Loss Hope Poems

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

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Details | Rhyme |
In A Sad Blindness, One May Yet Find Hope
           (The Solemn Prayer)

Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.

On this day, life should see past these looming black-storms
Find solace in love, hope and my loving wife's arms
Yet that stone wall, yields to nothing but great power
Far more than this broken soul can muster this hour
When thus lost, can one ever find again that Light
Healer of dagger stabbed wounds, found on a dark night
I pray, gift wisdom to walk that one true-lit path
Release this sad soul from, this evil, wicked wrath.

Raining splashing, fierce winds blowing and huge trees sway
I pray not for all this, on some other black day
With dark blue shadows plotting my early demise
I seek deep wisdom from sages worldly and wise
Not just some clever words to soothe this shattered heart
Instead sweet hope, light in words, to this life restart
With power to waken these world-blinded closed eyes
Stop salty tear drops falling from splintered skies.

Robert J. Lindley, 2-07-2017

Syllables Per Line: 
12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 12 12 12 12
Total # Syllables: 288
Total # Words: 225

Note-  I decided to write this poem, this morn. About half had already been composed in my head yesterday afternoon and I finally sat down now to put pen to paper.
Believe me, in that it was not an easy task to finish this and be satisfied with the results.
Maybe I am just tired and stopped because of that.
I don't know. Maybe on another day, I could have and would have thought this lacking and rewritten it..
But today, I have only enough to say, this is as it is(and thus it may stay), hope you may find it agreeable and not fault me too much .......

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017




Details | Free verse |
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 | Rhyme |
What makes the decision
To flick the switch
To end ones life
For the sake of it
 
Troubled, debts
Bullied at school
Fork in the road
To let death rule
 
Mums, dads
Daughters and sons
What ever affects them 
They just can't outrun
 
Sadness and tears
By all left behind
Will they ever understand
Suicide Mind

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009




Details | Free verse |
This battle brews inside me
The pain I feel in my heart ripping it apart
And my soul who wants to be redeemed

The movement of my pen beats in my chest
In my veins my words flow like the rage of rivers in storm 

I’m caught in these lyrics that Awaken my soul
That cry out for eternity 

Yet my heart is trodden
 at times I swear it is not beating

Our hearts rose up like kindred knights ready to defend our land
but the soul was fulfilling its destiny
it would not be beaten, no matter…
it had awakened to truth

but our hearts knew only torment
and could not understand
all that was happening,
that God had a plan

so my pain exposes itself
 in my thoughts manifesting to script
as it beats in my chest with a rhythmic pulse
that brings me to my knees

We had no time to prepare
Only to fight
Flailing around Hope
With all of our might

 as if it were the weapon that would save us from our enemy
for that’s all we had was our sword of Hope

This battle we were not prepared for.
Like a sneak attack, it caught us in slumber
when the army of death ascended upon our world

my heart said I love you
you are my universe and life has no meaning without you
I will fight till my shallow breath abates
Till your soul takes the last blow...

And I did!
We Did!

We did not surrender
We had no chance 
Our hearts fought a losing battle

My awakened soul shouts out with acceptance…
“you will one day know the reason, but not now”
For this is your time to experience 
what was lovingly bestowed upon you from our God,
who knows what we need

So now I write from my pain… It helps me to cope…

It is the sword I carry…

My only Hope

Copyright © Bernard Colasurdo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |
The warrior lays her weary head, 
With heavy heart she cannot bear, 
Burning tears stream down her face, 
As whispered memories touch the ear.

Her armour tarnished by remorse, 
Her battle-cry a wimpered row, 
Her wounds, of which bleed solitude, 
Will never know forgiveness now.

The song began two score ago, 
When two came knocking at her door, 
In need of refuge from the world, 
Of that, and love, and little more.

Forced to fight for every smile, 
Her only solace found in song, 
She longed for love to rescue her, 
And plant her where she could belong.

Jealous tongues are seldom kind, 
Self-seeking hearts know nought of love, 
The caged canary only sings, 
When coaxed to praise from up above.

For the steely spine that now I own, 
Forever shall I grateful be, 
A gift from her, and from her own. 
Courage mounted inwardly.

I'll not forget how I have loved thee, 
And youthful memories I will prize, 
Til on the shore of His forgiveness, 
Whereto now, we both shall rise.


