I buried my boys today
Thirteen wasn't bad enough
What a pain in my heart
It's mine now, gone from them
They suffer no more
More than a hundred years
Barely seen half of that
I can only wish
Brothers to the very end
I can only wish
Love to take my boys out
Take them out all day
Take them to the running field
Run the while away
I can only wish
Love to buy my boat back
Buy it back all day
Wish I had my old boat
Wish I’d fish today
If I could only fish
Copyright © Mike Martin | Year Posted 2015
As a tear runs down my cheek
the world might see me as weak.
But a pain that has no end
devours me day and night
until I feel spent,
useless, a candle without light.
Could I have done more?
Why didn't I dig to the core?
If only I made that last call
maybe I would have seen
his ultimate brick wall
How different things could have been.
But now is the hour to let go
Time to fight my own foe
allow him the peace and rest
Only has he forgone me
His sun setting in the west
a short while before my own will be.
Copyright © JP Hugo | Year Posted 2015
Ode to the people of Norway
O, the darkness has descended on a paradise
Of Norway’s bounties of nature
On the people living a quiet life
Not concerned about the politics ever
A drug addict, calling himself a warrior
Taking pride of being a savior of Europe
Unmindful of the death toll of the young
Rejoicing in the tears falling from their eyes
A Hitler has raised his ugly head up
Polluting the minds of the old and the young.
But trying to take a refuge to insanity
Taking drugs to make himself efficient and awake
Priding over to start war for years sixty
Pleading not guilty to terrorism namesake
Though confessing to bombing and rampage
But remaining unaffected by what happened
Thus his plea assures him of future court hearings
By the attacks Norway is riveted with rage
By Breivik’s paranoid writings stunned
Hundreds thronged the courthouse proceedings.
With tears in their eyes people paid homage
To the victims laying roses a few feet deep
While the killer faces 21 years in prison
The stiffest sentence can be given by a Norwegian judge
His lawyer says the whole case suggests his client is insane
The Royal couple consoled people and tears shed
The prime minister called it a national tragedy
And summed it up “evil can never defeat a nation”
The killer may enjoy Halden, the luxurious jail in the world
Where cells have flat TV and designer furniture facility.
* I wrote this poem two years back when the tragedy took place. Not posted anywhere
Dr. Ram Mehta
Tenth Place win
Contest: Ode (Old/new) poetry by SKAT Love
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2013
Fragment images illumined
A hostile sight of no mercy
Found no escape, I was destined
A scheme of darkest scenery
Entrapped with hugs and kisses - sour
A final dot of final hour.
If you have mercy set me free
Still a captive of disgrace
A minor holding no degree
You wasted with a proudly face
How could you close the door and left me?
Thinking okay, ignoring my plea
What a view to see you dying
A soulful music to my ears
Is it really satisfying
When dignity's stolen with fears?
My life has been a poor attempt
To live away with your contempt.
Copyright © Arden Gopela | Year Posted 2013
A REQUIEM AND A LOVE.
And I knew before I met him,
That he would be the only one for me
And it would become clear a little too late
That our love would only be a story for the ages
I had always imagined how it would feel to be made king in his fortress
To have a foot stool to climb on before I reach the pedestal created for me
By the way he moulded his words like they were meant to become new clay on my body,
How with each syllable he would make fishers of men
Going out to pursue his purpose
Gathering up masses for his works
Then leaving them feeling great and grateful
How tender I imagined his touch to be
Those long thin fingers creating a web around my mortal person,
Like I would be alive forever in his embrace
As if if I curled up slightly more towards his heart,
I would get swallowed by his enigmatic soul
And find myself lost in that labyrinth of a mind
Discovering what it would be like to know the world from a celestial and anointed view
With my legs crossed as if meditating all the wondrous horizons from which his intellect existed
The clefts from whence his whims found solitude and reasoning
And I would discover a new high
Which would make me soar into the clouds
Never returning to the mind set of this earth...
I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person
And missing out on all the opportunities life had to offer a man as magnificent as him
And in that way, I understood him
And I let him be
More than a figment of my imagination
Even though our first meeting was in death
And we would never nestle our love on a plane as imperfect as this earth
I let these thoughts linger,
And I loved him
And she loved him
And they loved him,
They will always love him.
