Some say anger and pain are cousins
Always traveling as one.
I’ve felt them both in my days,
Intertwined, solidified,
Almost premeditated,
Enjoying their journey.
But I prefer laughter with my pain.
True partners in survival
A touch of humor in the sorrow
Tempering, if even a shade twisted,
And each glad day
Can carry its drop of pain.
This poem originally appeared in Academy of the Heart and Mind Literary Magazine, 2026, all rights reserved
That Love — when full — may fade —
As Blossoms do — from June —
Its Petal — pressed upon the Mind —
Its Fragrance — gone too soon —
That Death — is not a Stranger —
But Patient — at the Door —
Who waits — with Kindly Certainty —
We cannot long ignore —
That Hope — though clad in Silver —
Will tarnish — if delayed —
The longest Vigil — wears the Soul —
Whose Prayer — is not repaid —
That Truth — is rarely Gentle —
She cuts — to show the Core —
And leaves us bleeding — yet more Pure —
Than we had been before —
That Self — once lost — is seldom found —
In quite the same attire —
The Ash — remembers being Flame —
But not the former Fire —
When truth is reversed into lies,
a silent cry takes its place.
And when this happens,
prayer becomes the only weapon
against the cruelty of the world.
A cry the world refuses to hear.
A pain that goes unnoticed.
A silent cry in a solitary room—
and yet, a flicker of hope,
a thought still blooming
beyond the ache.
Trust becomes a fragile thread—
easily frayed once you step away.
Laughter echoes in your absence,
not always in kindness.
Advice arrives,
dressed in concern,
but its weight presses you further down.
Encouragement stays silent,
while sympathy hides behind walls.
Words come sharp,
not to lift, but to slice.
They speak as if they know your path,
yet never ask where your feet have been.
The smile once shared
to lift others from despair—
gone in a breath,
vanished in the hush
of midnight blues.
In a moment, everything changed.
Now, with only the weight of sorrow to carry,
I hold on to the one thing that remains:
prayer—
the shield against the shadows,
the strength to block the evil
that prowls unseen.
when love was scarce and bitter-spun,
i craved the warmth of anyone.
no silver spoons, no golden light —
just hungry hands that learned to fight.
i licked the steel of sharpened lies,
and swallowed tears in my disguise.
the blades that cut, the wounds they made —
became the price my heart had paid.
yet still, i sought what stars conceal —
a fragile hope that dared to heal.
through shadows deep and echoed cries,
i found the truth in shattered skies.
love is not kind to those who crawl,
it tempts, it breaks, it takes it all.
but in the dark, i found my name —
and rose unburned from blackened flame.
Some view peace as a soft, soothing rain,
Others, as a mere illusion.
All the while also hearing the song of struggle.
I align myself with those who bear the weight of pain.
If peace was meant to find its way,
I have watched enough broken dreams
To learn that voices long silenced by shame
Are strong enough,
And deserve to be heard.
What a tragedy
Nothing but life
No love just reality
People making promises
They say they'll keep
But I've been wondering
Where's the loyalty
Mindless sayings and
Heartless love
Who on earth are
We supposed to trust
Family supposedly
The best remedy
But really just
a lot of misery
Above mentioned places, how I feel so for you with an m p
mark holland, who dragged you all through, the agony of con-vid oh
What a 'to-do' I beleive hes proud of locking your elders? Away And proud of that potion..The coercion and hey! He's
Glad that your churches were closed all around he's proud
Of how upon the truckers they came down, if you've blood clots
He's happy.' If your homeless and sick, he's estatic he was
Paid well. His wallets real thick, not as quite; as thick as his
I Q now thats something else yet back to my thoughts on
His inflated self' i lhear' he advises eye contact, why not
Take him at his word? Confront how he stands before you in
True actions get heard.!
He sits on the front stoop
watches life passing by
Though there’s some pleasure in that
it’s combined with much pain
Knowing he’ll never be able
to walk upright again
I love colors – loud, juicy, wild, generously wonderful colors
I wish I liked coloring books, because this hobby would be cheaper
But no, I love paints and canvases. Especially acrylic paints.
I think oils are more vivid, but they take too long to dry.
