Poetry Sad Poems

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Details | Rhyme |
Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.

One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.

She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?

No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.

Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.

Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.

She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.

She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.

Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...

That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.

Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.

Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.

This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.

Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.

She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.

He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.

Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people, 
who saw her cries for help.

And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.

She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.

Copyright © Madison Marie | Year Posted 2013




Details | Light Poetry |
Poetry

Is not the poem
Is not the poet

Is the observations
Is the emotions

Is the diversity. entwined
Opposing views always sought

Is the love
Is the hate

Is the sadness
Of losing to fate

Is the laughter
Of a child’s dreams

Is the love
That is sometimes unseen

Except by the poet
Who in his lonely sadness sees

The beauty of all
That surrounds the depression in he



In Poetry

I died
Long ago

My heart something broke
I became cold

I cried
For childhood days gone by

I died
A million ways

Now I write
From down below

Where darkness is the sea
That I sail in eternity

Of in the distance
I heard the notes of a symphony

So now as I sleep
A thousand deaths

I hope
For that one musical note

To wake me up
Heart and soul

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |
"Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought." - Percy Shelley


Do not tell me to smile
while tears run down my cheek,
just because I am melancholy
does not mean I am weak.

I cannot fake happiness
these are real tears I cry,
if they are invisible to you
I really wonder why.

They say look on the bright side
and this only makes me mad,
my emotions are not hidden
I am unafraid to be sad.

You cannot understand it
wished, prayed for it to go,
these sorrows you tried to end
yet, this is all I know.

Tears flow through my veins
not the red blood of life,
this heart sobs, it does not beat
outpouring all my cares and strife.

I am happy in sadness
not in a fake smile,
so, let my tears fall
I want to be sad for awhile.

If you hate sad poetry
than I am not for you,
I will write a "happy" poem
when I am ready to.






September 20th, 2013

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013




Details | Light Poetry |
TRAIL OF TEARS

I've been there once,
I've been there twice
BLUE SKIES, never die!

A day of sorrow,
I can still feel the pain from yesterday,
The pain continues to sit there today,
It will continue to sit there tomorrow,
No word to say.
BLUE SKIES!
Nothing Less.

A trail of tears,
My life left

     
~SKAT~

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
I have read that book
cover to cover
many a time
It's held me when I was down 
gave me smiles all night long
It has given me a sense of self worth
and a feeling I belong

Many a night I have sat in front of a roaring fire
with a glass of wine or two
and have fallen deeply in love
I have floated on air
soared through the sky
slid down moonbeams
got caught in candy floss clouds
and wished upon fallen stars

Oh that book
I have read that book
it has brought me
many nights to tears
the death, the despair, the pain
Oh how I would like to reach out
and save her, comfort her, just to be there 

We have had our sorrows but also our laughs
the cute stories of kids flying kites
the wise men chasing their wives
the nonsense alley gang
giving us a smile when we were going insane

Oh how I have loved your stories
Soda Pop, Zach Waverly and Sam Dumpty
just to mention a few
Your epics and your Poe's
and your paranormal too

That book that fantastic book
the one that I love
with all your well wishes
your tributes,
and romantic kisses
You I so adore

But tonight I am saddened
for when I turn to my book
some pages are empty
some have become torn
some no longer are singing
where they once had been born

I sit here at my desk and I read til I'm blue
all my dear departed poets I'm so missing you

 

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
YOU
YOU

Your 
Uncaring eyes
Push me 
Repulsively 
Praise me down 
In a pit of abysmal. 
Your balance ego 
Keeps me on the void
Painted walls
Hidden truth

Take heed
While I, 
Twitch
Bitter 
Words 
Of yuck
Behind your back.

~*~

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
I can show you where the brimstone sun has no remorse,
and where devils on horseback, have burned our homes, have pillaged our farms.
A killing spree,   the drum of guns, some tried to flee, but died,... each one.
The screams, I dream! Oh, the cries........the cries....... 
I try to mute the sound of them
For...,  I was there, I hid in fear,  was somehow spared, but now I look for 
something, ...something, ...something, here, ...someone to care.
A bit of food, a bit of shade, such bitter taste is in my mouth
A world of hate. To have no shoes,...a walking ghost.....
a blistered soul, I have no hope....  but nothing, nothing left. 
My eyes are blurred, and fires burn, a heavy world, shouts out despair.

