When Wishes were made on a shooting star
The Heavens looked down and smiled
With sprinkles of stardust on a whisper of moonbeams
They created for us a child
Soothed you were by twinkling stars
In a crib that faced a velvet sky
Did Queen Cassiopeia sing you a sweet lullaby
As she heard your cries from ever so high
In the years that followed you blossomed
Joy abounded at the Wondrous You
A rare jewel that we could hardly believe was ours
A beacon lighting a path so True
We named you Vincent - Our shooting Star
We felt with the artist you identified
a gifted creativity - an affinity with stars
Sharing a world of art personified
The ‘Via Lactea’ expanded into names defined
Elliptical galaxies pondered while star gazing
Sirius the Dog Star the brightest of all
Followed by Canopus and Arcturus - Amazing
Vega - Alpha Lyrae - the Soaring Eagle
You dragged us into your nightly game
Willing participants we soared with Him
Our mundane lives now never the same
Tents were pitched on ink black nights
Constellations on high seriously contemplated
Of Draconis, Capricornus, Gemini and Aries
The Heavenly hand that had so skilfully created
You captured the Milky Way in oils and canvas
In a fashion shared with artists of old
Your palette made up of hues and shades
With flaming strokes of colors so bold
And then it all Changed
Why did it all change? You drew within
Shutting us out despite our pleas
Your palette changed to blacks and greys
A boat rocking on emotional seas
We begged and pleaded - you shut the door
Leaving us baffled at what was wrong
Your light grew dimmer by the day
Our sorrow sang its own woeful song
And then on one starry starry night
The final flame - extinguished by you
Leaving utter devastation - bereft in its wake
Your parents’ hearts broken in two
Time heals all wounds so they say
Your farewell note being read and reread
Through tears of sadness, the hurt replaced
With acceptance and forgiveness instead.
And now as we sit years later on our porch
Staring at one star that sparkles so Bright
The words of Don McLean’s echoes in our minds
Of Vincent and his Starry Starry Night
‘For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that Starry Starry night
You took your life
Like sometimes lovers do
But I could have told you Vincent
This world was never meant
For one as beautiful as you’
Though fictitious, this is a story that truly represents teenage Cyber bullying suicides all over the world including Asia today. The innocent victims fear blackmail and repercussions refusing to talk it over with parents or mentors.
The parents are not even aware sometimes of the dark void of despair their child is facing and trying to address by themselves of which they have no experience and sometimes think the only way out is to end it all.
In this cyber age, these cowardly bullies hide behind anonymity, targeting their innocent victims, spreading and sharing lies and venom.
Hat’s off to my friend Kate Pennington of ‘Beyond a Joke’ Anti-Bullying Centre, in Sydney Australia, an amazing lady dedicated to helping the youth.
No real names of victims have been used in this piece of poetry and any resemblance is purely coincidental.
POTW 23rd April 2017
Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017
My words were rewritten until they became yours
As grammar and syntax perfected your thoughts
Pages lined with highlighters polished me to extinction
I wanted to resist all of those good intentions
Yet I knew you wanted your best words for me
You weren't listening so you couldn't hear what I was asking for
Poor boy me I lacked the courage to say it loud enough
I felt my voice become tiny as my heart disappeared
Sure my words were somewhat awkward
Still I had things to express that way
My rhythm was imbedded in the word play
You crumbled my granite and turned it into clay
It happened slowly a bit day by day
I was there hidden in the disconnected details
Crystal blue eyed observations to share
Becoming myself on the verge of aware
You could have found me there
My words weren't lacking weight or substance
Like a series of road signs I pointed in a certain direction
I wasn't looking for polished perfection
What I desired most was emotional connection!
