Birth begins the tragedy in us. Life's
First sound is a blank scream
Against sorrow's hidden portends of strifes
All we know are mirages and dream.
Mother took the news staring at the sky
She must have cried inside
For I have no evidence else. There's no why
For it ... how my rage defied
Her callous front ... he was her first boy
The only hero she spoke well
Of, his name was the formula for joy
In our house: anecdotes tell
Of his escapades ... youth defying fate
He had a cat's tenacity for life
And from evil wills found a golden gate
Of scholarship and exotic wife.
I remember when the years pulled him back
All he came with was a bag
Of books, and a couple suits in novel sack
His eyes time warped, a lag
Of missing years and loneliness enfolding him
But he was handsome still
And my soul cartwheeled at joy's fresh brim
Those moments that he filled
When eyes first contact spelled pride to claim
This aristocrat like a medal
I could wear. So young he was, her true flame
The son of love's sweet recital!
And many days sitting in his shadow, I heard
Him dream big things like stars
Far away, warm things like a fluttering bird
Things made bright to cover scars
In the sore of memory. His mind was his cliff
A risky place in the high winds
And closer to the edge for the Grail he'd drift
O how the giddy world spins!
He died in Kingston: William came and went
And my mother looked at the sky
But until she died, about his memory was silent
And I forever wonder why.
I loved him, you know, he was the first best thing
A poor child had to claim or show
The world ... with him I was no more common. A king
He made me in his gold of glow
Something that I looked forward to meet in me. I,
Like mother, been silence since
But sometimes my heart just heave and would cry
For time this love cannot rinse
And I that moment cannot comprehend, that death
Gave no notice to his lauded day
And like common dust on a wild wind's balmy breath
My brother was swiftly swept away.
Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
Sometimes I wonder.........
Where will I be when I get old
Who will love me for my soul
Thoughts of loneliness cross my mind
Am I running out of time?
It’s so scary in this desolate place
Staring out a window into space
What have I done during my time here on earth?
Who will be waiting on me? Did I earn my worth?
Life passes by really fast
Always thought my time would last
Thinking of my people that have gone on before me
Do they know…...Is that where they’ll be?
Remembering the last smile I saw on his face
Will I have to run his same race
Will they leave me alone to think of my time of the past
Or will they surround me to celebrate and have a blast
Pictures and memories is all that’s left
Tear after tear while I take deep breaths
Stones and lettered monument will be there for me
The sunshine and the storms pass while I sleep
In this narrow place I will lie
Unable to speak, unable to cry
Thy will is done and now time moves on
Who is next? Who will be gone?
Sometimes I wonder……………
By Johnnie Eaves
Copyright © Johnnie Eaves | Year Posted 2010
Just one more time,
just one more breath,
just one more moment to remember the past,
lull in thy memories,
breathe in thy essence,
to look upon thy face,
to know you still care,
to know what we had was special,
to be preserved in preferred memories.
Where I am going I know naught.
Floating as if in limpid water currents,
languor reaching but finding not,
solitary enraged soul longing for one more kiss,
one kiss whence naught.
Malformed monsters feast
upon the vermin ravishing mine soul,
my tender heart loathing sunset’s rays enfold,
nighttime beseech me, broken heart unfold.
Another night shine through tears,
summoned by memories a hundredfold,
putrid time consumes life;
Cruel Life Sleeps.
Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2007
I feel it everyday
pats of me slipping away.
For a moment in passing
all of me once seemed immortal and everlasting
but now, fading like storm threatened gray clouds
part of my mind slows thru the oppressive crowds.
I dare not speak
keeping my secret hidden and discrete
while cautiously I direct my feet.
Stepping thru the garden displays
I marvel at the colors as they fray.
In natures bounty resurrected in spring
I marvel at life as it begins to change everything.
In my heart I'm still young and alive
but in my remaining years I'm forced to recognize
All of me is unseen, forgotten and pushed aside
time's up and needing of release unable to continue to hide
and in the waning years of time, life and death collide.
I feel it everyday
pats of me slipping away.
