This poem is written in the Sestina form.
Under the cloak of anger,
In a world full of despair,
Surrounded by misery and pain,
Engulfed in darkness,
Loss of hope,
To keep oneself under control,
Fight through the darkness, confront your anger,
Don’t give in to despair, search for hope,
The search can be painful and full of despair,
Lead me out of this angry darkness,
Help me control the pain.
I can’t deal with this pain,
I am lost in the darkness, out of control,
Totally lost, totally dark,
Searching, hoping, use that anger!,
Break through the darkness, conquer despair,
It is within your control, give in to hope.
Despair is neutralized within the realm of hope,
You cannot control the pain,
Anger is the offspring of despair,
Which cannot be defeated, only controlled,
This desperate child named anger,
Sits silently cold, in the darkness.
God, relieve me of this anger, take this darkness,
End this pain, restore my hope,
Give me the control to master this anger,
So I can leave the darkness and end the pain,
I am asking for less anger and more control,
Grant my prayer, O’ Lord, end my despair.
Totally lost and completely desperate,
Angry and confused within the dark,
Hopelessly lost, losing control,
Searching for answers, needing hope,
To lift this darkness and end the pain,
I don’t want to be controlled by this anger.
Never get so desperate as to lose control,
Even if it’s painful and dark,
Rely on hope to deal with that anger.
Original poem written by S.Ronthorpe
Copyright © Samual Ronthorpe | Year Posted 2012
Smile in your sleep
A midnight temptation is in the midst of the stars.
Brightness feeds and eventually consumes the eclipse.
Individuals described as both boy, and female acting very young.
Both separated at birth, yet they roam every night while they sleep.
Yet, one day they met for the first time at North Eastern Heights;
An academic learning center, a school where everyone made memories.
There were plenty of times where Nick had football memories.
Niki was dreaming of one day becoming one of those famous movie stars.
Both would have been fabulous careers, but neither climbed the heights.
Thursday, the day Nick and Niki had both looked at each other like an eclipse.
Tossing, turning all night, the two wish to dream of each other, but cant sleep.
Both wanted love, both wanted money, both wanted to be forever young.
Smiling at both their baby pictures, Nick and Niki looked oh so young.
Nick asked Niki to be his homecoming date and one of his fondest memories.
Both looked at each other, gazing in their eyes, so boring one could sleep.
That night at the dance, the two acted as if they were dancing with the stars.
Boys and girls attending the dance made up a color wheel of a shining eclipse.
Nick and Niki were on top of the world; they couldn’t fall off the heights.
At the end of their senior year, it was graduation at North Eastern Heights.
These were the days they realized that they couldn’t be forever young.
That no parts of all life are going to be as shining as an Eclipse.
Even they, remember the things we hate too keep as part of our memories.
The only thing of there young adulthood that didn’t change was the stars.
Nick and Nicki gazed upon stars all-night, and smiled in their sleep.
Both they lay, laying down on the comfort mattress, smiling in their sleep.
Dreaming they both do, climbing the Appalachian mountain heights.
Camping by a fire in the mountain range the only thing present was stars;
One of the last things they saw was an owl, it’s cooing as a young.
The two lovers will always be remembered just as memories.
And suddenly it was all gone; the dream went away as fast as an eclipse.
A looming eclipse-
All alone, how can I sleep?
She’s gone, my erased memories.
I fell off the heights.
We were so perfect and young.
We were a pair, just like stars.
Forever the stars-
They enjoyed being so young
Sometimes we all fall off heights.
Copyright © Trent Turney | Year Posted 2015
I live in an old forgotten castle,
Engulfed in a vast blanket of shadow,
Where without reason, there rustles the leaves
Evermore by the cold clandestine wind.
In the ever-laughing embrace of time,
I try to speak, but long gone is my voice.
What is silence, but an ominous voice?
It's presence is known through out thine castle,
An echo growing lonely through out time,
And I, it's victim, for it stole my shadow!
Why do you bite me so, oh vengeful wind,
Because it was I that rustled the leaves?
Beneath the white, white snow I am the leaves!
Endless flakes falling, ignoring my voice.
Done away with and never to feel wind.
These once grand corridors of thine castle,
What have you done, oh malevolent time?
Soaked in ignorance and lovely shadow.
Do I yearn for the familiar shadow,
As Mother tree misses her little leaves?
In these woods I seek a faraway time,
Where there floats real sound and a friendly voice.
But in my dreams it spoke in thine castle!
Could it be? Was it real?... or just the wind.
What message do you convey, oh weary wind?
For how lost you must be in my shadow.
I feel around the dusty shelves of castle,
Searching through the dry and desolate leaves,
Harboring books filled with glorious voice!
For once I am thankful for endless time.
I've ran out of wax! Where have you gone, time?
The wick caught fire, but loving was the wind.
