Daddy never did understand.
That violence doesnt bring comfort.
A lost soul seeking acceptance from a unwelcome hand.
She was silent no one ever knew.
The secrets behind her bruised eyes.
A shocking victem none but all had a clue.
She cried to empty walls never speaking aloud from fear.
A confession of pain and shattred trust.
this is only what angles hear.
Scars selfinflicted are better than that
As she lays a broken shell gazing at the celling.
She questions if others know what will they say.
Doing whatever it takes to stay numb.
Innocence lost a parent should never betray.
The guilt was placed apon the wrong head.
Void of all emotion.
No child should yern to be dead.
At times it gets to uncomfortable so in
another direction we steer.
For at times it's just to painful to stomach.
What only angles hear.
Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
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
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
Visited you today
as the sun set in the horizon…
the orange tinged carnations
were a perfect complement
for the skies
and for you…
orange and blue
always remind me of you
the winds softly blew
and I just sat there
staring at the grass,
well more at your name really…
what I am looking at,
that it’s been seven years
of missing you,
of just putting that reality
at the back of my mind…
But there are days,
such as today
which make me
confront that reality—
I see your smile,
remember your laughter
celebrate your spirit
and your love
Tears, I tell you I have
the most stubborn tears
maybe because they
make it so real for me?
I look around me
and look for that sign
Nope, not there…
I say a prayer
and speak to you
thankful for the life shared
I kiss the date that you were born
and walk away
my reflection on the car window
One last look around,
and then I see it…
a cat, as we drive away…
Skies now streaked purple and pink
**My brother would have been 40 today, May 6…
Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2011
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
One night a guy & a girl were
driving home from the movies. The
boy sensed there was
something wrong because of the painful
silence they shared between them
that night. The girl then asked the boy to pull over
because she wanted to talk. She told him that her
feelings had changed & that it was time to move on.
A silent tear slid down his cheek as he
slowly reached into his pocket & passed her a folded note.
At that moment, a drunk driver was speeding down
that very same street. He swerved
right into the drivers seat, killing the boy.
Miraculously, the girl survived. Remembering the note, she
pulled it out & read it.
"Without your love, I would die."
Copyright © Le'Rita Clark | Year Posted 2006
*Note: A 60-year annual tradition that involved a mysterious visitor leaving three
roses at the grave of writer Edgar Allan Poe on the anniversary of his birthday
ended in January 2010. Curators of the Poe House and Museum are at a loss to
explain who left these gifts and why they stopped. On many occasions people kept
vigils near Poe’s grave during this period that began in 1949, but no one ever saw
someone leaving the roses. In the morning, however, they were always on his
grave. Poe is considered the father of the American short story and
his poem The Raven is one of his best known works.
Once upon a midnight dreary, Poe heard a tapping at his window
While grieving the loss of his young bride, a maiden “angels named Lenore,”
A radiant teen whose long, black hair in gentle breezes would billow,
Tapping at the window ceased, but suddenly it was heard at his door
Upon opening it, a Raven flew in repeating, “Nevermore”
At first he welcomed this odd visitor until Poe whispered, “Lenore”
When he heard his word echo, the strange Raven he began to abhor
He asked if he’d see his bride again and the bird replied, “Nevermore”
Though Poe died in eighteen forty-nine, a mystery evolved much later
A century after his death, his grave had an annual visitor
Roses were left on his birthday by someone whose love appeared greater
Who had left these floral gifts forever stumped the Poe House curator
Perhaps the answer can only be explained by reincarnation
Did the Raven embody the spirit of Poe’s beloved Lenore
If so, perhaps the Raven returned again in a life rotation
In human form she visited to lay roses on the earthen floor
And upon her death in two-thousand nine, she took to the skies once more
A Raven who now joins the flock circling above her late husband’s grave \/
Could it be her spirit remains with Poe, as it did in life before \/ \/ \/
Bringing him in the afterlife all the roses a poet could crave \/ \/ \/ \/
For those who consider this possibility totally absurd
Just consider the fantasies Poe created with the written word
By Carolyn Devonshire
Contest Title: “Among the Dead,” sponsored by Constance LaFrance ~ A Rambling
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
What makes the decision
To flick the switch
To end ones life
For the sake of it
Bullied at school
Fork in the road
To let death rule
Daughters and sons
What ever affects them
They just can't outrun
Sadness and tears
By all left behind
Will they ever understand
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
Here’s to a love that never existed!