The trip must have seemed hard
You couldn't see past the curves in my road
It was to difficult to decipher my emotional code
So instead you bulldozed through my mind
with a big truck weighted with your own heavy load
If only you could have lingered and waited
Maybe you could have been sated
My words were interplayed and related
The strength of your ego I had not anticipated
In your wake I was left dejected and frustrated
There had been points of interest along the way
sprinkled star dust amidst the Milky Way
Beneath were gardens in which you could have come to play
There was no rush, I wanted you to stay
Until my liquid thoughts were morphed into hay
There before you
I had erected statues of delight
adorned in billowing fabric made of light
Perhaps you were blinded by my bright
unexpected in the middle of the night
You could have occupied my pleasure
Below my surface a spring fed treasure
A gift for you beyond measure
You could have witnessed the essence of me
Even though you came so close
you just couldn't see...
This is an old one that I have significantly reworked.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016
Cut down to any size,
Crumble, crop me wrong
Pull the insulation from my heart.
Never will I be "A Paper Doll!"
Thank you for calling me a "Friend!"
Thank you for wasting my "time!"
Enjoy the WALLPAPER display
Layers and layers of lifeless brick
KEEPS EVERYTHING OUT!
Emotional poster boards of doubt
Envious fiberglass green never seen
Yuletide Carols warped around my energy
Merry and full of acrylic sh!t-
Hand full of putty maintains the makeup on my face
Arts and crafts display my inner fancy grace
Heavy installed Sheetrock so easily replaced
Tough paint chips away silently through the night
Rigid boards transform into fragile crystal light
The greatest illusion blinding reality
Smooth Tiger Skin, texture of orange simple peel
Beautiful mud swirl, L'Oreal.
Gypsum soft enough you want to touch
Dark walls of a thousand words
A plasterboard of discordant grey notes
Blots and clots of ink, enslave my skin
Colorless drywall, resilient to your charms
Printed designs of cleverly decorated lipstick
Morbid shadows underneath the ceiling veil
A double coat of Pacific Waterproof Blue-
Printing bags from -- YESTERDAY!
Plastered wounds of cement dry and roughens along the edge
A human-made barrier, not even God comes in.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
Anxiety (The Worst Noose In Town)
-- like flooding waters, creeping in
I count 30, seconds, holding my breath again
Drowning in agitation, overwhelmed by fear
I try to hide the pressure in hopes I don't pass out
My pores are soaked, from all the perspiration
I feel the pins and needles pushing in
My skin is ruined from all the peeling
At this point, I can't seem to win
Washed out by dead hope and desire
My soul is lost searching for a shore
leashing, grasping and ripping the chest wide
I count 40, seconds, once nausea can't be blocked
Everything about this moment is driving me mad,
I need to escape, however, my knees are too weak
I tremble while losing control to the emotional distress
My knuckles are pale, detached from reality,
wounds forced with further embarrassment.
Guaranteed failure surrounds my day
Numbness strikes my very essence - I can't move!
Lost in a room,
Therapy - even so I feel singled out
HAPPY VALENTINES (it can get the best of us)
---------------------------- love Linda
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
Can love then, be based
on an index of elements
from which one joyfully tumbles,
or drifts into equations, as we wander
toward a rush of serendipity ...
a metaphysical merging of ardor
writhing in a shared communion
like tuneful whispers in breaths of helium,
unabbreviated oxygen rhapsodies
from unbidden laughter,
invigorating the warmth of co-owned stars
on heaven’s destined oracle?
Love transcends chemical derivatives
of fractals or measurement,
between our atoms, relaxed
in the shuffle of emotional electrons
as we quiver weightless...
the heart’s embrace suspended together
in the affectionate cosmos
of a deep kiss.
“How on earth can you explain in terms
of chemistry and physics so important
a ...phenomenon as first love? “-- Albert Einstein
Anthony Slausen’s Periodic Table Of Elements
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
THIS IS A FICTIONAL WRITE THAT EXPLORES THE QUESTION OF WHAT LOVE IS. IT DOES SO IN A DRAMATIC WAY, AFTER ALL THAT IS MY DNA. IT ALSO TAKES A UNIQUE AND CONTROVERSIAL APPROACH TO THE TOPIC. IT IS MEANT TO STIR THOUGHT NOTHING ELSE. IT POSES QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTS ANSWERS BUT MAKES NO CONCLUSIONS. SOMETIMES AS WRITERS WE HAVE TO MAKE WAVES. SOME WILL RIDE THOSE WAVES ON THEIR SURFBOARDS AND CONSIDER THEM INVITING. OTHERS WILL FEEL THE WAVES CRASHING AGAINST THEIR FLESH AND IT WILL BE PAINFUL.
