like an interrupted dream
shadows of the one who inspired it
linger like morning dew
no aroma and no taste
yet I'm left breathless
as thoughts reminisce
i listen to this tired heart
as one deep breath
results in a thousand sighs
and i don't want to be found
but yearn to understand
why i feel like a million
crumpled stars, silently
sprinkled like paint drops
protecting the moon
feeling like glue
holding the universe together
and who am I to disturb it?
her beauty a merited gift
her departure unnecessary
her lips without speaking
could rewrite history
and I wonder
can she hear these sighs?
her call is the one I want
to answer for eternity
to speak until no words remain
give until there is nothing
defeat to her submission
is life's greatest victory
night flower of this heart
like a rainbow your presence
brightened the horizons
but just like the stars you
disappeared with daylight
15 July 2017
I'm back! Contrary to idle gossip and rumours, my account was not banned nor deleted. I left for personal reasons.
They say never go back, but I felt the need to return to support my friends and new poets.
I know there is some negativity on this site, but it has so much potential.
Anne Frank once said
"In spite of everything, I still believe people are really good at heart."
and I know some went to the extreme liberties of writing poem about me, but what I do not understand is the obsession with it after I left. Hide behind metaphors, I hope it makes you happy and write as much as you like, because it does not bother me, in fact it makes me laugh and I already forgive you.
We are supposed to be adults, if you have a problem, then discuss it. This is not high school. It is a poetry site, a community and one that together everyone can make a great place.
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017
stars twinkled brilliantly
against majestic snow-capped mountains,
delicate pure white flakes danced;
swirling, twirling, rhythmically.
she stood, nose pressed tightly
against the window pane; gazing in awe
at the magic the snowflakes created;
as tears spill from her emerald green eyes.
the cabin is warm, radiating a comforting glow
a fresh pine scent lightly sweetens the air;
she fights the memories, as she begins to shake.
fingers entwined, she tries desperately to hang on
be present in the moment;
"stop, stop, stop" she says, stomping her feet;
she falls to her knees; quivering.
she holds tightly her arms and begins to rock,
feeling his presence in his favourite black sweater;
she cannot bring herself to take off.
giggling sounds permeate her thoughts
cocooned in his aura, his essence, his scent;
she feels his lips kiss the nape of her neck,
his strong hands caressing her hair.
she rocks and rocks, time ceases to stop,
as she falls deep into a rich
moulton pool; his smouldering brown eyes.
her lips part; barely into a smile at
his joy when he surprised her with the cabin;
their oasis away from home.
she wipes away a tear, beams from within
as she recalls the snowball fight, he lost, she won.
he scooped her up, carried her with glee,
over the thresh hold of their cabin;
their oasis; their heart's retreat.
a decadent white rug bought just for her
lay invitingly in front of the fire,
fiery orange embers crackled and glowed.
he gently laid her down; "my beauty" he said.
they drank champagne, drunk in each other,
wrapped up in his care, she felt peace.
as they lay basking in winter's afterglow,
he whispered "this is my time, i must go".
startled, she sat up, staring deep in his soul,
as snowflakes twirled and danced,
fresh pine lightly sweetened the air;
he breathed one final breath; then he let go.
her screams were not audible, her body convulsed
as she lay on his chest; her heart; her home.
she cursed the night and winter's afterglow
sobbing "not him, not him, please take me too".
she fights to bring herself back
to the here and the now,
as embers slowly dim, she wobbily stands
clutching tenderly his urn, she must set him free.
the stars twinkled brilliantly
against majestic snow-capped mountains
she opens the window, where dreams breathed of life;
with tears cascading
she releases her love; her life;
to become one
with the magic of;
Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006
My shadow flirts with the sun
As I caress the darkness
We are one and separate
As my shadow smiles
Anxiety suffocates me
The shadow will soon fade
I shall die
One happy, one not
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017
Love is such a fragile sentiment
So oft confused with sex,
So in our daily double dealings
We render it is so indefinable
Like the faint flicker of a candlelight
That is blown out by our despair,
An intimate venue of self torture.
We add to its impenetrable obscurity
Blowing the flame right out,
Thus our outrageous shadows
Are silently snuffed out.
How easy it is to forget
All our wistful whispers, those
Sweet nothings of past affections,
We no longer trudge the path made up for two.
Forgotten are those bygone days
When we believed that thistledown tufts
Were really friendly fairies in disguise.
We head for a dull and empty living
Blaming everyone else uselessly.
Aren't we the product of our time?