And to the departing you insisted,
Let me give in to all I’ve resisted
It is true through our frivolous trail
Our lives were but a tale;
Though if I hadn’t thought of it
Pure hearts indefinite,
Not mattering even then,
Would I ever believe again?
We never win, we never fail
For what we had was only a tale
I’m lost within a dream never dreamt
Inside a slumber never slept,
And I caress the intricate design
Of the world I can never find
How vast! Yet still it is dying
Fading into the nadirs’ binding
As I fill the world with crying—always crying!
Oh world! Can I ever bring myself to hold
The warm nothing growing cold?
Oh world! Can I not take away
The love I gave with my will today?
We never win, we never fail
For what we had was only a tale
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2012
The Deepest Depths Of Epic Pain
The scars of life unveil the weight of lies,
lest it be the torment of moral sin,
wherein the guiltless suffer wounds and cries
of love’s deceit as heartless notions win.
The evil whims of wicked fancy shows
no mercy for those crossed by hands of fate
when magic dreams are cast by darkened clouds
which turns the morbid sorrow into hate.
In rage of fervor, passion's zeal is lost,
oft destroyed by life's dire tribulations,
as sunning rays vacates dawn's gleaming frost
human frailties blind truth's revelations.
Within hope destroyed and life's darkest stain
remains the deepest depths of epic pain.
T.J Grén & Robert Lindley
Note: Has been an honor and great pleasure for me to co-write this sonnet with my very talented friend, T.J Grén.
Thanks for the invitation my friend.. Your generosity and kindness match your poetic talents..
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017
Another letter from another tour
In this place in the sand they call Helmand
This will be my last, for you can be sure
To never look back on these Afghan lands
It's been so long since I've felt your embrace
Studied the constellations through your eyes
Found joy in the manly features of your face
Or recovered from our last sad goodbyes
Another two lost, one was my best friend
Before it's me, I pray my leave is soon
My heart is crying out, my hopes descend
Is tomorrow my day, in deathly strewn
I've been praying so hard; surely you're safe
The son I carry will have his Dad's smile
I don't think God would orphan our young waif
You must walk through our door in a short while
The joy in your letter, mother to be
Me a father, soon to be homeward bound
Grow with my kin in the land of the free
To thrive in peace on American ground
I think our boy will be a football star
Perhaps he’s sending a message to Dad
Like Peyton and Eli he’s thrusting hard
To have you and him here, I’ll be so glad
As James was preparing to say goodbye
Boarding the chopper to take him your way
Enemy aircraft dropped bombs from the sky
I regret to say this was James’ last day
Commanding Officer Brannigan
U.S. Armed Forces, Afghanistan
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009
I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here
I can’t get back in control of my emotions
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy
I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help
Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013
We’ve shared the trail, kicked up some dust,
An’ stood a storm or two.
We’ve rode the plains, the wide frontier,
The easy trails were few.
You’ve listened like some wise old sage
To ever thing I’ve said,
An’ as a friend, supported me,
No matter where it led.
I wished I coulda carried you,
The times you were in pain;
Or rustled up some kinda shed
To turn the blowin’ rain.
I’ve come up shy with some your needs,
You gave me more’n you got,
But in your silence, seemed to know,
I needed you a lot.
Compadre, friend, amigo, pard;
I called you all them things,
But there’s been times, I swear to God,
You musta had some wings,
An’ He sent you to care for me
Like no one had before.
