.
You bring me understanding and compassion.
These days it seems such things aren’t quite in fashion.
You don’t mock my beliefs; I don’t mock yours.
You trust me, and my trust in you assures . . .
we are free to be ourselves in all we say
to one another any given time of day.
We know each other’s strengths; that’s great because
we also know (but do not judge) each other’s flaws.
You build me up when I’m unsure. I hope
to help you when it’s hard for YOU to cope.
The way we think may not always be
exactly the same, but that’s okay by me.
In a world where divisiveness is rife,
it’s good to have a friend like you for life.
And yes, it is "for life" when friends are true
because you value me as I value you.
Oh, I think about them a lot;
The letters you would have written to me.
And know I'll be keeping the letters until the ink fades.
So, write me a letter every now and then.
And on the days in between, a little note does the same magic.
Now, don't worry about not getting the same treatment.
I learned love before I could speak a word.
And I'll love you in every word, in every language I know.
Those letters you would have written would be my favourite words to read.
I'll write back every time you want me to.
And when you don't, I'll love you the hardest.
Write me a letter when you're finally here.
Dearest writer,
Use me for a just and right cause,
Let the ink in me never pause,
I am here to help you fight,
With peaceful force and our might,
To see that issues are brought to the light,
So that chaos and corruption are set right.
Yes, reading what I help you write,
Will cause panic and fright,
And for some, extreme delight,
Because together we bring insight!
Your Sincere Friend
Pen
Copyright © by Crystal David John
Dear thought police. I hope this finds
You in a reflective moid.? respectfully
assertain the words i
Convery, were wafted into my brain.'
They being thoughts..Ideas? Given
By God ! i just deliver them to other
Silly sods.' I advise you pay attention
As its Him who will be issuing your
Eternal residence and pension.' I'm
Just another one..Who can be silly as
They come.' So do not create and point
At me.' Rather find Jesus and become
Completley free.'
Last night when I went to bed
I thought about what I had said...
I was wrong,
so I sat down an wrote a letter...
your my love an only love
I want to go back as before...
knowing it won't be long till your...
sweet lips will cerass mine once more
oh my darling, can't you see
I need your love to eternity
I'll be true - so to say - to say- I love you dearly
is far better than just two words
YOURS FOREVER
It's hard to smile. It hurts to laugh.
I'm dead inside, yet burning on fire.
I'm all alone, you left me here…
Alone in my thoughts, alone in my fears.
Look at me, mom, and this daughter of mine.
I wish you could know her, there just wasn't time.
She takes after me with her fits and her pouts.
She is beautiful, mom… inside and out.
So here we are, my daughter and I, both hurting, yet healing and helping each other get by.
dear heavenly father,
since the day i was born
you have been there,
every time i feel alone
you hold me close,
when i walk through
a valley and i am afraid
to go alone,
you carried me in
your arms where no
harm could ever
befall me,
dear heavenly father
you are love perfected
since the beginning of time,
thank you father for
loving me unconditionally.....
Babe, I haven't seen you since 1989.
Maybe I'm paranoid
Cuz I'm full of Methane
And the other planets
Think I'm a joke.
Negative 340 degrees Fahrenheit,
Twelve hundred mile and hour winds,
They think I'm out of touch.
Cold, dark, and bitter.
We have 16 hour days.
24 feels excessive.
It takes us 165 Earth years to orbit the sun
What's the big rush?
Look, Babe, I could talk till I'm blue in the face
Due to my methane gas
Absorbing red light
And reflecting blue light,
But I'm exhausted.
So I'll keep this short.
I got 5 rings.
I got 16 moons.
8 of which
I'm still on speaking terms with.
The days are short but the years are long.
I hope you come back soon.
1989 feels like a long time ago.
Your icy, icy baby,
Neptune.