We slam the doors of love in our own faces,
Building woeful walls around us
Painting it with a tinge of misunderstanding,
When we can lead such a colorful life,
Giving our hearts a chance,
Laughing at ourselves.....
And at the moon above.
P O T D 28 March 2017
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017
Toilet Bowl Committee (aka: Uptown Hood)
A lavatory confinement
If you want to moderate this place, pick up the pace
From the mouth down to the @$$
Your so called kind has no class,
Fed by these political rejects, never elected for what was!
They wipe their assets clean with our dreams
Forgetting to wipe their own toilet seats clean
Trying to make us feel dirtier than scat
Feeding off our paper when their toilet bowl water level is low
Toilet bowl PO-poes, wiping without dental floss
Missing everything in between reality
Trying to be kind, saying "One Day We'll Be Good Enough!"
Offering their Golden Plunger,
straight from the Home Depot shelves
No Thank You! My plunger a true gift from Mr. Wal-Mart himself
Next time you feel the need to offer a reference point
Please caption your name when you drop by,
Rinse thoroughly when speaking my name,
Then I will listen when you talk civilized
Correct my punctuations and spelling errors
The weakest trait you wear
You are no Prophet, just white tissue turning brown
Your Justification comes from old dry grapes falling from the vines
Ridicule will never give you the respect, for what you are!
We, the few poets from the hood,
overpower any change you offer Goodwill
Crumbling and flushing what does not meet your standards
Trying hard to force feed us soup, without giving us bibs
Toilet Bowl Committee
For clogging up my drain with your bull$h!T
By: Keeping it Real (The Downtown Hood)
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014
Things that seemed poetic were always sad,
though I yearned for sparkle
and my dad's guffaw, which never came.
Familiar things were always drear --
repeated motions in the same old game.
There were only distant glimpses
of budding spring, fleeting views
of daffodils. The strongest
poems dealt me death and dying.
Yet I always hoped, never went under
to gray despair, always dreaming
of a garden of love that we could share.
But those forbidden delights faded
quickly away; the only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal death and dying.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
Oh, my brother..
I can see storms causing havoc in your eyes.
All you can do is stare,
seeking comfort from a tombstone.
Beautiful marble cannot reach out to you,
nor can it hold your hand.
Tell me who will wipe away those sympathetic tears?
For I have no sympathy for you.
I still remember happy tears
rolling down her face,
as the nurse placed you in her arms.
You were held so close,
as she kissed your tiny soft cheeks
to ease your cries.
Like every child,
before you called for God,
you called for your mother.
Yet, you abandoned her...
You won't remember,
but, You slept so comfortably,
oblivious to her pain, as you found solace.
You won't recall the sleepless nights,
the pangs of hunger, nor her broken heart.
As your father, a coward, walked away.
Not once did she fail to attend your needs.
When you were sick, she sat by your side,
soothing your infant cries.
Instead of crumbling, her spirit remained strong,
in the hope for a beautiful future for her son.
how everyday, she awaited your return,
cooked your favourite meals
and bought you clothes, she could not afford.
Whilst, I became invisible..
You had everything a child could need.
Through the years,
you never noticed her fatigued eyes,
nor her wrinkled hands,
tired from working so hard to provide for you.
You lived your life, without a care.
For everything you needed
was provided. Yet not once
did you listen to a word, she said.
You met a girl, became obsessed,
and wasted all of mother's savings.
Running after materialistic needs.
Fancy restaurants, exotic holidays,
you thought you were 'living the life.'
Not once did you remember mum,
ignoring her calls, rarely coming home.
But, still she waited in anticipation.
As you laughed, she cried;
as you danced, she sat worrying about you.
You got married.
Where was her invitation?
Were you ashamed?
Or did she have no money for you?
Your ignorance became your curse,
as you lost all respect.
But still it broke her heart.
Now you stand here,
staring at her name,
engraved on marble stone.
Your tears water flowers of regret.
muttering mother's lullabies,
as you call her name,
disguised under deep sighs..
Who will ask now:
"Son when are you coming home?"
Who will replace her scent?
Never will you taste food cooked
by such compassionate hands.
Never will you be able to see the love in her eyes.
Never will you feel the warmth of her arms,
nor the love of a mother's kiss.
Turn your head in shame
and walk away.
Mum is in heaven now,
free from your torment..