If you’as a man an’ not a horse,
I couldn’t a-loved you more.
We gave this ranch our sweat an’ blood,
It’s yours as much as mine,
An’ raised our young’uns through the years,
An’ Lord they’re doin’ fine.
They’re blazin’ trails an’ raisin’ dust,
They’re off an’ runnin’ free.
We’ve taught ‘em well an’ made ‘em strong;
Compadre, you an’ me.
I always knew the day would come
When we would fine’ly ride,
To join the Maker’s round-up time,
Up on the Great Divide.
I sorta hoped we’d share the trail
But this was not to be,
So, you go on, we’ll ride again;
Compadre, you an’ me.
Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2005
The night like clouded charcoal scorched,
A sea of trees with starlight torched.
A night where laws are sound asleep,
Anarchic prayers running deep.
Alone I hear the wretched screams
Of screeching trees... or so it seems.
The cries protract into the air,
Without a sound they disappear.
The shrieks have bartered now anew
With sounds of meat and boney chew
Discharging from the faithless trees
And snarling with my memories.
But creatures' gruesome growlings drown.
I smell the gunpowder and frown.
The waging sounds of war advance
In battle stance with gun and lance.
The sounds of bleeding men enhanced,
The sounds of fate and time and chance,
No sooner do they cross the trees
Than fade as all their voices freeze.
But worse than bombshell sounds occur;
The storms, the winds, the thunder stirs.
The roars that shake the forest's roots,
The flowers, soil, and passion fruits
A rainy resonance restocks
The grass the air the woods the rocks
And washes with its dancing tingle
All the sounds that intermingle:
A dreaming forest in the night,
And trapped within its fanfare fright,
It chokes me in its thunder thrill
And hangs me in the silence still,
And hangs me in the silence still.
Copyright © Gael Attal | Year Posted 2009
Wondrous of many blessings.
Smiling never a frown.
My prayers, Lord, are suddenly being ignored.
I've taken a tumble of fallen down
Lord, my life was plain and simple
How did it come to this?
Lord, now I carry a burden so deep
A torn up life not easy to fix
Hard to get my prayers before I sleep
Bleeding only internally!
Feeling very minutely!
God, have you deserted me or is it me who deserted you?
God, my Lord, my savior, how could you abandon me?
Must I drown in my own sorrow?
Must I wake up like this today and tomorrow.
Why have you left me, or is it me who left you?
God, I need you like never before.
When I wake up,
When I head out the door.
Tormented in a mood ring of stock
Heavily my tears hit the floor.
God, do you not feel me, or is it me who no longer feel you?
God, what is your plan for me?
What things did I not see?
I asked for you to forgive me in my ways of sin.
Why do you let him provoke me?
Lord, I forbid for him to win.
Relieve me from his gutless pain.
God, do you not believe me, or is it me who no longer believe in you?
God, do you not hear my call
My pitiful excuses make me weak and small
In your eyes, I no longer feel tall
I remain cursed in every single fall
Lord, only you can break this wall
Do you not see me on my knees
Must I beg and crawl?
I am at your mercy, crying out with grief
Open the path to the lighted hall
O' Lord, the day you judge me before your throne
Please tell me it was a lesson for me to stand up on my own
God for now I will end this talk
With the dignity to never look back
I ask if you were there on my endless journey of a relentless walk?
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
Like an archaic humanoid dinosaur
you plunder through life taking no prisoners,
with your philosophical knuckles dragging on the ground.
You are a dying breed born of privilege and tenacious greed,
tendering little in life other than your selfish need.
What is it you seek in life other than your very personal comfort?
You never give a sideways glance to anyone with no chance of adding to your
circumstance; narrow minded cruelty subsidies the shutdown of any
tenderness, allowing emotional banalities to supersede integrity.
Your karmic debt is too cancerous to be free -
a lover of women among inept men,
but piteous fodder for contempt among strong women.