Where are the flowers that used to bloom, where are voices, that once I knew?
There are no flowers here...just flies, in waist-deep dust, and a hot orange sun,
that coughs up sounds of fear and guns, and swords and words against my ears, I 
live in fear with no one here. 
I'm just a girl,  or at least I was....    for just a while.

I was defiled, when found by one
He spared my life, but did not see, I'd rather die than be this girl, who feels the 
shame in being free.
I once had a mother, I once had a father, I once had a brother who made me smile
Where did spirits, lift and go, when the devils on horseback came to kill? Spilling 
blood as if for fun?  For thrill? For what? 
Where were the Gods? Where are the ones who turn their heads?
In desert's dust with blood red crust.  They poisoned our wells, burned out our land, 
ravished and raped, and relished their brand......, 
nomads came, leaving shame, evil and horror came like rain.
 
Janjaweed, the name, I cannot say... I live with shame, a world, insane
I try to sleep, but I cannot........I can't forget and I am lost, the cost too much,
a swollen tongue and calloused feet,  across a land of bleached white bones
Alone, alone,....lost and done...a vanished heart......no one sees me  
There are no flowers, there are no trees, 
Famine as my lone companion, a pool of mud a home to stay,
Life drains out more every day, my belly swells....my eyes are parched,
and I can't tell
if I'm alive, or if I'm dead, dried up tears are what I shed....
Where are the flowers for my head? I've been scorned, 
all I have, and all I see is wind and rain, sorrow and pain
thorns, and dust, and a grave, that waits for me



__________________________________________________
 8/28/2014
Devils on Horseback – The Darfur genocide (ongoing) The Janjaweed (translated, 
devils on horseback) slaughter and rape the women, men and children of Darfur. As 
of today, 480,000 people have been “exterminated” and 2.8 million displaced.

Let's not turn our heads away from this, or from other atrocities being committed 
throughout the world.

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |
Do you recall the days when one was two
Sad lonely words found friendly words that rhymed
Gray winter clouds gave way to skies of blue
Loud bells of laughter rang like wedding chimes

Poems grew like flowers in the warm spring rain
Coins tossed in wishing wells turned in to dreams
With nothing left to lose and all to gain
We sailed our wooden ships down tear filled streams

But then the seasons changed as seasons do
Elusive muses took their rhymes away
And all they left behind was me and you
The wind blew out the flame of hope that day

The seasons some day soon may change again
Sad lonely words will try to find a  friend


   by Daniel Turner

Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
My Guitar weeps
And not so gently
It strings together broken tears
It has seen my feeble attempts at love

My Guitar laughs
As I try to serenade
A song that lovers play
It strings together broken romances

My guitar sleeps
For I am not doing to well
In charming your heart
My guitar is bored

My guitar kills me
And steals my girl
They were meant to be it seems
They joined chords and sang

The funeral was brief
The music was good
Guitar music after all
Now they travel onwards

Musical journeys
With not a thought of me
With no guitar
As the ghost of me weeps

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
She came to visit quite often
A girl much younger than me,
I was there when she was born
And gave a party when she turned three.

She was always at my house
As a teen I watched her weep
When she sat at the kitchen table
And stated"This baby I can't keep"

At the age of twenty
When she married the wrong man,
I tried to be her best friend
And said "I understand."

Then at the Christmas party
When she was twenty nine
I was there when she passed out
From drinking too much wine.

I noticed most days after that
Her eyes were full of tears
I held her head when she got sick
From drinking too much beer.

Just tonight she called me
She had important words to say
"Guess what" were the words she used.
I've been going to AA.

Her heart was truly breaking
But she said the time has come,
I want you to be proud of me
Because "I Love You Mom"

Lynn Barany

Copyright © lynn Hanna Barany | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

A gentle heart

        So full of love

Yet no one feels

        It's worthy of

Their admiration

        Care or time

So I am left

        To barter rhyme

Matching words

        To arbitrate

The things I feel

        Be love or hate

So others fawn

        At what I pen

When deep inside

        An endless end

Crafting prose

        To coaxing sighs

While deep within ...

        A slow demise.



