Best Closest Poems
I woke up to what's left of late last night
And poured it down the drain
All my demons sit laughing to themselves
As I swear it off again
My heart's still steady beating, as if I ran a race
My lips miss the feeling, of the whiskeys warm embrace
Why'm I closest to Heaven whenever I'm going through hell
Why do I find myself singing
All the songs of praise
When I'm drunk with such emotion
I know I should be ashamed
I ask the Lord please let me
Make it through this night
Before I get to ask the question
We both know I'll lose the fight
So why'm I closest to Heaven whenever I'm going through hell
I know the answer lies within me
But how do I take the first step
When I'm sober I tend to find that I
Have no self respect
So I try to drink the pain away
A little at a time
But it's a double edge slide
Right back into the fire
Why'm I closest to Heaven whenever I'm going through hell
Why'm I entertaining demons
The same ones that I did, all last week
When will the day ever come
That I'll get back up on my feet
Maybe I've not hit rock bottom
But it just so hard to tell
I'd rather be a man than this hollowed out old shell
Why'm I closest to Heaven whenever I'm going through hell
Why'm I closest to Heaven whenever I'm going through hell
Here I am at the kitchen sink again
Pouring out last night's regrets....
"That thing"
that doesn't have a name
but in the end it
envelopes you
It takes on a life of its own
even your moods are
determined by
"that thing"
try and shrug it off;
it will cling to you –
From its cocoon
it will sometimes flourish
into something beautiful
"that thing"
Sometimes elude you and me
especially when all you wish
for is for “it to happen”
it has the strangest timing
©040920121404
Note: This poem is written in the point of view of a character dedicated to another character in a writing my friend Laura and I are doing
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Dear my closest friend,
For many sleepless nights lost in dreams
You and I have met upon the reality seams
With not but hope and trust did you reach out to me
and show me what I could really be
something that was not evil nor mean
something that could be happy and see
differently; not in fear but in love and respect
Dear my closest friend,
I know I left you after times end
and it seemed as though you lost a friend
but fear not I still hod you close and true
for I would be nothing without you
I would have not,
and I would be for naught
Without your love and persistence and caring
I would be nothing but something everyone was fearing
Dear my closest friend,
because of you I have a happy life
and wonderful person to call my wife
All because of you and what you showed me
You and me, friends forever we'll always be
I will never forget you
nor will I ever
be able to thank you enough
Dear my closest friend,
I love you no matter what
You are who you are and do not change
for you and I will remain as true
as all close friends do
Dear my closest friend,
I thank you for everything
you have given me
I thank you for believing in me
and I thank you
for being there
and being my friend....
Sometimes I wonder if the pain makes us breathe easy
Because if we're smiling it barely feels like breathing
Guess you can take a lion out the jungle and feed it...
Bt it will always want to go hunting
Bittersweet bitter reality...
I guess I could never sort out the taste of my reality
Taste buds numb I bit too much insanity
Or is it my bite of reality is of poor quality
My closest reflection seems so far from redemption
Like it's part of the scenery..
The picture was put on auction
So I sold my soul to the devil but only just a portion
So my goods and my bads are blown out of proportion
Funny how nothing ever takes the pain away
But still something bad only does it momentarily
In this mentality we are junkies to our poverty
If you cant acknowledge me then I won't let you knowledge me
So go ahead and judge for going back to that alcohol
But nothing seems strong enough so add more ethanol
I'm trying to revive my heart it doesn't beat at all
Because evryone seems to trip but i always take the fall
A cherub with a rosy face
and plenty of curly hair
that the breeze loved to lull,
more than the daises so fair;
and that was the closest comparison...
to the beautiful child he once was!
The youngest dreamer ever to be born
with eyes as bright and lively as stars,
such were his to take imagination
beyond every possible dimension;
and such was the closest comparison...
to see himself as the beautiful child he once was!
He grew up too fast with an instinct
that was immensely blessed; so keen,
privileged and gallant seemed that fearless
kid not to be able to earn one's keep,
to make perfection the closest comparison...
to the beautiful child he once was!
The shady paths covered by the swanky pine trees,
were as dusty as any country road which needed rain,
and it came without ever wishing for it; and he welcomed
it by getting wet, to lose himself in its gentle peace;
and what other closest comparison would he have made?...
If not that of the beautiful child he once was without worry and pain!
Entered in Deborah Guzzi's poetry contest
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Two broken eyes slumped back in his head,
His mind escaped from the war,
Numb gently cradled all the man that he was,
As he floated on down to the floor,
Then, a distant dim light beckoned for him,
A light at the end of the hall,
He knew he had to go to this light,
So he got to his knees and he crawled,
And he fell through the light into the bright,
He felt love, he felt joy, he felt care,
He felt all the things he never had felt,
He felt all of those things in the air,
"Doctor, he's awake, our new friends returned",
Confused, he looked into her eye,
And knew, in a moment, his suicide had failed,
That he'd crawled out to live and not die.
