Poetry Sympathy Poems

These Poetry Sympathy poems are examples of Poetry poems about Sympathy. These are the best examples of Poetry Sympathy poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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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 | ABC |
Alphabet Constructs 3 2 1

Annotated Achilles amends fallen frame amputees

Bulimec Barbies browse media monkey banalaties

Cameo clouds cling to beaded breath curios

Dopamine dreams dilenate check cash desires

Echo endorfins eulogize bullet brain excrement

Fecal folly fantasies reveal relevant frivoloties

Gonadial grownups gulp secret scrotal generosities

Helical hemorriods hinder senior stricken hemocraps

Idiotic ideals idioiosyncrate post partem iconoclasts

Jack Jill juxtapositories seek sexestential jouveniers

Kryptic killer kisses ascot arrogant kingdumbs

Liquid lipid loiners fear frontline lucklullibies

Malovent mommies masterbate rich reflective mommocules

Nevertheless nightengales nourich ruby rich noonbeams

Ovulatory occults outsource torrent tofu outrages

Pensive picses picnics lovelorny passions 

Queer quiet quintensials release rancid quotients

Rape ripe residuals nullify nimble reprocussions

Silky seafoam silohouttes fornicate frothy sandlets

Tepid torch trilogies belie beligerent tourniquets

Useless utterences utilize organize orgasmic utopias

Venimous vixens violate cruel.com visions

White willow wombs softly seed hospice hell winds

XY XX xfactors envision extracurricular xraydoms

Yearning yoyo yesterdays calculate clearcovert yeilds

Zen zealous zions mirror maginfy Zoneotones 

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
The sky is not the same.
When I don't see her eyes and her smile it starts to rain.

Please God tell me your Angel is okay.
I don't know what to do if she goes astray. 

Please guide your Angel back to me.
I miss the sweet words of her melody.

Show me she has not departed from us,
and will promise not to fuss.

Give me a sign or a hint of her existence.
Let me know that she is in no need for assistance.

If you do I shall promise never again to be distant.

Copyright © Mariela Ruiz | Year Posted 2007




Details | Light Poetry |
Being in denial is like sitting in an empty house,
with a moonlit forest behind it.

Coming out of denial is the new bird,
that comes and stays a while, with that little 
empty house, but when winter comes, 
he is off on a journey from the heavens above.

Copyright © Emily Kroeger | Year Posted 2009

Details | Light Poetry |
When I wake up
I see a mess.
A hot, ugly mess.
Today I hate this mess
Tommorrow I may love it.
Yesterday I saw regret
And misery is married to me.
Divorce is my mistress
And suicide is my best friend.
Trust brings news of what sadness has done
And guilt brings gifts from worry and sorrow.

Copyright © Darris Thomas | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |
Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am sad.
Sometime I sing, sometimes I stammer

Sometimes I dance on the music of my soul, Sometimes I dance on the fingers of 
one single person
Sometimes I expect so much from others; sometime I myself can’t meet my own 
expectations.

Sometime I make fun of others and feel bad later, sometimes life makes fun of me 
and I smile
Sometime I win and sometimes I lose, sometimes I don’t even understand whether I 
won or lost.
 
Sometimes I laugh as if whole world is with me,
Sometimes I cry as if I am alone wandering in a strange land

Sometimes I give up so easily
Sometimes I work so hard that no one can stop me to achieve what I want

Sometimes I am dynamic person, who wants to change the world,
And sometimes I am a kid who expects anyone to embrace him tightly.

Sometimes I feel happy about the achievement of my enemy
Sometime I feel dejected with my own success.

Sometimes I help others and show them the right path
Sometimes I feel totally helpless and don’t know where to go

Sometimes I ask god to please give my past back
Sometimes I pray to show me the way forward


Life is composed of SOMETIMES and I just flow with that.
U admit or not but you are also sailing on the same boat.
So join me and enjoy it EVERYTIME as SOMETIMES life is very short!

