Loss Woman Poems

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

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Details | Dramatic Verse |
(This is a fictional poem)

When I kissed another girl, word got back to you.
You slapped my face and told me that we're through.
Most kisses taste pretty sweet but that kiss was tart.
Now I'm all alone nursing a broken heart.
Kissing that girl was foolish and it was a mistake.
But I'll make it up to you no matter how long it takes.
I can't go on if our love is at an end.
If you'll take me back, I'll never look at another woman again.
You're the only woman who I want to be with.
So I'm on my knees begging you to forgive.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2007




Details | Dramatic monologue |
A moment in time..

I saw you across the room the other day,
Much like another time when you held my gaze,
Pulling me in with one passing glance
Our longing eyes betraying thoughts, that this might be another chance
This is crazy I thought, we both surmised and laughed.
Looking away, looking back again, can anyone else see what’s going on?
This moment of desire shared between you and me,
Embracing the what ifs and what would be?
Two strangers living separate lives, intertwining paths in space and time
Connecting in ways we could not explain
The thought of one touch occupying all senses
Haunted by the what could have been
If I would have been, the one to say I do
We recently shared a moment in awkward conversation
Trying to be informal and coy,                                                                                           But what we really wanted was to
Wrestle with the deep mysteries of each other.   
The woman in you celebrating the man in me
The man in me praising the woman in you, the beauty of you
With your long hair and misty eyes, just something about the way
You look at me, makes my body leap inside, and weep at the same time.

Where were you from? What was your name?
The love from my youth is one and the same,
Has it been that long? Forbidden romance lost in memory
Something of a glimpse captured in remembrance,
Yes! You found me in my misery long ago
Wanting to love me out of a misguided childhood,
Only to be met with at the time, a beautiful mess
We shared intimate conversation, falling for one another
As words fell from our lips, an exchange of hopes and dreams
We fulfilled a need in one another, drying tears from each other’s eyes
For a season,
But momentum drove us on separate paths, on distant shores
I watched you fade away, like a fog across the bay.

Do I have regrets and will I have regrets?
Sure I do, and yes I will,
I didn’t have the words to tell you then, what pride refused to say,
That you meant more to me than handholds on a treacherous mountain,
That your tenderness broke through layers of bitterness left untouched,
And that now, like before you shake the foundations of my very being,
Only you have been able to reach me there.
Shall we embrace this forbidden love? Build a future out of broken lives?




You have yours and I have mine, what will become of us if we pursue?
Sometimes true love is never meant to be shared, if it decimates 
The only thing you know to be true, what is real and what is now
And the impact a dream can have.
So when I see you now, at least for the moment I can believe and know
Your okay and that life has treated you well and that you’re happy,
We can find peace in our circumstances, the way we found each other again.
And smile remembering that once we shared a moment in time..

Copyright © Angel fire | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |


I've Scribbled This Song For You...


I'm wasting my days,
my empty nights too,

I should have held on,
but I simply lost you,

now I stagger along,

wearing broken smiles,
in between hell and you,
there's a million miles,

yes, I should have kept,
you close to my skin,

soaking your warmth,
but you were laughing,

at my foolish grin...


now I'm all broken,
and torn apart,

but what the hell,
I was always late,
for the tolling of the bell,

and now...

now I stagger along,

wearing broken smiles,
in between hell and you,
there's a million miles,

so kiss me now like you once did,
I'm tired of being so carefully hid,


la laa laa la laa laa laa...


(repeat to fade)


:-)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013




Details | Light Poetry |
I was born a woman body full of curves an soft blush breasts. One day I awoke wanting to tell someone wanting to confess. I like women the ones of my own sex. I love the way they look and move. I love the feel and the smell of a woman's body. I've met a young woman and this i believe is real. She means the world to me,yet I was put on earth to give my heart and my body to a man. Men have hurt me and let me down to no end. I always knew I was differnt from my freinds afraid to let them know it turned me on to look at them. So I tried to hide behind what society wanted me to be a woman in every way. Until I found love and could no longer deny what I felt. I made love to her the way no man could. she loved the way I touched, held, and caressed her. made her feel things no other could. She asked me when it was done, What sex am I? I told her a woman like you , I just know how you want to feel, she smiled and kissed me again. God forgive me I know it's a sin. I'm in love with a woman what am I to do? God forgive my sins. I'm in love with a woman and it may mean hell.

