"THERE HE WAS HOLDING HIS HAND OUT"
God, can I hold your hand and follow you?
My child, it is I who will walk with you! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across earth. Your love and devotion are what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You ran to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles and tribulations. We could not speak, it was my light that kept you from going weak.
God, are you a dream of beauty? The holy book.
My preacher spoke of the afterlife, calling it paradise.
I remember now, I felt this company once before, this light.
Many times, I forsake the light and still you never left my door.
I felt it on the day I was born,
the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it once more?
Lord pleases clarify the day I fell down to my knees, accepted Jesus as my savior?
On that day, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my failures’.
Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road. This light never left you.
My sweet child did you not listen,
Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible.
My child, you were not searching for the right answers.
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray enough?
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself,
I always answered even when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your soul's disguises.
Lord, I have other questions to ask.
What should I expect out of my personal sins?
My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence--
How is it that I am in your promise land?
Getting right with me has brought you here!
One more question My Heavenly Father
Can I see My Daughter, Mothers, Sisters, family, and friends?
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
"September, beautiful month of my birth, is nigh, but I cannot feel glad."
September, drifting in with glow of moon,
you stifle Summer’s ardor. . . and she grieves.
In guise of fire, the Fall comes all too soon.
Your breath grows cool. You’ll blow and loosen leaves.
The hills and woodlands will reflect new hues.
You stifle Summer’s ardor. . . and she grieves.
In Autumn’s chill, the colors are a ruse.
For as you pass, the trees are set ablaze.
The hills and woodlands then reflect new hues.
Though warmth may linger through your final days,
old Sun is waning, yet he still seems strong!
For as you pass, the trees are set ablaze.
September, you’re a melancholy song.
Though time be short, you paint a brilliant dusk!
Old sun is waning, yet he still seems strong.
October looms. . . Your ending will be brusque.
September, drifting in with glow of moon,
though time be short, you paint a brilliant dusk.
In guise of fire, the Fall comes all too soon.
N/A in the "A Poem that you Enjoyed" Contest judged Sept. 17, 2016
Now used for Broken Wing's Take The Dagger From My Heart, Please - 2
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011
a rug of loneliness,
a sleepy heart huddles
against such memories
of togetherness and not of
goodbyes, hating to disperse
the fiery rhymes of your lips,
as well as the warmth of its
sweat...tastes like red wine,
then it beats...and beats
gently, as it envisions
you, in an early
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007
carved on a willow
our love growing out of reach
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
Embers Of Time
For many years a pain has crept within my heart
From this pain I have no right to part
You were the Love of my Life
An ever Loving mother and wife
And thoughts of you shall ever shine
You come to me on the embers of time
You are the blessed one who showed me Love
Your heart touched mine and we flew up above
Within my heart I did see
You would ever be the only one for me
We did share Love so sweet and divine
You are always mine through the embers of time
We walked through this world with joy and laughter
Living for our today's never worrying what may come after
Our Love was ever true
I would ever be In Love with you
The Love we shared was so sublime
I will always Love you through the embers of time
We dreamed the dream and every day life was ours
We would often go walking through fields of wild flowers
One day the sadness did start to fall
We knew our life must end after all
Illness came and I became divine
Now we can but Love through the embers of time
One day you shall be with me In Heaven's space
I'll meet you ever In this Love-filled place
One day I know shall you be with me
And we shall walk together Into eternity
Until then we'll share our Love divine
On both sides of the veil through the embers of time.
Copyright © Vladislav Raven | Year Posted 2017
Shh!! Mommy, quiet, quiet she is still sleeping
Shh!! Mommy, quiet, quiet she is off dreaming
Shh!! Mommy, before you wake her: “My baby sister!”
Now look what you have done, you gone and woke her!
Please, mommy do not tell her what you expect and will concur.
She is silently listening to the unique secret found in every waking minute.
Making movements, imposing that her dreams come with no limit.
Shh!! Mommy, she is dreaming again,
Waiting for another day to end,
Hasting the way you count every minute before she arrives.
Shh!! Mommy, she is not ready yet.
She told me a secret when I press my ear near your nest.
She is hesitating the moment for you to hear her newborn cries.
She is not ready for you to count her fingers and look into her eyes.
She likes it in your womb where it is nice and warm.
She is in a dream protected by a place where angels swarm.
Mommy I fell asleep when you sang that beautiful lullaby..
Mommy, mommy, I’m ready to see her: “My baby sister!”
I want to play with her- Is she everything we dreamed of.
I’m sorry mommy, I do not understand why you cry!
