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Introspection Loss Poems | Introspection Poems About Loss

These Introspection Loss poems are examples of Introspection poems about Loss. These are the best examples of Introspection Loss poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

winter's afterglow

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;
winter's afterglow.

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006


Details | Free verse |

a new beginning

with each crest of a wave
forming white crystal peaks
she weeps, inhales, let's go.

beneath a star studded vista
a resplendent guiding light
arms open, palms up, she is free.

the soothing sea winds
carrying away her grief and sorrow
hands posed in devotion, she smiles.

in a seascape of serenity
her baptism place of choice
she steps forward, her new beginning.













02-17-2017

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2017

Details | Narrative |

this was me

it began so innocently
we exchanged ideas on poetry
his art, the suffering he endured
he preyed upon my compassion
as he meticulously bided his time...

i felt safe as we expressed
our mutual love of words
i was excited, i was learning,
unbeknowst to me, i was his prey..

many months and thousands of hours, 
talking, reaffirmed my trust; faith in him
he shared his life, triumps & tragedies
i supported all he desired for himself..

i understood, i felt his pain, 
his drive i admired, he overcame tremedous odds,
became a doctor so others would not suffer as he had;
he baited me; the innocent and naieve one.

living life with no regret,
i chose to take a leap of faith,
he guided me, alleviated my fears,
of promises to cherish and adore me..

as a tiger waits patiently to pounce on his prey
i was oblivious to his hatred inside,
he was a master of manipulation
his mission - to destroy me..

i felt he was worth giving 
up all i knew to build a life
he so lovingly described to me,
little did i know, his words - poison..

america bound i left everything i knew; i loved.
the terror of his drunken rages, his icy silence,
the cruelty of his words stung like red hot coals.
what he admired most about me,intensified his hatred.

the vacancy in his eyes was terrifying, 
i was alone in a strange country, 
knowing no one, in a house, not a home, 
full of tension, rage, abuse; numb and in shock;
this was my reality..

with each painstaking day of living in terror
dreading his arrival, my fear reached new heights;
i had enough; i was leaving.
his rage increased, his words pure venom..

i was numb, shaking, fear drove me to action
he became desperate, i did not sleep 
for fear of never waking, his actions so terrifying
i felt a strength within, empowering me..

planning my escape, fear became my ally,
i reached the airport and did not stop shaking
until safely on the plane, doors shut, 
moving down the runway to take-off;
i wept, i crumbled, i collapsed.

jubilantly at home, i felt peace, safe, 
and soaked in the beauty of my freedom; my home.
it has been six weeks; i have flashbacks, 
terror still haunts me; i am determined 
to not let another change me.

i am healing and am grateful for every
moment i smile, smell a flower, witness
the marvel of each sunrise and sunset.
i am a blessed girl.

~this was me~ 

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2007


Details | Free verse |

Things That Seemed Poetic

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

Details | Quatrain |

My Torment

A fleeting still small voice tries to warn me
A sudden overwhelming desire to run
The tell tale taste of metallic flakes
Means my nightmare has begun

Everything around takes on a ghostly pallor
A landscape of anguish and corrosion
A moment of silence before the violence
The flash of light, the brilliant explosion

The sound of the Sun fills my ears
Fear, my throat, though none escapes me
And paralyzed I clench my eyes
As my tormentor prepares to rape me

And it's endeavor is absolute
Consumption is its ultimate goal
It exists to chase me so it can erase me
Whilst feasting on my soul

And then that familiar salty smell 
The sudden rush of warmth so stings
Engaging me relentlessly
In vile unspeakable things

Over and over and over again
My limbs stretched and wrought
As it's teeth tear my bones bare
It's mind defiles my thoughts

And still wounds beget wounds beget wounds
As in the mouth of madness I suffer
And with every injury he just seems to be
Rougher and rougher and rougher

Then just as suddenly as it began it ceases
And for a moment I am clearer
And then the true horror of it all
Is revealed in a darkly lit mirror

There in front of me stands my destroyer
Face flush with it's fill of my pain
And I find that it's eyes and mine
My God, they’re one in the same

Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Broken Heart, For Sale

I have always been alone
I have always been the lonely one
In the corner, quiet and silent
Inside of dreams to come

So with determination
I build and build and build
Possessions compounding
Wealth is the only scorecard I know

Now, it’s amassed, and I have it all
So with pride and confidence
I do what anyone should
I must purchase a possession of my desire

I read in the paper of a sale very fine
A Garage sale of many old antiques divine
Within it all is treasure so very deep
A broken heart of golden hopes

I am not sure how one goes about
Such a purchase, of infinite value
I am succumbed with depression and sadness
For all my wealth

I have not the currency to buy this heart
So I burned my money that very night
I learned, there is another currency of delight
I wrote words and music and poetic verse

My Snow White she refuses to awake
Even my heart at the bone it shakes
Vaso the empty vessel of life
Learned there is no currencies at all

To acquire a broken heart

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

For Things Once Counted

A light across a river sways,
where children wasted summer days.
Not near, not far, but in between,
the grass grows soft and tall and green.

