Best Heavy As Lead Poems
Rein in those opportunities to criticize
Think of all the good things to be said
Remember to see through others’ eyes.
Or sometimes simply resort to sighs.
In disagreement, merely shake your head
Rein in those opportunities to criticize.
Be a bigger person, even if you must disguise
Displeasures weighing on you heavy as lead,
Remember to see through others’ eyes.
If you announce your woes, it’s seldom wise,
Sometimes they are better not to be read
Rein in those opportunities to criticize!
Is it that you get joy when someone cries?
How easily you could’ve another’s feelings fed
Remember to see through others’ eyes.
For being disagreeable you’ll win no prize,
Hatefulness and sharp words are best unsaid,
Remember to see through others’ eyes,
Rein in those opportunities to criticize.
Written December 5, 2022
#54 on Top 100 New Poems List
Poetry Soup
December 11, 2022
#50 on Top 100 New Poems List
Poetry Soup
December 12, 2022
A muffled voice barely audible
his words are ice
cold enough to freeze the warmest heart
My Heart
As heavy as lead
slowly drowning me
pulling me into a never ending abyss
Darkness
Silence
Emotions
my own madness taking control
surrounded by my own desperation
the more I struggle
the more I become the rusty weather worn anchor
oxygen deprived lungs
Burning
gasping at any change to feel alive
I wore his dog tags and his medal for the valor they implied.
My heart was aching, sorrow engulfed me, I felt torment inside.
Life lost meaning. I had hated that war since it first begun.
Now the worst thing of all, disbelieving that it had taken my son.
The misery that my loss had created, proved to be all too strong.
I was unable to sleep, I just cried all day and all night long.
Finally weeks later some sleep befell me and I began to dream.
In the distance was my boy, alive and well or so it would seem.
He was with other young soldiers all marching up a very steep hill.
All had packs upon their backs, but my son was standing quite still.
He was struggling hard to climb as his pack was the biggest of all
I asked him, "why is your pack so large and the other’s so small?".
"Most of the guy's loved ones, have happy memories of their life,
But all I have left you Mum, is tumultuous sorrow, grief and strife.
Our packs are full of the tears that our loved ones all have shed.
All the tears you have cried Mum, make my pack heavy as lead".
When I awoke, I cried no more, kept the good, left the sad times behind.
My dear son you are always on my mind. .........
There's a pounding in my head
My feet feel as heavy as lead
There's no point in explaining
I just keep on contemplating... complaining...
This throbbing in my heart
Might just tear me apart
This horrid feeling in my stomach
Might be butterflies, fluttering in a pack...
There's quite a few skills and strengths that I lack
Just allow me to see right through the pain
Bite the bullet and catch the midnight train
It might be because I'm going crazy already
It might be because I don't feel at all ready
I'm in awe as you decide to leave me behind
I'm disappointed in you and you don't care obviously
I guess you don't notice me in shame - you don't mind
I'll just be happy and mask this hurt inside I see
I feel horrified by your heartless decisions
I'm still able to accomplish my missions
My ambition has faded away along with my confidence
I'm still waiting patiently for this sweet deliverance from evanescence
I'm disappearing...I'm vanishing...
You're so not endearing...in agony, diminishing...
I'm enduring this tribulation
Feeling sudden grand sensation
Brewing away the muse of lamentation
Pushing away the feelings of frustration
When wracked with suff'ring even more,
I all alone bemoan my fate,
as one who drowns in sorrows sore
which harm, harass, and maul his state.
Aggrieved for what feels like forever,
I trouble God with bootless cries
as I endure my manic fever
with tearful, red, psychotic eyes.
The minute hand lands on midnight!
I can't find clear words to express
feelings of falling a headlong height
b'neath heaven's reach 'yond grief's excess.
Inside, I feel the Reaper’s scythe
as I think out my mordant plan:
razor, pills, or a kitchen knife,
a way to end it by my hand!?