I was not there when the angels woke her without saying goodbye.
Mommy, why did God call and take her home?
Mommy, I am still here, please do not feel alone.
Shh!! Mommy, do not cry no more.
Mommy, please wipe those tears and show me how to be brave.
Mommy, stop, listen, and feel her smile and wave.
She will always listen, when you visit her grave.
Hi, mommy, why don't you stand by her grave anymore?
Mommy, I see you weep no more.
Mommy is she no longer asleep nor in dreams?
Is she in a better land with no trials and deems?
Mommy, now I see everyone’s heart is clear, and no longer stillborn.
Mommy, now life must go on, and in it, we will always have time to mourn.
One more thing, mommy thank you for holding my hand,
I am just a sibling, who needed time to understand.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
You made the mistake and now,
your afraid to face this day.
Your thoughts are racing through
You wonder if your family looks at
you as a disgrace, but you'er mother
takes you and reasures, your very
much loved in grace.
Even though your much to young
for this breathing little thing this
You couldn't just throw it out
like it was a peice of trash.
So you grow up and take the
path that led you to your best
mistake for years to come.
Copyright © Emily Kroeger | Year Posted 2009
Make no haste,
your work is restless.
Aeon give me pause--
no more ticking
ever towards the
Live the now.
Even Death took
veering briefly from an
eternity of reaping
Take your time
on earth and
Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2010
I can't believe he has to be a poet
To tell you how he feels
Maybe he does not know
When words are written on paper
does not mean your wounds
are going to heal properly
To be or not to be?
That is the question you should ask.
The man should never call himself a poet
Unless he has lived, learn, lost, and gained it back
The man who writes good poetry
In my eyes is a man of art
He can paint you anything without a paintbrush
This man I call a poet, with a colorful heart
Using all his manly skills
He is way ahead of the ordinary man
Leaving the imagination, filling the soul with chills
aroused ------- he calls for me
While (I) the woman swims in tears
She finds herself helpless
Without a man, she thinks she is lost, nowhere to be found
The secret of the female
When she is broken
She begins to feel and thinks life is over
Little does she know her time will come
When the time calls
The lady is stronger than ever
One thing I learned about a lady
You better respect her (me)
Don't destroy (my) her better days
She will crumble you
She will crush you where it hurts
This is my demo to all ya poetry freaks
Keep it real!!
Don't steal my words.
I have feelings too:)
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
Tell me why, but tell me True-
Spare me the heartbreak of a Lie
I would lay forever in these meadows...
Forever, until I die!
To rid myself of all the Pain,
And the Sorrows of what I feel
To ease my Mind, my worried Brain
(Lord! The Cuts! I need to heal)
*Referring to my problems with "Borderline Personality Disorder"; many of us are "cutters"
Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet | Year Posted 2013
When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...
I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky
The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn
I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe
The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul
Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through
Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost
I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art
As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow
Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place
The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost
Day was Life,Night is Death
And the latter has given counsel on my final steps
Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009
So stay the gold.
foolish thoughts wasted
apon the old.
Your never alone except day and night.
did we forget the cause.
Or just grow tired of the fight.
Evergreen moments dont exist in books.
Or pictures trapped apon the page.
The wisdom of life is nothing without the rage.
Into a maze we go blind.
Far past the moment.
Nothing is left to remind.
Motions are not feelings.
Along with contracts and lies.
So many loser's with there double dealings.
Taken from the city lights
I lost all that was obscene.
My pasion was turned into my evergreen.
Time you change all but me.
Casting many storms.
That turn so very deep within the sea.
Erased are thoose moments
apon the slate is clean.
I wonder do you ever reflect my sweet evergreen.
Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013
(Please read The Park -- Part One first ...
This is a continuation from Part One, due to space limitations)
Yes, kids at play are bold and wise
with flashing smiles and knowing eyes.
Children bore easily with grown up prattle;
their thoughts turn to cake and to toys that rattle.
They know that Belles and Bills tell lies.
Time is but a birthday gift or new surprise;
more games to play; a windy day for a kite one flies;
coins that shine; toys that squeak;
a trip to the zoo at the end of each week.
But Belles and Bills persist in their story.
Some even mention forgotten glory.
Children go home to eat, to sleep.
Belles and Bills their vigils keep;
falling leaves and darkening sky
shows them their truth and the children's lie.
Nothing is forever; all things die.
Then, Belles and Bills go back to flats,
to wait -- to wait till morning comes.
They listen to the rustling rats
and slowly sip their gins or rums.
Eyes are glazed; minds are dazed.
The atmosphere grows dim and hazed.