The whispers dance among the trees,
where hands once rested on lover’s knees.
And all the flowers last forever,
when fingers slip and lace together.

Now indents in the earth remember,
when days were long and feet were tender.
The sun was high and far away,
and the moon shone bright well into day.

So see the world with a single glance,
the simple things leave up to chance.
Begin at once and last forever,
for things once counted never weather.

Copyright © joshua ten eyck | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |

These ribbons I tie as you leave

Blue – 
for your arm wrapped around
my clavicle. I thought
I would loose my breath.

Red – 
for the cusp of our hip bones
struggling to pull the drunken color
from our orange cheeks.
and our sweat, our sweat, our sweat
evaporating 
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.


Orange – 
for the musk smell of our blanket den. I would watch the way dawn light
speckled your shoulders, pale, white-blue
Iridium. 
I would trace the ink
of your skin, fingertip hovering a half inch
from your bone. 

Green – 
for how my name would hesitate
on your breath in brief puffs 
like dandelion seeds blown from 
My wistful lips when I was 
eleven 
waiting for them to bring back my wish.

Black – 
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.


Pink – 
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.

Purple – 
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
overtures.

Her letters 
Who blush
like a maid
Who’s felt the hot moist
whisper of something naughty
tickle against her ear lobe.

White – 
for the way your eyes punch accusations
sharper then your razor tongue.

They spit 
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.

Grey- 
for the morning 
now knocking on my window.

I am livid in my withdrawal, tossing and turning
I can find no comfort
in
the tangle of these vacant sheets. 



Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2006

Details | Pantoum |

Wayward Child

Ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passions now abide
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now, alone bereft.

Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left:
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide;
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now alone, bereft.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.

Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide,
we conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief. 
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.

We conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief. 
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief,
ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.



Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Unfettered Words

Sometimes, there is, between the lines,
a silence, that trembles with unspoken goodbyes
Expectant and charged, like a theater scene,
in the moments before the curtains rise.

In the dream that I'm in, I am southward bound, 
so I assume it is autumn 
And it resounds through the changing season
with the words never said,  things never did
and with more forgiveness, and threads
of reason and understanding
....

Debris fills the gutters, and shades are drawn
Wild thorn-berries have been picked,
Trees are barren, naked, without a sound
Grief is thick, from the fog that was a cloud
And through limbs of questions never asked, 
each branch has stretched with some neglect
and light of sun, still filters through
holding deep regret

Leaves are adrift, as if disturbed,
littering a speachless sky
Unfettered words we never cried
clamor up against the sky
still pleading to be heard.

Leaves are crushed and swept away,
by a bridled hesitation.

No summer arias have ever been sung,
and words to say have disappeared.
Vaporized and turned to dust
Sunlight dims, and I am thrust
into the void of too many wasted years






______________________________________________
100 In A Row Contest: #18
Sponsor PD

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

November Chills Remind Me

November Chills Remind Me



As November chill creeps in
I think of June and a friend
Sun beaming so eagerly down
our spot at the edge of town

Silent moments holding me
to a time and her pitiful plea
O' that this day last forever
and my love leave me never

She saw farther than I
the thought made her cry
I thought her so wrong
right she was all along

Clime cooled and so did we
leaves fell from our tree
October faded swiftly away
Parted on a chilly November day

November chills I think of her
so gone, I know not where
Shall June ever come again
will ever I see my friend

Sun shines down upon my Soul
keeping her should have been my goal.

R.J. Lindley  09, 11, 1976 


note: Tomorrow will be two weeks and no new writes by me. 
That is other than my private writings at home.. 
Found this in a old poetry book tucked in a chest with 
divorce papers from my first wife.
Seemed fitting to present it because , well its November now.

Answer, no never saw her again. She moved away, I lost contact.
Life sent its distractions and the universe spun ever onward..