But did you not hear my hesitant voice,
As I walked slow through perilous shadow?
These mural portraits, showing strange green leaves.
But they've always been gray, silly castle!
Wind and leaves, I'm afraid you've been mislead,
Finding a shadow, never there, for so long a time!
Was there ever voice in thine castle?
Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013
Let me come too close to you now
so close that I can hear every breath
to be lost in the depth of those eyes.
Let me kiss your emerald eyes
that sea in which my boat is lost now,
before sinking,whisper of your breath.
Just for once mingle with my breath,
just for once in your emerald eyes
with its love,this heart wants to sink now.
Now my breath grasping in your blue eyes!
Copyright © kash poet | Year Posted 2013
On the night stand,
swimming in colors,
a jewel box once full;
My blood runs cold,
as I mourn the theft of a treasured pin.
An Heirloom pin,
on my antique night stand,
taken by a thief, so cold.
Breeds in me colors;
Of heartache, empty;
My life, no longer full;
My heart, once full
of trust; gone with my pin.
Like the jewel box, I am empty.
I look at my night stand;
my face, raging colors
of fury, so cold.
A thief, so cold,
breeds contempt; my heart funk-full,
of diverse and dark colors,
at the loss of a favored pin.
crying alone I stand,
ever so empty
When I’m empty
And my heart is cold,
I can not stand
the loss of my full
life and treasured heirloom pin,
of heavenly sapphire colors
This life of many colors,
Without joy, is an empty
Jewelry box, without an heirloom pin.
A life cold;
no longer full,
like my lonely night stand.
Oh the beauteous sapphire color, of my stolen heirloom pin.
My jewel box, so empty; a thiefs pockets, so full.
At the trial of that thief, so cold; I will make my stand.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014
Singing a New Song
Today I heard a country song
I hadn’t heard for many years
I closed my eyes and felt the pain
Rememb’ring when we shared our love
Before the days that broke my heart
The memory filled these eyes with tears
My cheeks were wet with spilling tears
the singer singing her sad song
As emptiness invades my heart
I gazed down on the lonely years
For I no longer have your love
And fear I cannot bear the pain
It is a low and cutting pain
My eyes they shed a million tears
As the sad tale of our lost love
Is captured in the singer’s song
I wonder just how many years
To mend a shattered broken heart
But will it ever mend, this heart
Repair itself and ease the pain
I think of all the wasted years
Of all the bleak and useless tears
Just like the lyrics of the song
A troubled, doomed and hopeless love
If you came back to claim my love
could I entrust you with my heart?
Or, like the woman in the song
Would your return bring only pain?
My life forever filled with tears
Throughout more long and lonely years
And would it be as in past years
You’d pour contempt on my true love
You’d laugh at all my pleading tears
And ridicule my breaking heart.
I must find strength to conquer pain
And live no more this mournful song
No wasted years, no cruel false heart
Disloyal love or wounding pain
No hurt or tears in my new song
Sestina----1-song 2-years 3-pain 4-love 5-heart 6-tears
Copyright © Margaret Foster | Year Posted 2010
The day’s beginning is a special gift.
Given over a life’s eternity,
One can’t help but feel the daily change.
How often we stay into the evening. An attempt to hold
Onto the feelings of joy and elation,
That made our day so emphatically special.
Are not the future possibilities also special?
That we dream of yet other gifts,
gifts of such thought, that might also inspire elation
From giver and receiver for all eternity.
Constantly close to both, holding,
As if to say, “Don’t Ever Change.”
Does growth not require change?
Should not that change be also special?
Only if you have forgotten about holding,
The longing embrace of previous gifts,
One that requires attention for all eternity,
fueling existential feelings of elation.
Even when intentionally forgotten, holding
On to the recipient, despite elation.
At one point, this internal agony was a gift.
What could ever make this change?
This gift that could never be more special.
Now it has changed for eternity.
The re-direct of energy through eternity,
The loss of love’s forever embrace.
Love, making pain beautifully special.
Will there ever be elation?
Maybe if we only change
The way we exchange special gifts.
Our future’s eternity might fill with elation
From holding the exchange
Of something special,
… the mere appreciation of a gift..
Copyright © Matthew Sample | Year Posted 2012
Standing on a tower, more than three hundred feet
She was watching a movie of her life,
in her head, as tears fall, and she tries to smile
She spread her arms like wings
Tears still falling, but she wants to fly
She closes her eyes, and held her head
Should have known better, her expectations too high
She's someone with two legs but can't stand on her feet
She may have been breathing, but she did not have life
She's undead blend with living, greet them with a fake smile.
And at night when she breaks, she would grasp for her wings
She forgot she was human, and therefore cannot fly.
How she wanted to fly!