Copyright © Yvonne Evanoff | Year Posted 2011

Details | Narrative |
I wept upon the news deployed
For now within, exists a void
My heart has stopped, it’s turned about
For life with love is now without
Now cast away, the physical form
I await the fate, to be reborn

To one day greet you there, again
The Gates of Heaven then let us in
Hand in hand, we move ahead
As souls permit, though bodies’ dead
A smile to you I then will give
For past our deaths, I know we’ll live

Copyright © Michael Degenhardt | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
                                                                                                             -For Melissa

She asked me how long does it take to heal
In what time allotment, exactly, will it take
For forgetfulness to become a reoccurrence
A blessing for the haunted
Memories that can be bleached off 
White sundresses put on in order to frolic
On beaches with waves washing away
Each grain of him
How long did it take for you to get over him?
Days? Weeks? A month or two?
Hope shining like a naïve flashlight during the eclipse of hardest times
Beaming on me, waiting for an answer

How could I tell her, honestly, 
That it took me years
To overlook the smallest details of his smile
How he only has one dimple on the right side of his face
The way his hands felt, every line and crevice of his fate
Thought to fit mine perfectly?

How could I tell her, truthfully
That no matter how many times I washed my sheets
I would catch the scent of him at 3:45 am, sometimes
Or hear his faint tapping on my window
When it’s really just, my imagination
That she’ll spend months waiting for him to text her
Call her, email her, think of her
When really he’s lying in bed with another women but she refuses
To believe that it’s over
Or how my heart still aches, just a little
When I hear he asked about me
Or that he can no longer say my name out loud to our mutual friends

Could I muster up the courage to explain to her
That it took me 2 years, 3 months, and 16 days to realize
The ugliness of being pathetic
It was time to rise up and take the lead 
Time to forget all romantic casualties 
It’s only yesterday that I found myself straining to remember
His faults, forgetting the man and only remembering the hero
How could I break her heart for the second time by telling her
The truth?

She stood there patiently waiting for me
To pull a metaphor out of a hat, something poetic
Comforting, beautiful, reassuring
I see myself in her
Wanting people to lie to us to see the Zen in ourselves

It’s like we’re all in the same play with the same roles but different names
It takes time for each actor to fulfill the destiny
Others emphasize while others downplay
Moments in time

Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007

Details | Couplet |
There once was Castle just over the hill
That belonged to a King with an iron will

Nestled safely behind his Castle wall
With an army to insure they wouldn’t fall

It was clear for the entire world to see
Destiny would record him in history

The richest King in all of the land
A beautiful Queen at his right hand

He ruled the land from shore to shore
Tell me, “Could any man ask for more”?

Turns out this King had just one vice
He was so great he forgot to be nice

Against any force he was bound to win
So the devil attacked him from with-in

Such a great King skilled with the sword
Much too great a King to turn to the Lord

Watched his entire Kingdom crumble away
Because he was to great to kneel and pray

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2008

Details | Haiku |
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 

Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |
The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed

This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace

With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base

These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews

One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar

The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die

In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail

Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction

Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died

The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind

Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say



Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric |
Why must I die inside?
I am crushed inside from past experiences that I have not let go of.
I have tried to erase all the things that are holding me back.
I have tried not to remember how many times I was raped and torn apart inside.
I cannot remember when I have really and truly laughed and felt it inside.
I am pressed down with so many issues and hurt from family and friends.
I have tried to live my life with humility and honestly and Love.
I reach out to people with sincere compassion.
I want to live
Why must I die inside?

Copyright © Cathy Holmes | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |
When I think of the plight that children face all over the world
I just want to cry
Hunger starts and ends their everyday
As many of us continue to waste away
The scraps that we toss could save a child’s life
I’ll tell you the human race is nothing nice
We have no problem spending trillions on war
As children starve to death outside a millionaires store
They put locks on the dumpsters to keep them out
To greedy to give what they are throwing out
I watched a show just the other day
That showed Children just wasting away
Right there in their mothers arms
As I ate my giant bowl of lucky charms
Pirates raiding off the Somalia Coast
Because their children’s eyes are hollow as a ghost
If my Children were starving these words are true
Captain Hook wouldn’t hold a light to you know who
I think in the overhaul scheme of wrong and right
Mankind in general has lost all sight
Could you imagine kissing your child’s last breath?
The rich get richer as they starve to death
So as you all tuck your kids into bed tonight
Kids all over the world will lose their fight
They will simply lie down and die
To hungry to fight to weak to cry