Like Sylvia Plath, if I can
plant my head in a GE gas oven,
then it’d be painless!? (But why plan
a death so cliche, and unproven?)
I think, too, of Virginia Woolf,
how she drowned her life in a lake;
I, too, feel swallowed in a gulf
of swirling misery that'd take
me to my death! Why do I feel
forsak'n, and heavy as lead now? Am
I so hopeless? Why do I feel
so worthless, and so so dead? How am
I to end my life (to kill myself)—
if all loved ones were then to miss me?
“Help yourself!” I then heard. "Heal thyself!"
I hear aloud. As angels kiss me,
I thus then found comfort in this:
that family and friends all care,
and if I'd died I would be missed;
so, I war 'gainst profound despair.
And then, Hope dawns! And soon comes peace…
And in the morn, I wake arising—
Joy breaks in, and I have new lease.
And then my state I cease despising!
Liverpool
When night ends, the fog begins
Heavy as lead!
Shrouding the town:
Once grand
And home of grandeur.
The grand mansions
of old times!
Now in ruins: off white!
Harboring the ghosts of
The grandeur!
Who would have lived in a house
Like this?
My mind wanders;
The eye of my mind
Looking through the silver keyholes!
A wealthy merchant or an industrialist?
What became of the merchants and industries
Of this once mighty Town?
Perhaps the fog shrouding the town
became dense with smoke
Billowing from the ashes of
The industrious!
The Mersey River is just the excuse!
Who knows?
Liverpool: my husband’s home town
Liverpool: the origin of my beloved’s
Mellifluous tongue!
Liverpool: the TOWN of the famous four!
Why dost thou inspire such melancholy
In me?
Liverpool: Once a year, on Christmas day
We remember you: my husband and I!
Our hearts heavy with melancholy
Of the Christmases we spent
On your shores in past years!
Nothing connects us to you! No more!
All the family left your shores!
In mass Exodus!
To sunnier horizons!
Liverpool: one day we will bring our children
To your shores!
So that they will inhale your air!
Understand the roots of their father’s mellifluous
Voice! A voice so rare!
YASEMIN BALANDI
Andrea Dietrich Broke My Heart
Andrea Dietrich took the hammer and broke my heart
Heart was heavy as lead and filled with depressive tart
She filled it with a sweet pie
Hugged me and I was so shy
On the Valentine it was Andrea's work of art
A valentine Limerick~ To The Poet Who Broke my heart - Poetry Contest
Sponsor SKAT A
Poet: Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
Penned on 2nd February,2015
As night falls swiftly; no respite for a heart can be found
She dares not invoke sleep, so she paces the floor in silence
For to fall asleep would mean, a revisit of that dreadful dream
Ominous clouds cover the moon, carried on by rushing winds
As she searches for her husband, with hope that he is alive
That the dream is no foreboding; that he lies injured and not dead
Raven, dressed in black satin; searches diligently among the dead
The pain and anxiety lingers, as she awaits news that he is found
Fear it seems, has sensed determination; leaving hope alive
Dark clouds roll as ravens circle high above, in the prevailing silence.
Though the massive search is over, yet his voice calls in the winds
If only he’d walk through the door; and put to bed this recurring dream
Where each night, she’s awakened, by parts of an unfinished dream
She refuses to dwell on morbid thoughts, for her beloved is not dead!
As she feels his spirit still lives and has not drifted upon summer winds!
There is just one option left, which is, Ross would have to be found
In his library, his favorite cigars lie untouched in the stoic silence
Every flower in their garden droops, as if in prayer that he'd be alive
Intuition prods her to dream again; find clues that he may be alive
A Hypnotist in his expertise would escort her through the dream
Come the appointed day, throughout their house hung total silence
Her eyes were heavy as lead, yet while she dreamt, clear sight was found
And deep, somewhere between the distinct worlds, living and dead
Through thick mists she trods unafraid, as though riding on soft winds
~*~
Cont'd on Pg. II
A. Brigham
FOR: A Rambling Poet's "Among The Dead" Contest
The nation is thrown into grief.