Copyright © DM Babbit | Year Posted 2017
When my eyes close for the last time
I hope to have touched so many in my
Life time on my journey of life
Those I meet and left behind
With my smile and loving heart
That never discriminated
And hated in justice felt from the heart
When love it was from deep with in
Protected with faith those loved
And held closes to my heart
Never hated but forgave those who
Try to keep me down and kill my faith
To those who shed a tear for me
I hope to wipe dry with my love not gone
For my loving heart lives on with in each
And every one who knew me as big as my height
I will be with you in heart and spirit
For you will keep alive every time you think of me
Remember the good memories
Relive them when you feel sad that I am gone
For I will be in a better place at rest
Waiting to reunite with each and every one
Much love always
Copyright © mirian parrilla | Year Posted 2013
High-backed chair facing the corner,
Window over books so cherished
Like the greatest of scholars, but still humble
He was a trove of stories
Air of silence on a place once full
Of stories from a time past,
A time of honor and courage and duty
Of country and spirit; fighting an enemy
Made from indescribable evil.
Tales of valor, sand, and bullets
Lions and machine guns, young men in battle
Fighting for their lives.
Knowing the enemy was like a jackal
Cruel and twisted, an army of evil
He witnessed it all
First hand, in the heat of the day
And cold of night. Tales passed on, spoken
In a way that conveyed such knowledge
That one was to sit in amazement, and hear it
Firsthand from the chair facing the corner.
Like a throne of deep thought.
The day he left this world, I wept.
Seeing him not but a day before,
It was harder than I could have imagined.
The pain is real, but so were the memories
And so the legacy of the veteran lives on.
The chair sat vacant, but I felt him there.
The books on the shelf, the other treasures
Left behind held him here on earth
While the memories anchored him in our hearts.
The man in the chair shall never be forgotten
And the stories shall pass far into the generations.
Copyright © john locke | Year Posted 2012
My heart egos and my life drained from me
Simple life I live, I act as I know all
But I know not, no, not even a little
I earnestly seek for recognitions
But my life and my heart is a hole.
An empty vessel, soulless, loveless
I have been succumb by the pain of heart aches
I have become a broken man,
Know not what my future holds
I envy those who went before me, who were acknowledge
I hold on to the little shred of hope in me,
I am being drowned by my own sorrows.
Love, hate, a new beginning and ending of my old self never seems to happen
My wrath against my enemies is nothing for they humor me with insults.
Let not death come to me in misery and despair,
For life is full of joy and full of sorrows.
Love me, as who would love a stranger from nowhere.
Let my sorrows be taken away by the love of many
But at last, no one would.
Don’t cry for me, for no one knows me
They came before my grave and said “who is this man?”
“Why is the name not written?”
It is not written because I am nothing
Don’t shed a tear for the stranger such as me.
Life is like a dream on a calm sea,
As the captain gracefully steer and gently moves its rudder.
The passenger puts their lives in his hands,
A calm sea is the heaven of any sailor.
“So, where is my captain?”
The wind blows every so gently,
But my heart sinks gently into the sea;
Who will mourn for the stranger?
Drowned from my grief,
My faith begins to waver like a ship tossed around by the winnowing wind
My heaven, my calm sea turns against me as I sail the Galilean sea
“Where are thy words that calm the raging storm?”
Ay! I have no peace even in my passing.
I have not thy words of command,
For my faith has been tossed away by the hating winds,
Shallow, empty, and broken I lay here in an unnamed grave.
Only thy mercy will guide me to the third heaven!
Let my sorrows be washed away by the blood of the innocent lamp.
Let thy words be the honey drops for mine,
As this world knows only lies
Blinded by greed and lust,
They seek only to destroy of what they fear.
And my sorrows are tossed away by thy promises.
For thy compassion for lost sheep is great.
"Have I found peace?"
I have, for I know my heart is at rest when my body has aged
And my salvation has come
When I died with thy Words of truth
Copyright © LIde Sangtam | Year Posted 2012
As tears flow from my reddened eyes
I can see what I have purely missed
As I look up to the dark grey skies
I will always remember our first fist
I sit here and think of your face
The first time I saw your light fluffy cheeks
I always wanted to lay my head on that place
Even when I was buried in my girlfriend’s twin peaks.
You never knew my love for you
I waited until it was too late
I often yearned for a way through
Both your heart and your front gate.