Shelters that feed the Hungry are in every
town, when was the last time that you gave
something. No person is any greater than the
depth of their compassion. To give is to receive
for there is no greater blessing in this life. Keep
what you need and give the rest and the Lord will
make sure you never run out. God Bless, MJ
Written for Sami's contest

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009

Details | Narrative |
Your face and rotting teeth and heavy jowls
         and sunken breasts with bulging waist and
         wooden legs
         betray
Your image of laughter, lovemaking, seeking
         bourbon tweaked philosophies
         of life begins
         at  forty.
The hands that tremble as you tilt
         the glass that begins another
         day of
Tirade thoughts, empty lies, money spent on
         lipstick coated leeches who prey on
         your diminishing
         breath.

Through these wintry days pass faces long past
         into what was then
              while with the coming spring ...
                       at last!  at last!
One can remember
         and want no more 
              what could never be:
                      a Mother.

Copyright © Sue Mason | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |
As the never world awaits me, 
The lord darkness, his cloak now draped.
Haunting images that appear in dreams,
Invade the subconscious, till again I wake 

Complative thoughts well before the dawn,
I walk the morning shore,
How many have stood on these same sands,
Reflecting the echoes of those no more.

And still the waves they pound the shore,
Relentless in their quest,
As they crash on the rocks with deafly roar,
White tipped and foaming zest.

Dawn breaks with gilded cotton clouds,
Waiting like courtiers to their king.
Gathering round the sovereign sun,
Bestowing his warmth on everything.

Would that life compare to the shore,
All worries get washed away.
Cares thrown to the four winds,
As on my knees I pray

© N A Windle 2009

Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2009

Details | Narrative |
 

My favorite of songs is The Old Rugged Cross.
   The most tragic of days was the worlds’ greatest loss.
For sinners that day were all given their chance.
   His Father in heaven could not even bear to look not even one glance.
Forgive them He prayed as His life’s blood ran down to the ground.
   Can you picture Him there wearing that thorny old crown?
On that hill so far away, sad but precious memories were made.
    Born of a virgin mother in the tomb He was laid.
Death could not hold Him, death would not last.
    Three days in that tomb, so long ago, death too it would pass.
He arose and was seen by many it was said.
    Our Savior arose from the grave and no longer was dead.
As He gave His final words to His apostles and friends.
    He ascended to the clouds but they knew they would see Him again.
He made us a promise He would rule once again.
     I feel that day is coming we’re reaching the end.
The prophecies that abound.
     With each new day they seem to be coming unwound.
Are you ready my friend for the Millennium Reign?
     Are have you sunk to wearing the mark worn by Cain?
Sacrifices my friend we all have to do.
    Just look at Jesus and the sacrifice He made, was made just for you .
So on that hill so far away I kneel at the thought.
    With His precious blood my cleansing was bought.
And what have we learned, or did He die just for nought?
    I look to Jesus and His love I have sought.
He must come first in all that we do.
    And when the day comes you’ll see I speak true.
                       

Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |
Pieced together thin slices
like a slivered moon
mosaic
cobbled snapshots of splendor and pain

Fractured glints of crashed boundaries
uncollected past dues
mingled souls’ shredded fabric
a patchwork insane

shimmered moonglow does knock on
your window each night
poke your nose through the fog
and unlock the safety chain

Copyright © Jill Martin | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme |



                             THE HOSPITAL FAIRYLAND

They walked together, hand in hand,
Into life’s magical fairyland.
Where there was no trouble, where there was no pain.
Where life could really, begin all over again.
Where were no men in little white coats.
Forcing you all, to stuff drugs down your throats.
Forcing you to do, what you didn’t want to.
Telling you it was all for the best, for you,
People shouting, people crying.
Most of the people talking about dying.
What is this hell, we’ve all come to?
It’s called coming off drugs, we all have It to go through.
Where will it end, what will we do?
None of us really, has a clue.
We are given more pills, we are told, we have to take.
To the men in white coats, life’s a piece of cake.
We are the prisoners, they guard the doors.
Some try to creep out, on all fours.
Into hell and back, we go for a ride.
Eventually if we’re lucky, we come out the other side.
Where we can walk, hand in hand.
Into life’s magical Fairyland.
Where there is trouble, where there is pain.
But at least we can start, living again.




Copyright © pat dring | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
I came upon an old man,
A homeless, wretched soul.
He looked so sad and helpless,
In his hands, he held a bowl.
He was propped against the building,
So, his weakness would not show.
He saw the world through glasses,
With hair as white as snow.