Copyright © Carolyn Dye | Year Posted 2011

Details | Romanticism |
I am the Blue Poet.
The uneasy man.
Who longs to be loved,
or just to have a friend.

My heart whisphers a low melody
on a faint, cool evening
thinking of her.
Once in my arms,
laying on my bed of roses.
Now she is gone.
I cannot think anymore!
It is hard, to love again,
When all your love has been taken away.
... I am the Blue Poet.

I am the Blue Poet,
That walks the bluish, dawn and dew covered streets
in the the October evenings and nights.
But I tell you, I wasn't always so blue.
No! I was once alive... happy... romantic,
... till Love went away!

Now I sit in the wayward poetry clubs,
drinking club soda and snapping my fingures
to a finished performance on a poem about love.
Written by a soft, spoken seventeen year old girl.

Soon, it is my turn to give my poem a read.
I stand on a lone stage, with a spotlight drownding me in blindness.
I face the faces, who look at me and smile.
A clap, and a cough, bring my head up.
I look out upon the sitting crowd.
To see that one face
that speaks to me,
without the movement of the mouth.
The face never showed though, and my head fell back down.

I start to read.
A vase of emotions kill me and swallow me up.
I try to hold back tears, but no more could I halter.
I finished, with a salty tear, rolling down my rough and oiled cheek.
I leave the crowd at ovation
and leave the women, all with tears in their eyes.

I come down from the stage, leaving the bright spotlight.
I shake hands, give hugs,
and collect my pay, and have another round of club soda.
Then, I go down the midnight alleyways of sprinkled city streets
finding myself a cozy room.

I think of her for a moment,
then off to sleep.
I dream of one time laughs, and hugs and kisses.
I cry in my sleep,
...For I am the Blue Poet.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

Wrestling Verses


Spilling ink onto paper,
reading tea-leaves,

fragments of mirth,
shards of anguish,

remain,
trapped in rolled-up sleeves.


Turning up my collar,
as blue as these days that slip by,

scattered verses plunge into,
the fathoms of unknown waters.


My ink runs, slips, treading lightly,
penning odes to love on bare skin,

your skin,
your bare back my canvas,

my fingers tracing, caressing, scribbling,
homages to our laughter, our tears.


Wrestling verses,

lie spent, exhausted,
famished and parched from saying too much,

still,

my fingers tickle your soft skin,

my ink would run dry,

were it not for your gentle touch

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
the season I turned eleven
was the season that I died
there'd been blood betrayal and famine
and I thought I had survived

my neighbor killed my kitten
and for that I could not cry
my mother went to handle it
told me to stay inside

i sat poised in an armchair
trying to calm my mother down
while I could feel nothing
we knew she'd made him drown

the woman was a laundress
washed other people's clothes
didn't like the stink of pig sties
it offended her frail nose

the wash-board on the right side
where the pigs did have their homes
was the one she always gave me
like the left one was her own.

only when a pig was hanging
would she demand to trade
i'd wash next to a hog's corpse
a choice could not be made.

then one day I got angry
and I dared to move her clothes
i moved them to the right side
as the rage inside me rose

the woman tapped my window
and said your cat is dead
it was two days before Christmas
she roused me from my bed

there was display of feeling
tears could not be be shed

gray fades to black
hello sadness my old friend


                                                     12/11/06


Copyright © Lucrezia Blanche Aguilar | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme |
Pull Your Blade From My Bleeding Back


Pull your blade from my bleeding back
the cut can thus bleed all the more
Your deceit so deep I've lost all track
your love is, crap water on a dirty shore!

Stand back and watch me hurt and bleed
can you destroy my lost life any deeper
Such sickness feeds your twisted need
I the fool, thought you great and a keeper!

Pull your blade from my bleeding back
the cut can thus bleed all the more
Your deceit so deep I've lost all track
your love is, crap water on a dirty shore!

Recover I shall, from your vicious deeds
hope now invades my sick, bleeding heart
Someday you'll cry and send me lying pleads
such will be your lies so dead from the start!

Pull your blade from my bleeding back
the cut can thus bleed all the more
Your deceit so deep I've lost all track
your love is, crap water on a dirty shore!