Love is a streetwalker at the corner of Hooker Lane and Prostitute Crescent.
You wanted to pay. Do it and leave. That's the way it's suppose to happen. But it doesn't quite go like that. She is looking at your eyes and she sees something and it feels like love to her. She cries and her tears are real. She touches your face with her pretty little hand and goosebumps run up your spine and you lose your breath.
You kiss her and stroke her hair and you are staring into her eyes as her pain grabs you by the biceps and touches your heart. So you just hold her you hold her and you love her as if she is a beam sent for you to project sent for you to protect.
She opens up and says words you heard in her tears. You listen you hold her and you just listen as she peers into your subconscious to sit with the frightened child inside of you. You take each others hands and you roll in the softness of the innocence of your childhood. Your silly hopes and dreams. Hopes and dreams that back then were anything but silly.
She is beautiful. She is barely twenty. And you? Well you are going on thirty or is it forty.
You pray God will save her. Not pray you mumble it. Her smile tells you she knows. She feels like your responsibility and you don’t want her to die on the street working her corner. You don’t want to feel but you do. You are a weaved outer core of veins and you do. You feel everything. You are her.
She looks in the White Knight eyes she pinned on your face and you know the pins are there and you see her with your Gladiator brights.
You make love to her and she loves you back and holds you in her dream of what might have been. She is your Queen and you have stripped your armor, stripped your flesh and your organs. You are naked in her shine. You are raw in her light.
Sex? Sex costs one hundred and fifty bucks! Sex? Sex is two dogs humping in the park. Sex is not love, it is empty. Empty because the person is a stranger and there is no emotional connection.
At least that is what you thought.
But one day you are 53 years old and you think of your one hour bought woman. Did I say woman? She was a girl a vulnerable lost girl.
It is more than ten years later and you still remember her. That single hour in your life and it is engraved on your skull. Tattooed to your mind. Just one word. FOREVER. You can barely remember six year long relationships but you can still remember the touch of a woman, yes a woman you were with for just one hour in your life. You can still feel her skin. Her tears still burn like molten lava.
She is still on your palette; you still feel every word that penetrated your hide and struck the part of you that was her. You remember it. Not as a single moment but as every tick of the clock, and the multitudes of emotions, of thoughts, of realizations, of questions that existed in each and every second and you wonder...
Maybe you can buy love. Or at least find it on the other end of a financial transaction, maybe once you did..
Maybe love doesn't last three hundred and sixty five pages like in a novel. Maybe love isn't roses from the first frame to the closing credits, with a beginning a middle and an end
Maybe love is the memory of a 60 minute love affair with a working girl you met all those years ago. A memory safe and sound, written and produced, neatly tucked in the black vinyl grooves on the highway between your heart and your brain.