A tinted rainbow smeared with blood
On its surface lies the bodies of youth devoured by guns
Guns aimed at them by the same people who were meant to protect them
46 years later we are still fighting the same battle as the class of 76
But now the narrative has changed
Instead of fighting against being taught in a language we don’t understand
The fight is against fees and black on black oppression
Please forgive mama that they didn’t tell you when you were voting in 1994 that you were voting for your grandkids and great grandkids to be unemployed
Please forgive me sir that they didn’t tell you ukuthi you were voting for your kids to be working at a carwash with a Masters degree
I am sorry that they didn’t tell you, you were voting for black-on-black oppression
Hey little girl.
Upon hearing what teenage you had to go through, you gaped
On realizing how bold I’ve become, I gasped.
I want you to know that it is okay.
If I had to say something to you about where I am today
It would be who knew.
Who knew that you would be depressed at the age of 13
Stuck between being emotional and emotionless.
Who knew you would discover the power in forgiveness at the age of 18?
Who knew you would master the art of letting go at the age of 19?
Deep wounds heal but leave permanent scars.
And I live with an inedible image of battles I had fought
Till this day 5-year-old me who had dreams and a fairy-tale life planned still lives
You still live at the back of my mind; I still hear your voice
Reciting all your dreams like you did at 5
I wrote this letter to let you know that I am setting teenage you free, I am finally allowing her to heal.
Strange what fickle thoughts trickle through the space behind my eyes
Behind those wry windows through which you see far too deeply
Past the vanity that clouds my judgement when my soul is on fire in ways no other burn could comprehend
That fire which ravages all that is soft and pretty, which softens that which is hard with grief
For part of me was razed when we spoke for the second, first time. That sallow and bitter part birthed from the loss of one to whom I will always be devoted
This forgotten and found again scorching of the soul is painful in ways impossible to describe
But not for a second would I think to change it
Silver sentiel, silent sphere,
You've orbited through every year.
Your face a map of time's own gleam, Reflecting
every human dream. The lover's sighs, The warriors plight, Bathed in your impartial light.
You ask no questions, offer no reply.
Just watch ages flutter by. I imagine you listening, Your face a soft gleam. Reflecting the fragments of my waking dream. I wish for a garden, where colors can riot, and time is worthwhile. Not of Earth, but of star dust, a landscape unseen. Where thoughts take their form, vibrant and keen. With my thoughts in a whirl, I imagine a companion, someone who sees patterns in the dust motes that fly. And finds their own music in a lullaby.
Do you think wishes sent upwards, have anywhere to go? Or are they just echoes, that fade and than cease, Lost in the vastness, finding no peace? Moon, you are a pale disc, hung high serene, A silent observer, a cosmic queen.
Anna found herself writing this to Marcus for a reply.
Dearest Marcus Sire
I find myself penning this letter to you.
I know why.
From ever since I can remember looking back,
it wasn’t a happy childhood,
Verbal, physical and mental abuse.
It wasn’t a one off it was consistent.
It wasn’t just one person was it; it was the whole family.
I don’t know how I survived that abuse.
Yet I will never forgive them.
They used me as a servant.
Closing all doors for me.
I’ll bide my time I used to think.
No one would believe the damage they did to me.
Now that I left them, they still try to follow me and I ignore them.
I pretend that I care.
Them with your problems of the world doing it to them.
They thought no one will spread the word of what they were.
Mum and dad and family.
Now I spend my time laughing at you.
Wouldn’t help you if you were in deepest hell.
Today I Find joy in the smallest things.
There’s hope, yes there is.
Waiting for your reply.
A letter from your shadow:
We’ve been together for awhile now,
I think it's time for me to share my rant.
Why do you tremble when you speak?
It’s like sometimes you don’t even think.
You walk into things, careless of your surroundings,
And you’ve never seemed to be whats called “normal”,
Always standing out in the most awful ways.
Your hair dye was cool at first,
But now you do it after any minor inconvenience,
And im really starting to hate it.
You can’t ever decide what hair type you want,
straight , curly, bushy, or bald,
And quite frankly you’ll look just as horrible any way.
You have that god awful habit of biting your nails,
Do you like the way they taste,
Or are they just an escape?
I really hope you start to change,
im not sure how much more of your
“Temper tantrums”
I can take.
Sincerely, your shadow.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.