Copyright © Rajat Singhal | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
       Chicken Head

       Your a bird, with no wings!
    Your soul is lost and lives in the streets.
     Why sell your body the way you do?
        you least can get your son some new shoes.
     If you going to sell your body,get what you can get.
         You have kids, you need to get a grip.
          Do you really want your daughter to grow up like you?
         To flag down cars for every man that comes threw!
           Why are you selling your last food stamps?
          To pay a cell phone bill that has laped.
      This is no debate, your son lips is cracked from being dehydarted.
     Why do you make them suffer for the things you do?
      Look into their eyes. thats the hatred for you!
         Your baby is crying tears, for you can hear.
               Crying to be loved by you,
            You can really fix the things you do!
   Each child is a gift from God, A bright shining star.
                 Look inside your heart,
    and ask your self is this is what you want to be.
          A chicken head that stay in the streets.
      Ask God for help, when you lay down to sleep.
            Pray the lord your soul to keep.
          If you should die before you wake,
       ask him to help take your kids pain away!
             Some one should decapitate you,
       for all the pain you put your kids threw.
      So stop having kids just for someone eles to raise them.
    I guess it's for the best, because you really don't deserve them!
           They cry for help, they beg of you!
     Your a lost soul, and only God can judge you!
    

Copyright © twanna Irisha | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry |
 Wesley Melvin Buchan, also known as Wesmechan,
 was a pusillanimous and a good-for-nothing,
 although some people consider him a charlatan,
this scoundrel's office runs like a three-ring

circus. Oddly enough, many his coworkers and
classmates fear him no end, like a spider obsessed
with the asphyxia of planets, but the magic wand,
however, whether you like it or not, will infest

your brain and your wallet. Far from being a panegyric
this is indeed a diatribe, injected by venomous expletives,
deserved by this lunkhead, Wesley, a most idiotic
waste of space but I love him, although he's not my relative.

Copyright © Ivo Cosentino | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
My secret cries are my pains I hide, hidden from the world to see. Hidden so intense my soul became debility of weakness. My heart hinders to collapse and deflates. Completely of decay, secretly lessen for the amounts of importance. Shedding everyday by natural process, my cries are easier to hide. Hidden behind my diluted mask of faulty smiles, I portray when you are around. As I wear with grace, deceiving you with an illusion of happiness. I die a little more inside. A cast away of pain, a cavity is what I became. Over dosing the quantity heartbreak, so overwhelmed my heartaches. Now begin causing the feeling of great sorrow, never wanting to see tomorrows. My secret cries of agony, a thought to die is where my truth lies. Memories are influencing misery, emotionally and physically. What hides behind my smile is vulnerability. My cries vocalize, overflowing with tears burns my insides. My heart is a furnace that burns for cremating my flesh of lies. Keeps me feeling, as thou I am no longer alive. Always walking through the crowd with my head up high, fore these feelings no one will ever find. My secret cries therefore shall die when I die. Then there will be no longer any secret cries to hide. Nevertheless, until the day I leave this earth, my cries shall stay buried alive.

Copyright © twanna Irisha | Year Posted 2012

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 | Light Poetry |
I will grow old
I tremble in the cold
None to care
I have nothing to fear...

But my love is alive
Though I strive
Beautiful roses to pluck
Yet I am stuck..

I grow old with wrinkle
Yet I will kinker
You will always remain in my mind
This is how you will find...

Copyright © Surajit Dahal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
I am a heart full of love
that shook the pilars that held her colussium up
her heart filled with sorrow,
I swing such fury toward her heart and soul
she cowards away from me,
in fear of falling in love and not knowing what is in black
and not searching what is in the light of pure white.

I am a heart full of love,
she runs and takes the long dirt road,
through the raging mountains of the quiet countryside,
as the meadows of lilacs slowly die when Spring comes,
the blooming of the rose,
like the blooming of my heart,
a blossom on a cherry tree fall and harbour in the wintertime.
I swing toward her, she falls in fear of wanting attention and love.
Lost in the midnight twilight,
the flaming torch guides her through the dark holes of meaningless souls.
and like a frightened hummingbird,
she flees away from the secrets of falling in love.

A heart full of love ready to love,
it is diffcult to feel and to show,
but as if a rose that blooms in Springtime
my love is ready to bloom.

Pettles lay along a darkened atmosphere
lit up only with four wax candles
a portrait of a woman hung over a mantel piece
in honour of my one true love.

As the twilight shine though my bedroom window,
I show a heart full of love,
to take and to hold for eternity.

And as she slowly moves forward,
she takes me home with her,
and opens her chest and shows me her heart
with a glass of red wine and charming cigarette.
She sheads tears of pain and sorrow on my broud shoulder,
I curise her hair, silk laced hair,
shining against the twilight and the moonlit sky.

My heart full of love,
so divine, so original
a one of a kind.