Written for Clive Mashoko
Some words were taken from the letter by Jackie Kennedy to JFK
May his soul rest in eternal peace, and may he find shelter in the house of the Lord, forever. Amen.
Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2015
The"tail" I have to tell, starts off really sad.
My sweet doggie Murphy died and my heart, it hurt so bad.
Until one day in early spring, I got a call that made my heart sing!
There were some puppies born in Waco, the daddy -Jasper, and mommy- Juneau.
Four little boys, three little girls. But the picture of one boy, made my heart twirl!
So I waited for a week or two, to meet my little puppy-oh so new!
I named him Humphrey, such a handsome boy! He has brought laughter back and oh what a joy! He's super cute, and very smart. Many would say, he's a work of art!
He's learning new tricks, and how to potty outside. So many rules to learn and abide!
Humphrey is growing so quickly, the puppy breath will soon disappear. He will be an adult in less than a year! Every stage of his life is a blessing from above. I guess that's the true meaning of what we call "puppy love".
Copyright © Meghan Palmer | Year Posted 2013
Ode to Joy Life Brings.
By: Kitty Jones
The pain the sorrow
I’ll get over tomorrow
Oh what joy life brings.
In my life there is no sorrow.
I try to be insensitive
To all you’re wants and needs
And when you have an open wound
I try to make you bleed.
What is hope?
What is laughter?
What is happily ever after
The pain the sorrow
I’ll get over tomorrow
Oh what joy life brings.
Copyright © kitty jones | Year Posted 2013
From hell shrivelled hands and voices in the chilly night make appearance
Hand and voices of evil ugly gory demons
Evil that torments the soul day and night
This is the story of Arusha
Arusha the woman possessed by legion
Legion of demons
Demons of promiscuity and self destruct
Powerful destruct that engages the soul
Her soul is in the grip of the power of darkness
Darkness a sanctum of hell
Oh Arusha how hell has swallowed your soul
Arusha’s soul has become a battle ground
I feel pity for Arusha as she often lets out demonic shrills
Shrills that sends chills down my spine
Remember the evil hands and voices of torment
Its torment called insanity
Insanity without cure
Arusha now is now a companion of cocaine
Cocaine I am sure you know it
Its Satan’s concoction of dementia
Concoction that destroys the soul men
Men become slaves to the voices and hands of hell
As they seek the thrill of gothic
A potently evil thrill that kills the soul
Sending the soul to eternal damnation
The story of Arusha ended in suicide
Suicide is a deceptive medicine for tormented souls
I wept for Arusha
Senseless weeping: it was too late
I was mortified when I discovered her lifeless body
A body once full of life
A soul so beautiful
Her soul is now eternally damned
In peace may you rest Arusha
Copyright © felix gbemudu | Year Posted 2013
Waves of anticipated distance- cheerfulness and goodwill
reasons to part quite enormous
reflected in displayed emotions
long hugs, passionate waves, incomplete smiles and contact exchanges.
Queues and checkpoints, controls and duty free sales
all activities winding up in a goodbye
From the departure lounge, mothers with their kids walk
fathers with uptight faces already anticipating the next business moves
children in mental freedom roam and play
singles, so direct in focus to the flight entry’s aisle
unfortunately it’ll be an irreversible one
and an exit with a permanent stamp.
A calamity not even the tenders of coincidence anticipated
a disaster totally human in occurrence
forcing the Germanwings to get broken
by a hand unwilling to perish alone.