14 September 2017
Example for Poems that paint a picture 2
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017
You ripped me
One word at a time
Shredded my smile
Pulled at my sensitivity
I was never strong enough
To pull back my paper heart
You took the pieces of me
Arranged them in your perfect order
I prayed for the wind to come
Hoping I would be carried away
Flutter to a new more loving home
Instead, I endured your paper cuts
I became your paper mâché
Shaped into the image of you
Glued with your inconsistancies
Coated in your endless smoke
Sarcasm and beer
I marinated in your endless tears
You painted me with a retarded label
Your stupid failure of a son
Forced to endure that brush
It was with your eyes I learned to see
Everyone else was better than me
I was a failure times three
My inside empty
I became light as air
As time went on I ceased to care
It happend slowly you weren't aware
Until one day I floated past your stare
No longer raw and bare
I clawed and ripped
Rewrote my page
coming of age
Not your puppet on a stage
Contorted by your rage
I have lost you to your death
The air much clearer, still I feel your breath
Within my doubts your lies still hide
Yet within me a new strength resides
Your image of me no longer applies
Doubt and fear reduced in size
No longer your "DUMMY"
On faith I rise
For Charlotte's contest, heart and soul confessional.
Written, September 1st 2014.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
She swept the side effects of yesterday
Into an unknown place where
Longing transcends the ache
Of remembered years that cling
To wounds that never heal.
The haunting specter of childhood ghosts
Lost in some nostalgic fantasy
Sift sad shadows from the past;
Unwilling to release the pain
That surrounds her days and nights
With the relentless intensity
Of memories that will not fade.
Perhaps time is ready to embrace
The ceaseless repetition of all
The yesterdays, todays and tomorrows
Bringing reality to a new transition;
So the shutters of her mind closed
And in her darkness she found release.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012
Please don't tell me how to feel
Allow me my sorrow
Let me cry for just a while
My heart needs to feel it's broken
I do not desire to be the strong one
Answers may never come
Still there is comfort in my silence
I reach into a place you cannot see
You are blinded by your knowing
Your strength can be a weakness
Blocking anothers compassion
I am not seeking answers to questions
Please allow me to be
Let me cry for a bit longer
Within my broken
I allow God to fill the spaces
I trust Him with the answers
He whispers within my solitude
There is a strange comfort in not knowing
I cry for my friend
I feel his loss
The devastation of not knowing
The fear of the approaching battle
I wish to listen
Act if required
Cheer for him
Celebrate his spirit
Hold his hand
Live in his moment
I will not
I promise not
To tell him how to feel
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
No flame within!
do I hold for you
no delightful delicacy
shall I put to rhyme.
No picturesque words
in italics of your
woeful wildlife, no
the ancient mariner, he
that crossed the margin
of our “Atlas of the world.”
(Still in use, [I believe] in the
old stone museum.)
One can easily live in fear
of your many mordant moods,
to see you capture the
embracing horizon, where warring
clouds fondle the sunlight,
and the departing QE 2 is
reduced to microcosm.
How can one live in awe of
you, when at the end of each
day you snatch at the light of
giving license to the veil
of damnation, soon to be cast
out of the east, driving impending
fears to languish upon the
unholy waters of the Styx?
(An extraction of the mind,
an evaporation of the memory
the spray dried brain
tossed into oblivion.)
Yet each morning an
interval to one’s ongoing
nightmare, when with renewed
levitation, the new light reprieved!
Begins avidly it’s universal
journey across Manukau’s
“Pack ‘n’ Save” Car park.
Oh yes! It is so easy to hate you;
you that brought the rest of
the world here, you that constitutes
a world within a world, that,
where the cycle of life creates it’s
own constitution, each player
judged on cue, to become an act of
fodder, mobile supermarkets
in ferocious competition with
nothing at all to give.
“Unless death itself is a gift!”
Upon the surface your
treachery still lingers, there,
tenacious tentacles lurk
within the sedulous surf,
groping blindly at sedated
rocks, those pinnacles of sanctuary
that harbour the weary,
support the rod.
Only when gravitation truly
intervenes, does the perpetual
invasion subside, leaving one in
no doubt about your promiscuity!
© Harry J Horsman 1993
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2012
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
in the drenched summer air.
Our pants futile afterthoughts
Left crumpled on the floor
It is here I asked for your respect
And you filled me with it.
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone.
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs
like dandelion seeds blown from
My wistful lips when I was
waiting for them to bring back my wish.
for my sleeveless dress, as we strolled from
your father’s funeral.
It was the only time I watched you cry.
There were little holes in the cement sidewalk.
They filled with rain, oil
And your tears.
I watched your face change through
their watery colored reflections.
for the way your skin repels from my
Touch, quivers as though my finger-
print were a red hot poker.