I heard my father whisper,
As my eyes filled with tears,
“One need much more than money,
One needs his loved ones near.”
My father loved his family,
Does this old one feel the same?
With my father’s soul beside me
I asked the old one’s name.

His name, he said with feeling,
Was lost with all he owned.
A thief assumed his identity,
Then, all he had was blown.
His wife died in December,
The vulture, then closed in,
Pounced while he was grieving,
Then, his life changed again.

I gathered the frail body to me,
Spoke kindly, acknowledged his need,
A home and a heart full of loving,
My family would plant the seeds.
Love is the first to be planted,
Followed by trust in their care.
My father’s spirit surrounds us,
His example taught us to share.

The old one lost all his pallor,
With love and trust he gained
More than he ever hoped for,
Another family, who gave him a name.
Grandpa, we decided to dub him
As we fought for all he had lost.
As he won the last legal battle,
His life was the price that it cost.

The old one wanted cremation.
My mother did not and she prayed.
Next thing we knew came a lawyer,
And the Last Will and Testament played.
My mother, for once, became speechless,
And I drew in no better air.
Grandpa was there in the picture,
Leaving us undisputed heirs.

Copyright © Janet Vick | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme |
A strange sight upon a lonely road.
A dream ripped in half.
Looking closer, I wonder what was the travail.
An old price tag attached, making me wonder at what price it was sold.
Along the edges, tattered and torn, it gave forth an evil laugh.
As if some sly devil concocted a way to turn someone pale.

Onward I traveled, with pack upon my back.
To the left and right of the road were littered with more broken dreams.
So many that one could not keep track.
Some having been blown into the parallel stream.

So, I checked the pack upon my back.
And, yep all my dreams were there in a stack.

Cold winds howl, trying to rip my back pack to shreds.
Freezing were the winds, but forward I march.
Never losing sight of my dreams in spite of many dreads.
They all hold up strong even though many times I'm in a lurch.

Suddenly I see people returning to the road.
Going back and picking up their dreams.
Dusting them off and restoring them to their pack.
Each and every one said to me, you are quite bold.
To go forth and not let the cold winds of fate not destroy your knack.
To face life as it comes and not give up even if offered gold.

Good, bad fortune, are likewise of no importance.
Put a failed dream back in your pack and maybe a new day will appear.
Where you can unpack that dream and give it another go.
But, for today, march forward, today's failure might tomorrow's dance.
You gave it your best, and win or lose, that game has ended with a spear.
Win or lose, that game is done so pack it's knowledge away in your pack and grow.

Suddenly down the road a new vista appears and a brand new game.
Left high and dry or victorious are the two possible ends of any venture.
But in truth, knowledge is all you will have, win or lose.
For tomorrows game is just around the bend, all the same.
Win or lose, the game of life only ends for the moment within sight of the new adventure.
So, to quit and call it the end, only makes you look like a goose.




Copyright © James Ray Morris | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

For the precious little unborn souls - in the womb
But not given their chance to suck in the Breath of Life
To find their way through the dusty storms of experience
And to grow and blossom
Into the lovely beings they were meant to be

     .....Will there be Justice for them.....

For the families of people murdered - unjust destruction of life
Caused by those whose cruelty and selfishness knows no bounds
Waiting with empty hope for the peace they deserve
To see their loved ones avenged through a system
Set up to help those who caused so much hurt - the searing pain

     .....Where is the Justice for them.....

For the children caught up in the insanity of abuse
Their bodies and souls raped, their hearts starved for the love
And the affection that should be theirs - the wait
For the systems that are supposed to rescue them - and yet
They are returned to those who hurt them the most - and then they die

     .....Was there Justice for them.....

For the innumerable and wretched poor and needy of the Earth
Who are always with us - deliberately kept that way on purpose
By those whose greed has bled the Planet dry
With their hoarding of wealth, riches and unbounded excesses
Cold compassion - forcing the poor to help the poor

Ignoring the request of our Creator - To Share

     .....And Justice For All?
                                       Not Yet!
                                                    SOMEDAY.....



Written By:  Neva Romaine
8/28/2015

(Original Post for "What is Your Form of Justice"-9/17/15)


Copyright © Neva Romaine | Year Posted 2015

Details | Heroic Couplets |
She is a loving mother, 
 her pain is like no other.
Kids taken all at once away.
 A price too steep to have to pay.

