Best Burdening Poems
Faraway, across a widening
Expanse of vacant fields,
Dawns slated light is gradually
Awaking;
And too soon new Morn's stilled
Indifference
Determinedly steals
Into the abstractions of my fitful
Dreams,
Where, deeply concealed,
Many forgotten memories from days
Since past -
Ne'er once unto me unworthy...
Although long be they in their
Forsaking.
Those languid days, that, lately,
I quite often see and hear
Crowding throughout my wandering
Slumbers;
Vivid recollections, interns of a
Jumbled mind - for ages absent,
Beginning now to inexplicably reappear;
Insistent murmurings troubling -
Troubling incessantly:-
Unwelcomed guests from
Yesteryear...
Strange impositions, of a sorts,
Burdening upon this weary soul,
Which, encamped within my
Dampened Spirits -
Doth so unwittingly encumber!
Winter is leaving a patchwork behind
Woven lumps of snow, for spring to un-wind
Melting into flowing streams, easy to follow
Right on down to the river bend's flow
A place for my soul's revival, under tall pines, soft soil
A nice place of rest from burdening toil
I can imagine I'll be there pretty soon
Set a date with my muse sometime before noon
The river may show me something special to say
Bringing with its music, a refreshing, new day
Heidi Sands
4/10/23
Received POTD 4/12/23
My France, My France
How I weep for you
these tears are not of joy,
for you have let the enemy in,
they brought disaster to your shores.
My France, My France
How I weep for you
The pain you must endure.
For all those dead have,
come to you under burdening
skies.
My France, My France
How I weep for you
Who has put you through this Hell?
It has no face,
I cannot tell,
It's here in space,
the Dawning was its place.
My France, My France
How I weep for you
Your skies have turn to Black
The Peace and Security you seek,
has now suddenly turned its back.
My France, My France
How I weep for you
My tears are not of joy
I pray for you,
my heart opens too.
You may find Peace within.
When your dead are buried and
your revenge has its reward
Come together
Powers of Faith
Come together
Almighty hand and rest upon us
from this mighty land.
Give us your Peace.
We ask thee now
Give us your Peace
We ask how?
My France, My France
How I weep for you
In time of trouble,
what is it can you do?
Your borders closed
turmoil enclosed
The sadness fills the air.
For Peace is fleeting,
The enemy has come there.
Your golden arch is dim.
Your Eiffel black with sin
The City of Lights
are in the shadows for his mighty
hand has struck.
Peace you may ask,
Revenge your reward.
My France, My France
How I weep for you
For can we say, no more, no more.
With internal devices I fight,
Battling my demons of the night.
Inside I am cold, empty, and alone,
Frightening faces, a burdening tone.
The blood of nights passed,
How long must they last?
Screaming shadows cast through the room,
Summoning the sense of utter doom.
The plague of the darkness,
It lasts with death's kiss,
A suffocating silence,
The vibration of defiance,
Echos in deaf ears,
Calling upon foreboding fears.
Churning guilt, a face of it's own,
Haunted whispers chilling the bone.
The Burden Man sits and plans your demise,
He consumes you slowly; feeding on lies.
He never sleeps; neither do you,
The paranoia becomes too much and you're through,
You're being eaten alive, from the inside out,
You can't breath, nor can you shout.
The Burden Man wins; he always will.
Your presence, it haunts, it lingers still.
The Burden man whispers his ominous dictum:
"I am not your friend. I am your victim."
I loved her, and O! How I meant not to!
To be my dead wife's husband, and a friend
Respectful of her sister, humble, too,
And now, respect and friendship're at an end.
I thought that I could keep my feelings out
Of any interaction that we had,
I thought that I had bound them, with ropes stout
And just for feeling, now, I feel so bad!
I thought the perfect gentleman could say
'I love you', without burdening my friend
But that was not the way Reality lay,
I tried, desire, to admiration, to bend.
O! You eternal fool, who could not be
Nor silent witness, nor a still, calm sea!
When I lay in the mortuary,
Don’t cry, smile and appreciate my journey.
Throughout life, at times, I lived wary.
I carried hope, love and even the burdening worry.
When I lay in the mortuary,
Before I’m buried and forgotten in a cemetery,
About my death don’t ask questions,
Don’t whisper in my stiff, blue ears confessions.
Few would come to my funeral,
Fewer would weep.
Few would care,
Fewer would lose sleep.
When I lay in the mortuary,
Burn my drafts and books,
My life was dull and ordinary.
Exhausting all channels of possibilities
All the wrong resources,
Worrying which never helps.
Burdening Others
None of whom can help in any possible way.
Because you
Are not brave enough
To talk to the only person who can help?
I did not think I would ever do this again, but unfortunately I have.
Walking through life with chipped shoulders
weighing you down to the ground,
burdening the mind with stress and woe
numbing thought crippling the body,
with aching pain in soul releasing suffocation
from feeling trapped under cold ice,
buried alive with indecision.
Struggling to move forward from years of baggage,
stored in worry and doubt surrendering
to light energy flow
liberating spirit with fluid motion
envisioning solutions in the end,
catching glimpses of the sun smiling upon you
warming your frozen heart,
thawing out the sadness from your long journey home
contemplating gratitude visualizing well being,
healing sorrows melting them away.
Where is here?
I feel their emotions burdening the ATMOSPHERE.
I am spinning in it.
Thicker than mud.
Was it BRICK COSTUD?
What were the emotions of the people surrounding me?
Some were in heated denial.
Who else would suppress a smile?
BAM!! DAMN!!