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
I find you alone
in your favorite room of sorrow and suspense,
the woman I cherish more than victory or divine sense,
long untouched, you stare into a sonnet of romantic sadness,
supple shadows dress you in stubborn, gothic passion, a quiet finesse,
they know that I am the speed of your tears and the lover in your trance,
as I see what your heart has wept for, tender acceptance
I understand why my soul seeks your emotional opulence,
with my powerful hands I hug those lonely, sexy shoulders of tired independence,
knowing by the ease of your neck's pining tilt, by the searching gap of your starving lips
no longer are you startled by our love, no more will you deny the lust righteous,
gliding the backs of my fingers up under your smooth chin skin, beauty so generous,
I find you passion thrown,
I undo your bodice and your soft feminine flesh opens onto me
radiating craving that glorifies yearning,
I entreat you to grab my hard affection, to feel the firm rush replete
to place the head of my love within you like a heavy heartbeat,
you obey with unquestioning need, eyes alight, thighs wide
I lunge in deeply, completely, pushing through you a pleasure tide
as you breathe in the handsome shock of your fulfillment
I kiss the soft space inbetween your sumptuous breasts and taste wild wonderment -
Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2015
She cocooned herself
Spinning the thread tightly
Around her troubled mind
Knowing out there
Out there were the people
Who watched her unwind
Who could not be kind
She fought to stay
Untouched by pain
She cocooned her mind
Her weak troubled mind
With layer after layer of silken threads
Threads of self defense
From a world
Who only loved to see her dance
And play the fool
For a while
From a world who couldn’t bear
To see the raw pain that was there
Behind the pretty face
And the bewitching eyes
Were the jagged lies
The mirrors into a soul
She was too much trouble
An emotional drain
They comforted the physical pain
Yet feared the mental pain
They could not understand….
"Sh…….keep it a secret"
She told herself as she spun away
Play the game
Play everyone’s game
Give them what they want
Whatever it is
Give it to them
Maybe they will learn to love you
Maybe they will see the beauty
Hiding behind the beast
Waiting for release...
No....you know better
They have no eyes to see
In the quiet of the room
Where there is no one to pry
Or see you cry
Hate the world
Hate them all
They deserve it
Damn every single last one
Whoever walked away
Leaving you cradling your throbbing head
Afraid of their own monsters
They keep you at bay
Vulnerability not their game to play
Damn them all
For not loving you enough
For not being tough enough
Weaklings one and all
EVERY SINGLE LAST ONE
Unable to be strong
To carry you along
When you are weak
Unable to think
Unable to speak
Unable to breathe
Unable to muster the courage to live
Finish what you've begun"…..
She spinned the threads tighter… tighter
The cocoon complete
She fell asleep
Her last thoughts
The bitter knowledge
That she would never awake
Knowing this would be her tomb
For she was never meant to be
A beautiful airy creature of the day
Loved by everyone in every way
She closed her eyes
And slipped away
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013
On the eve of All Saints Day known as Halloween
We've a night where nothing is ever as it seems
Abraham, Martin and John hosted a grand ball
In heaven’s huge castle, a white marble town hall
Dancing and singing just like every other day
One old soul grew weary of celebrating this way
She found nothing special in the harps and trumpets
A more exciting venue she had come to covet
St. Peter partied, his gate was unattended
So to a room below the bored soul descended
A place where heavy metal was all the rave
Deadheads converged to stomp violently on graves
She was tempted to join in their revelry
As demons eyed her with curious envy
One grabbed her halo, howled when it burned his hands
Others confronted her with obscene demands
Only then did she recall escaping this place
When God sacrificed his son, mortal sin to erase
Although hands of the wicked tried to hold her down
She struggled, pushed forward and made her way uptown
Fearfully she cried while knocking on heaven’s gate
St. Peter found her in this emotional state:
“Why didn’t you learn to resist temptation,
During your tenuous Earthly incarnation?”
At a loss for an answer, she pled for mercy
And Peter felt inclined to deem her unworthy
But the Master heard her prayers, granted a reprieve
He blessed her and uttered, “Welcome home again, Eve.”
Her departure from Eden seemed so long ago
And now most certainly one thing she did know
She should have stuck with Adam when he first said, “No”
Instead of bobbing for apples with the demons below
* For Tony Brooks' “Halloween Hustle” contest
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
To Timothy Lee, The Best of Me
Finding love is our unsure heart’s goal as edged on by our confident souls.
Some journey through life with love as their primary dream,
only to give up after giving all to failures’ torturous theme.
They may watch their constant dream unfold, but cannot befriend the lonely,
dark hole that mocks the intentions of their soul.
For many, ‘tis when heart hopes completely dim that fate itself delivers the right her or him.
When true love is meant to be, it shall appear and reward every lonely, unfulfilled tear.
When true love wraps you in its infinite folds,
there is nowhere else you will need or wish to go.