But now you’ve passed away
Slipped through my limp and lifeless fingers
But I still yearn for that fortuitous day
And the smell of your tobacco colour coat still lingers.
As I stare at my homage dedicated to you
I can feel a heart shaped hole called ‘Noah’
My body is conflicted, I don’t know what to do
It’s such a shame that you were found in pieces underneath a lawnmower.
So many holes, and opportunities now
I feel my body grow harder
For you Noah would only allow
One hole to be ventured in farther
As you led there erotically
on the grass that day
with your legs so lovely
I couldn’t take my eyes away
So I didn’t see
The lawnmower draw near
The blades running free
And beginning to career
Ever closer to your toes
To impoverish your heart
I’m the only one who knows
How a love like this does start
To think I won’t see you again
Striding majestically down the Bath Road
And, protecting your shoulders from the rain
Your little tobacco coloured coat
I wish I had been able to say
All this to you when you were alive
I came so close once, that fateful day
When we were standing outside the Beehive
Your hair was golden in the glow
Of the solitary standing streetlamp
Yet still, you couldn’t ever know
My feeling for you or my heart would cramp
And now you’re dead you selfish thing
You’ll never hear me speak these thoughts
You’ll never feel me ‘flap my wings’
Or ogle me as I cavort
But now you’re in the ground
In the darkness and despair
But I have now created a mound
Where I can collect your hair
My heart is soaked in liquid salt
My clothes cling to my body
Although I know that it’s no-one fault
Staring at you was my favourite hobby
Now it’s time to say goodbye
My lovely little pet
My heart still yearns, my eyes still cry
Although we never met
Copyright © Poetry Aircraft Carrier B | Year Posted 2013
Many a time I passed through trouble
Many a time I passed through pain
I was exploited
I was humiliated
My pride was taken from me
I was consumed by mystery
My wings were taken so I couldn’t fly
What I ate all day was my cry
I asked myself why
And there came a voice say
In your affliction will you learn right
In your oppression will you rise to fight
The sun shines at day
And the stars at night
Arise and see the light
Many a times I passed through trouble
Many a times I passed through pain
Copyright © Matt Ancient | Year Posted 2013
When my words run out.
Give me an ink and pen. I'll write a thank you note.
I don't want to be despair but please love me and care.
I don't either want you to bare
but please be it for until my last day i want you to be there.
Don't cry for i may gone.
Remember the smile i once had when we're together.
My door is already closed, my time stop here.
We cannot undo the past
But, this time let it be last.
Our hi's and hello's end in "good bye".
Moving circles gone.
I'll can only whisper on your ear
I LOVE YOU before my last breath gone.
Copyright © Joji Jebulan | Year Posted 2016
When you walk outside into the open air
When you look around at all the beauty everywhere
Think of butterflies fluttering all around
Filling the atmosphere from the sky to the ground
When you feel the wind across your face
Remember my love is all over the place
When you see one lone butterfly fluttering by with such beauty and grace
Think of me and the last time you saw a smile on my face
Remember the joy we shared in our lifetime together
The bond we shared was the most precious treasure
You are blessed with memories of our years on earth
Just as God blessed me on the day of your birth
I have moved on to a glorious place
But daily I am still blessed with your loving face
When you see a butterfly, think of me
That is my spirit flying high and free
I watch over you my dear loved ones, each day and night
I am so proud of your choices to live your life right
My love for all of you will continue to flow
I miss throwing my arms around you more than you know
I am flying with Angels in the Heaven’s above
We watch over you always and send down our love
Look for the butterflies with colors so bright
For they host the spirits of loved ones now out of sight
You must keep your chin up and take care of yourself
But remember God sends His Angels to sometimes help
When you least expect it, at a time of great need
That’s when an Angel appears to do a good deed
Keep your eyes open and be prepared
Great blessings will be upon you when you’re least aware
Watch for the butterflies as they flutter around
They will soon appear in your life when they are less likely to be found
My heart is with you as I watch from afar
Angels walk with you wherever you are
Trust in my word and know that many blessings are upon you
For God has sent Angels who will help you through
Hold memories close and cherish those in your life with love
Trust in my word and in the Lord above
Copyright © 2003 Shari E Davis
Copyright © Shari Davis | Year Posted 2007
yea tis history - that end gin shelled a mesh by mit Romney wailin
such below figurative belt mortar attack subterfuge and constant railin
per accusations hurled at barack Obama presidential campaign
lobbed like scud missile grenades from invisible hand no longer m palin
in comparison and hence moot point for republicans to gain
so this joe of a voter re-fused 2 bide time 2 prevent candidate from failin
app laud clinched 2nd term deserved and occupy white house seat a gain
intent i wanna talia 2 acknowledge salient tactics to boost usa now ailin
sasha bravado blasting and gunning futile fusillades
which questionable oppositional stealth indiscriminately fired pell mell
to discredit supreme commander in chief an exemplary persona in the main
such desperate toothless and nail biting tactics
replete with political retaliatory slanderous stockpile bombardment
but rather, he opts to build fracking rainbow coal bridges 2 somewhere
over the rainbow toward future with his omnipotent time tested girders
of righteousness and gravitas quite simple and plain
casting confidence that the democrats rank as the robust strongest train
eclipsing her livid burst of 15 minutes fame that briefly wax than wane!