They will await, once more, the sun's first ray --
the birth, in the park, of another day.
Before they leave, they look all around,
surveying the world to which they're bound;
then, they shuffle away, with airs of sadness
at being, always, on the verge of madness.
The echo of an unheard bark
reverberates throughout the park.
Fallen leaves and darkened sky
confirm the truth. Children lie.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
Copyright © Vincent Rossi | Year Posted 2012
Don’t you remember, love, how we danced that first night;
beneath the sun’s rays, toes dipping in the cooling sand,
to the tune of our favorite song –
with me humming the best I could –
(I sounded terrible, but you told me I sounded divine, remember?)
while falling all over myself, and your delicate feet;
and you, trying so hard not to laugh as I made such a fool of myself!
Did you ever think we would go
from being love-sick teenagers dancing on the beach,
to a couple of old-timers reminiscing
about our best years – our long ago days together?
If there is any part of that teenage girl
left within that beautiful head of yours…please;
please, just look in my eyes as you once did…
look at me, sweetheart…
Don’t you remember?
My love, do you hear?
They’re playing our favorite song…
*Inspired by Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest
I really hope I did this right! :)
Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009
Those who spend their days
Studying the hourglass;
Are stuck in an emotional haze,
Watching their very lives pass!
I will not waste my time,
In a relationship that is at the brink of destruction.
Everyone knows that I didn’t commit the crime,
And my head needed reconstruction!
“Time” took me away from my daughters,
And that was what nearly destroyed me.
Mentally, I was left for the slaughter,
But I hold on for the sake of my family!
I used time to my advantage,
I started utilizing the time I had.
My wounded heart wears a bandage,
And over time sought refuge in a pen and a pad!
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2011
Society has shunned me and I feel neglected,
I am like a foreigner, so it is time to say goodbye.
There is nobody here of mine, so I will be leaving,
colourful memories have faded away, all I see is gloom.
All those I loved have been stolen from me,
taken away by the evil brutality of man.
Their voices still echo around me,
their screams continue to traumatise me.
Derelict streets and buildings are all around me,
with haunting sounds of happiness and laughter.
All around me is pain and cries of injustice,
atrocities that the world turned a blind eye to.
All has been lost, so I guess I will be leaving,
disappearing behind a trail of sadness and sorrow.
I will soon be forgotten as will my childhood memories,
forced into an unknown fate as I become part of the diaspora.
Silent One. 7 August 2015
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2015
Rust sleeps without the churchyard
on the blunt perimeter rails,
on the bloom of iron stabbing up
into the pelt of rain.
Rust sleeps upon the fence posts
where the wire is nailed to wood
and the metal burns an ochre tint
beneath the sodium arc.
Rust sleeps atop the hinges
of the pub door so to screech
a shrill alert to drunken ears
of some returning ghost.
Rust sleeps upon the riverbed,
suicide pushed into the deep,
trolleys severed by the silt,
dead baby prams beside.
Rust sleeps in feasts of coma night
and eats small mouthfuls of the moon,
spits corrosion at the stars
and dulls this razor life.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2012
I loved our time together late at night
Love's sanctuary in each others arms
Unwinding and unraveling what's tight
Those years I spent succumbing to your charms
Initially, those hills we climbed were rough
Our boundaries were drawn with compromise
That look you gave me when you'd had enough
Approval of my worth in ardent sighs
But now to mem'ries I've become a slave
Each day I live, I pray to be my last
To sleep beside you even in my grave
Reclaiming love that saved me in the past
The love you gave still warms my broken heart
It's lonely picking up the scattered parts.
an original poem by Daniel Turner
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016
America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.
America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.
America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.
Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.
America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.
America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.
America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.
America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
Your going has left a hole in my heart that time,
The Great Healer, cannot repair.
Your going has left a hole in my existence
That forever and beyond will not heal,
A hole ever expanding from its own nothingness,
A hole through which all the goodness,
All the kindness of you is slipping through.
You were my sounding board.
Trite ideas offered, came back
Enhanced, brilliant and sparkling.
Borrowing intelligence from you, I grew wiser.
Doors opened before me as I strove to be worthy
Of you, my beloved son.
I go on now as you would have me do,
Searching in Nature for the joy
You found in its wonders.
Hearing bird songs with your ears,
Relating to others with your empathetic instincts.
Striving, ever striving to be the person
And mother that you believed me to be
And never letting your memory grow dim
For those you loved and for whom you sacrificed.
You came into this world with a wisdom
That did not come from me.
I thank God each day for His lending you to me
For the time that I had you near
And I cling to His promise
That I will see you again.