Life returned my mind to think this out
pain gone, sanity gives to me this thought
Expose your evil with a just and high shout
on the hatred your selfishness dearly bought!

Pull your blade from my bleeding back
the cut can not bleed at all any more
I survived to live and love to now track
sweet justice now invading your sad shore!

R.J. Lindley
Oct. 20,1976

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Put a bullet in my brain
as the rain sweeps her out of my arms
and places her into another's.
Put a bullet in my brain
for I don't want to see love slip away
please end my suffering,
for I don't want to dare see her in the arms of another man.

I fear the tear that slips away from my soul
and touches the ground with a splash
as she is washed away by the lashed memories of the rain,
please, someone put a bullet in my brain.

I can't bear to see her with another man
laying in his arms
as he charishes her beauty
just like I did to her.
As she smiles and laughs at his jokes
my heart would not bare the sorrow and pain
that would tare my heart apart into pieces of tainted love.
Please tell the rain to stop,
as the pain grows when rain comes down,
please someone end my suffering,
put a bullet in my brain
and stop the rain
that washes away every memory of her.

Stop saying you miss me
and just kiss me
for I can't take the pain
of the rain that takes you away.
Kiss me and stop saying you miss me
for those are useless words to me.
Love is where it's at, so show me.
Don't go with him, he'll treat you wrong.
Love and laugh with me till the break of dawn
as we yawn the long night away.

Kiss me and don't say you miss me.
For if you go away from me,
I couldn't bare to take a tear and waste it away.
Tears, sweet tears crying for you,
doesn't that mean anything to you?
I ask you, stop the rain,
stop the pain and put that bullet in my brain.

Let the red blood flow from my temples.
Let the plow dig my grave,
for I can't bare to see you with another
in his arms, him kissing you, where I kissed you.
I can't take it, I have to make it,
make that pain go away.
Prayer didn't help, God turned a blind eye
when I came up and said why!
Put that bullet in my dome
and when I lay in the coffin, looking at the roof of the church
you come and kiss me, and then you can really say
that you'll miss me.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |
I just wanted to let you know
That I have this love for you...
Although I'm not fast to show
For you, there's nothing I wouldn't do
And I can't control this love
No matter what I try to do...

While I know our lives are separating
Which has got me pretty blue
I just want you to know
How much I love you...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

Oh how I still see you every night in my mind
You're the best girl I feel I'll ever find
And when my eyes would fall upon your smile
My heart would be put on trial
And so if nothing else, I want to let you know
That I'll always love you, that my hearts beat
For you, won't ever slow...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

So I wish you happiness beyond compare
And sorry for the times I couldn't help but stare
Caring, passionate, smart, and loving
From my heart, to you, I'll never be shoving

You will always be in my heart
No matter where we go, how far we drift apart...

Goodbye My Love...

Copyright © Andrew Shannon | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |
The Beach of Promises


1.


Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,

strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.


2.


Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,

walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.


3.


Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,

lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,

my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,

wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.



Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
What I do to deserve this heartbreak,
this horrid and unnatural pain,
this cleche of events that strike me simultaneously
as the time ticks away,
and as the grinning faces pierce a whole through my soul
and my heart turns pale and slowly beats.
My heart is torn in two,
and I cannot find the doctors to stich me up.
I ask an old man,
how does love go about,
he smaked me in the face and went on.
The pain and the sorrow,
it is too much to feel,
too much to gain in one serving,
When I eat, I taste posion, not passion,
familiar faces turn grey, with ruby eyes and sharp fangs
they hiss at me, like a cat to a mouse.
I don't understand why I deserve this.
I am a good man,
who loves with open arms and a big heart.
With every hug I give,
I recieve a knife of betrayal in my back,
I feel the blood ooze from my open wounds,
suicidal tendencies roll through my mine,
but I quickly throw them out,
because Mama didn't raise no coward.
I see the blow, I clench my fists
and swing away,
God cries wanting to stop this madness,
Death laughs and soon joins in,
people join in and punch away.
I lay there on the concret blood everywhere,
my heart torn out of my chest,
each with a thousand knives stabbed in it,
as it slowly beats,
I lay their on the pavement,
looking up to the heavenly skies,
and as it starts to rain droplets of hope
I ask myself,
What did I do to deserve this?
Then, I shall close my eyes
and rest for awhile.