* SECOND PLACE in the "Contest 380" Premiere Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor. *

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |
You watch the tears fall from her eyes.
You see her walk out and away from the crowd.
You listen as she tells how unwanted and useless she is.
You hear her cry from the bathroom.
You watch her struggle to socialize.
You see her isolate herself from humanity.
You listen to her criticize herself.
You hear her fight against what might help.
You watch as she gets herself out of every social situation.
You see how uncomfortable she gets when someone speaks of her condition.
You listen to how she makes excuses.
You hear her say she is okay.
You just watch and see and listen and hear as she pushes her way through life.
And eventually, that may not be enough.

Copyright © Ainsley Castleberry | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
 My Tears falling


I
Have lost
My
Mind

Why?
Why?
Why?
		Am I blind?
Are the Generals blind?


Gandhi can save the world
						or try
		Buddha may offer you zen words

I
Am falling
			of what use am I???

Monsoons 

			Flooding heart ache

Lyrical angels I demand you show me the way


			Humbly I beg of you all


I
Who has lost my mind
				Can I not

Save those two

			For my heart but weeps

	For all the little ones

When?
When?
When?

Will we save the children?

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Ana
She writes her songs and her poems,
not one person know 'em.
She listens to the sound of her music,
she's stuck to it like a tick.

If someone took the time to listen,
her true colors would glisten.
She's put on a mask,
and hid everything when someone asked.

She was the type of girl who would always laugh,
making you wish it would last.
She was the type of girl who would smile the day away,
too bad it is no longer that way.

She is now the girl who is depressed,
I bet you're impressed.
Since no one could tell
that she was going through hell.

Everyone thought she was happy, 
when really, she felt crappy.
Everyone thought she was having the time of her life,
who would have guess her best friend was a knife?

She spent her days alone,
she seemed to do everything on her own.
Never once wanted help.
Thought she could do everything herself.

Then the day came,
when she lost the game.
She fell apart,
and everyone saw her broken heart.

They saw the way she overreacted.
Oh, if only you saw the way she acted.
She bruised herself, scratched herself, and made herself bleed,
no one knew what it was that she needed.

They saw her tears,
and that was what she feared.
They found out she wasn't okay,
oh, she hated that day.

Everyone found out about her secret,
and she wish they'd just forget,
but she knew they couldn't,
and that they wouldn't.

She left that town and started over,
no one knew she went undercover.
She said she got better,
when really... something else occurred. 

She secretly hurt herself,
and walked away from help.
Everyone thought she recovered,
when really, she was undercover.

She secretly wanted to get worse,
no one knew of course.
No one cared to ask,
if she was wearing her mask.

Now it's too late,
she locked the gate.
Killed herself,
everyone had forgotten she needed help.

Goodbye cold world,
this was a story of a girl
who once loved everyone
then feared who it was who won.

Copyright © Ana Jusino | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
50 shades of therapy
50 shades of restraining orders
50 shades of rejection
50 shades of addiction
50 shades of suicide
50 shades of rainy days
50 shades of cloudy ways
50 shades of jazz and blues
50 shades of painful memories
50 shades of wartime wounds
50 shades of political doom
50 shades of curtains and drapes
50 shades of a lovers disgrace
50 shades of cereal box tops
50 shades of graveyard graves
50 shades of wistful thoughts
50 shades of pure silk white
50 shades of legal fights
50 shades of everyday light
50 shades of tasteful delights
50 shades of pure sheer fright
50 shades of milking cow
50 shades of milking an idea
50 shades of comical prose
50 shades of sunglasses
X 2
Cause I am tired

50 shades of age

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
                            ~ Punished~
                        
One evening with her dad she met this man at a bar very
handsome well mannered visiting from England.
After a few visits she started feeling him approaching her 
with nice compliments.

His attention made her fall In love with him
For months he took her out running to the beach 
shouting out loud I love your body i love your eyes
you’ll never belong to nobody but me.
 
On a moonlight night he was holding her so tight 
kissing her lips caressing her tits expressing his 
desire to light up the fire that was burning in their
entire body and soul.

As he was her first this is what she thought at the 
beginning she was very reserved yet she liked the 
fire she was feeling they were new to her his kissing 
was sensuous he smelled lovely he was caressing her
hair while sitting on the sand she was so taken by her
thoughts suddenly she heard.

