Best Eat Away Poems


Premium Member Thaw the Wintry Snow

Winter has cast its strangling hold inside and outside.
The joys I have known are gone.
Cold winds blow bleak and harsh.
The flowers in my garden have wilted and withered.
All things sweet have passed and flown away.
Flakes of snow, layer on layer, lie piled within,
And harden as rocks with worms of fear inching their way,
To eat away all the delicate buds of hope.

Spring, Oh! Spring grace me with your regal smile,
Brightening my sky with constellations of stars.
Crash down the walls that segregate, leaving me a fugitive,
And pour love's balm into my bruised soul.
Possess me as an unseen benevolent spirit,
Thawing the frozen interiors with your warm sunshine!

Premium Member It Must Be Hard

It must be hard
To carry it around
That load of hate
Weighing on your heart
A powder keg
Waiting to explode
Hurting others but
Killing your own soul

You pretend it isn’t there
But now and again it shows
In what you say
In what you write
The sarcasm hidden under the sweet
The hate clothed in happy
And yet….
It’s there
For the discerning to see

It must be hard
To have it eat away at you
And not be able to voice
All those words
That are begging to be heard
Dying to hit the mark
A bull's eye victory
That brings relief

It must be hard 
To keep them locked away
For fear of criticism
Of “losing face”
And yet….
They gnaw away at your being
Those sugar coated morsels of hate
For those inferior
Made of fluff
Not substantial
Not up to par
Medicore
Weak
Sniveling
Sappy
Sorry
Excuses of human beings

It must be hard
To be civil
To pretend to be kind
Thinking others are blind
To the real motives behind
Your words…..

Ah…if only you’d realize
The only one hurting
The only one who is weak
Is you
To love takes strength
To forgive takes power
To rejoice with others takes integrity
The finer qualities
To hate is easy
To love near impossible

Hate would dissipate
If you took some time to realize
The person who irks you
Who just rubs you the wrong way
Maybe has been rubbed the wrong way
As a child...
Sexually abused
Struck down by violence
Suffering from...
Emotional abuse
Sexual abuse
Verbal abuse
Physical abuse
Insecurity
Feelings of inferiority
He has hidden baggage too
Behind his false bravado
A heart that is in pain
Much like you
His brokenness plain
His tears in the rain
So no one can see

I know it must be hard
To try to change
To put away hate
But it’s not too late
To look inside
The one you despise
You just might be surprised
To see deep within
And there in his eyes
A reflection of all that comprises
the beauty of YOU!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Premium Member The Words I Cannot Say

The words I want to say but never do
remain inside my heart, a burning plea
to make a quick escape and reach to you
and make you come to see what hides in me

The aching lingers there from day to day
At times subdued, at times a raging pain
The tender flesh of heart, they eat away
Demanding voice, they are my living bane

The secret of my heart must dormant lie
For it cannot be known or see the light
And so I try to make the feelings die
but then like sun, your face dawns on my sight

My heart takes leave; my lips, they part to say:
“I’d die to have your love! Be mine today.”


Eileen Manassian Ghali


A Slight Return

Darkness is my life that apears in
light.
Has it come to just another fix.
The smile does conceal my losing fight.

The music the screams within.
The lies eat away at the man I can no 
longer stand.

Hollow is thy heart.
Crimson stains all that is never held in
hand.

It started a game now it's a curse.
In darkness I speak to you
all I could never say.
The man once known to you.
Has all but faded away.

And as I slip into adictions abyss.
Candle lit memories were taken
with the breeze. 
That killed that romantic glow.

As the stranger who exists in the form
once you did love.
Twist's into a form you cannot understand.

I ask out of love for you to forget.
The monster that haunts this form.

In memories true love we will forever know.
The emptyness of of this life.
And the once splendid candle lights glow. 
In truth we die. 
As we live. 
So must we cry. 

Not every every question has a answer my friends. 
Gonzo.