Neanderthal, you tossed love off the tongue like spit flung and stung my cheek with
runny dung....in disgust I turn away at your insipid attempt at manhood.
So many conquests, so little time.
The pittance you gave is but a trail of unwitting shame,
littered like Gretel's bread crumbs into a wilderness of pain...
How sad you thought such a pittance could buy my soul.
I am no longer a member of your colonial servitude,
and you are an inept fossil long past its prime.
From this moment, Narcissistic Neanderthal,
I am free.
Copyright © Anna Lee Stedman | Year Posted 2012
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
We are so different
I am smart, you are less so
I am a man, you are a woman
I am trump, you are poor
I am beautiful, you live in a sewer
I have castles, you’re lucky to have drawers
I am peaceful, you are the extremist
I have armies, you have child suicide bombers
I have coffee, you have tea
See the difference between you and me?
I wear clothes under my head, you wear masks over
I sing songs in my sanctuary, while you chant the jihad
I have my god who is righteous; you have a god that sings of terror
My god is great, yours is a fraud
I ride in a limo, you ride a gay camel
I drink fine whiskey, you smoke camel fags
We you see… are as different
As night is to day
As sun is to moon
As Cain is to Abel
I own the castle you live in the stable
Goats and hogs your only staple
Now when we were in the hospital
Me so much better than you, you see
Both our sons sick of leukemia
You being so different and less than me
You cried, and you wept, and you wished yourself dead
If your child should live, you'd give all you ever had
Its then I saw, I’d do exactly the same
When you offered me a tissue
I confess I felt a wee little shame
Whatever hate you may or may not have had
Lifted, when you saw the child was your only lad
And when I saw this humble startling revelation
I realized how narrow and condescending I was behaving
So maybe we both learned a lesson of Job
A pity such sadness and pain had to bring
The realization to us both
We are not so different after all
We now drink tea in the olive gardens
Telling the young if they chose to listen
There is a better path, of happier wisdom
By embracing your fellow man
No matter race, color or convictions
Start with a smile
Make it last more than a mile
Great things happen
When us, the people take action
Of this world
Thank you Charmaine for the constant inspiration!
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
Vincent Van Gogh~Starry Night
a precarious world of indecision
a dark pallet of light
this brilliant depiction , it does scream , it cries out
blues and yellows swirl in a maze of defeat
a crescent moon suspended in a blissful evening , hangs lone in agony
I rest within this small town of hope
my eyes are saddened , my mind relentless in delight
You are mine , my asylum , my starry night
a dimension of light under this wrenching canopy of demise
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2010
I looked up at a silver moon
Peering through a cloud of misty gloom
As we sailed across the Atlantic Sea
That fateful night in June
And as I stood upon the bow
A furrow crossed my troubled brow
When I saw a dying star fall from the sky
As the wind out of the north
Began to cry
'Twas then with fearful heart
I came at last to realize
That we were sailing
On a wave of ill-tidings
Known as 'The Devil's Tide'
For no omen of the sea
Brought more fear than thee
A fallen star - a silver moon
Together in the month of June
If legend true would surely bring us doom
So with no trace of land in sight
We sailed onward through the night
I - the Captain 'Louie Lou'
With my faithful crew
Aboard the 3 mast schooner 'Angel - of the Blue'
On canvas wings we flew
Upon the wailing wind that blew
Then suddenly a hush of malaise
Crushed the summer night
Filling all the crew with dreadful fright
As all the stars in heaven lost their light
And the silver moon dipped completely out of sight
Leaving us to drift without guidance
To our unknown plight
An eerie sound began to roll out of the west
Growing louder and louder as we held our breath
Until it was upon us and the ship began rise
As we looked in horror into the Devil's eye
As the Angel of the Blue began to fly
Up the Devil's breast she climbed 20 fathoms high
One by one the Angel's wings were torn away
As she fought to save us from the Devil's rage
Screams of horror falling from her timber sides
As the crew fell into the Devil's tide
And I - tethered to the helm - watched them die
As we climbed even higher into the Devil's eye
And as the Angel's body creaked and cracked
We finally scaled the crest and rode upon the Devil's back
Just before I fainted and my world went black
I woke up in the morning high on a mountain side
Never knowing just how I had survived
knowing only that my Angel and my crew had died
Many years have come and gone since then
And I am forever haunted by each and every one of them
My faithful crew and my mighty 'Angel of the Blue'
I see their faces in my dreams
As I awaken to their screams
Wishing, too - that I had died
But someone had to live
To tell the tale of the 'Devil's Tide'.