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2013
At the darkest time
On the darkest day,
You took my hand,
You took me to play.
I thought it strange,
I thought it wise
That there in the wood
The secret lies.
But then I saw it
The flicker of light,
The sound of birds
As they took to their flight.
The ray of sunshine
Filled your eyes,
Around us filled
With silent lies.
My smile was met
From cheek to cheek,
Your hand around mine
As your eyes grew weak.
I see your face
Amongst the light,
The day that soon
Transformed to night.
I’m alone now
And alone I’ll stay
Till the moon flips over
And the sky turns grey.
But the hand that took,
Took me to play,
Is there by my heart
And there it will stay.
Copyright © Jessica Howell | Year Posted 2011
Peace In The Light
I live in a drywall box
Sitting alone staring at my clocks
With landscape art hanging all around me
Its no wonder inspiration has finally found me
One day my mind forced my hand to start writing
About my parents in Heaven still fighting
Knowing their bodies lie beneath the ground
But believing that is not where there to be found
One night I dreamt of a beautiful house
It was on a sunny hill where I saw cats playing cards with a mouse
There was a young woman sitting on a porch rail
She turned to me and asked why I looked so pale
She told me she did not die
She told me I no longer have to cry
Then all of a sudden I awoke
Asking myself... “Was Mom's death some kind of horrible joke”
The Wake…The Funeral…
The Burial Mass…The Grave
Mom's dream message proved to me
She had risen from her Coffin in the Cave
Sometimes I wonder if Mom and Dad are really dead
Or are they living in my head
Can our parents be more alive than we think
Could they be some kind of Supernatural Link
Some say this life is a trial
With certain emotions recorded in our Spiritual File
We all experience wonder, joy, sorrow and pain
Some days… it’s a challenge just to stay sane
I pray our parents watch over us from afar
I swear sometimes… Their sitting in my car
Maybe when we experience life’s emotions
Our Parents are there recording the commotion
I bet Mom sews all day
She probably still has no time to play
I bet Dad writes all day
Will my sons ever find their way
Someday I will tell everyone
That Heaven maybe closer than the Sun
And even though our parents may not be here
When we take our last breath there is nothing to fear
Because what seems like a very dark day
Is really a small price to pay
So the next time you hear a familiar voice in your head
It could be your parents telling you they are not really dead
And I thank… GOD… I no longer have to write
Because my parents have finally found Peace in the Light
And some day when it’s my turn to go home
I will show my parents this poem
Joseph Adam Elward
Copyright © Joseph Elward | Year Posted 2010
I picture Kashmir through lightened KL. News of another massacre darkens my eyes
Winds are thirsty there. They continue to taste the young blood.
I groom myself with exquisite things,
Sipping ice tea in ac room, I comfort myself
And Kashmir burns. Kashmir set ablaze
I can smell the warm blood of beaten corpse
Where from winds bought this smell. Somewhere Karbala reborn.
Mosques are being slammed
There windows stoned. And the black boots leave their footprints on Mimber
Even God judges on evidence
There is one Imaam left now; he hides her daughters in his shadow
A blunt knife in his hands; soon he will sacrifice them to keep their innocence
Kashmir is burning. Kashmir is bleeding
And I write.