Premium Member A Storm, a Tempest and a Hope

A Storm, A Tempest And A Hope

Remorse hangs like dark and bitter fruit
A tragic voyage far off the right course
Cuts to the mind with an evil root
Blood-lust still in the crying remorse
Defeated
Alone
A shot into this darkened lost world
Future clouded in a racing mist
A boulder into a grave now hurled
More pains added to the emerging list
Volley blasted to summon a darker Fate
Deep bath in seething, rich hate!

Ship sent to give a last chance
Treasure laid for the roving eye to see
Nights promised with engulfing romance
Endless pleasures from our loving tree

Then the shadow raced into a new sight
Trumpet sounded to eat away your face
Darkness soon ate away the splendid light
Revealing my saddened soul in its deep disgrace!

No stars shine upon this torture heart
The world shudders without you in my life
We die a thousand deaths when we are apart
You my love were to be my eternal wife!

Now time eats into the void of our loss
As our future certainty is a great unknown
On this stormy sea, swells give us a toss
Where such dark evil plans are blown

Pray for mercy to be downward cast
A miracle to be given and sent
If our love was ever meant to last
The Light must return and give blessed consent!

Robert J. Lindley, 07-16-2015

This was originally written decades ago, but after having rewritten it twice as it is now presented here -I'll just leave the date as shown from the final rewritten version.

Sweet Dreams In C - Collaboration With Darren White

black and white tones
ring together echoes
over two tone photos
scrolling along

memories
colored in remembrance
happenings in sepia
when we were small

imagination animated
claude leading the way
moonlight illuminates
a kaleidescope display

moon shines its silvery
rays, soft music plays
around the room
I will sleep soon

key notes weave harmonies
whipperwill and chickadees
night's sweet lullaby song
gently sings of rest and sleep

last notes fade away
musical dreams in C
eat away sharp edges 
I smile in my sleep
© Sara Ella  Create an image from this poem.


Scarecrow Addict

Scarecrow Addict
           

Gritted and dusty
Powered by flack jacket eyes
Bootsteps through grey puddles
Flotilla of cigarette butts
Trash kicked aside
In a desert of litter
Seeking the soulless of death
Chattering on split lips
The grimy irk of air
Festoons the rink and rack
The floating black
Sucks unbidden

Horses into battle ridden
Scream through his lungs
Broken weapons
Filled with empty bullets
Enemies in their colours run

Demon angel
Of the iridescent metal
In the bars of sculptured hell
For the hot choke of alcohol
Has squandered his nights
And burnt his will
The vengeance of mirrors
He cannot defy
He has become
The man with the gun

And rabid dog bark
Is the music
The fang gangster rap
Chews on his pride
Coughs back and spits
Too many drugs
To fill his hate
As he seethes through the alleys
The ricochet sound of poverty
Slaps hard at the cold

Whistle through the doorstep
The vicious snide crack
Scavenges his chest
Scarecrow buckshot 
Trammels his lungs
And coughs up plastic
Iron girders against shattered walls
Where the whole world threw up
His sick

Chokes on the disgusting chuck up
Of need
So full of promises
But still lets in the freezing winds
To whined up urine stained
In the pallor 
The colour
Of his sky

Bandit warrior and loser
This brave young man
Watched this driven and ploughed memory
Eat away
By iron vice drag
Devastate his pale haired wench
Leaving blood trailing on her breast
Pimped
She was

And hate in grey battered uniforms
Drove the callous on
And lifted him from the reeking cans
Of his desolation
Bled him through nights of sweat
And cold turkey chewed regret
The plaster wet billboard and pealing advert
Have no idea
What they have unleashed

Brittle as long dead bones
And screaming head
No longer hates
But still sneers revenge
In tattered loose rags
He staggers from the vomiting pit
Emaciated wolf

The grinning scarecrow eyes of merciless
And the jagged teeth of candle lit
The reek of vendetta
Hangs ever about his lips
And woe betide the gun smith
Woe betide indeed the needles
Wet prick
Nothing left to fight for
Other than
A long dead
Lover

Premium Member A Sad Turn Of Events

I recall how you would kiss my nose,
and I'd smile, I remember it all.
Our life was once a merry-go-round,
a true paradise, as I recall.