Author: Elaine George
Entry for contest: Legends
Awarded: First Place
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2007
Sad Heart, now thou art wither’d from the Sun,
What man, or god, will near thee run?
Wrought in twist like branches in Tempests' gasp,
What Comfort, or Gauze, shall be near to grasp?
True ones begotten are the ones now Rotten
And the ones now Rotten will never be forgotten
They are merely sad remains of assiduous Tears
That have been meddl’d with and tatter’d Raw throughout the years
And thou, cruel Mind, that sat’st still thru toiling trail of Night;
Must dream your broken Dreams; thou’rt a sanely flight!
Can thou extinguish passions of Fire, Disease, or Rain?
—tho thy distinguish’d influence trains to abstain
Thy Remnants brought to debris in thy Empty street,
Devour’d by Vultures, their bestow’d beaks entreat
Merely are they cleaning an inexhaustible Mess
Alas! Leaving thy rudiments of Identity to redress....
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2012
The room is still,
Quiet but for wind and rain
Making music on the windows.
Empty but for endless shelves
Of leather-bound volumes -
The first editions you loved so much.
The desk is weathered, coated
In a film of dust.
The chair is old and worn,
Tucked in just where you left it.
I can almost hear it creak
Under your weight,
Hear you whistle in that absent way.
I can almost see you there,
Hunched over creased pages,
Reading Keats or Blake.
I can almost smell that familiar scent
Of fresh soap and musty books,
Of spices and cigar smoke.
Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2012
The meadow’s breath a gift to all, the mist, the morning dew,
a silent sigh, a heartfelt call, a prayer to me and you.
Green and warm, full of life, the forest's skirt, the Maid's delight,
where rabbits dwell in lovers’ dells, a dream in morning light.
Gold and bright, full of life, the forest's skirt and Knight's delight;
life lies in grasses high, where lovers sleep and passion cries.
White and fair, full of life, the forest's skirt of pearly white;
burrowers sleep in bowers deep, hearths alight on chill nights.
The meadow's breath a gift to all, the mist, the morning dew;
a silent sigh, a heartfelt call, a prayer to me and you.
The men have made the meadow home, no rabbits now play there,
no deer appear so near the roads for cars bring them dispare.
The meadow was home to many things, butterflies, birds on wing,
yet, few can dwell where men reside, the forest's skirt swept aside.
The meadow’s breath a gift to all, the mist, the morning dew,
a silent sigh, a heartfelt call, a prayer to me and you.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011
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
A cold wind blows,
turning hardened walls to sand.
Breaking down the barriers
exposing the emotions that were held inside.
The pain builds,
from hurts buried deep within.
Storm clouds roll in
dark, cold, and threatening.
roars across the darkened land.
A voice breaking the spirit:
the words echo through the ears.
shattering the very heavens.
Words drift through the mind:
casting shadows of doubt through the soul.
The tears fall from the eyes,
from a heart broken and battered.
Rain pours down from above
overflowing, unable to be contained.
Then finally as the rage is spent,
a calm stillness overtakes the cleansed world.
In the arms of a friend
peace is found once again.