Our national flag is flying at half mast.
Everyone is wearing a sack cloth.
The dangling axe fell on us.
And the mighty has fallen.
Our hearts are filled with dread,
And our eyes as heavy as lead.
Nigeria, Africa’s number one soccer nation,
Has been given a run for their money by the Ghanaians.
Culminating our early exit from the African nations cup.
The green and white jersey that we adore,
Have been dragged in the mud.
These are not the Eagles we have been celebrating.
Or are these Eagles suffering from bird flu,
That they cannot glide.
Their spirit was willing but their flesh were weak.
When we were young, we were strong,
Now we’ve grown but we are weak.
The reputation that took us years to build,
Have been destroyed over night.
Because we went to fetch water with a basket.
The baby has been thrown away with the baby water.
The Midas touch we used to have have been used on us,
Because we could not strike while the iron was hot.
The hunter has been hunted.
And we have fallen from frying pan to fire.
Football has kept us together as a nation for many years.
The Ghanaians has put a knife on what kept us together.
And we have fallen apart.
Once beaten, twice shy.
We hide our faces in shame.
No one is to be blamed.
What is sauce for the goose is also sauce for the gander.
Every dog has its own day and it was not our day.
A soldier lives to fight another day.
And never says never because quitters are losers.
The big question is,
Shall our bones rise again?
Or have we withered like the cursed fig tree.
Only the bowel of time will Tell.
Hole in the Wall…
I feel like crawling back into the hole
Back in time, back in space
Into realms of no emotion
When feeling is lost on an expressionless face
I want to run, just never stop running
Away from here, anywhere
Anywhere away from this place, nowhere at all…
We are bound to live sacrificial lives
But isn’t everyone who lives and breathes
Like lambs to the infamous slaughter
We are falling to our knees
But I am speaking in a singular form
Speaking only for myself
My love, my longing for life
Goals I have set
Plateaus far from the norm are so hard to reach
I have often fallen short, fallen hard
Like now…
I am losing sight of distant visions
Storm clouds obscure the sun and the haze clouds my head
Uncomfortable feelings deep within me
Weighing me down, they are as heavy as lead
Calling out to me
I respond without caution or care
Never stopping to realize
In the dark; waiting, you must constantly be aware
You cannot afford to compromise your beliefs,
Or your strengths for anything, nothing at all
All of this, through the hole in the wall…
I thought I was dreaming when my wife said
"Darling a monkey you've got on your head"
I laughed and I said" Have you had a tot"
"I'm not joking" she said "And no I have not".
We had a few stares as we walked along
And thought to myself that something is wrong
My head felt so strange 'twas heavy as lead
Seems there was truth in what my wife said.
Then a laughing young girl came up to me
Her Phone at the ready for a selfie
"Smile please" she said and a picture she took
And said that the pic was going on Facebook.
I told my Doc there's something wrong with me
Looked at my head and said "Yes I can see"
Gave me pills and said "Take three times a day
Your monkeylitus should then go away"
Next morning I woke up and sat up in bed
The ape from the rock had gone from my head
If you're thinking that this story's not true
I've added a pic to prove it to you.
Written 15th June 2019
An illegitimate child of advanced technology we are told
That acquired the potency to destroy our health and gold
As you pack your stuff and ready to go
The world has reason to be happy once more and glow
As we continue to debate and bury our dead
Let us unite and lighten our hearts heavy as lead
Cause success can only walk into our lives to stay
When the hurts and problems of others matter in all our ways
Thousands of souls have been diseased and martyred
Nations now acknowledge the agenda in their lives that matter
Let the world rise as one the weak leaning on the strong
And infuse fresh blood in humanity gone weak and dumb
Let us celebrate this collective victory
A product of agonizing and winding trajectory
Recognizing that without pain there can never be gain
Like the phoenix let the world rise and be on the march again!
It Slithered
By Linda Hays-Gibbs
Darkness caressed it. I heard it before
I saw a piece of it, a bit?