We make love in the midst of the twilight,
as my dream girl is now reality and my pain is no more,
her pain is no more.
Too show such love makes a man feel free
and his soul lighter.
She holds him there,
as the sun rises over the mountains.
The birds sing a tune of cheerfulness,
and they talk about everything beautiful and kind,
that is still left in this cruel and empty hearted world.

Romance and love shared
with a heart full of love,
smile and kiss upon smooth lips,
feel me against your tight body,
and love me till the morning
when Blue eyed Death is staring us in the face.
and we go with him,
and play a game of risk,
and together forever,
onto a diffrent world
we shall love each other forever,
for you and I both have a heart full of love.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic monologue |
The day becomes night;
As a comrade transcend 
To true world beyound.
Oh! Finally, a jolly good fellow drops the baton;
A justice of peace with unstained character,
A sacrificial giver who neglected his needs.
Death, you never cease to amase
As you drive home valiant colleagues.
Death! Hope you know?
Here a while we must be parted
Because
For a while the tired body
Erupt in sleep.
Soul and body reunited.
Thence; death, nothing shall divide 
Father, mother, child and brethren.
Nevertheless, the dead, you were great while alive
And great in death.
The pens, sleep till we meet and part no more.


      WRITTEN BY EDORE PAUL OYAKHILOME
	0092348081195600, 0092348131176767
	DEDICATED TO  JOURNALISTS . 

Copyright © EDORE PAUL OYAKHILOME | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
That half grown chrysanthemums/
Stirring up like accuser's.
Life is compared with what two things ?
Which do you think is the richer more revealing comparison ?
Poets use many symbols/
Geese flying south can be a symbol,
Of that of approaching winter/
Heart's symbolize love,
In this brief expanse we call life,
One may want to cry out in a revolt ?
Other's simply take in a breathe of fresh air/
Ponder that many other's that don't even care ?
We all must become united in this great cause !
Not to use this concept loosely/
Yet to humbly ponder a thought,
What do you all think tells a more detailed story ?
The poem or the picture ?
Love can grow out of a billowing cry/
Perhaps a cut nor a mere stye in the eye ?
The seventies had embarked on this journey/
Not to mention that of Timothy Leary ?
This took us to a vast opened door !
To break on through to the other side/
Lest I emplore,
Still we have every bit of reason in which to grasp/
That lattice decor to that shine on the asp,
A sweet juice filled with fine honey nectar/
The future resources,
Allow the creative poet/
To begin to explore the valley of much more !
In gaining the proper word/
Fresh out of the Autumn air !

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
Ah, the september weather is here,
the trees turn firery red and orange,
and the leaves gently fall to the surface.

Fall is here,
and the grass turns from green to yellow,
the souls of many change their ways.

From going on beaches in sun
to walking on wet streets,
with jackets on.

September weather is here,
too most it is depressing to see,
such change in the world.

But I love it.
The girlfriends and boyfriends go away,
and that makes me happy.
Then I go apple picking.

I pick red apples,
from low, hanging apple trees.
and I eat one, while walking down the trail.

Fall is here,
the time of death,
the last of sunshine.

I don't argue,
I love fall,
it is so cosy and it gives me hope.

Hope that a day will come again,
when the sun pops its head out
and the warmth returns.

September weather is the best,
when summer is gone, but not quite,
and the cool breeze sweaps through your open windowpane.

I love fall,
it gives me hope,
that with death comes life.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Romanticism |
Oh my sweet and beautiful Penelope
Oh how beautiful you are, and when I see you come down
to the pearl gates of immortality and come down to see me,
as we join hands and walk the shorelines
I see you my beautiful Penelope, she you who walks through beauty,
We shall join in immortality.
Your heart built of stone and paved in golden
you born out of the beauty of a rose and maturity of a lady
you are the one who never sings a depressing and low melody.

My Beautiful Penelope,
The one beautiful lady form Napoli
Oh, how you walk in such glory.
See me look over you and hear my heart beat
for you, I love you, see me for I care about you.
Take it from me, for I shall take you by the hand
and as our shadows rise to meet us in the morning
I can make love to you, then we shall love the night away.
My beautiful Penelope, as I take you through the twilight
we dream of shooting stars falling from the evening skies,
as we hold each other close,
take me and I shall take you and bring each other together,
and fuse us together with a sweet and loving kiss.

She is my beauty and I love her
she takes me by the hand and curels me to her warm chest.
Cares for me,
Makes me laugh,
Makes me feel good and uplifts my soul
everytime I lay my almond eyes upon her beauteous body.
My beautiful Penelope, oh how I see the glory in your blue eyes,
your luxurious, long flowing hair colored golden
like the rays of the morning sun.