When you truly love someone, you hold their dreams inside your prayers and lay stepping stones to assist them there.
Grateful for the long awaited task, you let love toss every mask you ever faked for romance’s sake. Each past pretense may now relax, disappear and never come back, for true love loves your truth and would never wish to see you subdued. Real love wraps around the you that your life really grew.
Love grants the finest gift, a present of loving arms embracing all of you, not despite, but, because their heart knows all of you. Freely and without hesitation, you give your body, heart, spirit, secrets and possessions, confident none will ever be used as emotional weapons.
No matter any day’s design, love soothes all away when at night you lay entwined. True love is two who mutually fulfill emotional needs, heeds fears to see them eased and nurses hurts that may otherwise bleed.
Even in silence, love’s communication and awareness are at its finest. When alone, at home, such love is happily content for together time never ceases being time joyously spent.
When one is weak, one stays strong, for two in love alter leaning and being leaned on.
Each the other seeks to please for your love’s smile gives back pleasurable degrees. When in love, such smiles become your heart’s feed.
After time spent apart, love seeks and finds its prize in the other’s loving eyes.
When love is of truth’s seed,
two breaths become a single heartbeat,
pulsing as one, dual, soul-deep need.
... CayCay Jennings
October 10, 2016
Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2016
You can't make someone love you all you can do
is be someone who can be loved.The rest is up to them.
No matter how much I care, some people just don't care back.
It takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it.
You can do something in an instant
will give you heartache for life.
It's not what you have in your life but
who you have in your life that counts.
You can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes.
After that, you'd better know something.
It's not what happens to people that's important
it's what they do about it.
Always leave loved ones with loving words.
Either you control your attitude or it controls you.
Heroes are the people who do what has to be done when
it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.
Money is a lousy way of keeping score.
Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to
doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
Regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion
fades and there had better be something else to take its place.
Never tell a child their dreams are unlikely or outlandish.
Few things are more humiliating,
and what a tragedy it would be if they believed you.
You must be able to forgive.
No matter how good a friend is, they are going to hurt you
every once in a while - you must forgive them for that.
No matter how bad your heart is broken
the world doesn't stop for your grief.
Our background and circumstances may have influenced
who we are but we are responsible for who we become.
Just because two people argue, it doesn't mean
they don't love each other and just because
they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.
Two people can look at the exact same thing
and see something totally different.
No matter how thin you slice it,
there are always two sides.
You can keep going long after you think you can't.
Even when you think you have no more to give,
when a friend cries out to you,
you will find the strength to help.
It is hard to determine where to draw the line
between being nice and not hurting
people's feelings and standing up
for what you believe.
Credentials on the wall do not
make you a decent human being.
Writing, as well as talking, can ease emotional pains.
The paradigm we live in is not all that is offered to us.
(This is my own personal rewrite or version if you will of a common
post on the internet with many contributors and credited to Anonymous)
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
I carry my mother
like a rock in my pocket
that I just can’t seem to throw away
It serves me
it just weighs me down
When I first found it,
when I first picked it up
and started carrying it with me,
I thought it so beautiful –
I could look at it for hours
But, like my mother,
it never looked back at me,
never grew warm under my loving gaze
For the longest, I was blind to that,
Blind to anything but the beauty,
blind to the cold, hard,
beyond-remote nature of the rock,
of my mother,
I carry my mother,
a thought without weight
And she’s heavier
and she’s colder
than all the stones
By the time I recognized her
immutable, emotional unavailability,
I had run out of joy,
felt depleted of hope –
But I could not,
for the life of me,
stop seeking a beauty, a warmth,
inside her heart
Could not stop
that one day this stone,
deep inside my pocket,
Might just become
its own opposite –
Change from hard to fluid,
from cold to warm
But my rock, my hard burden,
will only turn to water
When my mother
Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson | Year Posted 2005
There she stands
Centre stage for all to see
Tall and slender
Precariously she balances.
I reach out for her
Draw her to me
My hand skims her body
Slowly reaching her skirt.