Army jeep chases the tracks. To find the associated bodies
They are alive now. Soon they will be dead
From Patan to Sopor, And in narrow passages of nostalgic downtown
Ghosts of curfew
Haunt the houses for young souls.
From the Kupwara cantonments, search lights chase emptiness
Nothing is left now. Search lights can’t see inside the graves
A boy there went missing for two days. His father starts digging his grave.
I put my earphones on and I close my eyes. I sleep
While my Kashmir is ablaze
“It’s me poor farmer’s son. Kupwara’s charm, I feel no pain”.
I see him so alive in my dreams.
He chants songs of Mahjoor from his burnt lips. My hands shiver. He has no finger nails.
I see his smoke tanned skin. Same as that of Khayam’s barbeques
He stands at a distance from me. I can still smell kerosene
“Tell my mother to let her heart become cold. Her heart will not bear my state.
Tell my mother to let her eyes become blind. Her eyes will not withstand my sight.”
I follow him towards his tortured body. He tells me to follow the spilled blood.
His blood has made its own Jhelum. I row on it. Until it gets lost in black boots
The story will turn into legend. I find his body no more.
On the streets silence prevails. Nobody has permission to wail.
Sisters are beatifying coffins while brothers look for stones.
For bullets there will be stones
Kashmir is ablaze. She is wailing in grotesque tones.
In Lal Ded hospital a new born cries: Father register me at cantonment then take me out
Death is recruiting in dozens at a time.
Tomorrow is curfew. Death has no curfew pass.
How they want to identity you. Becomes your identity
People burn up all you identity cards.
Copyright © Muzzaffar Ahmad Shah | Year Posted 2010
Mist of Time
Do not spill my blood
Do not bury my last scream
In a grave.
I will walk softly
Across the screen leave no trace
Just a whisper… and
In years to come you will hear
An echo, recalling my name.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2012
we always lack
the better word,
a polite reply or
with which to pray,
for better men, a better day,
within to end,
for as we fall upon the truth,
our better words will be of use,
in truth, we say, we will agree,
to end our search,
for words we need…
Copyright © William Ward | Year Posted 2007
The following poem was written at the request of my wife and it is intended to be ‘gently mocking’ in its style.
The reader MUST stroll though it for that purpose alone.
A long time ago, when with my mother, I went
On a shopping trip in which many hours were spent
Unto myself a secret promise I made
Never would I, with a woman, through malls and boutiques wade.
This promise, fifteen years since, has now been broken
For the spirit of Eros was within me awoken
So, now, with marital bliss, I treasure the joys of family life
And I also shudder at the time I spend shopping with my wife.
She bothers NOT about the hands of the clock
Which, with their boisterous ticking, do me mock
As I bite my fingers and chew my nails
While wifey darling shops with a patience that never fails.
My practice of ‘walk in, pick up and then walk out’
Is now one of ‘walk in, darling, and let us walk about’
And so, she does – with a slow and steady gait
While I gaze at mannequins and ponder my fate
Safe and secure, in cosy comfort, hardly disturbed
My wallet is NOT in the least bit perturbed
For he knows that his services will not be needed
Until through PRICE, CHOICE, TRIALS, his mistress has weeded
The objects that she might finally desire
And yet not necessarily – right then – acquire
For further weeding must surely be done
If shopping, for Elizabeth dear, is any fun.
Always, there lies a BUT on these shopping trips
A rationale with which I have yet to come to grips
For after careful analysis of textures, patterns and colour schemes
Wifey darling holds – lovingly – the object of her dreams
BUT – this contrariness to rhyme and reason
Is the perpetual refrain to our shopping season
For, though the texture may be perfect the colour just right
In a tiny spot, the design is not to her delight
So, even if an item is picked up – and to the counter taken
One must forgive me – if I’m sadly mistaken
In thinking that I can now move on – something has been bought
For, with a BUT, it might just be placed – back in its original spot.
Thus, Elizabethan shopping in all its royal splendour – and courtly grace
Can hardly be confined – limited – to a few hours space.
It takes more than mere days, weeks and months instead
For wifey girl to savour her shopping spread.