Oh my darling let me love you my way let me make you 
my woman without any delay I beg you to give up and 
stop the fight I am promising at the same time to marry 
you very soon I will ask your dad that you will become my 
wife next Sunday at soon.

She wanted to believe him her head was spinning her heart
was beating to the sounds of his powerful movements
she was reaching the sky so quickly sensations of ecstasy 
she was feeling with his compliments whispering his love 
to her out loud while she was dreaming of the marriage 
as being lifted up on a carriage listening to the horses 
tapping on the course to the hotel room where they will 
spend their honeymoon as she will become that bride 
at noon.

Before even her dreams were over she felt him suddenly 
role over and ran away with no delay she could not understand
why ? Why? Did he leave with no good-bye.

Not realizing she was undressed hurried to get dressed ran to look 
from side to side asking herself why did he hide he promised me 
to be his bride? even if she was yet a child.

She sat where they loved each other looking at the ocean maybe
he will come back he must he told her he is in love.

Already it was dark in a low voice having no choice she ran 
home straight to her room wiping her running tears and fears
covering her feet to feel some heat and fell asleep not to see
her dad as maybe tomorrow he will come back with an 
explanation to his act. 

Hoping not to be deceived and very soon to be relieved
when he ‘ll knock on their door and swipe her off her feet 
tell her dad to fix their marriage.

She waited for days and days but that day never came 
she knew then it was only a game and she`ll never see 
him again and will never be the same.
                          
That early morning she woke up before her dad to cheer up 
herself for him not to doubt she had maybe made a huge 
mistake.
Having her coffee she pulled the newspaper and screamed
Oh Oh the man she loved was an addicted rapist being 
searched from the Interpol in England, he had convinced 
everybody doctors and nurses that he was cured.

Continuing to read she read his history that he was battling 
addiction of raping teenagers for the past twenty years. Lived
most of the time in jail.
She cried and cried she was raped by an addicted rapist who
was never cured.
                             
She could not eat or drink not knowing what to think 
while running to the sink that’s when she found out 
but couldn’t shout that she was carrying a rapist child. 

Where are you? She thought you were honest
But you were only an ordinary man still battling
your addiction.

Forgive me Oh My God! Her dad
forgave her out of love to his innocent daughter.

She had to keep her child and trusted herself
to bring him up not like his father.
And she did her son became an international lawyer.

   Therese Bacha
      27/5/2013
Contest for PD....Any Poem Goes.

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
Everyone has gone home
Where ever home is
The city is bare
Only me
And the call girl left
We share our secrets
In silence
Comrades in despair
The cold winter chills us all
So we two find comfort
In a passing moment
She kisses her past
I kiss my desires
Our tongues kiss our dreams
A Christmas carol plays in the background
Snow begins to fall
Madeline must now go
On another call

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku |

                                                Innocent lifeless
                                       Pretty children rest in peace
                                             Let us pray for them

                                            The kids were victims
                                       The shooter was victim too
                                             Let's not put a blame

                                                 Exclamation sign
                                          Love family, love it right
                                        Don't loose, hug them tight

                                                  Dear educators
                                           Part of the victims as well
                                               The lifetime tribute

                                           Mourn traveled the world
                                         Burn by cause last on effect
                                               Careful in our steps

Author's Note:
Deep condolance for the victims of Sandy Hook School in Newtown, Connecticut,
Inspired by Zamalea George Poetry "Sweet Children, Sleep"
*****************************************************************
4th place
poetry soup VIGIL" Free Poetry Contest 
Sponsor	SKAT- AB SIN THE-

Copyright © Yanny Widjanarko | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
The father who loses a son
The lover left all but alone

The child who loses a dog
The clown who loses his nose

The day grandpa fades into the past
The night when the house is no longer there

The lady of the evening anticipating
No one in her boudoir, silence screaming

The season when all the flowers die
The time when war drums beat

My brother who drowned in the sea
His passing became my very own misery

The blind man with no visions
Scavenging for the eyes of the cow

The clouds that made the rain
The villages washed away in pain

The invisible and the black plaques
Humanity in numbers falling prey

The lovely lady in red
Murdered for her diamond ring

The bride to be, in all her glory
Heartbeat stolen in a medical robbery

The singer in the opera
Her tongue cut, cultural slaughter

Teenage lovers, in lustful love
Driving drunk to their graves

The high school queen on display
Later Shivering and no teeth, no graceful ways

The timeless horrors of age
That shall capture the balance of us happy souls

Lest we forget the dead born
Losing the chance to shed even one tear

Strangers all, I promise we shall meet
The final boarding call, the graveyard is terminal C