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Heart Song on a Milk Carton. (reposted)

Wont you find me here?
  Drifting in an expanse of swirling storm
Outstreched fingers graze debris...
         recklessly circling reminders. 
  Stand in the eye with me
     Hold
         This 
             Ground.
 Lick our wounds rebounding
Warriors victoriously smiting circumstance
  leaving wolves discouraged  
    disparaging darkness with insane glee
 Walk here and find me
   Reach out think here

You create me and I construct you
  Piece me in missing places
   Mending voids delicate and knowing
 I slay inherited growths of insecurity
  Stating truths untold to your beautiful ears
    
          Combine
               Know this warmth....
    Let these branches sprawl 
       grow in all directions to withstand walls closing in
  A grand old tree would remain...generations of our eyes
    taking glance from limbs strong and true

You crush my cycle--end it's existence
  I'll destroy your boundary...kill it's constriction
Our tower stronger and rooted
  Yet with loftier cloud grazing height
     lets disorient ourselves in this foreign altitude
                Touch this sky with me
         
             


  

Copyright © Steve Voorhees | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

The Day That Died Forever

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

Details | Free verse |

My Left Breast

strange it was there just the other day 
hanging about as usual, 
reminding me in my mirrored image 
of my definite femininity 
now gone, am I less of a woman? 
will you look at me differently, 
or strangely as I do myself? 

I never really gave it much thought before 
of how things come in pairs 
how lonely one would be without the other 
how misshaped one appears, 
no longer jutting forward, 
proclaiming sensuality 
thrusting into the limelight, 

now scars and a flattened ego, 
fill my robe, bras useless without stuffing 
men, look at me in horror, 
women in shock and pity 
and with gratitude, yes that it is not them 
my left breast is missing 
no not missing, taken, stolen...

it was just a lump a few weeks ago 
a tiny pea shaped knob, 
that hid its cancerous intentions
so very well, yet lay in silence waiting 
to steal away that part of me
that defined who I was 
what purpose I served in society 

am I still a woman, a sexual being? 
I'm not sure, my right breast thinks so 
but yearns for its mate, 
the image in the mirror just doesn't seem right 
unequal in its proportions, glaringly lopsided
my left breast is gone, surgically removed  
I can still hear its scream

Copyright © Bernadette Langer | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |

Clarity

untested waters
 ripple,
 strands of light
 flash in the beauty
 of my mind

---

the past dwelt
 in the corner
 debilitating
 disabling
 untethering,
 I was thrown
 back in time

(bad happens
 to the good
 and the good
 happens to the 
bad)

visiting sins
 replayed in my 
head
 reminding me
 shaming me,
 the circle went
 around

but I remembered
 the dashes of hope
 the splashes of 
love
 all that I had 
shared
 all that I had lost

but going
 round and round
 the strings of 
sanity
 were unbound,
 the white rabbit
 called for me
 reality was paper 
dolls
 burning in the pit 

I held fast
 as the standard 
ripped
 falling into delusion
 I lay in the mire
 for a millennium

clarity returned
 with a song
 the dance of life
 flooded my veins
 my being
 declared whole

---

the clear
 untested waters
 of my mind ripple
 in wonderment,
 today has returned
 with no fear of joy

Copyright © Jayne Eggins | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

his scarf

their park, their bench
was serenely quiet
leaves playfully danced
as pigeons quickly took flight.

he caressed the colourful scarf
she had knitted with love and care
he wept tears of remembrance; 
her smile, her joy, the scent of her hair.

a chilly breeze made him shiver
he held tightly his scarf,
wrapped it around his lips
he inhaled deeply; breathing her in.

with steaming cups of coffee
a paper bag of gooey cinnamon buns
they had laid out the sunday crosswords
debated and laughed; they were truly one.

tummies full, cheeks a rosy glow
she lay her head on his lap
gazed into his clear blue eyes,
he kissed her forehead, held softly her hand.

this was their time, their park, their bench
he beamed recalling, the day she chose him.
she raced him uphill to the gorgeous oak tree,
they rolled down the hill; laughing aloud.

he rose from their bench, 
lured by the gorgeous oak tree
fought back tears, as he slid down the trunk,
knees to his chest; fingers wrapped in his scarf.

he read what they etched only a few days ago,
hers read "you are my oak, forever you are my love"
his read "my scarf is your heart; you are my soul"
he kissed the etchings; cheeks streaming tears.

glancing down at their bench he froze, watching;
a young couple with steaming cups of coffee
gooey cinnamon buns peeking through a paper bag,
he rolled down the hill; his scarf,her spirt,in hand.

pulling carefully a piece of fringe from his scarf
he carefully placed it in the young man's hand
smiling, he watched them hold one another close;
in their park, on their bench,now; a new love bloomed

she forever lives in him, their park, their bench
the etchings, her laughter, the love in her eyes.
his scarf, her soul; eternally they are entwined.