You haven’t allowed me to touch you
In a year.
for the color of her font, as she responds to you. It is an eager
Color. She responds with all the passion of an Eskimo kiss.
You left her waitng..always.
I have been special to you,
she replies to your
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.
blue crackled lightening,
like an angry alley cat.
My words cannot reach you here.
You will leave.
We will divide our booty
Words that once held my name like a piece
Of carefully folded origami
now hiss cold
devoid like the plaster of our empty room.
for the morning
now knocking on my window.
I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
the tangle of these vacant sheets.
Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2006
I have been erased
I speak yet have no voice
Darkness I embrace
Invisible to the mirror
Into society I peer
no one sees
what does not exist
Asleep or awake
there is no existence to partake
Possessions collecting dust
While what does not exist rusts
Who am I, that never existed
That bleeds but never lived
Murdered by love
I do not exist
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017
As darkness approaches,
among corrupt horizons.
To the angel in my nightmares-
no longer can I survive,
chained to such expectations.
Let me live in peace,
don't let this vessel sink.
Show me mercy and,
let this heart drown
in a thousand petals,
immersing in fragile fragrances.
So this soul can flow,
bathing in illuminating streams,
cleansing these painful afflictions.
Example for Poems that paint a picture contest.
6 September 2017
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017
Daylight is greeted with the horrific stench of food chunks
swimming in stomach acid, dribbling onto bed sheets.
Accompanied with the embarrassment of
brown syrup puddle stains.
Head is pounding
like a hammer - hammering nails into the skull.
Cumbersome movements drag drowsy flesh to the mirror,
as bloodshot eyes with yellow hue, glare in reflection.
Exhausted hands rub dense stubble,
as heavy eye lids struggle to stay open.
A cocktail of coffee and a cold shower
comfort this somber slumber.
Mouthwash and mints help disguise
the fragrance of yesterday's session with Bourbon.
Continuous sips of water, attempt to quench sultry thirst,
but the blandness cannot douse untamed flames.
Especially as days consist of sitting
surrounded by monotonous blank walls,
and staring at cracks on a vase -
silently watching wilted flowers crumble.
Struggling to defeat temptation from fermented demons,
summoned by cravings for that burning sensation,
the tongue cries for mercy.
Infiltrates the mind luring it to
lust for sour liquid passion
that infuses the bloodstreams.
Hands trembling, parched lips quivering -
only golden nectar can ease the pain.
No need for a glass, as bottle is devoured,
with momentary pauses of 'aaahhhhh.'
So begins the daily quest,
to suffocate every sorrow.
To feel numb upon request,
with no care for tomorrow.
Favouring fantasy over reality,
each drop kills the pain.
The bitter sweet taste is a lethal injection,
but the numbness helps to feel perfection.
In a place where nobody notices -
alcoholic symphonies lead to intoxicated sympathy.
To deal with being alone, to forget the world,
to forget the name.
Envious eyes can be a crime,
leading to jealous tendencies.
Hiding secrets can lead to becoming a victim
to a self inflicted demise.
An empty bottle leads to remorse.
Bitter sweet tears roll with shameful giggles.
Now the cracked vase looks perfect with flowers blooming.
Inebriant melodies mock the mind.
Attempting to dance, legs stumble and crash to the ground.
Laying there on the floor - laughing.
Then crying hysterically.
The heart has no desire to be sober,
only to remain intoxicated until death.
The Silent One
20 October 2017
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017
It has been one hell of a year for him,
so much denial
when propelled into the future
being he was forewarned as a youth,
‘it’s no fun becoming old’ by those
he would mimic as clowns
and now he, bemused while
floating within the mire of his misunderstanding.
There are reasons he is told,
although unsure he wants to know
when with one hand to grasp
at the life he once held,
the other besieged with tenacious pain
thrust into the unknown,
soon accompanied with his mind
to be totally immersed.
© Harry J Horsman 2017
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2017
I have been put in my place many times
Told how to talk
What to think
How I need to look a certain way
Be the way I'm suppose to be
Expectations to be met
I could never be me
That place that almost drove me insane
I kept being placed there
Over and over again
Yet I had no choice but to be true to myself
I couldn't be someone else's book
Placed on a shelf, in a perfect row, not standing out
No one knowing what I'm about
I ripped out the pages
Inserted my own
Scribbled on the cover
Added my own colors
My pages screamed to be read
Hoping others would hear what I said
As time went on
I often changed my design
Desperately trying to know myself
Unsure what I would find
Never really fitting in
Confused by what I found within
Hard to know where I belong
Listening to notes from others songs
Was my way of thinking right
In a distance I could see a glimmer of light
I dreamed my dreams
I craved the light
Then one day
All the pieces clicked
I fell into place
Joy accompanied by a certain grace
Comfortable with me
I live in the moment
I can just be
I am free
I know my place
Dedicated to my Friend Armand who knows
his place and helps others discover their place.