And a voice whispers to the night:
Copyright © Jennifer King | Year Posted 2010
If only you could see the tears
In the world you left behind
You fill my days, my nights, my dreams
You’re all that’s on my mind
Your laugh I’ll never hear again
Your smile I’ll never see
Memories now are all I have
Since loneliness found me
Time was never on your side
Your short life had to end
Now I'm left in pain without
My love and my best friend
The sadness, the emptiness
The pain I have to face
Will never leave my life
For you’re a loss I can’t replace
Even though the rain will fall
And the sun will still shine on
My life will just exist
Because my whole world now is gone
You are an Angel high above now
Watching over me
But someday I know once again
Together we will be
For when my time on earth is done
You’ll come and take my hand
And guide us to eternal love
Together in God's land..
By Raina Hutchins
Copyright © Raina Hutchins | Year Posted 2007
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
Oh sky look down on this earth of gray,
Something dreadful on the horizon looms.
There is no black and no white today,
Laws exist but justice is doomed.
Morality is labeled religion,
And must be separated from state,
Whose own religion is political correctness
And determining God's fate.
Oh heaven rain down on us,
Ae are tasting your tears.
Yes we've become that bad,
Confirming your fears,
That what has been done ,
Is being done again,
Those lessons taught,
Coming to naught.
Judges and laws make it legal,
To be rid of your innocent babes,
Under a symbol of the eagle,
God's loving justice betrayed.
Racheal you cry the tears,
That now only heaven supplies,
Because ours have dried,
In the dust of our alibies.
Excuses and lies are linked,
As you and I know well,
The truth is all but extinct.
Truth is foreign to hell.
Oh heaven, look down on this world of gray.
Something dreadful is watching and looms.
Is there nothing left but to watch and pray,
While Rachael wails by the dumpster tombs?
Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2009
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,
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
She sits alone
She draws her knees up to her shoulders, hugging them tightly
She shivers in the icy wind
Her teeth chatter and the stream of tears from her eyes, sting her cheeks
As she lifts her head towards the heavens,
Her eyes burn with pain and her piercing scream, barely human, expresses her Excruciating
suffering and anguish
She is gripped by immense sorrow, the most powerful and destructive emotion
It roughly envelopes her, throwing her into a pit of darkness, filled with evil shadows
The shadows claw at her, ripping into her flesh like daggers
She shakes violently, tasting blood as she bites down hard on her bottom lip
But she feels no pain, her body is numb, numbed by the demons of sorrow, who,
Are slowly overpowering her, devouring her heart
And locking her in an eternal web of pain
She is engulfed by fear as the intense sorrow surrounding her, compresses her
She gasps for air as the merciless hands of sorrow close around her throat
She fights in her lonely vacuum, with everything she has
She reaches for her only comfort, her fingers coil around the blade
As she stretches her arms out in front of her, her void eyes gaze upon her pale skin
Her skin is etched with scars
Her scars an eternal, entwined, tattoo of her excruciating suffering
As she runs the jagged blade over her skin, its cold feel calms her
The compressing sorrow surrenders
This is her saviour, the one who can release her from this life of pure hell
Her skin begins to open, the river of blood flowing strong
Her pain is flung into the open, through her wounds,
Leaving a sense of tranquility in her distraught heart
Her red stained fingertips caress her raw wounds
She is mesmorised by the life force flowing from her, as it paints
Her tragic story on her body
Painful tears bleed from her eyes as regret shudders through her
She rocks backwards and forwards, lulling herself into a sense of peace
Her body is drained
As she lies back she becomes limp
Her eyes close and her whispered prayers fill the open air,
Creating the painful melody her heart sings
As she slips away
Thunder roars and the starry heavens open
As God’s tears rain over His beloved daughter,
Healing her wounds and piecing her broken soul back together
As the sun rises above her,
It illuminates her peaceful expression
Her earthly father collapses besides her
His silent tears wash over her beautiful, pale face
As he lifts his dead child in his arms,
Vicious sorrow rips his heart apart,
Creating wounds which will never heal
Copyright © Amy Sullivan | Year Posted 2011