Exposure wasn’t enough to nurture a sense of humanity
education was weak to pump water on a soil of love
a hundred and fifty lives given to hades
without cause or reason, just on a platter of Gold
a well calculated crime beats the justification of a psychiatric malfunction
resulting to an all-lose situation
broken wings, lost lives and broken hearts
as once again, history stands still in black robes
for us all to say
goodbye our friends and adieu to our beloved children
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015
As I crossed the gravel way
Of chemim de la Geurite
Through dead leaves that fell astray
I dodged them in a wild mad spree
As I crossed the gravel way
As I climbed up the granite wall
Thick and cold and high
To the top, feeling small
I slid across the rim
As I climbed up the granite wall
Down the other side I went
Through coins strewn about
Through photos and through flowers spent
I slowly crawled along
And down the other side I went
There were people standing over me
People standing high
People with teary eyes did see
The writing on the wall
As there were people standing over me
And as I headed towards chemim Lebrun
I heard some people sing some old forgotten songs
Holding candles of whitish hue
Lamenting a man called Jim
As I headed towards chemim Lebrun
And as I rested for a while
In my house upon my back
I rested with a blissful smile
At the end of my shiny track
As I rested for a while
Copyright © Daniel Human | Year Posted 2014
In the presence of all to see, her world turns
and runs red with the blood of her children:
Blood flowing like a wandering stream.
The bloated bellies of surviving youth
mock aborted pregnancies of liberty;
and her once luscious breasts now sag
in union with the sinking faces of lost hope.
Lost hope---disappearing like solitary
ghost smoke of abandoned fires;
abandoned fires---dying in waning time.
Hollowed red eyes of fleeing lovers look backward
onto the wholeness of nothing---smiling death
sitting and waiting on the coming feast.
Though the heartbeat of hope struggles
through the valleys of shadows of death, she
must yet believed that God has not forgotten her;
Indeed, it’s yet believed that in the midst of the ethnic genocide
in her Dante-like hell, this wretched mother---clinging to time
and its history---will once again experience the restoration
of her Pan-African unity and great African glory.
A great glory of continental liberation
sown in the brave hearts and liberated minds
of her children who---scattered throughout her lands
as well as in Diaspora---will eventually bring to fruition.
Remember, wherever you are, Mother Africa is;
and you’re indeed, her liberating children---
Umbilical bound to restore her collective glory.
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015
Six years now and the seasons keep changing,
people keep aging, the sun rises and sets, and
your pictures are beginning to grow yellow with age.
She grows tall, brilliant, beautiful, proud – like you.
You would really like her, too; she’s singularly unique,
proudly her own person and with a sense of humor
you would cherish and appreciate.
I hope you look in on her from time to time to nudge
her in the right direction when she’s lost, or to comfort
her in the dead of night when she’s in pain
and just needs comfort.
You’re talked of often and always thought of;
Time will never diminish your impact.
Though time may tarnish your pictures
it shall never diminish the beauty you put in them.
You are eternally young and sorely missed.
Six years or six thousand …
You are with us always.
Copyright © Anthony Amero | Year Posted 2016
How could I know otherwise
The beauty of a woman I’ve never seen
Whose mortality had been claimed by the Reaper
But through the teary eyes of my brother
Who loved her…
Loves her still
What an amazing blessing
When death cannot extinguish
The glow of love
When life finds immortality
In a heart that beats the pulse of love
Fueled by the soul of a woman
Whose mutual love of her husband
Knows no Earthly bounds
And the passion-filled memories of a man
Continue to embrace the love of his life.
Copyright 2016 Iger Rolyat All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Iger Rolyat | Year Posted 2016
Once I knew you
Well, I thought I did
Once we shared something
I thought was big
I played the game
You got lost
Once was not enough
You needed more
Once was done
I hurt no more
Copyright © Carla Vigneau | Year Posted 2016
No matter what I read
No matter what I said
The listener never stirred in bed
To all he just appeared quite dead
Eyes blank and always open
Not a word from him was spoken
Through tubes the young man would be fed
He never blinked
Just stared ahead
What more about him can be said
Two days ago he was to wed
No safety helmet on his head
His girlfriend held him by the waist
His motorbike zoomed off in haste
At break-neck speed they lost their luck
On the right they passed a truck
So what more can we say today
In this state he'll always stay
His lover now has walked away
So young she'll soon foreget the day
Another guy will soon appear
No longer will she shed a tear
Copyright © Gary Kraidman | Year Posted 2013
Who am I really?
Lover , sinner , saint?
The outward faces that we show,
are only coats of paint.
Everyone goes about the expected way,
and plays their little games,
never realizing , that they all spread the pain.
The ones we thought that loved us best,
tell the most vicious lies.
And all the time they hide behind
a mask of perfect smiles.
A world full of glossies , and whitened bright veneers
passing by those they deem less worthy,
and causing them to fear.