Playful fingers find hidden areas
Delighted her legs spring forth
Displaying the very beauty
Of her delicately adorned skirt.
Gaily she dances around
Dizzily twisting and turning
In the brightness of day shading
She gently tends to my needs.
Personal ballerina takes to toes leaping
Merrily bobbing up and down
As emotional to her performance
Clouds cry a thousand tears for her.
Reaching our destination
Slightly shaken, she leans
Watches me quietly drips
Against the wall.
Reminiscent of the day's fulfillment
We acknowledge one another silently
Restful knowing we shall be
One once more.
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2008
Love Notes in a Bottle
It came as a last meandering thought
How could I know?
Maybe a thousand years from now
On a far away shore
Would exist a lady of mystical lore
Reciting sonnets of medieval tales
In magic forests, dreaming of love
As I love
Who could feel a bond so delicate as a doves feathers
A pain so strong, like a tiger wronged
That to part would mean emotional low tides to come
That she could feel the loneliness of night
The scent of the morning dew
The feeling of rain upon ones breast
The smell of the rose
The view of the meadows
The Laughter as the children danced
The plea of one whose heart bleeds
The desires to capture love and yet remain free
Her eyes would show her ageless beauty
Her smile would hide her thoughts
Inside of old love letters
She would sigh
As I recited old prose
We would hand in hand repose
Knowing growing old is how it goes
Alas she is but an image in my mind
A thousand years till birth
Or even more
A fantasy, that lets me die in peace
That someone could love as I loved thee
You were my past, and my eternity
Lovers who never took flight
Broken wings, and broken borders
Boundaries never crossed
Kisses though we never lost
On every wind swept shore
I wander with the birds scouting overhead
As wave upon wave of desolation slaps my head
A woman is over there by the sea
She but a stranger in the mist
So not at all is she thee
A thousand years from now
On wind swept shore
Will she be forlorn?
Weeping for the likes of me
Whispering inside, he was here but a thousand years ago
Love letters telling loves desires
Inside a bottle and buried in sand
Alas is the ocean not made of ancient tears
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
Listen to poem:
in the fervour of my sweat
i wake to the toxic bellow of my own voice
in the torment of my own thoughts
in the complexity of my simple life
i lay eyes swollen wide open
in the measure of hours set aside for sleep
overwhelmed by recent events
i struggle with the haunting of their potential outcome
in the exaggeration of my emotional outpour i bleed tears
dry to the air of the night
i shrivel like a plum under light
so this is what it is like
to be a prey to grief
an abhorrent internal pain
i forget its feel when it is gone
i remember its feed when it is here
out of sorts
barely able to walk
i return to the inferno of my now
i keep my affliction private and unassuming
Feb 28 2016
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016
“...we achieve true wholeness
by embracing our fragility...”
instead let me direct this life
stage the words
add a subtle dramatic tone
once the foundation is built
i'll work on emotional recall
work in the layers
does it sing
does it dance
does it make you think
does it make you feel
you can design the most beautiful building in the world
but with no structure it will not stand
for this one i start with the word
yup that’s a keeper
next go out on a limb
it can't be all about me
so i finish
‘what happens when you open your heart?,
your inner strength becomes an outer foundation.’
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016
Many ingredients bake writing inspiration
This recipe combines a stirring sensation:
Heaps of desires never realized
as marinated in teary sore eyes;
Quantities of wide open spaces
caramelized by nature’s appeal;
Ageless genuine emotional traces
sifted thru heart rendered graces;
Equal parts family and romantic love
as roasted within, without and above;
Measured creamed ideals of peace
with blanched pain and battle grease;
Diced wishes braised with thrill
bearing aromas of tangy heat or chill;
Slices of awe from a glorious tree
breaded with traits strong and free;
I do not forget sour spices of greed
dusted with mankind’s violent seed;
A mix of fears dredged in anxiety
with stress jelled in complexity;
and, lastly faith garnished spirit
grown in a soul conscious thicket.