Noxious city air as day fades away to night.
People making casual friends and laughing at
Half FUNNY jokes.
Where are the finer things in life?
Truth
Peaceful, Hopeful
Relieving, enlightening, progressing
Almighty God, Judge, Cheaters, Monsters
Burdening, condemning, failing
Deceitful, sorrowful
Lie
I am a man of two faces
One face for the eyes of the world
The other face for when I close the door
Behind this door, you don't want to see
the face that cowers behind this door
A face which reveals itself in the sullen,
Cimmerian shadows
Most people will not accept this face
Most people will prefer if the mask
I wear for the eyes of the world
remain glued onto myself so tightly
that it will hardly slip
That when I hide behind my door
at the end of the day, the mask
becomes painful to peel
Like removing duct tape off fur
Strands of beastly pelage
ripped out of my fragile, mortal skin
and become a part the face
I struggle so hard to keep on
in the hours of the Sun
I lose a bit of myself and
question my morality
The constant switch between
these two faces grow tedious
and exhausting
I even start to ask myself,
"why?"
An infinite, internal war
plagues me and I lose my mind
Why must the world be so hedonic
and blind?
The truth is, they are not blind
They all wear masks too
And at the end of the day,
when their doors are shut and the
curtains have closed,
The masks slip and a burdening
sigh of relief is released.
With one day's magic I would
heal the world. I would cleanse
the air so the albatross and the
whales can live without fear
unfurled.
I would give myself arms large
enough to hug all of the children
that are alone, feed them, clothe
them and give them a safe home.
With one day's magic I would with
all the Elderly share, comfort and
companionship that would take away
that lonely stare.
I would cleanse the minds of our
Government's ever burdening flow
and would give unto them strength,
understanding and courage to build
a solid nation where we all can live
and grow.
To the Poets, Mystics, Dreamers and
caregivers peace I would give unto you, for
without your courageous plight, courage
would be without light and the heart
would be lost without the love you have
forever shown.
The loneliness is unbearable
The misunderstanding is crippling
All the years of active rejection
Slowly engulfing the being
How I thought them to be the worst
But it’s the passive rejection
That’s what’s really killing me
The quiet shunning of who I am
The subtle hints that I’m not invited
It’s quite evil really
Unaware of why,
My bitterness grows
Thus if I ask, they’ll point to a monster
The monster they themselves created
Once a wide-eyed optimist
Transformed by the continuous rejection
See, it initiates the group’s strength
Knowing they shared in the killing
Leaving the remains to the birds
Starved the soul is
Craving something
Anything, a heart can latch on to
But nothing is there
Everyone leaves
Deep thoughts, an empty stare
Drown myself in music and writing
And so it does heal
The slow, gentle numbing of the emotions
Of the deep pain I feel
Living through the art form
The only life I have
An outcast, the lone wolf
My loud howl from the top of the mountain
It’s impact felt only from within
Inclusion, I often question if that’s all I desire
Inclusion simply for the sake of inclusion
It’s not, but how pleasant it would be to finally feel it
Perhaps just until the right ones come along
My feelings are a dark empty abyss
I feel everything, and yet nothing
Impossible to express, as even I am unaware
I’m getting lost in my head again
Overthinking and zoning
Suppose it is explainable
As I haven’t gotten much sleep
Symptoms Of A Paralyzing Depression
Course through my veins
And I am aware of them
And I am scared of them
Yet what can I do, surely can’t tell anyone
How would I live with myself
So I’ll keep it to my own
Knowing my burdening of them, their cold pity
It would prove them right
All along, they knew I was a loser
This self-fulfilling prophecy always occurs
Labeled as a rebel, an outcast
A loser, a pariah
I want my feelings to be known, want them understood
Want them gently caressed
But it seems that will never happen
I am socially depressed
Walking aimlessly through crime filled,
city streets, a lost soul, wondering in
the dark, having no purpose in life, nor
a place to sleep.
His hands trembling, from indulging, in
alcoholic binges, trying to forget and
escape, a myriad of thoughts, burdening
him, in his drunken, stupor state.
Do not judge this poor man, for you do
not know, the struggles he's faced, and
the hurt that his heart holds.
His skin is wrinkled and dried from having
no shelter, and being exposed to the sun.
He smiles as he sits on a bench and
watches an old squirrel chasing another,
for fun.
The winters are brutal in late December,
as he looks for a place to hide. His frost
bitten hands, are hurting so much, he
curses and wishes to die.
How can they drive by and not help this
broken old man? They walk, they stare,
they laugh, and do as little as they
possibly can!
Most people would think he is lost, and
forgotten, but I say to you, God loves him,
and he cares for the poor, lost and
downtrodden.
Reach out
Michael Tor 9/9/2025 For Richard Lamoureux contest. Who do you think I am.
I remember seeing a homeless man. It gripped my heart. I went to a deli
that was close by and bought him two large subs. He thanked me. I'l never
forget the thankful look he had on his face. I said to him pointing up,
thank him. Please go out and reach out to the destitute. It will change your
life forever. Also please take the time and read Richard Lamoureux poem
Broken People if you have not read it.
Stunning drops of pearls of diamond in grace
Nature’s brightness wearing its imperial dress
Ornaments night ‘n skies in striking limpidness
Whirling reflection ‘f rare wonders ‘f whiteness
Fascinating scenery softening wintry chillness
Aroma to the unique breeze ‘f winter freshness
Light amidst the burdening ‘f twilight darkness
Lyrical ballade ‘f pure enchantments and bliss