And, though dear reader, this verse may now come to an end
For me, the rest of my life I must hereafter spend
With plodding upon my weary way
As the curfew tolls the knell of another shopping day.
Copyright © Alister Renaux | Year Posted 2009
Once upon a time in times forgotten
A land saw great conspiracy
nameless deleted scores of people
leaders sabotaged investigations
Journalists boycotted meetings
and refused to pen down issues
judges indefinitely suspended hearings
as clergymen refused to hear confessions
Owls that prophesied the homicide
migrated to the mountain hide-outs
the children that witnessed ugly events
could not find speech in their lips
The land of darkness became darker
As ghosts of victims cried quietly for justice
Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017
There is a glare of stray sunlight
daring to reverberate
through spiderwebbed glass I haven't
found energy to fix
in the span of four years.
It is too much of a mirror,
too tangible a thought,
to make new.
It's lithe fingers, thin and bony,
and mockingly bright,
steal over embossed cardstock that arrives, like clockwork,
in deepest sympathy.
And a thornless bouquet of pastels laden with
only draws on blood long lost;
nobody seems to comprehend such an allegory,
or lack there of,
so it can't be carried
over the steps.
"Bloodless On Mother's Day"
Copyright © Jenna-Nichole Conrad | Year Posted 2012
She loved the poetry
of Emily Bronte and Shakespeare
She brought back the words to my eyes
and their beauty to my ears.
Never will I doubt their woe
as I feel their anguish in my heart
and rue the fate of mortal beings
as from their friends they part.
Never again will time go by
without casting awhile a backward glance
On those who loved and lost, and learned
Never commit thy time to chance.
Copyright © Upasana Saraf | Year Posted 2016
Don't be afraid to go back in time and see the life you lived.
Artificial smiles in a world stained with pain.
People you trusted, you deemed as your friends.
Only later they were icing on a cake. No one's understood you.
A book by its cover, they threw you away.
Your heart's vulnerable, breaking to pieces day-after-day.
Don't give up. It's not the end.
If everyone's turned their backs on you, know I'll be always there for you 'till the end.
Like shadows that never fade, it's inevitable for your angel not to walk away.
So don't look down in tears. Just take my hand and I'll kill away the pain.
I'll do all that I can to help you shine bright once again.
Through death and hell, I'll forever be your friend.
On a bed of nails, we won't turn pale.
Don't give up. It's not the end.
When everyone's turned their backs on you,
know I'll be always there for you even after my end.
Six feet under, my heart won't mend.
Everything that has an ending has a beginning in the end.
It's not the other way around.
So turn around, my dear, 'cause it's time to leave our mark.
It's the series finale of what had been.
Two will become One.
One will leave a legacy for the world to learn its inconsistencies.
Let's hit the reset and see the bliss tonight.
Because the end is not the end.
Copyright © phillip chong | Year Posted 2008
How can i survive when i can barely peak
And so i cried and cried for weeks
The bitter part it's yet unspoken
But yes the reality had to be taken
Angel took away my sorrow
And made me believe in a better tomorrow
In the genesis i was really hopeless
But i began to flow with nature and so i got happiness
I know in life there comes a time weeping
And nevertheless the time for wishing
And so the sun went down softly
Another night is here again, i breathe slowly
My art is full of bitter compassion
Now how do i tell of my dream-my vision
Copyright © garnua danjuma | Year Posted 2010
How to abate the loathing
When words mean nothing?
There are moments
In human existence
against baleful fate
One is left
with his thoughts
by all gods
by the world vile
gave him birth
in every spot
on the Earth
Where does his heart belong to
Never will he learn
How to console such a man
When all words would burn?
How to abate the loathing
When words mean nothing?
Copyright © Lukasz Walterowicz | Year Posted 2011
It was a long time ago
When I first saw your face
And I knew in that instant
My heart was captured in grace.
But how could I know,
If your heart opens its door?
I’m a stranger you don’t know,
Someone you haven’t seen before.
Oh have I tried?
To capture your eye
Oh have I failed?
With tears on my eye.
It was a short time before
When I first talked to you.
Your voices are honey to my ears
And your smile just wiped my tears.
Surely I didn't know
That your smiles are all deceitful
Your lips were speaking out lies
And your beauty was wolves disguise.