Dare to care
about such beauty in her eyes?
Dare to care
about such beauty in her cries,
as she tells me of her suicide struggles?
I hold you close to me
and I hope you to be
my love for all eternity.
See me and I see you to tell me about you and your day,
as you come home and say,
That you love me.
And I shall say I love you too,
with a zealous attitude in my voice
I shall take you into our room and you shall tell me about your day.
You shall tell me, under the shadows of the trees, the houses, the red rocks.
I shall show you love in a handful of roses,
deliver you a bouquet of roses and violets,
as we see the breeding lilacs grow tall,
we shall lay in the grasslands and look up at the clouds,
that shape themselves into beautiful paintings in the glorious blue sea
we call the sky.

Oh My beautiful Penelope
my glorious maiden lady,
who sings such beauty in her melody
that it brings tears to nightingales' eyes.
My beautiful Penelope, you are my love
here are a dozen roses for you to express and show my love for you,
my beautiful Penelope.
Love is eternal with you.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
Somebody’s Baby, lie still 
Embalmed in pure white cotton, 
Cocooned securely, like the babe in arms 
within the shroud. 
Seraphim cavort no more upon a form  
once touched with shades of youthful innocence.

Somebody’s Baby, be sure.
Your time for dreams now spent,
No future beckons only time captured frame by frame,
Frozen in vulgar technicolor;
Close Up; Explicit, depicting genre yet unclassified;
The epic over exposed.
 
Somebody's Baby, be silent.
Grey and gnarled  imposter in the cot
Metamorphosis contrives a landscape dry and gnarled.
No more seductress of tender ministry;
Solitary, silently; endures the travesty
Of human demise.

Copyright © CAROL ROBINSON | Year Posted 2007

Details | Light Poetry |
She thought that he’s charming
Her friends says he is so cute
But little did they know
It’s the furthest from the truth

Her mom buys her a new dress
Because he ask her to the prom
But during the fun and laughter
He spikes her punch with rum

She wakes up in his BMW
He,s smiling with a cigarette
A morning she will remember
A night to forget

She can’t stop crying
She lies on her bed
Feeling hurt and disgusted
Suicide thoughts comes to her head

Her mom notice the changes
But she don’t know what is wrong
She use to sing in the church choir
The preacher says she stops coming around

She hugs her mother last night
Then walks out the door alone
And its now early morning
She didn’t come back home

She jumps over the bridge
They pull her body soaking wet
She couldn’t live with the memory
Of the night she can’t forget

It’s sad that her young life was ruin
By the evil that lays hidden behind a smile
Her mother life is shattered
Never knowing what happen to her child

This is happening to innocent girls
All over the world
Taking away their dignity and pride
Sucking the life out of their very soul

Another girl sits under a tree
Reading a book of poem by kaz ishmael
He said “excuse me just got to say
That you have a beautiful smile

She brushes her long hair
Think her jeans didn’t fit to right
His BMW is waiting out side
They are going to movies tonight

Copyright © kasim ishmael | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse |

I wake up with another tear for I have again, relived the nightmare will it ever leave me with any way to see when will I again be able to see my family the past is forgiven so why is it still living my heart was so broken but soon after it was frozen let it lie and the past die for I have a life to live with but the past is still being relived how do I stop this past of torture so I can find my new future

Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
A single kiss from thy lovely lips,
so sweet and so divine,
yet I taste posion upon your tongue.

Your beauty so glorious,
like a blooming rose so beautiful,
yet, why do mine eyes go blind
in the sight that you walk along with another?

Yes you, walk with another,
arm under arm,
lips touching lips in romantic kisses,
it makes my blood boil,
for mine lips are dry.

For mine eyes have seen your glory,
yet no one here listens to my story.
You are evil, yes you are,
don't try to deny,
Listen to a man of experience,
you might as well save some expense.

I write of our long romantic walks
we took together, under the shade of olive trees,
how we went apple picking in autumn time,
and made love in the foyer.

Nomore of that sweet and passionate love,
nomore silent kisses in the night,
when the wind blows hard against the branches,
that tape violently on my windowpane. 
Nomore somber tears shed, when you got sick,
and nomore warm embraces when you shed tears of betrayal.