You my friend are a true original Happy Birthday!
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013
Tell me that this fear is just paranoia in my mind,
we're not straining, we're not struggling,
we're not sinking, we're just fine.
I'm not perfect my dearest, but damn have I tried,
and I'll try harder but I know I'll have the same results every time.
Do you want me all the ways that I am?
With all the struggles and the tears and the clinging to your hand.
I fear your getting further and Im left on the shore to stand,
watching you in the distance with a bullet in my hand.
Tell me all this worry, its just clutter in my mind,
tell me not to worry that we're doing just fine.
Cause Im scared to run you off and I feel Im falling deep.
And Im so frightened of these thoughts that its getting hard to sleep.
All I know is that the heart wants what it desires,
because of you the match inside has turned into a fire.
And I feel the broken glass thats sticking from my skin,
Wondering if you'll remove the pain or push it back in.
My hearts frantic wondering if you feel the same,
pleading and begging for more than just a saying,
but to feel and to see that im not alone,
with being in this love thats overwhelming.
Once I told you that we didnt have a spark,
but you were lighting up and I was sitting in the dark.
And this fire, this blaze its wrapped in desire.
Im terrified to lose you, I think I might die or,
maybe disappear from all the pieces falling out,
im going crazy but when i open my mouth, nothing comes out,
and I cant explain to you why I just need to hold you close,
why every time you leave Im scared to let you go,
why these tears are building up behind my eyes,
all I know is that the heart wants what it desires
and it desires to be your wife.
So tell me in my panic, that your words are true,
tell my my dearest what I mean to you,
tell me that this paranoia is all within my mind
we're not struggling, we're not sinking tell me we're just fine
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013
The sting of shattered trust
fills his veins with toxic spite,
contaminating his heart.
He finds solace in a bottle,
quenching his resentment,
slurring forth caustic fumes;
nauseating his liver.
Until he spits her treachery up
with a sickening heave,
in the shallow, murky gutter
of a jaded man's reprieve.
Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2010
Lying silently on my bed, eyes open wide.
Watching as darkness moves in like a heavy fog.
My breathing seems to echo against the cold walls
And my heart beats rapidly as I’m plagued with thought.
Prayer like questions, if I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take, will he take me?
Instantly thoughts go to grandma, surely she’s there,
Surely her open arms will be there to greet me.
Harbouring such thoughts bring to me a peaceful smile.
I start counting all the loved ones I will soon see.
I count them as others count sheep in darkest night
They have become like soft comfort blankets to me
They make my nights less scary, should it be my time.
Soon my weary body gives way to pure darkness
I slip into a place of total nothingness
Time stands still and now I am neither here nor there
I am nowhere, floating helplessly forever
Then far off I see a light shining so brightly
Now I feel once more as my aching body hurts
I moan and roll toward the window lit with sun
Realization sinks in, I’ve made it……one more night.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Anthony Slausen’s Contest:
Near Death Experience
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
Place parsed pennies, purposely upon pretty porcelain palms.
The wanderer, restrained her raised ranting wrists!
She fell to her Humpty Dumpty position,
unable to ever be put back together again...
Each of us witnessed her fall,
yet we failed to gather those colourful leaves.
I believe we could have laid them at the base of her wall.
She sees the trees as he increases her diseases.
Deepening predatory penetrations as he pleases!
Cracking, fracking, hating, taking, and breaking.
Bringing about disappearing, as pain stains, her shamed awakening!
If we could have, would we have, mournfully watched?
Or instead, would we have held her wrists,
pulled at reddened panties, excruciated her sufferings?
Instead, we placated horrific tugged observations,
waited, pretended to see nothing,
drank our mocha-chino from starry cups!
we sat and licked our lips to the calming sound of muzak,
preferring voyeuristic aristocracy.
Oh how she cursed his kissing and biting,
the sucking of her Texan black gold!
All the while he praised her caged loins,
filling a billion barrels with her oil...
Until the time her flame set fire to his cursed wanting!
Until she summoned the winds from the east.
It was time to birth the spawn of his treachery.
Lava poured forth from mountainess risings!