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2007

Details | Dramatic Verse |

Erratic

          Oh, Poisiden, you disrupt my sea;
                Alter not your color for the likes
                    Of miserable me;
                       Your mouth foams in revelry
                       As I gasp desperately for 
                       One remaining breath;
                     My rosary floats upon your
                Fickle friendship of fury,
         For your whims leave me
      With goose flesh as
    The grapevine wraps itself
    Around my throat ~
    I bear witness to antiquated
      Notes which deceive;
         The tongue of  thy counterpart
            Scorches this bosom...
                Nevermore do I grieve,
                    Yet I swim vainly;
                       The chastity belt on land
                           It does remain,
                              Drowned dreams of delusion ~ 
                                Un- new;
                                     I  lurk within the shadow of
                                        Door number two.

Copyright © Tamiviolet Manchas | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |

i love you

how do i breathe
when you are my air
i am lost & incomplete
without your calm voice..

inside, i shake uncontrollably
as tears stain my face,
no longer an us  now only me
is more than i can bear..

loving thoughts of you
are a deep & painful memory
of the sacred bond we shared
consumed with grief  i rock and rock..

curled tightly in a ball
on a cold unforgiving floor
arms cocoon my quivering body
emptiness overwhelms me..

i love you

the loss consumes me
i am scared i feel nothing
where love lived joyfully
is now a black & desolate void..

you blessed me with your love
i was the luckiest girl on the planet
without you there is no me
when do i begin to feel simply feel..

there is no poetry nor musical note
the only audible sound
is my heart breaking
piece by piece..

i gave myself to you
with honour & respect
you were the first man
who truly saw me for me..

your beautiful mind
& beguiling charm
guided me tenderly with care,
i felt safe i felt 

with all that i am
to the core of my being
my hand is yours eternally
it is you i cherish and adore.

i love you

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |

she remembers

mystic clouds at night
beneath an amber sun
casts a lovely glow..

her face illuminated
as tears freely fall
she trembles..

~as she remembers~

a sky of twinkling stars
which once guided her way
now dull, broken shards..

she falls to her knees
as the tide edges closer
cold and unforgiving..

his soft words
once a safe cocoon
now strife with contempt

~she sadly remembers~

she hugs herself tightly
rocking and wondering
where it all went wrong..

her heart is hurt
his loving friendship
touched her like no other..

~she tearfully remembers~

she opened herself up
with his gentle guidance
as best as she knew how..

his kindness moved her
with truth and with faith
for happiness she felt..

~she fondly remembers~

she knows her truth
as he feels his
the gift of his friendship..

~she will always remember~

Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006

Details | Sonnet |

The Final Vow

The Final Vow

When finally the long shadow crosses my path
the wind carries away the new morn's dew
I shall then abandon my weary and dark wrath
against my tortured, imagined image of you .

Shall you notice this my change on that fateful day
A bare, broken heart at last thus mended
The end in which my silence holds its greatest sway
the black results of the promised love you rescinded.

My love, hear my last destined words to you
this cry to heal your bitter heart
This the last honorable, loving thing I can do
before forever our shattered souls part.

As these beautiful trees witness this my final vow
You may thus see, the true depth of my love now

R.J. Lindley
Nov. 9th, 1976

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Evergreen

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

Details | Haiku |

The Internet: Rtrn

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatern |

The Loss of Wisdom

They mourn wisdom not yet learned It flounces from their grasp, withers Away in the solar wind it burns Itself in the remnants of What once was a beautiful mind, They mourn wisdom not yet learned In this instanced reality Parallel our own treasured find Whisked away on the breeze it yearns Awhile for its past then thinks, as They mourn wisdom not yet learned These creatures of habit turn to Only what they knew, will never know The truth in starlight again nor the Real beauty of the sun's glow They mourn wisdom not yet learned
"Nolite umquam oblivisci" *Took 5th place in the February 2012 International Poetry Soup contest.