I am an impatient artist. I do not want to wait three days between colors.
I started this hobby when my granddaughter was nine.
I know because she begged me to paint with her.
She is now nineteen, and I have fifteen hundred paintings.
I lie. I have over fifteen hundred paintings.
I work on my new ones simultaneously.
I am currently working on eight, but four more are lying in wait.
I buy canvases in bulk now, because I utilize so many of them.
I am sure my supplier thinks I am a teacher, with classes.
No, these supplies are all mine.
Coloring books would be cheaper
But I am not concerned about the cost.
I love to paint; it relaxes me.
It gives me a purpose, a mission.
Hours at a time flow by, without me realizing it.
I am lost in the life of make believe and color.
I can think of no better way to end my days.
A soul dearly loved.
When its never to be found.
What a tragedy
Love can be such a gol darn pain
A delicious delectable pain
With a large helping of hugs and kisses
It can just about drive you insane
More than once I heard someone ask
Is it really worth all the trouble
You better believe it, at twice the price
Nothing else bursts my bubble
You sweat and mumble incoherently
To concentrate, it's really no use
Useless as dangly things hanging from a bull
Totally and so udderly obtuse
So what can you do if you get infected
Well there's really no known cure
Just dive right on in, swim around for a while
You'll wanna stay I'm pretty sure
Let me know how that all works out
Many have tried, it's well known
Never were cured, spend a lifetime in love
Now resting comfortably in a home
Time there’s I can’t sleep,
Or not want to at odd times,
If I dwell nigh deep,
I’d find that it all well rhymes,
The duo in pantomimes!
Pain lets me not sleep,
In pleasure I wish not to
In hope more to reap,
From me is taken a clue
If it shows red or green hue.
Take a friend or foe,
Both may rob my sleep away—
Friend when parts to go,
Foe when confronts in a fray,
Both robbing sleep in a way.
________________________________
Tanka |09.01.2024| pain, pleasure
I hold my pen when I feel pain
not knowing when I will rest again
Maybe I would’ve been fine if I had no brain
the night that has no end
When I was still young
They said education was a key of life
Now they say employ yourself
But how can I do that
See American kids aren’t they better than you
They are already rich at their 20s
the teacher says loudly
Graduating with a degree may not give a better life,
But I will be respected by my villagers I said
This is the reality in poem
What do we do now? Maybe we should search for jobs till we reach our life span
Let’s carry our hoes and go to farm
Its food that we could provide to our selves
Let not your dreams fad a lizard grow a tail after its cut
So let’s wait for the morning to come
The morning that we won’t drink tea without a bread.
Love.
It's a happy feeling.
One that fills you with serotonin,
every time you see that one person.
But it can also be a sad feeling.
A hurtful feeling even.
Because when you see that one person,
after ending the happiness
it hurts.
It really effing hurts.
Especially when you still love them.
And you feel guilty
if you have someone new.
You feel the guilt of still loving an ex,
while you have someone new who loves you dearly.
You love your new person dearly too,
but your heart still longs for the other one.
Still longs to have those familiar arms around you.
Still crave the feeling of their kiss that you've become so used to.
Still yearn to hear that calming, familiar voice tell you "I love you."
Though it will never happen.
You will never feel the familiarity of their arms warm around you.
You will never feel the softness of their kiss you are accustomed to.
You will never hear those familiar, sweet, loving words you have grown to adore.
You will never have them again.
And it hurts so effing bad.
It's so heartbreaking.
It absolutely, positively, sucks.
Love is happiness,
but it's also horrible and heartbreaking.
Love can be such a gol darn pain
A delicious delectable pain
With a large helping of hugs and kisses
It can just about drive you insane
More than once I heard someone ask
Is it really worth all the trouble
You better believe it at half the price
Nothing else bursts my bubble
You sweat and mumble incoherently
To concentrate it's really no use
Useless as dangly things under a bull
Totally and so udderly obtuse
So what can you do if you get infected
Well there's really no known cure
Just dive right in swim around for a while
You'll wanna stay I'm pretty sure
Let me know how that all works out
Many have tried it's well known
Never were cured spend a lifetime in love
Now resting comfortably in a home
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