He must suckle upon her displeasure,
until like creosol, his noxious presence,
combines with his own wasted wood.
Thus preserving his monumental failures,
encasing them within layers of his strangled death!
A voice called out from the West, "Where is the foolish man?
Who is left to sing about his great accomplishments?
His peculiar monuments have been laid to waste,
not a single brick remains in it's place."
No one is left to excavate the woeful forgotten.
She "Mother" seeps into the soil to reclaim his blood,
her womb is once again fertile.
She asks "Do we wish to begin again?"
The start of a great pause stings her ears!
She looks and understands,
"It is no longer good!"
Written December 29th, 2015
For me Poetry is food for the mind, sometimes it is an appetizer to whet the appetite, or it can be full course meal that takes a while to digest. Other times it can be a sweet desert that tantalizes the senses. I hope this piece offers some mental engagement and nourishment.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
I balance on a tightrope. Surrounded by
lovers and dreamers, I teeter above a raging sea.
I admire their glossy smiles and envy
their bright-eyed confidence; envy is a sin, I know.
Please forgive me; a lie would carry more guilt.
The waves crash in dark shades of gray, still they smile.
Their laughter from all around pierces the thin air.
I teeter alone; I may or may not fall.
My fate is undetermined, in my own hands;
the tragedy today may be tomorrow's comedy.
Their laughter echoes...
On a day like today, the fresh tears sting.
If only I could wake from the nightmare,
pry open the windows of my tortured soul.
If only I could charm the feral...if only.
Oh, the skeletal monsters we are bequeathed!
Yes, I understand the meaning of loyalty.
A fool believes the wicked will fall.
A fool believes the merciless will change.
Can a hollow chest develop a beating heart?
I chisel stone walls, searching for a glimmer of hope,
a flicker of humanity behind steel beams.
Could you spare a token of remorse?
I dare to drop a coin in a fountain of wishes.
A pocketful of coins jingle as my wishes sink
to the bottom of the venomous waters.
I am patient as I teeter on the tightrope.
The audience cheers taking pleasure in my pain.
Blood pulsates through my veins, yet I feel cold winds
penetrate my soul. I refuse to cower or
live in contention...
Blood is thicker than ink.
I find my balance in the written word, a gift of life!
Words sometimes spill from a bleeding heart.
I beseech the ghosts of the past to end their haunting.
Their breath is the frigid wind. I find shelter...
Tempered is the skin of the wounded. Who knows
what may lie beneath the flesh. In the mirror,
you may find a frightened child in need of love.
Most find the strength to balance and stand.
Every step brings me closer to solid ground...
I am reaching for you. Please take my hand.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2012
SCARRED FOR LIFE
It was the beauty and glamour of a Goddess
which belied her demure and decorous manner,
covering the sempiternal pain of injustice,
suffered by the loss of her ingénue pureness.
She was the cynosore of all men that set eyes upon her,
enticed by her chatoyant, smoky dark green eyes,
the depth of which was enhanced by exotic black flecks.
Her ineffable beauty was beyond compare,
surpassed only by her lissome, smooth motion,
floating like a butterfly to mellifluous tunes.
Her internal scars were hidden by external charms,
beauty and grace to see, to admire,
but nothing could heal the pain of the past,
no panacea existed for a woman scarred for life.
May 12th, 2016
Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2016
I need you to be stronger
I need you to never be afraid
swallow your pride,and your flight will be softer
tell her you love her,even if it hurts
Grab onto your dream and live it
Do not be afraid of the sun's divinity
Be better,love more, hold on.
Enjoy every stop of the ride.
For when the train finally stops...we die
Until we witness the angels dance after final day...
Dear Me, hide your fears away
Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009
heart beat expectancy
to heightened degree
it would come
It MUST come
for the message
"There must be a mistake!
How could he just vanish
disappear into thin air
and not care
No, there must be
Perhaps he was sick
perhaps he was dying
and he didn't want her to know
wanted to spare her the pain
all sorts of crazy thoughts
keep her awake at night
as she waited
for that message
The months passed
the pain grew and didn't subside
it didn't grow dull
nor did it recede
it did bleed...
though her eyes it tore
down her cheeks it bore
it could not be
where was the message???
a second chance
revival of romance
for that message
waited because her faith in him
refused to be shattered
by the calendar mockery
day and month debauchery
Yet...each new morning brought hope
steeped in the belief
of his chivalry
for the one whom she knew
could not be the one untrue
cruel and heartless enough
to have to taken her for a fool
she grew heart old
and soul weary
dead on her feet dreary
as she waited for a message
that never came
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014
I may not always write about you,
About the way your energy,
Caresses my spine,
And sends jolts of electrity,
Racing through my body,
Exploding each cell like fireworks.