If able, I mix love with ingredients above
before sampling my recipe once warmed up.
If savory, I serve it in Soup’s poetry cup.
... CayCay Jennings
January 20, 2017
Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2017
Rhythmic pose arcs lifting elegant ambience
Graceful dance enshrines artful renascence
Visceral posture invites emotional response
Festive celebration of aesthetic renaissance.
Attired in red and blue of simple elegance
Glorious style augments swirling excellence
Left arm risen high points gracious eminence
Finger tips lift vivid attire in quiet eloquence.
Golden bangles adorn wrists flirting in stare
A lone yellow flower crowns her silky hair
Folded right arm obstructs in a defiant dare
Index finger hides grief, eyes closed in prayer.
Head turned right, arched with sculpted flair
Tense neck muscles manifest muted despair
Open fingers gesture a stealth grievous flare
Air of intellectual grandeur opulently glares.
Ponder why the painter didn't show her eyes
Discover invisible pain vibrant colors disguise
Beneath the splendor lies a hidden surprise
Cultural dance-music echoes her silent cries.
First place win
September 22, 2017
Poems that paint a picture
Painter: Anna Razumovskaya
Sponsor: Silent One
Copyright © Vijay Pandit | Year Posted 2017
My childhood spent without peers
alone and prey to my fears.
Nights spent face buried in my pillow
my emotions like a weeping willow.
The school kid disliked and attacked
like a player continuously sacked.
Bruises and scars physical,
cuts deep and salted, emotional.
Not a friend not even one
or an adult there to help - none.
You look to the skies for relief
but lessons taught come with grief.
Our life books come prewritten
set in stone, can't be rewritten.
Loneliness moves in, year after year
without choice you hide behind a veneer.
You give up on living
focus on just existing.
Sorry, I have to stop here. This story now transcends
rhyming, calls for a voice free just to speak.
Loneliness has many faces.
I imagine one of the most intense state of loneliness
is losing a loved one.
A planet of three billion would feel empty.
I have witnessed my mothers chagrin after
losing my father.
Happy partners a lifetime long and suddenly
she is one of two.
You do the math.
They were two who became one.
Now she is alone cut down the middle
add her pain and she is barely half.
There is no crowd that could fill her void.
There is no amount of family love
that could fill the hole in her heart.
My pain was different. I just had a wish to belong,
to have one friend, one love, or just to have a hand to hold.
When you're abandoned, ridiculed, and disliked
by everyone even by people who don't even
know you, you have no choice but to hide.
My loneliness turned me into a critter
that could curl up into a small ball.
Still I had hope.
I wished someone could love me.
Love me for my gentle ways,
my giving nature and my open arms.
Sponsor: frank herrera
Contest Name: FACES OF LONELINESS
WRITE ABOUT LONLINESS FROM YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE....MUST BE AUTO BIOGRAPHICAL.
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
A new angel
is born to earth
Tears are a strong
cry of fear, pain, frustration,
disappointment, relief and joy
Weeping Angels .... angel tears
Statue of Virgin Mary in Limburg
Crying Tears and Blood
Do not deny your tears
accept your tears
as a part of
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2013
There I see him sitting like a dummy.
Asking me for more shots of rummy
Talking about his detox days.
Talking about his poetic ways.
Rhyming my eyes comparing them to the moon.
Whispering lines saying he wants too spoon.
Next thing you know his words start getting deep.
Poeting out words revealing he's the family's black sheep.
His blood shot level was releasing his emotional word.
Dreaming that I was in a bath like a dirty bird.
Intoxicated with a breath so refreshing.
Designing me a thousand passionate ones in the meshing
Falling for his physical and mental temporary drunken state
His sense of intellectual things where hitting me real straight.
Swallowing his words like a forbidden love potion
I excessively indulged him with more alcohol to inspire his motion
Admitting to me that love was his downfall.
For me he fell from the stars and than began to crawl.