Today brought a sad turn of events,
I scoffed at the idea you'd leave.
But when I looked deep into your eyes,
your tears finally made me believe.

The restrictions of reality
had you pursuing fantasy dreams.
And you want to feel free once again,
regardless of my feelings, it seems.

My dreams were scuttled by betrayal,
caught in the eddies of silent fears.
And my hurting heart sobs endlessly;
floundering in an ocean of tears.

The essence of my misery was
distilled from the dregs of countless tears.
And it's a potent, corrosive brew
that'll eat away at my heart for years.

Premium Member Pepe's Coffee Lounge

I was one of the cool set,
navy blue duffle coat, scarf around
my neck, seated at a table
in Pepe's Coffee Lounge
discussing Baudelaire 
and T.S. Eliot and the demise 
of the political elites.
The conscription ballot hung 
over our heads helmeted
in a flowering of uncombed hair
in the winter of 1966.

We thought the world was about
to tip, that the old regime 
was coughing its last 
on Craven A and Camel cigarettes.
Booze was cheap and jobs
chased us down the street. 
In a hundred buried silos,
annihilation was just a push 
of a button away.
We partied hard beneath
the threat of that mushroom cloud.

We're old now, sit under the cloud 
of our own thoughts, replaying
scratchy, worn out tracks 
retrieved from the sleeves 
of our neural LP's. 
What we tore down back then
has been replaced with more
sinister demons that eat away
at the collective soul.
In the end, everything
is just reabsorbed.
Some of us still frequent 
coffee shops and discuss
Baudelaire and T.S. Eliot, 
still write poetry,
shed a tear 
at the melancholic beauty 
of a setting sun.

Opening the Vein

Right now
     I have words 
flowing from my veins,
but what if it stops?
That can never happen
   all I have to do
   is slice another one open,
                     somewhere to dip my quill,
another way to release
       the torrent, 
            the flows,
                 the waves
of emotion that crash within me.
To eat away at the walls
that they use to keep the likes of me out,
but that can never happen
     I go where I want,
           the more unwelcome,
                 the more I'll be there,
 slowly pounding,
                     eroding,
                        wearing down
the barricades they set
to keep out the malcontents,
                           the undesirable,
         the vile,
              the evil.

Yes tis I 
the one no one would welcome
       howling in the back,
           scratching at the window,
               knocking at your door,
   pounding on your chest.

I have been here
                     forever....
      waiting....
           slinking....
              perched on your windowsill,
sitting just out of sight,
               'til the right moment.
That's how I do,
         that one second
                  can change your life,
and make mine last so much longer,
every little taste extends my being,
brings me closer to my next target.

As long as fear exists
        there will be me....

Black Fruits - In French -

Fruits noirs

Sans qu’on y prenne garde,
Le ciel se tisse du grillage
Sombre des branches.
Elles  s’étendent  chaque année,
Et chaque année,
Grignotent un peu plus d’espace,

Au point de parfaire une voûte
Et d’arriver à se rejoindre,
En confisquant le peu de lumière,
Stagnante, sous les dernières
Feuilles de novembre,
La sève lentement rétractée.

Une pluie insistante, et froide,
Corrode la symphonie des ocres
En une bouillie sombre et gluante…
Les buissons moroses abritent
Aussi des fruits noirs,
A la densité lourde.

Ils pèsent de leur deuil,
Leur poids d’approche hivernale,
Et font oublier les envolées légères,
Des passereaux insouciants,
Qui se poursuivaient
Dans l’azur cristallin.