I may not write about,
The way my dreams at night,
Fill with you and I dancing,
Heat bashing our skin,
Filling us with an unquencable need,
Touch beconing a new meaning.
I may not write about,
The way your eyes stare into mine,
Past the years I have seen,
And into the soul that I am,
Spirit colliding with spirt,
Melting together like Iron to form a sword.
I may not write about,
A love that we experience,
Through star strewed skies,
And blood soaked ground,
That causes even the fearful sight,
Of bombs exploding to look beautiful.
I may not write about you and I,
How I fill up your soul and your mind,
With thoughts and words and images,
That melt and form new words,
Your lovely muse who so beguiles you,
With a double bladed sword.
But Darling, don't let your heart,
Get away from itself,
Don't let your heart take the fall.
The wound I cause shall soon heal,
And you will read words,
Of another man, dancing with me,
Of another man, touching my soul,
His finger tips brushing the sides,
Of my breasts, his lips trailing down my neck,
Whispering with the heat of hells fires,
All that could be between, his and mine.
You will read lines that speak,
Of a sensual romance,
Pools and puddles of lust between thighs,
And an ancient sweetness,
That rivals Greek Ambrosia.
It is no fault of your own,
You have fallen and I have shown you,
The sharp dagger of my love.
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2014
Meditating on flowers of my pasture, plucked with my eyes,
Resting…open, like buds blooming, and resting…
“Take me…” he said weakly, so softly in my ear…
I greeted the demon with the warmth in my eyes,
Upon opening them to its crippled form before me,
It was shivering, shackled, face caved in, razor teeth broken
All night I had heard his screaming, his pains, and his revitalizing hurt
As the Devil crouched near,
His hands clenched in the blood of his minion...
He turned his head grimacing,
Shrewdly interested in the exchange
The sad, sniveling creature touched my hand and squeezed it,
His breathing more hoarse and heavy
Bloodied tears and muck falling upon me liberally
“Do not be afraid of the light,
As your brothers hide cries shuffling in their fight,
The touch of deliverance is often strewn with thorns,
And to the onlookers, the dominants, scorned…
Rest your weary head upon my shoulders,
For there I shall sooth your devastating tremors,
Your rough skin upon the softness of sympathy,
Your eyes burning in the pains of my empathy…
Rest on this day from the indulgences you have absorbed,
From the faces of the damned, the bruised, the abhorred,
His antagonism over your life has weakened your will,
Bleeding hearts still beat, as his stubborn mind goes still…
The Sabbath day shines against the garish evil,
To reveal the good that remains in the slaves of suffering…”
Our Prince spat the ground in fury,
Cracking his neck from left to right
“The Sabbath day, resting in lies, rankled in syrupy mess,
Believing is deceiving all this feral trash we call friends,
His happiness upon a time that mocks all those who stray,
Those who dare to bash the head of a pompous, polished day
May I shove each heart into the rash-spent furies of my consternation,
To rest assured, all that the day soon brings is the madness of insanity’s ascension
Never was there one as sickening, as the one who stabs us in foolish hope,
Into nothings who can never attain joy, who only scramble to appease…and mope…”
My eyes, which were so focused on the miserable demon,
Who had finally fallen asleep in my arms,
Color returning to his acquiescent form,
Averted once again to the demoralizing Devil, with severe pain and with severe love
“The sleeper, the slave, his submissive energy you crave,
Though you do not think you deserve the ease of his save,
Rest is in your ability to submit,
Not to prove, or prevalently profit,
Merely to observe where happiness must grow,
The heart recalls the blessings beyond what we think we know…”
And to that, he sang with me, tension and rawness in his bravado…
“We in this realm shall cultivate each other,
In the strange company of one another,
To sing desperately with passions unrest,
So that in separate ways we may perceive our test
This demon sleeps in the arms of love,
It knows not the smiles and cares from above,
Let us be challengers for challenge’s sake,
In secret endeavors, this art supreme we make
Drifting darkness will always subsist and applause,
One who struggles to yield, for the relief of this pause…”
Singing on, he crushed my voice with the deep recesses of his own -
“A war awaits as long as these duets fail to defy…
As long as my meaning is subjective to your flair…”
His dark eyes, like black trenches, impasses of despair
Stayed irrepressibly open, staring into my motionless soul
I breathe…to stay alive . . .