More than thousand feet high
Never walk on her feet
And explore her whole life
Maybe then she could smile
She would look for those wings
She'd been hoping for wings
For she wanted to fly
She wanted to be happy, like she's on sugar high
Like someone lift her up, and swept her off of her feet
How she long for it! She wanted that her whole life
She just wanted to be happy, she just wanted to smile.
But it takes all her strength, just to muster one smile
For all that's left was a set of broken wings
Never better than angels, even worse than a fly.
Always falls at the bottom, and no chance to get high
Always stuck on the ground, with her two broken feet
She was tired of these things, she was tired of this life
There was no one out there who cares for her life
But she tried to be strong, while she wear a fake smile
She cried out for help, but they pulled out her wings
Screaming "Girl, you are human, and therefore cannot fly!"
She know it herself, but is it bad to aim high?
"I will show them," she says, as she ran on her feet
Life, now hanging on a tower, more than three hundred feet
She wears a real smile while she stood way up high
Spread her arms just like wings, took off--- and fly.
Copyright © Julie Anne | Year Posted 2016
What's a sweeter gift than love?
What's the greatest wealth than hope?
What's a richer state than faith?
It behooves you to live by your faith,
And keep aflame the spirit of love,
Woe befalls him who derides hope:
Nothing is drearier than a life bereft of hope,
And he's a lost soul who's without faith,
But unfortunate is he of all who's without love.
All is lost when one loses love, hope and faith!
Copyright © Abdul Malik | Year Posted 2013
If i could exhale, really exhale,
To expire the rubble of the ages,
1000 years of dread off my belly,
and my fingertips once so dainty
then could grasp stars and not burn,
I dig my face into the dirt and find eternity.
i gazed into the jackals eyes and he spoke to me from eternity
he said "follow closely so that i might teach you to exhale
and maybe dear in return a smile upon your face will burn"
an expression lost on my brittle jaw for ages
so i walk upon the crust of the earth now bruised and dainty
yet i feel growth between my toes and swelling in my belly
woe does bewilderment plague me here, tearing up my belly
then a soft green garden snake cradles me into eternity,
i watch her curl and dance across the soil of this dainty
room, she looks back from her slither reminding me to exhale,
have i been lost for all these ages?
or have i simply been afraid to burn?
and thus so is it my place to burn?
for i feel welcomed and smooth yet i have poison in my belly
and tomorrow i will remember the pain of the ages
may i retain the knowledge of eternity
or become bodily again when i exhale?
or have no question that my thoughts and ideas are dainty
i have visions of my presence siting crossed and dainty
breathing barley and quiet as i burn
surrounded by a castle of tones that bring me to exhale
into the mouth of god and back into my belly
i feel my self escaping and gasping for eternity
coming back down to the end of my ages
i could sit and cry for the death of the ages
but this life i despise growing and rooting, dainty
yes, paltry no, and tattering for the rest of my eternity
yet i recall the jackal and his feet where the earth does burn
and i miss the poison in my belly
it not escapes me, but it crusades me to exhale.
before and after the ages, the world will burn and my body will lie dainty
on the ground filling her great belly with the poison of eternity cursed to exhale.
Copyright © xtevie fernandez | Year Posted 2013
He sat behind me in class
His only demeanor to cause distraction
Till the day he caught my eye.
The day he turned my life into a roller-coaster.
It began with a yawn and a kiss,
Little did I know he would change my life.
I didn’t know if he’d be the love of my life,
I mean I just met him in class.
We only had one little kiss
But already he’s becoming a distraction.
He’s changing the speed of our roller-coaster.
But that doesn’t scare me as I look in his eyes.
And because of the look in his eyes
I’m not scared to think of our life
And how even at the bottom of our roller-coaster
I only need to remember that class
To take away from whatever distraction.
So I can treasure every kiss.
But there have been times its not me he kisses
And every time it puts tears in my eyes.
I lay in bed and pray for a distraction
Because it feels as if he ruined my life.
I begin to regret every minute of that class
And we reach the ultimate low of our roller-coaster.
Sometimes I just want to jump off the roller-coaster
And forget all about that first kiss,
Go back in time to the class
So that he never caught my eye.
So that he never became part of my life.
So that he never became a distraction
Because now I need my own distraction
From our scary dangerous roller-coaster.
I’m scared of what he’s doing to my life.
I’m scared of knowing this was our last kiss.
I’m scared these tears will permanently fill my eyes
And I’ll never feel the same as I did in that class
How can I forget about that distracting kiss?
I’ll just close my eyes on the roller-coaster
Because he changed my life in that class.