Ce sont des corbeaux    ;
Et leur noir luisant,
Semble une menace anthracite,
Barrant quelque part,
De branche  et branche
La lumière et la joie .

-
Without being beware,
The sky is woven with wire mesh
Of dark branches.
They extend every year
And every year
Eat away a little more space,

To the point of making a perfect arch
And arriving to join
Confiscating the little light
Stagnant under the last
Leaves of November
Sap slowly retracted.

An insistent rain and cold
Corrodes the symphony of ochres
In a dark and slimy mush ...
The gloomy bushes shelter
Also black fruits,
A with heavy density.

They weigh their mourning
The weight of winter approach
And make you forget the light flights,
Of careless sparrows,
Chasing each other
In the blue skies

They are crows;
And shiny black
Seems a anthracite threat
Barring somewhere
From branch to branch
Light and spirit of joy.

Split-Personality

Two sides of one coin,
Split between two.
Brought to the light,
Drowning in darkness.

Hope to be whole,
Yet reality stays.
The personality is two,
The brain is one.

They fight to be there,
To be in control.
They seek the end,
For the other to be gone.

They cannot part,
No matter their wish.
The third brings them together,
Holding them in their chains.

They eat away at one,
Destroy all they see.
They can't be controlled,
No, not your split personality.

Premium Member Killing Time

Hands tick in motion but I hear naught         
of the onslaught of killing time depicted. 
Minutes run past me in tarred darkness
as the visions in my brain are obscured.

Clocks eat away moments of my life.
I admit I'm nearly frightened to death
of those mimed hands whose strokes
stab me with each gasp of breath I take.

Round and around, silent warning given
in gross opposition to the beastly roar,
aped by masses of such foolish people,
oblivious that my plight is also their own.

Reticence gives no relief to assault.  I see
my fate's demise, and frightened I shall be
until death's full tariff has set my soul free.
Rhythmic tickings makes no difference to me.

Silence staggers my soul to substantiality.
Blinded by fear of my imminent necrosis,
I cannot traverse those two roving needles,
hellbent on stinging me to my neon grave!

Passage of time is but a travesty of life
in which man has no occasion to amend.
In the end, death haunts us all in silent
whispers; echoes of cruel scheming hands.


==========================
              17th of April, 2016
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member City of Trees

I saw one day a city of trees
Walking down a path with me
Following hidden eyes to see

Saplings jungled up together
Like a stream of walkers too
Confused at all by windy weather

Deer pellets scattered walk-aways
Somebody's got to clean that up
Small insects eat away the maze

Emerald canopy of light
Daylight flyers speeding through
Branches complicate their flight 

Crowded young trees struggling tight
Set an arboreal street fight
Leaping tall for teen age light

Botanical light shows in the trees
Sun rays scattering breezily through
Red and green for traffic leaves

Partying fireflies up all night
Celestial revue of starlight bright
Crickets and peepers sing delight

Subway system of crooked holes 
Gophers nudging sexy moles
Touching each other heading home

Spiders vending corpsal flies
In handy snacky six-pack buys 
To homeward-bound commuter eyes

Fauna's eating Flora The Breeze
Loving her out in the hot dry leaves
Completing her lust for life you see

And Green Man is the mayor bold
Dryad, she's his squeeze and maid
Public works by beavers laid

Learning to walk, a child of three
First time I saw the City of Trees
Dryad was holding her hand for me

Dryad, she's my love to be
Taking her inventory of bees
Holding her charms about the trees

So we say and so it seems
City of Trees and sunlight beams
Making love for me and my dreams

Evening Gown of Yesterday

After days of fog
Moths eat away the slip of winter
Pieces of the New Year
Drift as ash into spring

Eyes waiting abhorrently 
While midnight clasps the last remnants
Tomorrow becomes the butler 
Escorting the sun

Rays peel open the solstice
Tattered wings flutter towards
The lamppost of February
Sealed in pocket mirrors…

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