-9/23/13-

Inspired by all the betrayal and heartbreak I've faced, by so many cowards who didn't want to recieve my love. People I had thought who were my friends, came with invitations of humiliation and hate, and now I see who my real friends are; this pen and paper... Have a good day.
P.S. No one should ever be shown this much betrayal and heartbreak. I wouldn't even wish it on my worst enemy. Have a good day!

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

If a man is hurt by love
he just up and leaves -
becomes a recluse
Finds a shack somewhere 
by a pond in the woods

But a woman cannot always leave
she has her family
her pride of porcelain
She tends the stove for them
cooks over the heat
her thoughts directed inward
From December to December she tends them
A recluse in her heart


Come December
 when a pond somewhere
 is covered in ice 
an old man remembers
 he laments his days
 as a recluse with just a stove for heat
the memory of her never leaves him
a memory  as icy-cool
 as her porcelain


Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
                                               Can you see the woman in the window?
                                                 She basks in the glow of the moment,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 
                                                 donning a princess pink gown
                                                 with a train of angel white.
                                                 Nervous tears of joy                    
                                                 stream down her vibrant face
                                                 streaking her blushing cheeks
                                                 a pallad hue of shadow blue.

                                                
                                                Can you see the woman in the window?
                                                  She bathes in the light of renewed hope
                                                  dressed in a large billowing top
                                                  with teddy bears adorning the front.
                                                  The sudden thrust of an innocent kick
                                                  forces her to clutch her swollen belly,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               
                                                  and a tender smile fades to a wince
                                                  as motherhood pains begin to quicken.

                                               Can you see the woman in the window?
                                                  she soaks in the brutality of the moment
                                                  clothed in a torn cotton gown
                                                  with crimson streaks down the front
                                                  Like a doll thrown to the floor,
                                                  she lay broken against the window
                                                  her head twisted slightly askew
                                                  with finger bruises around her neck.
                                                  Her battered terror ravaged face
                                                  pressed against a cracked window pain,
                                                  like some macabre masterpiece.
                                                  Two crystal blue eyes frozen in fear 
                                                  now free from the hands of oppression
                                                  surrender a horrible unspoken truth.
                                                  Huddled next to the cold lifeless body,
                                                  a tiny teary-eyed little girl
                                                  clutches a frail banded hand,
                                                  and loudly whimpers the words:
                                                  Mommy! Please wake up! 
                                         
                                                 Have you seen a woman in the window?
                                                  Will she be there tomorrow...?
                                                  
                                                  

Copyright © Kim Morrison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Romanticism |
Can you hear the thumping, thump, thump of my heart beating away?
Can you hear my whispers of love in your ear,
as you sleep the night away in your bed, laying on the virgin white sheets,
tangled in blankets?
Can you hear me sing our favorite song, as you walk down the lonesome avenue?
Can you hear my soul, cry out for a warm embrace of your sweetest hugs?
Can you hear me cry out for a simple, loving kiss upon the lips?

I don't ask for much from you, my love.
All I ask you, is if you can hear me, and to see that you still believe in me,
and I haven't became a figment, a ghost in a scrapbook.
That I am still there with you, and not a picture of a memory collecting dust in a box.
I don't ask for much from you, my love.
I just want to know if you can still hear me, deep in your heart!

Don't forget about me.
Don't move to another, without first accepting that we had something beautiful.
Don't let me go off and vanish in vain.
Admit, you loved me, but you were afraid. Of What? I ask myself.
I don't know.

Can you feel me, touch you gently on the arm?
Can you feel my embrace, as you sit there crying on your bed,
crying to the pattern and rythmn of the rain tapping on the window pane?
Can you hear me, can you feel me? Do you even know that I'm here, with you?
Do you...?

Don't destroy something beautiful.
I love you.

I don't ask for much from you, My Love.
all I ask is that you remember.
You remember the laughs, the fun we had,
the long walks, and the long talks.
Remember the Ferris Wheel at the amusement park,
where we first kissed.
And shared our first corndog together,
and I won you that purple stuffed teddybear.
On cold nights, we'd cuddle together.
I'd write you love poems and we talk for hours about nonsense.
Remember, how you'd cry and I'd hold you, and kiss you upon your sweet head.
Remember, the nights we'd sleep together,
and the mornings we'd wake up together
with a smile and a morning kiss.
Do you remember, My Love, Do you?
Remember the good times, and don't get up and leave so quick.
To jump right into someone else's arms and forget all about me.