Copyright © Emileigh Bechtolt | Year Posted 2016
Lost love where lust begins to rise
Relationships build on betrayals honesty
Grown in the mushroom dark
No one ever really knows their lover
Or another persons heart
Heavy where secrets sleep in hunger under cover
Cursed men escape into the desert vacancy
Soldiers parched, where no raging rivers run
Wrinkled lips dry up with ancient wanderers
Including their insides
Skin turns to leather brown
Warriors, dunes, live out the hour with them now
Doomsday is right around the corner of a smile
A tear tries to form but quickly dries
Broken men dream with gushing rivers on the mind
Sun baked with landscape misery
Thirsty, scorched, craving a glass of water
Lost on the sand to die
Love flourishes on the morning afterwords
Birds still sing in search for something nourishing
Frantic storms lift their last gasp of air
Sail on warm clouds of memory
Laugh at men who used to grasp for flesh
In pleasure for pleasures sake that past
Lost on the dunes
Under the unforgiving sun
Other men still wander
Wonder for ages yet to come
How love lingers where lust begins again
Over the buried souls of granular fine grandeur
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2016
Like a penny, lost and worthless, woman
mother, and buried within the origin pit, dark
she brought me like a Jezebel into her life of mourning
mistress of the stage and child to horror
born, and off he ran, forced flight my father, loss
the hussy dies but on Edgar lives in awe.
Blood and death and pain feed Poe’s awe.
Why she had done, what soul had she, this woman
leaving him a found fledgling of loss?
“Why, why, bring me into this hellish dark?”
Coal black the pit and pendulum of this zealot father’s horror
the devil’s drink brought penitence and forced, mourning.
“Bastard child!” his stepfather screamed in mourning
as his new Mother looked on in awe.
And, his new brother watched on in horror,
the lash was not spared nor kindness brought by woman.
In the starkness of his mind there was only dark.
Abandoned child, Poe, and his rescuers brought only loss.
“Run, leave, you villains all!” He cried. “There is only loss!”
So on, he wrote into the dark and mourning.
The ink the Prussian blue released the anguish his dark.
Intuition, and superstitious fright will feed him awe.
Cousin, sister, wife, would be his woman
the banshees cry, her bloody death became his horror.
“Alone, alone…” The corbies’s caw brings horror,
but for the devil’s drink, he’s naught but loss........
“Lenore…..” He’ll wall his tainted heart away from woman
and make his blasted soul the start of mourning.
“To hell with you!” He screams at those in awe
of his blank and burned out hulk of dark.
Bricked in or deep within the ripest dark...
“God, so alone……….” He hides in horror,
forlorn, depraved and not at all in awe.
For there is no romance found in loss
no beauteous bounty in the dross of mourning,
no family, friend or wife not tainted, born from woman.
So, Poe lives and dies in awe of the dark.
Where woman’s deepest depths bring only horror
and loss is all he knows in light of mourning.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010
As the first red rose blooms
The first bloom of summer__see
It reminds me of you dear
For I know how much you
Love roses especially those of red
I long to see you soon
But our eyes won't gaze soon
I'll have to enjoy the blooms
All by myself__ they are red
Like all my blood flowing see
From my broken heart that you
Broke when you left my dear
I loved you so much my dear
But you found another love soon
I just could not share you
But miss you when roses blooms
There is another that I see
And he really doesn't like red
I'll just dig up roses red
Then I'll forget about you dear
This new person I finally see
I will really enjoy marrying soon
We will marry when pink blooms
Adorn the running rose__ forget you
I'll just forget all about you
Except now when blooms roses red
Next year there will be blooms
Of pale pink everywhere dear
I will enjoy planting them soon
I hope that you will see
All the red roses disappear see
Soon they will go then you
Remember our lost love very soon
Every time you see roses red
You will remember me my dear
You'll remember when red roses blooms
Red roses see over there red
Ones that you really love dear
Full bloom soon red rose blooms
(First try at a Sestina...Thanks for the challenge Jared.)
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010
Forever in the wind, the gale, the tempest gone……
though, lingering caress of cheek and thigh remains
as does the precious memory of fires glow.
Winds leavings lesson, shreds the sheets of time’s retreat
and, at last, the snow melts listless in spring’s arms, warm.
Soft breezes tease her auburn hair, she sighs “Oh, love..”
The flames of brash passion bank with his absence,"Love.."
The woodland cottage shutter bang , they say “He’s gone…”
Around her unclad form, he’d wrapped his cloak so warm,
where maiden laid abed within, his sweet scent remains.
The war had come and he must go, he must retreat.
The ripening moon has passed behind the clouds a glow
Yet, deep within a single seed, follows nature’s glow.
The pulse, the heart, the art, of tales, unbridled... love.
No amount of jeers or warnings can bring retreat,
for he is not removed, dismissed, a leaving gone.
See his eyes reflected from the face where she remains?
See the brand he’s placed upon her heart, so warm.
Clarity can not make more clear, the trace of warmth
No prismatic glass can intensify the glow.
The brilliant bloom, the blush, so, it doth remain.
When willow weeps upon the wind, she shan’t for love.
Ne’er lay like Ophelia on the water “He’s gone…….”
A gifting he has left, a grace, in his retreat.