Left with wondering what we did,
to make them feel such disdain?
People we once trusted,
now just turn the other way.
False friends , and broken vessels,
is all there is to say.
Whited sepulchers on the outside,
inside death and decay.
Copyright © Jeanette Woods | Year Posted 2016
Penelope Alecknavage nee perskin whose death aye assay
to comprehend, this son of the late Harriet Harris -
November thirteenth 2016 marked her eighty first birthday
if she still lived these last eleven years - instead met crossway
where grim reaper awaited - though my mum sought to delay
futility to accept Pyrrhic outcome - homage pep rally
thru poetry n essay
writing, and finding cadence of words
helps me (with powder milk biscuits)
gather courageous foray
and means to grapple with demise
of a loved one, and hence my gray
matter sifts thru childhoods' end,
where remembrance of hooray
amidst claque of chattering aunts, cousins, and uncles
the fuzzy interplay
of Penny racing at dog speed across lawn of family home
cordoned off via a jackstay
looms in forefront of my mind,
vulnerable to grief most people sad - me, oh kay,
reckons cessation of life = equalizer of sorts
when significant person without breath doth lay
Tom foolery deft hands of motley crue prestidigitation
playing game versus sobbing as corpse
driven to graveside viz motorway,
where belief at such stark catastrophe - nay
numbness pervades next of kin survivors
especially when passing occurs pre-holiday,
yet no matter whence one departs
bobbing along River Styx to unreachable quay
mourning iz broken with nary sunny and Cher full ray
to warm earth, wind and fire - seeking soul asylum,
trying to blink away ill logic cheap trick re: acceptance,
but inxs of tears for fears begs scene 2b screenplay
not hard rocking coldplay accursed reality
terminal illness ushers helplessness cuz part of ourselves
agonizingly rent asunder, which psychic tearaway
far exceeds any physical pain, and will underlay
the immediate future, which bodes hollow
with the sounds of silence
despite informing musicians or veejay
to lighten moody blue -
boot invariably bono fide, green day,
Lady gaga emitting beat,
per the human league (plus the culture club
of heart felt village people affiliated with goo goo doll
traversing into nirvana)
creates clangorous discordant ringing
increasing nostalgia for loved one lost before yesterday!
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2016
It's a space oddity
for all that this came too
for the man who sold the world
should have sold it all to you
Let's dance, for we are heroes
we know there's life on Mars
you our dear modern love
now dance amongst the stars
You were a rebel, rebel starman
Our world gone through changes
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Your body, your soul exchanges
We know you're still alive
but where are we now?
Maybe next a china girl?
we'll meet again somehow
Copyright © Rachel-erika Henderson | Year Posted 2016
In the blink of an eye
My world crumbled.
Catastrophe struck my life
Leaving me numb.
My soulmate, my childhood mate,
Whose shoulder I had oft wept on,
Who had remained steadfastly loyal,
Just vanished out of my life.
My soul mate loved sailing,
Always saying, 'The wind, my drifter,
Safer world it always leads me to',
Was defeated in his super adventure on the seas.
My soulmate, true to his name,
Was hard as a rock, forever true,
Eye or heart, what was purer, I know not,
No bone, no flesh, no tatter was traced.
I awakened once again from my reverie,
To realise nothing lasts forever,
We did not meet by chance,
It was pre-destined.
My soulmate, I shall wait till eternity
Till we meet again,
Or please patiently wait till I join you,
To safeguard the pearly gates of heaven.
( Two guards for pearly gates is better company
and eases the boredom of scanty traffic! )
September 26, 2015
Contest: Open Sea
Sponsor: Chase Trevi
Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015
An elderly man, so weathered and worn..
His body is weak , his eyesight is gone..
His mortgage is paid but his taxes are due..
How will he pay , he hasn't a clue..
His stomach it growls, but the cubbard is bare..
Did he live too long, did he not pay his share..
An elderly woman, has broken a bone..
Her husband has passed and she's all alone..
With her Medicare cut , she just sits there in pain..
Feeling to be a society drain..
It's her pain and fear, so why should they care..
Did she live too long, did she not pay her share..
Copyright © Glen Schwartz | Year Posted 2017