Can you feel the pain I have for you?
Can you feel the love I give to you?
Can you hear me sigh and cry, for one more night of love with you?
Can you...?

I don't ask for much from you, My Love.
All I ask is that you remember me,
For I still and will always remember you.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Romanticism |
A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.

Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.

Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.

Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.

What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.

My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.

Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
Long walks,
cosy talks,
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.

-10/6/2013-

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |


The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)





Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
It was a cold and rainy night.
The stars were shining bright.
It seemed as if the world was at a pause and not a person was in sight.
I sat quietly in my car, 
the sound of music I heard blasting from a far.
I opened my door,
stepped out slowly and looked around.
Now suddenly the music stopped,
not a word is heard, not even a sound.
I turned my head, looked over my shoulder,
I saw a woman running.
She was wearing a white gown.
I couldn't help but wonder why this woman running
flaunted such a frown.
I followed her footsteps,
I listened for the sound.
Running through the darkness,
one question came to mind,
Who would leave this woman?
Who would be so heartless?
How can someone leave her when she is so obviously distraught?
Abruptly a sound was heard.
I came to a stop.
I listened closely.
It was a gunshot.
Now fearful I stood.
I began to run as fast as I could.
I ran so fast, I could hear my heart beating.
I came upon my car and noticed a woman bleeding.
She was gasping for air.
Someone had shot her and left her to die there.
It was as if they didn't even care.
She reached for my hand,
whispered softly to me
"never trust a man"
At that moment her hand dropped.
I knew her heart had stopped.
I looked at her white gown now dripping red.
I I cried to myself and pondered what she had said.
This could be me.
I could be lying here dead.
I will remember her words always.
They will haunt me for the rest of my days.
This moment I will never forget.
No man should ever be such a threat.

This was the day my life would change.
From this day on I would never be the same.
The lesson I learned here,
never have such fear.
Fear that will keep me from being free.
I learned that I can be happy just being me.

Copyright © Deeana Valencia | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |
i look to stars and wishes flew through space never to be heard again
fun to friends hearts do meld and break facing until time ends
this loop that plays and beats that syncopate become but a gem
pleasure a chest opened in surprise feeling no need to defend
galaxies away lonely planets  please keep me in mind
 distance could grow something fond or lost between the lines
gps my love you can see  its still where I  left it behind
thoughts fade away with life love lives forever in my rhyme

Im sorry, I wanted more,with  all this space between
disconnected and I still look to that day
we talked on the phone, our separate homes
the love we had seemed so far away

without air i couldnt breathe squeezed until I'm passing by
no water flow my skin would dry and I return to the sky
sunny days would blacken out, attracting need for desperate lies
to make up for the beauty lost from death slowly closing my eyes
that fire once sparking motion snuffed in huffs slipping away
drifting I sway shaky grounds where once I sat easily and stay
upon my feet I still float drowning out all thoughts that stray
Tho these ends can come swift its worse to miss and hear you say

Im sorry, I wanted more,with  all this space between
disconnected and I still look to that day
we talked on the phone, our separate homes
the love we had seemed so far away

down the road,flying free, I ride the wave and hope for your return
through several seas and cloudy peaks, storms of sand, I will not turn
helpless to fate and future events, nothing prevents something to learn
  sights may not sore, nothing much looking more, isn't my concern
I hope the best and happyness is true to bless you, not just in dreams
we can meet when we sleep discussing life while sleeping seems
thanks for trying Im not exactly dying, banes of  sentient beings
real enough moving on is rough, i'll love you forever, writting my means

Copyright © Davin Payne | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

To my sister Marcie

You were the epitome of a true Southern lady.
Your hospitality reigned warm and generous 
as a summer's day, guiding you the consummate hostess.

You played life's roles with grace and compassion.
Strength and dignity kept you anchored and
confidence validated your presence.

You embraced family and friends in a circle of love
giving hugs magically lifting spirits with your smile
binding us to you for a lifetime.

The gray mist of illness vanishes softening
your features in blessed peace.
In the distance a church bell tolls, 
golden music transports your soul to heaven.
Tears stain my face. 