That winter wind which blew the fairest love to his retreat
left empty days and nights of gloom no longer warm.
“Oh, he harried all the dark emotions….gone…….”
and left a different brightness, a face a glow.
Soon, with the fall of maple leaves, she’ll bare his love
and all that matters in this world with thus remain.
A wee bairn will birth from such love and will remain.
Upon bosom blessed, he’ll rest with pain in retreat.
The fairy folk will not receive her dearest love.
The skirt of meadow grass will not his wee frame warm
for her longing has been fulfilled with this child's glow,
the forest god’s and she can see that he ne’er gone.
The bairn remains, his gift, memory unwrapped, warm.
The retreat of fire forces internal glow
for love she’d given all her heart, and he ne’er gone.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010
Every soul on the planet knows that people are senseless.
You'd think we'd wise up some over time.
Time and time again people focus on being devious.
Is the way they play their way of being real? People
Who really try to make a difference sometimes spill
Their kindness on arid land when what it really needs is a flood.
And I've tried to provide a flood
Of kindness and love and values, but to them, it's so senseless
And pointless that I'd much rather spill
It on someone who'd give me the time
Of day and actually appreciate what other people
Don't even stop to consider because they're too busy deviating.
From what I've seen, all people know is how to be deviant.
They want to be the ones to unleash the beast, bring the flood
Of deception and drown the truly honest people
Who care enough to even reach out a hand to those senseless
And lost souls. I've lost many a wink and spent many a night time
Thinking of a way to save my blood from being the next to spill.
But I am not the only good-blooded one who posses what they wish to spill.
I am not the only one trying to out-deviate the deviants.
I know someone who, despite the lies she is told all the time,
And despite the pseudo-amorous atmosphere, sees the real flood
Of bull droppings thrown her way. She can see through the senseless
People's transparent lies. She will go farther that most of those people.
It is a skill to be able to feel my spiel about most people
And their mindlessness. I hope I'm not around when they spill
Their mind and speak their hearts and rant and rave in their senseless
Talk. They think they make sense but in their quest to deviate,
They unplug the faucet of all that's bad. They cause the flood
That ruins those who want to bless the world with their time.
I wish someone would bless me with their time.
What do we have to do to rid the world of senseless people?
Shall we pray for another flood?
Or should we take it upon ourselves to spill
The guilty blood? I'm tired of all these people and their deviousness
Who take pride in being senseless.
I, for my part, will not waste my precious gift. I will not spill
My knowledge upon deaf ears and closed hearts and devious
Minds. Because that, my dear reader, would truly be senseless.
Copyright © Jonathan White | Year Posted 2009
Every corner I turn, I see your sweet face
Its memory, like a ghost, haunts me still
I recall how you loved me, you gave me your all
I can not believe that I just let you go!
Now my heart, so heavy, my days dreary and dark
It is I whose pride I must cast aside
I must search in earnest, lay every doubt aside
And pray day comes, when again, I touch your sweet face
When days become brighter no longer to exist in the dark
I promise, on my honor to give you my all
'Til you return to me, there is no place I want to go
So right here in this time I wait for you still
Your joy, your pain, every heart beat, I'll share it all
We’ll blend as one, lay insecurities aside
Wherever you may be, my heart and I also will go
Haunted no longer by the memory of your sweet face
For now I know above all else, I love you still
In the light of your eyes I bloom, but slowly, I die in the dark
When the storms of life bring in clouds so dark
When loneliness engulfs me, clearly I see it all
In the quiet of night when all is still
I lay alone in our bed, I cast my mask aside
On your pillow I swear there’s the imprint of your sweet face
Tears flow, my pain grows, get no respite, no where to go
Every thought of you lingers and won’t let me go
Find no comfort in solitude as I sit in the dark
I pretend your laying here; I can almost touch your face
Ingratitude was what I offered, while you gave to me your all
Your love, your quiet devotion, taken for granted and cast aside
For wanton, shallow affection, now I’m nothing! I need you still
If only you could see me and I could see you still
If you would come to me now, today, or I to you, go
I’d pledge my life; my true devotion put my wanderings aside
No longer would sadness embrace me as I pace in the dark
My heart I’d give only to you, I'd forsake the many others, all!
And bask in sunlight forever, if I could only see your sweet face
In my eyes your still the light that shines in the dark
I would go anywhere for you, for you I'd give my all
Brush my foolish pride aside that once more I may see your sweet face
* Entry for Jared Pickett's "Sestina" Contest
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2010
Like East and West you rose when I fell,
was that all we ever were?
Two poles that tried our best to,
with smiles like puddles, fit together right.
As gum does under a wooden table,
We dried up and hardened.
Your expression, once radiating untouched youth, seemed hardened.
And once your brow furrowed your smile fell,
like a fussy babe’s milk from the family table.