Proposing a toast for the sake of love
Rambling how I'm the only one he's dreaming of
Nourishing me with his ocean water of affection
Re-bonding his words for me to be his resurrection
Call me crazy for feeling the connection!
Allowing him to penetrate his poetry in me like an injection.
A character so loving above a 99% liquor proof test.
Romancing me with the disguise that he is the best.
Restraining myself from this drunken poet called my husband
Remembering that he is the one fool I can not stand
In his most charming rhyme he called me his rehab.
By that time I knew it was time to call him a cab.
Reminding him about his Alcoholic Anonymous class.
Now all of a sudden he starts acting like an a$$!
Putting his drunken sober poet mind to sleep.
Anyways tomorrow he will still be the same poetic romantic creep!
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
Princess just wants a new car.
I have told her that hers will go far.
'Oh, it's really not cool
driving this crap to school.'
'Do I need that emotional scar? '
'The kids will all laugh at the rust.
When we race, I'll be left in the dust!
I will save up some cash
then we'll make a mad dash
to the car dealer surely you trust'.
'He will make us a wonderful deal
and I'm sure you will know how I feel.
I will love you so much,
My siblings... I won't touch.
Just get me behind a new wheel'!
Now she'll be cruisin in style.
She'll be happy for only awhile.
There will always be better
and we'll try hard to get her
a car that will make princess smile.
Copyright © Mary Nagy | Year Posted 2005
Lady Luck ~ (the Nonet)
Tears, shadows that swallow other tears
united and out of control
eyes decompose like soft coal
water, in swimming hole
deep darken jaws
engraved, digging claws
still alive, eating what was
waste, rain, disabling because
nature lingers, emotional raw
Nonet, 9 lines,
beginning 9 syllables, then 8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 syllable(s) ~ I hope~
for RICK'S contest...
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
Like an archaic humanoid dinosaur
you plunder through life taking no prisoners,
with your philosophical knuckles dragging on the ground.
You are a dying breed born of privilege and tenacious greed,
tendering little in life other than your selfish need.
What is it you seek in life other than your very personal comfort?
You never give a sideways glance to anyone with no chance of adding to your
circumstance; narrow minded cruelty subsidies the shutdown of any
tenderness, allowing emotional banalities to supersede integrity.
Your karmic debt is too cancerous to be free -
a lover of women among inept men,
but piteous fodder for contempt among strong women.
Neanderthal, you tossed love off the tongue like spit flung and stung my cheek with
runny dung....in disgust I turn away at your insipid attempt at manhood.
So many conquests, so little time.
The pittance you gave is but a trail of unwitting shame,
littered like Gretel's bread crumbs into a wilderness of pain...
How sad you thought such a pittance could buy my soul.
I am no longer a member of your colonial servitude,
and you are an inept fossil long past its prime.
From this moment, Narcissistic Neanderthal,
I am free.
Copyright © Anna Lee Stedman | Year Posted 2012
Assuring more time to embrace the earth's sun
Brings with it sweet pleasures summer has spun.
Casting out a line in search of a suffering soul,
Derives inner joy that is good for the whole.
Everyone may soon become quite aware,
Favoring the spirit gifts so much to share.
God's greatest gifts are so freely given...
Help yourself to the sweet fruits of heaven.
Inside your mind lives pristine poetic flowers,
Just let them flow through tips of your bowers.
Kindred spirits will gravitate to your prose or rhyme,
Lyrics that sway us, dancing in harmonic time.
Moving to music creates tranquility,
Neutralizing harsh sounds with indemnity.
Omnipotence frees us from our emotional will,
Penetrates our sanctuary when we are quiet and still.
Quality not quantity of life's special dreams
Related in love's happiness is all that it seems.
Seeking to help others will benefit you
Through the gift of your time, in kind things you do.
Universal energy is captured by all,
Vibrating in frequencies in an invisible pall.
We may share with each other our auras divine
Xyst beauty that surrounds in astrological trine.
Yearning to spread peace to indifference I find;
Zealous in my heart to share love with mankind.
© Connie Marcum Wong
July 22, 2015
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015