Betrayal now is a game played by a fool,
such as I,
to think I'd have a happy life with you?
Huh, only a fool would think such a thing,
but now I sit, looking at the foyer,
where we once made sweet, passionate love,
nomore will that foyer be filled with exotic pleasure.
Nomore will you be filled with smiles and exotic pleasure.
I've done my job, as a good man shall do,
now pack your things and get of my stage,
the spotlight yawns for anew,
and the audience grows tired and restless of you.

Now I live life anew,
you too shall see life in new eyes,
walking hand and hand with the blond, blue eyed devil
you call your own.
Shall he take one kiss from your lips,
and die of the posion he tastes on your tongue,
shall he go blind, when he sees your true, black beauty?
He will see the ugly soul, covered up by white rags,
and cheap makeup,
and then he will come to me,
and shake my hand in condolence
and say, "You were right!"

Now you are all alone,
looking for another, as you did many times before,
Now you are alone, walking an open road,
spying on another,
fear of being alone.
Now, you see when you play games with a good man's emotions,
don't try it,
because a good man is not meant to be toyed with.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Why?
Why?
Why?

Tell me why?
Tell me why?
Tell me why?

Was it, because I was too nice,
I was too much of a gentleman,
or was just too much to handle?

Was it, because you were young?
Was it, because you couldn't find your heart,
in all that darkness?
Was it, because you just didn't feel the love?

Why?
Why me?
A man like me, deserves no pain,
no heartbreak.
So, why me?

I pray and ask the Gods,
why!
But an unresponsive god never speaks to me.
He sits there and watches... watching what?
Nothing, but a heart being torn to shreds.

Was it, because I was too careful?
Was it, because I loved too much?
Was it, because one half of the heart couldn't fit the whole?

I ask you, because I still love you.
Come to me, my beautiful,
stop this nonsense,
I cannot make you love me,
but I sure can try to show you love.

Do not blink,
do not take a gift sent down from the Gods
for granted.
Appriciate what you have,
appriciate me, because one day,
when you need a shoulder to cry one,
you will not be able to find me, anywhere.
I will be lost,
in a fool's dream of romance and love,
that will never come on my front doorstep.
Still dreaming of the possibilities of you and I.
My heart is with you always,
but I will soon expire,
so do not wait too long.

-10/5/2013

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Energy and passion,
excitement breeds attraction;
a brilliant work, a masterpiece
explored in true love fashion.

Traversing plots with disregard
for clear-cut truths,
it must be hard
to take.

Our cartoon minds
can’t comprehend
the words she spins,
the twist; the end.

So calmly,
I walk out the door
and know my thoughts mean
nothing more,
than love.

Copyright © mitchell eadie | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Sitting alone here,
all by myself,
looking at a reflection that I do not recall.
I see a face looking back at me,
a twin,
but not my twin,
no I see a pale face,
I see jealously, pain, sorrow, and a frown
I see all the negative.
I see fear,
I see nothing.

I am sitting alone,
in my room
white walls surround me.
I hear the trains blow their horns off in the distance,
and the cars and trucks roaring down the lonesome highways.
I can even the crying and wailing of sirens
blazing down the avenues,
"Where is the fire, folks!?"

The wind blows through my window,
moving the blinds back and forth,
and I sit there alone,
smiling and singing a little.
Sitting there alone,
peaceful and tired
wanting to rest my head,
but scared too face the nightmares.
Too hear the voices of the dead
call out my name.
And I sit there alone
thinking of what once was,
beauty and harmony nomore
in my trial of certainty.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
There's a void, now
Where once a steadfast heart beat time
The soul in perfect harmony with life's uncertain pulse
With those who clambered eagerly in solace or in joy
To scale that mighty pinnacle
The Rock, within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
But marvel at the structure, the firmness of the ground beneath
The strata richly layered with wisdom of generations past
A fault free seam constructing firm foundations
Binding those within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
A hollow cavern 
echoing the anger and the pain
Trust time; it has no fear of finite elements
The source of unremitting pain
Within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
So fill the emptiness and catalogue the memories
Harvesting the richness of their meaning
The fullness of the seed sown long ago
To bloom forever within the bosom of the family

Copyright © CAROL ROBINSON | Year Posted 2007

Details | Light Poetry |
She looked into my eyes
There were tears, she wept
She was filled with remorse
But her past was not of her doing

Senseless death is never accepted
Never understood
Her sister is gone, no tear undone
For wanting to smile, to love, be young

Cultures grow old, wither and die
Some linger on, and make us cry
So stand up, when it becomes too clear
Defend those of the weak, those in fear