I never knew it for sure
Why my heart is still not cure
Its wound was just too painful
And its beat was unsecured.
I wanted you to understand
That all I want is to be your friend
But I didn't know I was speaking the lies
When deep down I was screaming “Good-bye!”
Ever did I believe?
That you would treat me like a thief.
After all those I have tried
You act like I’m a spy.
You’re angels for adults,
But devil to the others.
You have beauty on the outside,
But ugliness kept inside.
I won’t regret of loving you
Nor regret of needing you.
For my heart knew its true love
And it’ll forgive what had happened above.
But I regret a thousand times
For choosing you at first sight
And yes I do regeret more
For playing on love when I was bore.
Haven’t I known your true face now?
But look at me, I still allow
My two-face heart to fall in lust
With the person who’s got no trust!
I called you in a million times
You put me out just one try
My patient had no longer last
And my tears began to dry.
Should I say “Good-bye my love”?
Or should I cry “When will I’m heard”?
It’s just too simple for now I get
That I just wanted to be your friend.
Copyright © Celine Tran | Year Posted 2010
In your arms I held so tight
to feel the warmth of your skin
you made me feel so bright and alive
I yearned for the next day you held me again
there was so much happiness when I saw your face
when I held your hand I never wanted to let go
you gave me so much joy there was nothing to lose
everyday was something special to me and so much more
when that last day came for me god was waiting by my side
he told me that the time had came and I couldn't stay
the life he had helped you make for me is something that was great
he assured me I'd be an angel to look over you and protect you
when I got to heaven I watched the pain you had when I left
I didn't understand because you had something so precious to remember
but when you look at my pictures and hold my blanket tight
I see that I gave you more than just a memory but a piece of something in your
but never would I have been there so long if you weren't there for me
as time goes by don't think of the pain of losing me
Copyright © sarah koziol | Year Posted 2008
Time goes on, through pain and fear,
Hate growing with each tick of the clock;
War, assassins, terrorism, even death,
Nothing halts the passage of time.
WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf,
To name a few of the 20th-century wars.
Kennedy, King, Kennedy, Lennon--great men cut down
In a short space of time by assassins' bullets,
Others barely escaping with their lives.
The World Trade Center, Oklahoma City,
Too many terroristic attacks in foreign countries to count.
Mengele, Manson, Dahmer, Menendez;
Only some of the horrific killers of our time.
Colorado, Mississippi, Oregon, Tennessee,
So many children killing children in our schools,
The list of deaths endless, the reasons obscure.
Yet, through it all, time goes on.
Pausing for nothing, stopping for no one,
Time goes on.
Copyright © Mickey Stroda | Year Posted 2007
You have gone down,
With the setting sun,
The shadow of you,
No longer hovers around,
Never to hear the beat of your feet,
Our touch of palms,
Can no longer meet,
No longer we hear,
The whisper of your voice,
God's cherished choice you are,
Your hour is here,
Your time has come,
This earth you once traversed,
Your seeds of love dutifully dispersed,
A peaceful pathway,
Leads to heaven's gate,
God has beckoned you,
There's no longer a wait.
Copyright © pearl fabien | Year Posted 2008
First fight for breath,
First cry escapes,
heart beats unending.
Mind dims, years pass.
Lungs tire, heart tears.
To stop is to die.
First fight goes on.
First struggle continues.
But death stalks.
But death stalks.
Copyright © james cooney | Year Posted 2011
He loves her.
His love for her never ends.
“Love is patient, love is kind.”
The good book says.
It is your best friend if you think about it.
It is also your worst enemy;
It shows no mercy nor welcomes your white flag.
The sinister disguise of Death and his pale green horse,
Hung in offices, homes, and churches.
Tears paint his face and the rain befriends him.
Hugs, kisses, and condolences:
“Love never dies.”
“Love lasts for eternity.”
“She will always live in you.”
I don’t respond;
I lack the strength.
I have crafted up a bronze statue in my heart.
Forever will my love be for her.
Forever will I be her keepsake.
The consequence of love is not a tragedy as I once believed.
The tragedy is not understanding what love is.
The tragedy is not being loved.
My heart is now the way it should be.
Copyright © phillip chong | Year Posted 2009