When you stare into a stranger’s eye
Remember these wistful ponderings

We all have suffered loss and pain
The smile and compassion you offer to all

Never shall this be in vain

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
There once was a day I would watch every airplane.
Praying you was on it to come take me away.
As a child I wanted you around until the day, you actually came.
The day you came is the day my life forever changed.
I remember as if it was yesterday when you physically violated me.
Mental visions as early as the age of eight, but old enough to vociferate.
Visualizing mental pictures in my mind while I am awake very aware of the improper abuse I take.
Your body on me feels something like an autopsy of a dead body.
While you lay on top of me as you press aggressively on me.
Against my will your force kept me still.
I am trying to understand if you recognize who I am.
I try to say no hoping you can comprehend; I am weakling as you apprehend.
Mentally and physically I became involuntarily your property. 
A main character in a horror story, and you were my predatory.
I asked “God why?” as I bare to stare into his eyes.
This is not thee love I seek; all I wanted was my father to love me, but not like this injustice of violation of my rights.
This love is not real; not the love I wished to feel.
As he tries to stick his tongue into my mouth too young to know what this is all about.
I grip my lips painfully tight as he tries to slip his tongue inside.
I close them tighter with all my might, as he whispers, “let me love you right” 
I beg him to leave as he pried my legs open with his knees my insides scream “somebody please help me!”
As he whispers how much he loves me I’m praying for God to just kill me.
I rather be dead then a man’s punching bag.
As I lay there my body was dead, and I laid my soul to rest.
I looked around the room and seen the Old Spice on the desk the same fragrance he wore around his neck.
The sun began to rise as he began to close my thighs.
In that moment in time I had made up my mind any man that ever say they love me was just telling lies.
I learned the hard way that love does not kill your inside; love does not take your pride.
A fatherless child I shall forever reside.
Every day that passes that little eight-year-old girl dies slowly inside.
Asking Jesus,” Why permit this?” and he slowly whispers…as I gently whimpers, “faith is the light that guide you through the darkness, my words reflecting as a lamp unto my feet.”
“Walk unto my path I’m here to carry the weak, come into me you are weary and overburdened. I will carry the pain you have obtained.”
“I am your father and you are my child you are never fatherless because I’m always around.”

Copyright © twanna Irisha | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |

                                          The ocean is dark
                               The waves are white on the peaks
                                   Where will my journey go
                                         Into the unknown
                                          Out of nowhere
                                        Only fate will know
                                The storm is tearing my clothes
                               I'm wet and cold way into my soul
                             No one can see my tears on my cheeks
                           I can only see the ocean, dark and no end






05.01.2013
A-L  Andresen :)

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Yes you, and you, and you over there
The nerve you all have, it’s sickening
What right do you have to leave this world?
Why do you all die on me?
What is life that you toss it away?
Old and sick, humppph excuses I say
I have had enough
No one must leave
Stop, I command time to STOP
Are my tears not enough?
You all conspire against me, I know
To add me to your collection
Of death
Why? Why? Why?
All your kind smiles, laughter and love
You make the world shine, and give hope
Only to disappear to the afterlife
Is this not cruelty?
I beg of you all, do not go
I have not the strength to carry on
Here, as you all dwindle away
Leaving me to ponder my own mortality
Alone, alone I sit, knowing romance will be kindled once more
Death will come to offer me a final kiss
Whom will hate me?

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |
Painting 7: FORBIDDEN


Before darkness steals the light of day,
entering as graceful as the morning mist
in the window ajar, the bitter breeze:
freezing me.

My light clothes short - dances with the curtain
but like the clouds, calm; I stand. My splayed
hands upon the glass condensation. 
I exhale in the cold, enduring dreams surge.
Over the years, my golden hair has grown 
an old rugged toy is my loyal company.
My eyes journey into the quiet of the world outside. 
I wonder what is beyond the sketch of towering trees
as each time the wind lullabies.
I behold their branches' dipping and bowing; 
I wish to smell the pines released, they tease.