Acquaintances are what we had become, what we were.
Finding any fault in you solidified my right
to curse your name so I could feel something too.
Then I marched you forcefully to the guillotine to
damn and release you. Since my heart hardened
I felt our love had lost its rights,
a condemned criminal who lost it all when his defenses fell.
We looked at the time, which was more precious to you, as it were,
and you just tapped your feet under my table.
I cried “enough” and turned the tables.
Your indifference towards it was all too
much considering what we were.
But my will had hardened
and we could never last, come Fall.
You kissed my brow softly before you left and nothing felt right.
My heart, on a seemingly straight path, turned right,
and was consumed, ferociously, with silver forks on a table
by my loneliness, which rose when we fell.
And then I cried, not many tears, just two.
Once the salt from my tears had hardened,
I reassessed my emotion and tried to forget what we were.
But the shadows in my room you left behind were
keeping me from believing that it would ever be all right.
And though, when I let go my resolve for your absence hardened,
as I watched you stroll away from my table,
I couldn’t help but think we should still be two.
Defeated hopes and desires had nowhere to go, so they fell.
But the distances between us were so much more than a kitchen table,
And the intentions could never be right or natural too.
So I will rise and gain my hardened place in the sky and you can wait to fall.
Copyright © Kelly Doyle | Year Posted 2010
And so I see your moving mouth
Not a coherent word my ears hear uttered
I must not assume
You're apologizing for the affair
For your love I now rival
For your heart I now lust
And I think she must too lust
Lustful for those lips on your mouth
I am certain she’s my rival
Cursed words I have uttered
They did little to suspend the affair
I must not assume
I must not assume
You are not subject to lust
Lust fuels the fire of this affair
Again curses fly from my mouth
Dirty words from your lips are uttered
Into the ear of my sole rival
The war wages against my rival
I must not assume
All words between us uttered
Lacking love, losing lust
I long to hit you squarely in the mouth
I long to banish remnants of this affair
You repeatedly indulge in your affair
And spoil my rival
By kissing her demon mouth
I must not assume
It cannot be love but only lust
Evil wishes against her I have uttered
Hopeful wishes she has uttered
Longing for more than the affair
Love is blossoming from her lust
‘Til death do us part her I’ll rival
I must not assume
That you meant it when the words I love you left your mouth
From your mouth your love you've uttered
I must not assume it was not of the affair
Your mightiest rival is lust
Copyright © Nicole Signorelli | Year Posted 2007
Three little words I found too hard to say,
I was wrong and withheld a simple truth,
Afraid to see rejection in your eyes,
Without poetics and eloquent words,
I saw your pain and bitterly regret,
I failed to say 'I love you'; I'm sorry.
For all the times I made you cry; sorry,
'I don't want to hurt you,' I hear me say,
Yet now I live with remorse and regret,
My rage hurt the one I love, that's the truth,
Engaged in battles of burning cruel words,
I'd die when your heart broke within your eyes.
The love once mine shone from those moonlight eyes,
All lost to time and I'm left with sorry,
To memories of my own poison words,
The things a girl should never hear or say,
If only you could see what is still truth,
Instead I face never ending regret.
From bitter envy to seas of regret,
Fed by tears that wept from your dying eyes,
I killed the love you gave me for my truth,
I never grasped the strength to be sorry,
nor spoke the love you wanted me to say,
If only I could have found precious words.
'I love you' three beautiful little words,
I never told you, my only regret,
Too scared of things you might want me to say,
Afraid of the passion beneath your eyes,
Oh god baby do you know I'm sorry,
I was not able to face my heart's truth.
My fear to embrace love and not its truth,
I held back on sharing those heartfelt words,
My life too long to keep saying sorry,
I live drowning slowly in my regret,
I should have looked deep into your blue eyes,
'I love you, Gab' is all I had to say.
My love came with truth consoling regret,
so precious can words be when said with eyes,
I remain sorry I just couldn’t say.
Copyright © Jemmy Farmer | Year Posted 2010
Some times in moments of despair
That so often darkens life
I let my mind flow free
Beyond the things that can imagine
One who sees only with his eyes
And not with beating burning heart.
For there in the deep of heart
I look for medicine for despair
To bring new vision to my eyes
To feel again a breath of life
To let dreams dare I imagine
Come true and fly ahigh and free!
Wherever wish I – I am free
And no one can force my heart
Or, say, prohibit to imagine…
Although one can put despair
And sadness in my course of life
Or cover with a pain my eyes.
Heart’s sight is sharper than the eyes’
Which are in fact not all that free
Because illusion is the life
That may trick mind – not the heart;
In order to withstand despair
Create a world of yours – imagine!
The deepest sea you might imagine
Invisible for human eyes
Could sink forever you despair
And once again you will be free
You will rejoice to very heart
You will remember taste of life!
It’s not an easy thing – a life.