Copyright © Alice Ringberg | Year Posted 2005

Details | Haiku |
People were
Many things.
Strange or not

People were
Different and
Odd and fun.

People were
Monsters but…
That’s not all

People were
And still are
Strange and odd.

People are
People. For
life is life. 

Yet not.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from

Every mouth
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move

But somehow
Lies prevail.
Lies are life.

Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.

Lies are truth.
Yet somehow.
Truth prevails.

Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.

Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.

Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Nevermore.

Truth will live.
Truth will be.
Forever.

Copyright © Layla Elkoulily | Year Posted 2013

Details | Romanticism |
A warm tear in my eye
As I just wonder why
Why you had to leave me, fly away far
Now for you, alone, I wish to our star

There's so many love songs
I'll play them all, and think of you
I loved everything you were
Loved everything you do

Rise and shine on another day, with you away
All alone I am now, with nothing much to say
Your face is always in my mind
As I dream of the best I'll ever find

These Words To You, my love
I'll write them in a letter
And seal it with a kiss
In hopes that I'll feel better
To the one I miss

Girls that don't ask for much
Oh how they deserve it all
And as this love was such
She's leading to my fall

Her big beautiful eyes
A bold and loving brown
Still makes my heart fly
But still makes my lips frown

And that dirty golden hair
Always tied neatly back
So smooth and curly and long
Got my heart out of whack

These Words To You, my love
I'll write them in a letter
And seal it with a kiss
In hopes that I'll feel better
To the one I miss