I am a young girl and I am full of dreams.
Time races and I am forbidden; the limitless
horizon lures. Oh how long, I've wanted to reach, 
I've wanted to touch. I've wanted to fly, 
I even cried and shouted, I waited,
and waited but no one frees me.
_____________________________________________________________
~~Inspired by the painting: Child in a Red Apron 
(L’Enfant au tablier rouge)
Berthe Morisot
French, 1841-1895~~

__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
This's the world of dreams  and 
reveries
Where I think ev'ry that reels,
After a thousands times,
would as same beliefs things 
besought me,
Is it a mere dream? 

Copyright © kelechi Emeaba | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry |
They are refugees in their own country..... No land for them to go. No body care them either They are known as refugees in their own country War brought uncertainty in their lives and made them to live in refugee camps forever They travel long distance along the road with their hand cart of chattels while their tears rolling over their eyes Parents are thinking about their children's future and children hate to see their parents suffering Many years have been gone and nothing has been done The war is still going on without any improvement Because of our careless and adamant leadership the innocent people are still living in refugee camp They are victims of diseases, accidents, violence, poverty kidnaps, rapes and cruelties towards humanity Let us join together and save these innocent people from the hands of uncivilized people on earth. Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka All rights are reserved 2014

Copyright © Ravi Sathasivam | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
The world use to taste like oyster's, and my hunger reflect the possible.
"Why I cann't see my shadow, cause my destiny goes forward, into the
Impossible".
Been out and about for too long, all within me are sad songs.
I can not see my shadow, trying not to look back leave's me
constanily along.
"Along to face the battle's, the battle's of, Why I cann't see my shadow's".
Its Been a long journey, this road that leads to homeliness and despair.  A
road without future endeaver, a road I wouldn't reccomment to noone, a
road with danger, a road were noone care's.
Drug's are not for everyone, either is hardluck. I wonder if tomorrow will
there be provision for all to make a "buck". ($$)
'Yes-yess..(yess).... I been so-down lately, No my spirit is of the sanity of being poor.
"Why I cann't see my shadow, cann't explain it, even if answer's of
crying to feel the world, is in response once more. Been so-down lately, Why
want oppourtunity come knocking at my back-door.
Not the front, no dare not make others think, favors is clearily my best friend.
When I am ashame to face the world today, my shadow will not follow me,
when I am weak, and excuse's are to no end, then I do see a shadow, but
it is the shadow of someone who once was a "friend".
The world use to taste like marshmellow's, and I didn't have to beg.
The job market was plentiful and so was happiness and worshippers to no bitter
end.  "Why cann't I see my shadow", there is joy at the end of the rainbow.
"Why I cann't see my shadow", are the pain in my life so severe.
One day I know I will get back up, One Day (when) it happen, maybe I will be
there to see if my shadow is able to show my tear(s)...









Copyright © John Streeter | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric |
Weeeeel, It's friday night
And I got my fiddle 
Alfred's here 
And he starting to niggle
I said call the dance
And make those folks wiggle
Here at the Soup hoe down

He stood at the mike
And started talkin' silly
with a Do-se-do
Just like a Hillbilly
With an allemande left
Hypocrites to the right
Sashay now, well into the night

Then He called a promenade
With a roll away
Cause He never made a poem
That made Poem of the Day
With a see-saw-taw
And a circle to the line
Freddie slip the clutch
And said good-bye to the grind 

 




Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? |
Anger, pain and dramatic stress 
The 3 things that I possess
Me, Reggie is okay at times
I sometimes choose to confide in my rhymes
I express my feelings through a pen
Just like some women get satisfaction through men.
This isn’t a poem because this is a thought
I have thoughts moving so fast, just too fast to be caught.
I hate being stressed
Just like I hate being possessed
I don’t mean to sound evil and mean
But I am different from the other people you have seen.
This is not a poem…this is a thought
I have thoughts moving so fast that they can’t be caught.
I have it good to some…others have it good to me
Some don’t realize how hard it is to be
A poet…it’s hard writin’ poetry with a lot of feeling
You feel forced to write something appealing
You break down cause cus’ you feel an obligation
To write good poetry that there breaks your concentration
I found a solution that my mind’s fighting
Maybe I should stop all the poetry and all the writing
These are fast ideas too fast to be caught
This isn’t a poem this is just a thought