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
The wanton, torn and tattered tale,
Bittersweet caress of love’s first kiss,
Bruised by betrayal, curiosity consumed,
A fragile heart left deserted and doomed.
Muteness echoing through his transient soul,
Like a fog horn calling, rattling his bones.
Yet between those clouded, silent moments,
A resplendent sound bestowed his heart.
Affectionately lulled by her mellifluous voice,
He journeyed, dubiously, across arcane depths,
Through iridescent waters under moonlit skies,
Aware of odious monsters with their leering eyes.
With the weight of the wind in his tortured heart,
Her enthralling fragrance inspired impetuous haste.
The wall of steel he’d worked hard to rebuild,
Now threatened by desires unfulfilled.
Fugacious youth, no more cause for concern,
For he’d been summoned by his one true love.
Many cautionary tales of this enchanting siren:
Powers of hypnosis caused ruination of men.
But on the highest rock, he had bathed in her glory,
Where ominous oceans touched the royal sky.
Her rendition of love, sung for his ears alone;
No longer was his heart made of stone.
12th April 2016
Copyright © Nicola Byrne | Year Posted 2016
Just Do Not Be
Waves of sadness overflow my heart
I tumble, no care at all for a new start
Buried under autumn leaves
I hug the soil, knowing deeper so much the sweeter to be
I hear a voice over looking me
Don’t be like that!
Get up and carry on
Enough of the silly sadness lets move on…
I am anxious I say
Why they all ask, what’s up your craw?
Not a thing, why nothing at all
Then don’t be like that, DO NOT
I think of ropes, of tall building and fires
I think of ending it all, got no desire
You think I enjoy this feeling that death holds
The answer is always, don’t be like that
How can such educated ones be such fools?
Do they think we choose the sadness, our ugly muse?
Do they think we chose the darkness and always lose?
Shaking with anxiety, I can hardly but move
Don’t be like that echoing in me ears
See a doctor about all these fears?
All I see is the empty glass
Wishing it full, with two more pills to blast
No one really cares about you
I am sure for me this is true
When I was dead, after months I was blue
A year later someone opened the door
I kid you not, they looked and stared
Why did he have to do a thing like that?
From the depths of hell, I laughed and I spat
Before the killing of a thousand deaths
I broke a leg and walked slow at best
They all showed concern, said what can I do?
If they can see the wound
Apparently they may care for you
I replied with a bitter taste in me insides
Don’t be like that
I only wanted someone to care
I pulled the trigger
Cause I followed the dare
Now tiss I, covered on the wall
Hasn’t a care in the world
Why none at all
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
Heart Washed Ashore
“The sun of my reason has set.
My thoughts have set sail and
My heart was washed ashore last night.
Take me to the bottom of the ocean.
There, I will build you a sandcastle.”
I asked you to bring me something from your memories.
You brought me all the stars in the Universe;
You brought me their gleam, their glimmer.
And I, I stood there consumed by their warmth.
In that moment, I realized that you will always love me more.
I waited for the dewdrop to come home;
But you painted for me dark blue skies and thunder.
The clouds brought me to you and I stayed; I stayed
Because there was no part of me that hadn't felt the rain.
In that moment, I realized you were my comfort; my ease.
I stretched out my hand to touch that petal.
And you flooded me with peaches and flowers,
You made me believe in Orange trees and destinies;
I watched our euphoria take over my dreams.
In that moment, I realized that you were my escape.
I let myself fall asleep on your lap and heard our time tick away.
I guessed correctly then, that Time would be our antagonist.
And I must say, she played it quite well.
I couldn’t feel the scent of your laughter anymore.
In that moment, I realized that I had already lost you.
I'm sorry I let my mind strike those words out;
I hadn't realized that they were stories from another world;
I hadn't realized that I was erasing your dream.
I'm sorry I didn't even feel the heat of your fire;
I was so consumed in mine.
Think of happy places, happy people; they said.
But in all my thoughts, I saw myself with you.
You are my happiness. The period I refused to place.
You are the ink-spot that refused to wash off.
Come be my snowfall again; I promise I won’t hurt the flakes.
Our yesterdays were so beautiful. Oh yes, they were!
They've held most of our smiles and best of our memories.
Frightened at the sight of our dreams coming true
I don't want our tomorrows to meet.
So hold my hand one last time and wish me a Good Life.
Let our destinies lay buried under the shade of our Orange Tree.
18 October 2016
Words Drowned In Tears Poetry Contest
Copyright © Neethu Roy | Year Posted 2015