Copyright © Andrew Shannon | Year Posted 2013

Details | ekphrasis |
The Circle --- A Painting By Frida Kahlo

~~~

Caught between one life and another my pain lengthens like a shadow of the moon I am crumbling into fragments like a fragile leaf, played with by the wind O' dark angel of the night You've slashed your talons across my life You have pounced, without a care... declaring my flesh and bone your own I only hear you in the silence of despair.... My world is now this moment that does not move O furtuna, sternit fortem O furtuna, rota tu volubillis Never was my life my own, never could it bend A circle, round, I cannot be........but just a line that ends Quod per sortem .... Sternit fortem, A leaf, no longer, on the tree Reflecting then, upon a sky I reach a hand upon my crown and I feel of death instead My heart shrivels dry, a blackened rose, ... Do you feel my pain? Why must the flame of life grow dim? With hope you soothe me in your whim To take it all away? This wretchedness is black as tar, I taste the bitter blood! There's darkness hidden in the depth of who I used to be I am like a leaf, played with by the wind Do not turn eyes away...! Torment me not, with heartless lust.... as flesh turns into dust! ______________________________________________________________ Based on the Painting 'THE CIRCLE' For Cyndi's Contest: "Women Who Paint --Frida Kahlo" 8/19/13 http://www.fridakahlofans.com/c0611.html The Circle Translation O furtuna, (O' fortune) Rota tu volubilis, (you whirling wheel) Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string) Quod per sortem (since fate)

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Keeping my head up, treading water
Cut throat surviving, struggling
Going under, death visits
Will to live, tested!
Selfishness Vs Selflessness
A Greater Love, encompasses me
God demonstrating mercy, for his children
Learning about forgiveness, cultivating, inner faith
Melody of Love, one can experience
In the darkest, waking hours, of everyday living
Self survival, learning how to live
Peace of Mind, Peace of Heart
Peaceful Spirit, Freedom in Love

Copyright © Amy Rose | Year Posted 2013

Details | Romanticism |
I am dead without my love.
It is simple as that.
I cannot breath without her,
I cannot eat without her,
I cannot write without her.
I cannot live without my love,
I am dead without my love.

I cannot prosper without her warm embrace,
I cannot think without her by my side.
always thinking of her, sharing her love I once had,
with another.
My heart breaks,
and my mind is gone.
I weap... I weap...
I cannot handle the betrayal of my once love.
I am stuck, sitting in dark corners of dark rooms,
staring at blank walls, thinking of what once was.

Her beauty,
her smile,
the laughs shared, and the tears we weaped together.
Holding hands, you and I, walking down sandy beaches,
and beautiful highways, full of love.
How we sat on park benches and kissed the night away.
I cannot believe you are gone, with another.

I did what I could,
I loved you endless time on my hand.
Our time spent together was special and near to the heart.
Do not expect for that happiness to come again.
For that has sailed, to far East, to the rising of the new day.

But, I cannot live one more day without my love.
For what I had with her is unexplainable and beautiful beyond definition.
I have seen the wayward signs point me to the direction of you.
But when we see each other, you don't spare a passing glance,
as if I was a ghost, an invisible man, like air.
That is when my heart breaks, torn in two, I cannot see me without you.
Walk with another, shall I go, now this without you.

For she is my everything, beauty and nature.
She is my rose, my violet, my nightingale singing her songs, in the twilight.
She is the sky, the sun, the moon, the trees, the grass.
She is everything to me.
She is even the summer storms and Winter blizzards that roll in and destroy,
beauty and harmony.

I cannot live without my love, for she is my one and only.
I do not like to beg, but love me once again and live with me forever.
For you know and I know, and the world knows,
That I cannot live without you,
I cannot live without my love,
For I am dead without my love.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Cinquain |
Hurtful
Terrible soul
She brings me awful pain
Horrible she is, killing all
Of me

Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2012

Details | Narrative |
The old woman argued relentlessly, her case.
Resolute, she raved in her conviction; 
two thousand and one reasons were there for her to be mad.
Eleven was given to questioning eyes.

It was September, 
and Bernice brought home the bourgeois man, 
and the two fell 
from the pedestal
they held among friends in the big city, 
(the city) a melting pot, 
now a city in affliction.

Bernice’s brown eyes combed the neighborhood; 
two boys, with open arms, 
played aero planes; 
Across the street,
the rug pilot laughed his ass off 
as if mocking the bourgeois man,
and his woman hid her face in rags …, 
in degradation – 
but her sad eyes openly mourned her son’s suicide.

Grief of that magnitude brings offense, 
and the bourgeois man was red with wrath, 
and he abhors the old woman 
with every inch of his being. 
Racism was reversed.
He avowed by God to ruin the rug pilot, 
and the people that loved him consented. 

Hearts were left to wonder
what makes men so cruel.
The reasons for the old woman’s rant was explicable, 
and of the grounds for the revenge 
the negros conceded, 
in only one instance. 
Revenge was foreseeable, 
and the spirit breeds more phobias.

Copyright © Earle Brown | Year Posted 2010

Details | I do not know? |


The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.


The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.







Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
There’s a Web of Temptation and Sin!

There’s a web of temptation and a lot of sin…
That brings slavery and a strong bondage within!

Throughout this land, there’s an evil surge!
While many lives, seem to be getting “submerged!”

Being submerged, into a life, that many believe in.
They become perverted, but want all to receive them!

The “love and acceptance,”
 that many desire.
Puts them on a tightrope!  A very thin wire!

As the web of temptation and sin begin to grow.
It brings a bondage that damages the soul!

They may want to have “love and acceptance.”
But in their hearts, needs to be a godly repentance!

May the holiness of a righteous God be stirred!
That all will come back, to the truth of his word!

His son Jesus, came to the cross! He bled and died!
That through him, our lives can be totally sanctified!

Only the power of God, can bring a needed restoration!
He gives to one and all… 
 A heavenly invitation!

Whosoever will… Come now!  And accept him!
Won’t you take the time, to really know him?

Don’t allow the web of life to destroy 
and overcome you!
Come to Jesus now!  He really does
 LOVE YOU!

By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |
From the day we met, she kissed me
She held me in her perfect way
With a warmth that even the sun could not provide
I felt wanted, loved and alive

Her affection was never measured out 
Nor with held but given as a gift more precious than gold
I could not to this day find any fault in her
No matter how hard I tried, her smile was her seal of perfection

She was an artist at everything she did for me
And the picture she painted with caring and passion
Is a place I remember and dearly miss
My world was her purpose, my success her happiness

I remember she knelt before me as if to worshiped me 
And I think in her way she did
She bathed me and spoke words coated with honey
I have never felt so secure and safe when I was with her

If only I could have the power to feel her tender ways once more 
I know I would be complete until the end of my days
For she is an irreplaceable  treasure 
A woman I cannot find in any other or compare her qualities

All I can say now is Thank you Lord for this angel I met
And I know I will see her again.
Thank you for….
My Mum 

**Thanks Wilma for the inspiration from your poem***

Copyright © Sidney Hall Mad Poet | Year Posted 2011