Copyright © Reginald Sellers | Year Posted 2005

Details | Light Poetry |
SAD Seasonally Affective Disorder

Some are prone to depression in winter when days get shorter when
less light enters the brain through the eyes and thoughts become darker

I am also affected and when news gets explosive when fighting grows
fiercer when smoke bombs and debris shadow the lands so much that
you cannot see dead men’s women’s children’ shadows no longer because
an outline silhouette of contours necessitates contrast when darkness prevails

Crying shambles when the world does not listen and some say that I’m a political
prisoner to my conscience so I must roar this loud and clearly to illuminate
my insufferable affection my sadness turned into anger and anger to shame

Surely not so many wish to dwell on sad seasons as not for unhappiness to
again and again contaminate squeaky clean order sequenced contentment
so it is clear as trenched mud that more stories on Syria Libya Yemen Iraq and
Palestine have come to be repetitious monotonous sort of a jejune boring
unimaginative overkill for common sense enjoyment if you pardon the pun

So its time for some older stuff not that far back as the Holocaust just a tad slightly
more recent some light easy reading on Genocide with some SAD thrown in for
good measure some Surely Antagonistic Disruption to relieve the depression

As a poet I have some habit of reading and while the sun stays higher up on the
horizon south of the equator where I live I leaf through dust ridden pages bound
in beautiful leather ex-cave from ex libris and smell musk and history and other
writings on the wailing wall of cacophonous silence in the comfy chair on the patio

Treblinka I promised to pass and who wants to really know about the slaughter
in Armenia a century ago that is only for google philologists experts of doom
Bosnia may well be too euro-centric for my African perusal and Cambodia too Asian
when othering leads to othering of dissecting racial segregation lines in cold blood

Not to offend American emotions when discussing chemically modified pardon mortified
well deader than dead Kurds gassed with chlorine and ignorance supplied by the West
I shall restrain myself to simple brutal killing with a view to extinguish on African soil

Kigali it is then where or thereabouts in three short months twenty-two years ago
and the figure is truthful 800000 Tutsis where killed by the Hutus which is I believe
to be quite a lot of shadows and plenty of sculls when machetes ground to the bones

It happened and was reported at the time in graphic detail by journalists and the
Canadian UN Peacekeeping General in Rwanda and was ignored diverted misrepresented swept under bloody rags of Realpolitik meaning that even the truth had been slaughtered

Billy The Kid Clinton was not even busy with Monika and her blue stained dress yet
so surely he could have had some time on his hands but nil nada nothing not a single
cabinet meeting on some Blacks slaughtering miserable Blacks ‘They do that all the time’
they stated in earnest ‘It will be like Burundi just 50000 or so’ and so the resolve at
that time was to withdraw the meagre contingent of blue helmets and hope that
the situation would settle itself which it did there was no rush to produce weapons
of mass destruction for either side as bicycle spokes and suspension springs would suffice

Everyone covered their lower backsides with brown stuff leaking out and nobody really
gave an excremental fart no concern no expletive in public just bleeding screaming silence

So as an afterthought and in plain effortless ease it might be prudent to remember
the odd slit open abdomen food for thought and summer night light contemplation
what to do and what not to just in the possible case a genocide creeps into your sphere



Written in Johannesburg some time in so called modernity






Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
Don't cry for me........ The time has come for me to say good bye to you I want to stay with you for ever but I can not do so because a distant voice called me to come My painful life is going to be end with relief because there is not much left for me now I know my love, your heart will not accept my last journey but where ever I am, my heart will be with you with grace If you want to see me then just look up the heaven I will be looking at you always with my soul in tears. I know its going to be hard for you but your life must go on I have lived my life with no regrets because you have given me everything that you had I will remember you, for through your heart that my soul live on The sickness that I had not only made me tired but also gave you sleepless nights and painful dreams You have tried your best to serve me and bring me back but my fate won against your wish and love But now you don't cry for me, live your life happily till you reach me. I will be waiting for you my love. Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka All rights are reserved @ 2015

Copyright © Ravi Sathasivam | Year Posted 2015