You now think you all imagine
And then you enter realm of heart
An inaccessible for eyes
But real, true and always free
For any soul in despair.
Despair is a part of life
But feel free always to imagine
Not with your eyes – with heart.
Copyright © Gabriel Rawling | Year Posted 2007
When a teen disobeys,
innocence becomes insolance,
but malice is caused by exernal influence;
banners with explicit sexual indulgence,
conversations with obscene words
and gestures that can offend passerbys.
There are signs that can detect
any danger, watch the sexy way they dress:
tight clothing and that glamorous look
so irrisistable and provoking; and it
may not go unnoticed, and some teasers
even approve of it...adding to their lustful taste.
Even before modern times left their indecent mark,
these teens had a plan to run from home,
hop on train or bus and head for the big cities;
and on those thriving sidewalks, the predators
wait and they know how despair can turn into need,
an urgent need to survive...to eat and sleep.
Beautiful children, why do you constantly disobey,
and refuse to listen to your parents and elders,
who were raised in kindness, respect and dignity?
Innocent children, before that delusional fantasy
steals away more irreplaceable dreams...ask yourselves:
shouldn't a dream, such as yours, be trashed?
Unpack your back-packs and stay in a wam environment,
before silly thoughts become your biggest fear
and you will follow them to their destructive end...
not ever feeling any absence of the parental heart,
where there is a happy home you don't consider
the greatest place to nurture love with loving cheer.
When a teen disobeys,
love loses its profound defination...
as its pure essence is taken away by the rampant indignation
of an embittered truant: cursing, mocking justice,
stealing to feed bad habits, and in doing so they allow grief
to overcome joy, and replace it with a tragic death.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009
Today, after waking from an impatient sleep
I went to the window and threw open the shade,
remembering that I had promises made.
There were those promises to my new lady.
Recent, torrid, and a little bit shady.
Yet there were glorious feelings to reap.
I promised her my love forever,
all my respect and attention, whenever
and vow to close my distance from this maid.
I would ply her with poems and rhymes,
with chocolates, and odes repeated a thousand times
and remembering my promises to keep.
My respect, devotion and all my attention
to her, I give freely and with true invention,
a trust that I do not dare evade.
I will lift myself up to her and offer my heart
only if she returns love none can pull apart.
It's difficult to make such a leap
But deep inside I have not swayed.
Copyright © Thomas Pitre | Year Posted 2007
(WORK IN PROGRESS)
O ,wherefore thou ,is thy Sestina Angelina?
she is not here ., thy love thy dove
thou angel eyes hover...oft high above
Tis thyself, a gentleman who doth wait
whilst me dreams and longs to view her gracious gait
I shall dwell ,tarry here in the dark
I must appeal to the day ; canst read her sonnets by dark
But , Joy ! Can hear the bells of her Villanelles.. me Angelina
Me beauty uses classical , graceful words that match her giddy gait
Me elegant ,enchanting dove
I shall remain, I shall wait
For thou, Sestina thy Angelina sent from above
I pace the earth with a weary gait
Me mind wanders ; travels to heights above
longing for me heart, me dove
whilst me dwells,tarries, here in the dark
imagining thyself with Angelina
Thy Sestina , as I , here , wait
I cry, here, in the dark
float in thy head above
O where, O where, is thy turtle-dove?
Is she, too ,in the dark ,
Me angel face, Angelina ?
Shall I further wait?
I growest more weary to wait
anticipation marks thy gait
Still, no sign from me Sestina,Angelina!
I will pray to God above,
on my knees, here, in the dark
whilst I await the return of thy dove.
Alas! Hark, do I hear me dainte dove?
Shall I run to greet her,or patiently , here, wait ?
Shall I continue in this dark ?
Where is she? Didst me not hear the crick of the gait?
Special Notice: Angelina not recorded here nor above!
O , me , O me , O why, me Sestina Angelina ?!!
O ,wherefore thou is thy Sestina Angelina; she is not here .,thy love thy dove
thou angel eyes hover...oft high above; Tis thyself, a gentleman who doth wait
whilst me dreams and longs to view her gracious gait; I shall dweel here in the
Copyright McCuen 2008
Copyright © MC MC | Year Posted 2008
A young man’s walk was careful,
As he strode through the passage.
The walls were dotted with a red
That refused to be washed away with water.
The young man’s memory still pictured the fangs,
As they plunged into the neck of the woman.
The infirmary was in charge of the woman
Now. The hands of the nurses were careful
As they tended to her wounds. The beast’s fangs
Killing her. A bible was brought and a passage
Was read. The twisting and turning of the water
That dripped down her face made her cheeks red.
The young man’s face was painted red
With fury. The one dying on the bed was his woman,
His wife. The walls he passed oozed with slime and water.