I could not tell from whence you came,
Born with a wisdom that did not come from me,
And I do not know where you have gone,
Part of myself, the better part--into Eternity.
Originally entered as verse
A Letter to my Son
Your going has left a hole in my heart
That Time, that great healer cannot repair.
Your going left space in my existence
That forever and more will still be there.
Ever expanding from it nothingness
A hole from which your goodness has slipped through.
The kindnesses you wore as a halo
Have disappeared as well since I lost you.
I used you as a sounding boad to measure
The wisdom and the beauty of the world.
Your ideas were so clear and brilliant,
Through you my own best aptitudes unfurled.
I'm trying to live up to your standards.
I want to be more worthy of you, Son.
You told me once I was the perfect mother,
And with you life was such a lot of fun.
I thank God every day for loan of you.
The time we had was more than worth the pain.
And now I'm clinging tight to his promise
That some day I will see you once again.
I do not know from whence you came,
Blessed with wisdom that did not come from me.
Each day I pray I know where you have gone;
Taking my heart into Eternity.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2009
my heart breathes its last breath
Embraces its own death
Ready to be reborn
and made anew
Can’t live a lie
Refuse to “do”
and I’ll DIE....
Focus now on why I’ll live
And never touch the sky.
I have to forget you
I have to reject you
But I will never love anyone
like I loved you.....
I heard you whisper
and you never knew it
I wiped the tears from your eyes
But you couldn’t feel it
You’re lost and you’ll never find you
And neither will I
And I’m so sorry--
but I’m NOT.
I'll attempt to reset
Try to forget
But you know, I never will.
Be my dirty little secret
My very worst-kept secret
Sweet, smooth, beautiful poison
My infernal and endless attraction
towards complete and utter self-destruction
I fell in love with the devil
And it will take one heck of an angel
To save me from the likes of you....
my dream never to come true
Oh, I’ll never forget the times
we never shared
I’ll never forget
how you were never there
Always me, the stars, and tears
And I ask you,
what kind of life is THAT?
I have to face the facts
I don’t know what happens now
but it happens without you.
The stains will always be there
the scars will never fade
But the memory of you----
it HAS to.
I could carry the torch forever
But it would only consume me
I can’t cry another tear for you
Or I’ll dry up completely
It doesn’t affect you
and you never deserved me
You’ll go on with your life, too
All, all alone
Because you’ll only ever be in love
Copyright © SLS It Is Rife With Ambiguity | Year Posted 2011
( The Bell )
I like them
All very big or
Small some are very old
Can find them in churches
And in emergencies some too
They just sound happy and sometimes
Are very sweet
And sound very nice
Toll in good bad times
I hear them pealing in
The distance with a nice
Sound giving time every day and
Dorian Petersen Potter
The "Bell" is a poetry style created by Dorian
Petersen Potter, aka ladydp2000, on September,18,2010.
Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2015
Hey guys you thought it was fun to joy ride
Steal a car and go wild
Racing through the streets
Faster and faster
You were heading for disaster
Your passenger can be heard shouting on his mobile to another friend
SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN!
But the driver laughs
The police are chasing
Blue lights flashing
He doesn’t want to get caught .... and end up in court
The speed increases
Ninety miles an hour
SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN!
You can hear the panic rising in his voice
But he’s strapped in the passenger seat
What started as fun is a living nightmare
Left turn, right turn
Weaving and dodging the cars on the street
Then they reach the point of no return
Sadly this is loosely based on an audio transcript from the video recorded on the passengers phone and was the last recording of their voices so I’ve written it as if it were a final phone call - the footage was released by the parents to act as a warning to other youngsters
Contest Last Call
Sponsor Casarah Nance
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
Spilling ink onto paper,
fragments of mirth,
shards of anguish,
trapped in rolled-up sleeves.
Turning up my collar,
as blue as these days that slip by,
scattered verses plunge into,
the fathoms of unknown waters.
My ink runs, slips, treading lightly,
penning odes to love on bare skin,
your bare back my canvas,
my fingers tracing, caressing, scribbling,
homages to our laughter, our tears.
lie spent, exhausted,
famished and parched from saying too much,
my fingers tickle your soft skin,
my ink would run dry,
were it not for your gentle touch
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
I wail lonely
in your distances
as endless trestles travel I
I was here I was
on your horizons,
present in your town
Come, ride with me
Come, keep me
from obsolescence, keep me
I am meaningless,
For how can I see, and, yes,
Who can I show,
If not you... if not you... if not you
Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson | Year Posted 2007