Copyright © Tim B | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Just Some Highschool Math Problem

i am a possibility
of many possibilities
i am a ratio
an indecisive factor
in the rest of what this dimension has to offer

the world is a top
i spin it and predict the probability
that the end will equal the means
or perhaps surpass it
even if i never surpass this muck-up
these broken eardrums
and the inquisition of my empty head exclaiming empty words

and i don't even exist
especially to the solipsists, nihilists
and i no longer give a sh--
i am now officially some lazy apathetic prick

oh i could have been a possibility
but that possibility was so small
that you'd need a magnifying glass
and some tweezers

i am rust, oxified and tearing up
i am crust, the sh-- in the ring on the toilet
i am lust, but never just enough
i am bust

i am a loser without a leash and/or choke chain

Copyright © Val Murah | Year Posted 2007

Details | Narrative |

The Bell My Mother Rang

The 18th of December was her last day;
she neither knew the date nor cared to.
Gathered at the hospital, keeping vigil,
we couldn't overcome her fright, or ours.
The pain, too great to be driven away,
was only "managed" with IV drips,
needles stuck in bruised appendages --
bony things -- arms and legs, hands and feet.
Above the medicines and washes, we sniffed
her scent, which, more than her yet familiar
face, to us identified our mother --
a smell we never would mistake
for any other. It went quickly
as her body cooled. The rouged and pickled
carcass they displayed was more a statue
than a person. We planned to bury her
with homely tokens, like an ancient mummy:
a family photo, a brooch she liked,
a pink hairbrush, and the brass bell she rang
to call her keeper during her last years.
But, when the time came, I could not bear
to have her leave so finally;
I took the bell from her metal box.
And, now, I ring it -- not to bring a keeper,
but to recall my mother on her birthday,
and on many dark days when I need her.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

a complex number

I'm half-way through this one..,
and long before it becomes one,
I usually erase the
entire thing
I chose to call a poem.

But after a while, one thinks,

That like energy,
the truth radiates in spurts..

That continuity is a daydream,
That all growth is involuntary,
That not all coincidences are coincidental.


...


Like things, people too die,
and, that just like the root of a negative one,
One too, was an imaginary i.

Copyright © nikhil kshirsagar | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |

A STEP HALF MADE

As lightening shone and thunder blew
I danced the dance that dancers do

They danced it back and asked if I
Would mind them dancing through the night

I thought no harm could come of this
Besides, such company I’ve missed

Thus, on we danced so unaware
That torrent rains beyond compare

Fell down in floods on higher ground
And like a wall came crashing down

Then somewhere in a step half made
The dance I danced was washed away

Now all that’s left for you to see:
Remains of the catastrophe

Oh, hopefully from this you’ll know
Don’t ever dance when thunder blows

Copyright © Jeff Bresee | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |

One Toy Soldier

One Toy Soldier

Little toy soldiers are all put away
Training is over for this time of day.
Where do these little boys go now to play?
Away from their home to die in the fray.

Little toy weapons are no longer there
But boxed in attics by mothers with care--
Where keepsakes still hold a lock of his hair--
While rockets and missles challenge his fare.

Little toy bad guys and little toy good
Haze in the distance when misunderstood.
Where fall the lilies on long crates of wood
And each gave their all--as good soldiers should...

Little toy soldiers are coming back home...
Mothers are weeping, laments all alone
Where flags lie folded--the gift of Shalom...
As the long box is lowered...'neath the loam

One little toy soldier is placed on the top
Remembering All--so that None be Forgot.

   
deborah burch©                            
4/14/2012

  

Copyright © Deborah Burch | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

It Can't Be Real

A truth in rage of insult furrows my mind
For it is only an offense given to me by myself
In the mouths of others far innocent than I
I feel the tears trickle down my cheeks
For I have surfaced into an ugly mistake
I am always inadequate in this brain
I try to shine like the advice of grace given
But confidence rarely rears its head my way
There’s a sort of shade blocking its way
A shade that darkens everyday

That very shade led me to believe my feelings are wrong
That I will never belong so long as they are not controlled
I must be careful—for the lines of love and lust run cold
I hate myself truly this night
And no one but myself will give me the right
The very right to degrade my every being
Because you are not seeing what I am seeing

There is no point
My lines run cold
Can I be so bold as to say
I still love with a pang of indistinguishable doubt 
All feelings enter in
As my truth blurs and checks out

Your words pierce me so deep
I cannot describe the pain I feel
God it hurts so bad
It can’t be real

Much like the love I have come to embrace
The very love that links to your face
Tears don’t give it justice

It can’t be real
Much like the love I will never face

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Undiscovered Tears

The link is in the notes section, there you will also find music to accompany the poem!

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016