To sneak upon the beast in slumber, he must care o’ full
Not to stumble. A room appeared at the end of his passage,
The evidence of the beast’s presences was made by the work of his fangs.
The victim lay dreaming of the gleaming white fangs,
That punctured her neck. The blood trickling out was crimson red.
She scrambled to reach the safety of the passage,
But the reason for her tumble was her clothing of a woman.
They were not made for escaping even if one was careful,
Her terror caused her eyes to water.
In his pocket, the young man stored a vile of holy water,
And a wooden stake to end the reign of the evil beast’s fangs.
The young mans creep must not have been as careful,
As he thought for the beast sat up, his eyes a blood red.
A flutter of frantic thoughts ran through his mind, mostly the woman.
He glanced once more, before he faced it, at his safety…the passage.
The words drew to a close, the ending of the passage.
The elderly nurse brought a glass to her lips, water.
The eyes gave one last flicker, the body one last shudder as the woman
Died. A flash across the sky, two bolts struck the ground, fangs.
The beast saw naught but red,
His body fell; he smiled as he passed on. The victor’s step over the fallen was
His stride up the passage was careful as he went to see her.
He ran water over his hands to wash away the red.
He saw her last, his woman, no more then a victim of the fangs.
Copyright © Hannah Goddard | Year Posted 2006
I hide behind a crooked smile.
Many times I would rather cry.
I feel as if I have no friends.
Ignored by my family.
Trampled on by those I most Love.
My life filled with Pain.
My life filled with Pain.
So long since I wore a smile.
I pretend I don't love.
I try hard not to cry.
Where are my Family?
Do I have any friends?
I used to have friends.
My life filled with Pain.
I need my Family.
I fake a lonely smile.
I refuse to Cry!
I am searching for love.
Do you seek someone to Love?
Do you search for friends?
Are those tears that you cry?
My life filled with pain.
I would like to see you smile.
Don't you have a family?
We can't always count on Family.
Some don't know how to Love.
They don't notice that you don't smile.
It's hard to count on Friends.
My life filled with Pain.
They might notice if you cry.
So many times, alone I cry!
I hide it from my loving Family.
My life filled with pain.
I shower them with Love.
I hide it from my friends.
I show them all my crooked smile.
I cry silently for their Love.
My busy family and friends.
My Pain hidden behind my smile.
Copyright © Patricia Sawyer | Year Posted 2008
You looked at me and said "describe me hell",
not knowing I've been living it so far,
not sensing I've been knowing it so well,
as if my soul had been fed-up with tar...
so I just sipped the pain inside my shell,
and opened up for you to see the scar...
Allowing you to touch my soundless scar,
you threw a glance upon my inner hell
devouring my soul inside this shell,
this burning hide-out of myself so far,
and stripping me of those thick waves of tar,
you looked into the depths of my soul's well...
And then you saw how easy and how well
a useless word could generate a scar
far worse than any dark and hellish tar,
you saw how I could be so close to hell...
while you had run away and gone so far
my sole escape had been this tiny shell...
So I just hid myself inside this shell,
pretending you had never known me well
enough inside, to care for me so far
to never leave inside me such a scar
that brought myself onto the edge of hell
and left my heart entombed in waves of tar...
And now, my love, I’m pushing through the tar
to leave aside this hard protective shell
and try to pull myself out of this hell...
but I could never be again as well
as I was just before I got this scar,
by missing you when you had gone so far...
I know I might not ever get so far
to pull myself completely out of tar,
I know that I may never heal this scar,
but I must try to break away the shell
and find myself a magic wishing well,
and wish I could one day forget this hell...
And when I will be far out from my shell,
and if I will forget this tar, then, well,
I might just send this scar from you to hell...
Copyright © Liliana Negoi | Year Posted 2010
Sorrowful and lonely lover,
glance over the weeping roses that
the April' rain lulls to despair;
pick them from the garden, where we made love;
O sweetest and most precious woman so sad,
remember the faithful man who gave you all!
And should a gust of wind
disperse those roses...all their petals
I will catch, to hold them in my loving embrace;
o purest heart and most delicate lips,
this man misses them with their warm kiss!
And should life be mine again, I wouldn't be sad!
Your young and radaint face
has been veiled by sadness,
and every smile has been erased by the coming of sorrow,
from which your dark existence is drawn;
and silence keeps your words from being spoken,
when nobody is there to comfort you with their wisdom!
I can't touch as you truly desire,
because I am no longer alive...
to satisfy your wish and bring you a realisitic delight;
when a courting star lies next to the pallid moon,
smile as if I were there beside you:
continue to dream of a voluptuous night!
O priceless beauty, once so tenderly loved and unstained by sin;
have you kept your vows...not to let temptation come in?
If nothing can console you, think of one voluptuous night:
when we passionately loved under the August' moonlight!
O untempted sweet-heart, if your resistence gets weak,
find your darling and love him...but never forget me!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009