Black & shinny
But so, so cold
It froze the air
my thoughts said it Exquisitely tiny but
It was unafraid, bold
To come so near Suddenly
Panicking in fear
My heart tearing up my chest
I ripped open my vest
To breathe to swallow
As I heard it's cackles
Raising hackles
On my arms such were it's sucking slithering charms
Turning to dash away
I tripped,
Fell...&
Had to face it
Eye to eye...
It grinned an unholy lopsided way with one red bulbous retina a still darker patina than I thought possible and grew cool, stronger I soon felt the pull,
I couldn't breathe
Staring into my face I can taste Hell's darkest secrets
My leg muscles race
But I'm still, so still no breathing or heartbeats
I'm dead!
Right there on the floor!
Gone dissolved, no more,
In my terrified head
Heavy as lead instead
I knew
as it slid from side to side with a sulfuric stench,
I retched
& gagged, resolved in my comatose fed brain what Was mirrored, sucking clinched to my eye when I flenched as it pinched my nose
I continuing to lie
It sucked, fed
Wiggled, munched, withered, crunched then slithered down to my toes
I knew without a doubt I was sucked dry for it was in truth a Devil's eye feeding withering searching in cold pursuit through the eire night of Halloween olde for sight of anyone's ashamed& unclaimed unholy weary soul
This poem still mine
Heavy as lead they say
For me alone too weighty
You too have to share it
So take and keep
The piece of your choice.
It is the birth of my baby:
Labour pain in deserted oasis.
I scamper and caper on the hot sand
Chanting my memories of real poetry.
I was betrothed to this harsh reality
And besought to feel no pleasure.
I they forbid to feel it either
Lines of creative literature
In this world so impure
Where you stumble and fall
In attempt to wobble.
They scorn me poet who wrote this
With treason they sew up my lips.
Recording memories of slavery
And the complete drama of trickery.
I know I now need to marry,
I know you wish to marry me
And if thy Lord will it
Mine Lord too will.
I need a rebirth of self esteem
I wish God would give me a child
A wonderful baby to call mine
One for me to rock gently to sleep
A pretty baby for whom to sing a lullaby
Chanting in a quotidian rhythm of pain
To create literary territories of liberty
Jammed with lines of poetry.
This poem the lines
Let chime and rhyme
Like toll bells in your mind
Only there will I write it
In unguarded secrecy.
Only there write it
My books are filled
With such lines of poetry
My feather-pen is weather-dry
The bottle has got not in it any ink
As the flooded fountain continues to drink
The irony of literary poetry.
This poem ever
All my poems ever
Not simple poem never.
My big brother will kill me
And fund the cost of my lavish funeral
If ever he reads this poem
So just open your mind
And there let me write it.
Father whisper to son,
Mother sing to daughter
My quotidian chant.
Could the air we breathe be seeds of anxiety?
Winter flowers bloom in diamond breeze.
Watery eyes searching for handout charity.
To form a habit with the cold and sneeze.
Bittersweet social scene for this moment,
when we are forced to suspend activities.
We couldn’t have predicted this torment.
Like a box of chocolates virtual celebrities.
We wind away hours on our backs and bum.
Going cold while conspiring with a friend.
The state we are in has gone hot on Instagram.
Arguing in whispers and chuckling to the end.
With power ensconced stuck at the head.
Social life has a new brand of epicenter.
Making us feel drained and heavy as lead.
The likely place to rest with an isolated fever.
Sat in our little green space, a vibrant escape
Some have never left the tonic for daily life.
And a chance to let the stress incubate.
Dissolved in the air to another greater site.
The lengthy, the brief, the confounding season,
the engraving; reminds me of sad memories.
Where obscured plaques enter without a reason
Look out for inscriptions but find only stories.
For the first time in years, life is sliding dossier.
That takes place almost entirely in the home.
The anonymity we have forged together.
Becoming clowns with no safe salary to come.