Holds her head up high, 
 when all she wants to do is die.
She thinks her pain is masked, 
 but as you see, its no easy task.

She's strong and still fights, 
 even when they say she has no rights.
She dreams of seeing her kids, 
 trying hard to keep the pain hid.

She goes to court and really fights, 
 only to come home alone and cry at night.
Still, she continues this uphill battle.
 Her confidence, they constantly rattle.

Goes to work and tries to smile, 
 as her heart is breaking all the while.
Wish I was a much better sister, 
 who called and let her know I missed her.

I had my own tumultuous issues, 
 it was she who really needed the tissues.
I just had a crappy, low life man.
 By her side her family should stand.

Instead they all give her grief.
 Do they not see her pain will never be brief?
No, they all say they are sorry, but they're full of lies.
 Didn't they know it was her LIFE in demise?

A better sister, I'll try to be.
 Her back she never turned to me.
I hope she knows she's loved and cared for.
 Her smile I'd like to see more.

I know that's no easy task.
 But that I will still ask.
As they push her to the brink,
 She's stronger than she ever thinks.




A combined effort for Kristy.....

Copyright © Aleera De La Keur | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme |
Alone in loneliness Amid forever nights And these four walls In faint, whisper soft your name I beg out loud to the nothingness that remains "Please not another nightmare, no more storms" But, answers are merely glimpses of light From lightening... Filtering through the pane Empty sheets... Cast empty shadows on the wall Of places where you used to be Eyes wide open Now asleep, afraid I am to fall Trapped within this never ending dream I cling to all the memories that I have Spinning me closer to where you were, in parallel on the edge The thoughts, like imaginary rubble, comes tumbling passed A fire for you still burning inside Why can’t I let go of the tragedies last And silence your unrescued suicidal screams Or is it only the rain falling faster as it taps harder, and harder upon the glass Or is it of your wandering spirit Mockingly knocking? Haunting with its vindications Of "why’s" I can never seem to grasp All this amidst lost stares into black windows Where gutters overrunning, burdened by the strains And I swear I see your reflection Among the flashes, tracing out illuminations about your face And for the first time You are noticeably absent of all the worldly pains And your lips releasing out a comfort that for so long I've been seeking As I hear the words echo within my stormy heart "That where you are everything is okay"

Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2011

Details | Quatrain |
Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for

Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain

Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin

I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail

Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled

Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss

How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run

I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance





James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011

Details | I do not know? |
Lights of the city far away they look so pretty. As I get closer your lights seem warm and 
bright as I search all through the night. But right next to you you’re not as warm as I had 
dreamed. I should never have traveled so far now all I want is to go back and just see you 
from afar. Your lights how pretty they are.

Copyright © craig schaber | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...

       Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed, 
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised. 
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate?  If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us. 
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow. 
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you. 
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep 

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Acrostic |
I s a child to be heard?
N o one answers, as usual. The silence is slowly killing me.
S orrow, misunderstanding and these mourning memories,
I s this the way it is supposed to be? Since that fateful day, I have been a 
G irl, lost in a whirl of tragic past, calamitous present and the fear of having no future,
N ever have I known what "family", "friends" or "fiends" mean, for
I have never made or heard of any.
F or I am thirteen, just as inconsequential as a dwarf planet, amongst boundless galaxies.
I live in misery, why won't anyone listen to me? I may be young, but I
C an converse, listen and see, and I
A m as normal as you are. So why
N ot give me a chance to prove myself?
C an you ever give me a listening
E ar? Is a child to be heard?

Copyright © Ashley Ho | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |
The greatest holiday gift I ever received  
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears

I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin

For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so

Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading

We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy

We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores

On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through

A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee

My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve

This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for

We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me





Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Dalzel-Job

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
World is amazing,as described by philosophers
but...what actually in world is amazing
The suffering,of those caught by the waves of fate.
Why there are rich and poor,
god could have created only rich!
Then why did he do so,to make the world balanced.
Rich can serve poor by loving them and giving them,
so they are blessed with more.
Poor can survive with the help of rich.
Balance which is needed,created by our god...but, 
is it followed ?
Rich are becoming more rich and poor are still in the hands of poverty
Condition of world is wonderful.
God, fooled by the rich.
The balance of world is lost..
World fears god...its shivering is heard in many parts.
Help the world god.....please..

Copyright © Nivitha Ann Paul | Year Posted 2010