Faith and trust go hand in hand,
One without the other cannot stand,
I heard it once, than heard it twice,
All in the same day, just two different times,
I keep going back to the word you said,
Lord, without trusting you, my faith is dead,
I go back to the memory of us walking through the yard,
The loss is deep, but you awakened our hearts,
Who we once were opposed to who we are now,
Wishing to go back to it somehow,
Prayers of the heart when two or more are gathered in your name,
So personal, yet the same,
Don't lose heart, my dear brother, the tears I cry,
Are not only for me, but for you inside,
Why would God brings us home, if he couldn't see,
The healing in our hearts that was meant to be,
We share the same prayers, we run and we hide,
On different levels but we have the same eyes,
His love for us brought us together, pain then tore us apart,
When no one was there, we had each others hearts,
I could never hate you, we are too much alike,
I saw straight to your heart the moment I looked in your eyes,
I knew before you even spoke the problems you faced,
It broke my heart, I could immediately relate,
You held me for a moment, but I never let go,
It's the closest feeling of love I've ever known,
After the leaves have fallen
When great bands of crows,
Fly overhead, cawin’
And flowers (it may be said)
Have tucked themselves into bed
That’s when I feel the breath
Of life on the back of my neck
And a notion rings deep in my soul
That all things are part of the whole
Yes, that’s when my love is its strongest
Yes, that’s when I’m closest, to home.
Closest Thing In My Mind
What in my mind can be closest thing;
Piano playing and choir which will sing;
Facial expression,
Great impression;
God in His presence always did bring.
Jim Horn.
O Death, thou art man’s closest ally!
From his mother’s womb thou hath banded with him;
thou were there when he exhaled his first breath.
Even than his veins, thou art nearer to him.
Surrounded by thousand mirrors, he sees thou not,
yet thou art more visible to him even than his own flesh.
Incessantly, he strives to free himself from you,
yet he could not do without your touch every night.
Alas! This touch of yours he calls ‘sleep’;
In his language he defines your touch (sleep) as
“a natural and periodic state of rest during which
consciousness of the world is suspended.”
Indeed God is close to man, but, O Death, thou art closer.
Life is death; Death is life.
Right from his conception in the womb of the living,
and from his first inhaled air of the land of the living,
man begun living his death.
Obviously, thou art no stranger to man;
thou art man’s closest friend.
Thou art a friend to all, indeed;
yet, remains a friend to none.
Therefore, let man learn how to be a better friend to Death.
WHICHEVER CLOSET IS CLOSEST
Our closet now bares itself of frilly things in silk and lace
My soul her embrace
our mirror minus her face
a reflection that portends perfection
sans any necessary correction
a facial fantasy framed by winsome wisps of wondrous waves
cascading through the constellation of her golden hair
the hues from the brightest star in the galaxy we would share
and dared to decline when night would declare we bid each other adieu
because in our hearts was still the salty aired sky of blue
spent by the water while whittling away at another Autumnal day
when a few stubborn leaves refused to infuse themselves with the color of Septmber
a day I will always remember
and those leaves, like us, would bow to a lover’s call
a tree to shed the dead and stall the fall
but now she’s gone away, it’s true
she said perhaps for a week or two
but something tells me otherwise’
maybe it was the look in her eyes
as the lady said her hushed goodbyes
so I just may miss the Miss sublime
for the remainder of my languid lifetime
© 2012…PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Father showed us how to care
Clarity of stream
How I have seen
God brightness peaks through
I could not ignore I just knew
God carefully shown
Heaven our home
A reason to gather
Has always been laughter
God is always working
Our heart did the giving
Virtuous sight
Let there be light
This truth was given
To make us listen
God raised our bar
To show who we are
God cured our thirst
We are the salt of the earth
I want his warmth and broad shoulders,
I’ve cried on them so many times
but tonight I don’t reach out to him
asking to dry my eyes.
I want his bellied laugh,
and the gentle way he breathes
I want his arms around me
as he helps me drift to sleep
I want his playful comments,
cause they’re funny and they’re kind
I want to hear him talk for hours,
to help relax my mind.
I want to eat too many cookies
have some hot chocolate or some tea
I want to build a pillow fort
and watch some dumb movie
I’m not looking for romance,
I don’t want kisses just to spend
a tired night of cuddles
with my closest, dearest friend
So is it heart or is it soul
That creates the closest bond
And what role has mind in its conception?
And oh, the sacred fire! What is its coal?
God’s pleasure in no deception,
False flattery, or someone conned!
Both heart and soul can be mislead,
The mind imperfectly grokking
And yet new baby bonds announce their birth
Even if parents won’t admit the deed
Their joy is felt throughout the earth
With no time lost in stalking.
All perfect gifts come just from God,
Perfection's halls can brook no strife,
So closest bonds are surely more than love,
The path to lasting bonds lies smooth and broad,
The first bond forged by heav’n above,
God’s closest bond is simply life.
WHICHEVER CLOSET IS CLOSEST
Our closet now bares itself of frilly things in silk and lace
My soul was her embrace
our mirror is now minus her face
a reflection that portended perfection
sans any necessary correction
a facial fantasy framed by winsome wisps of wondrous waves
cascading through the constellation of her golden hair
the hues from the brightest star in the galaxy we would share
and dared to decline when night would declare we bid each other adieu
because in our hearts was still the salty aired sky of blue
spent by the water while whittling away at another Autumnal day
when a few stubborn leaves refused to infuse themselves with the color of Septmber
a day I will always remember
and those leaves, like us, would bow to a lover’s call
a tree to shed the dead and stall the fall
but now she’s gone away, it’s true
she said perhaps for a week or two
but something tells me otherwise’
maybe it was the look in her eyes
as the lady said her hushed goodbyes
so I just may miss the Miss sublime
for the remainder of my languid lifetime
© 2012…PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~