With voices loud, and filled with love
We shall rejoice, unveil 1000 doves
Kiss away those tears, the pain of so many years
Look into her dead eyes, take comfort, she will smile

From her grave, she will surely see
The anguish left, from barbaric acts
This hatred of man can never last
A child is she, a shining light

Sister, she would grasp your body an soul
And whisper, you must continue this fight
Forgive those who walk in blindness
And cherish those who forgive with kindness

- dedicated to a young girl in Pakistan braver than I

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
the salty wind blowing from far, far away
read me a poem today
whose lines I've heard before,
bur where and when,
I couldn't tell:

"the shortest road is the one 
that you know, 
 the longest road is the one 
that you love"

soaked in deep thoughts,
I sat there for hours and hours
my eyes shut, lips dry
waiting for further clues
until, as a sudden,
the 'longest way' part rang a bell

I got off the chair,
opened my arms wide towards the ocean
hugged and kissed the wind,
the almightiest messenger of them all,
for making me feel again 
so well. 

Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
Who are and who is my friends or acquaintances, confusing everyday
but today I have found my self to walk a path that is not so rough
I became so blinded to have friends that it pains me anyway
They take a simple kindness and think that I am not tough
so by deliberately challenging me to act like nothing happens I grow bold
Wake up you! and all the rest, I have something to say
I don't like this feeling of regret or sorrow so please do not take me cold
as a friend you should know to not take advantage of my kindness in away
A storm is blowing inside my soul burning a hole in it so
lightning is striking in methods unknown for in the distance thunder you hear
Some of the greatest warriors fall with great weapons of bow
antics that slaughters such feebleness as cowardices use an unseen spear
To let one know that your feelings are clear do not hesitate
to do so shows fear and that is one thing that can determine your choice
With kindness in your corner you should easily win and that will be great!
In the end you can hold up a drink with friends and smile and rejoice

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
A love letter,
so full of words,
so full of beauty.

A love letter,
me reading alone on a park bench,
while I form tears in my dry eyes.

A love letter,
which takes me to a place,
of peace and brings joy to me.

A love letter,
that has no boundaries,
that shows a stranger's true feelings.

A love letter,
taken words put together,
to read a poem of glorious beauty.

A love letter,
that shows that someone loves you,
and it brings a smile on my face.

I go on home,
sit at my desk,
look at the sweet love letter
marked with a red kiss.

A named penned in curseve,
The "I" is dotted with a heart,
makes my heart leap from the chest.

I sit there,
light a cigarette and stare at an empty page
from a lonesome notebook.

I pick up my pen,
and I transfer all my emotions onto the paper,
to create love and art to show my love in return.

Then I shall go to a simple, but beautiful garden
and pick two roses that have already picked themselves,
and take them to the creator of this love letter.

A love letter,
so strong with words put together,
expressing true emotion.

A love letter,
so strong in its own world,
it brings strangers together and makes them love forever.

A love letter,
so sweet and so divine,
that any man prays for a love letter to appear on his doorstep.

A love letter,
beauty and harmony,
that brings people closer togther.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Jesus comes take me home
I just can’t live alone
Rama comes take me home
The pain has reach my bone

God please take me home
Don’t want to hurt no more
Now that she’s gone
There’s nothing to live for

I am not religious
But I know right from wrong
And thought I try to be righteous
In hell is where I belong

Sell me a piece land
Need to get a burial place
Get me a wooden box
And bury me in disgrace

Want to leave this human race
No longer can show my face
My love vanish in to space
And my life become a waste

So she broke my heart
With out a hint of remorse
The happiness I found
Is the happiness I lost?

But I would never beg
Even a dog must have his pride
With alcohol and drugs
Will kill my self from the inside

Give me some cigarettes
Want to get cancer in my brain
Give me some alcohol
I want to drown my pain

Mama come bury your son
Forgive me what I have done
Father goodbye to you
I can’t come to heaven too

For I can not live
Without the love she give
This is my purgative
So don’t think I’m negative

To my brothers, this is the farewell
I have love you all, More than I ever tell
To all my family, this is the end
Thank you for the time that we spend

Good bye to all my friends
I know some of you really do care
But now I’m dead and gone
Your memories of me will disappear

Copyright © kasim ishmael | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
Everyday I wake, I bathe in the river Jordan: taking with me the dirtiness from the yesterdays. Repeating the same sins, that were never washed clean. Reenacting the past and all its ways.

Copyright © Corey Brown | Year Posted 2012