Best Losstime Poems
The Courtship
He courted her for many years
Said she was the one for him
She looked like a goddess he said
In the moonlight, tall and slim
No one else would ever compare
Yes…she was the one for him!
The years rolled by one by one
Each one getting older
But he never asked to marry her
And she often cried on his shoulder
When is the right time my love
When will the time be right?
She stood by him though thick and thin
Always by his side
Certain that she’d one day be
His loving blushing bride
He depended on her every day
To always be nearby
It never occurred to him
That she’d ever say “goodbye!”
The years rolled by one by one
Each one getting older
But he never asked to marry her
And she often cried on his shoulder
“Time is fading away, my love
Our lives are fading away”
Then one spring morning he awoke
She wasn’t by his side
He looked in every room
But there was no where to hide
He walked out to the garden
Where she loved to roam
And saw her lifeless body
She was never coming home!
Time slipped away my love
You’ve waited much too long
You’re faithful love is gone now
But you’ll never forget her song
“Time is fading away my love
Time is fading away”
She’ll never be your bride now
She just… faded away… today!
Copyright©2011 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
One year’s went y since you’ve been gone
One year’s gone by from I’ve seen your face.
One year I’ve shared millions of tears.
One year of heart ach e and pain.
One year that has driven me insane.
Nights cried asleep
Wondering why that faith you had to meet
You have died and went to that grate beyond
You know all truths and feel no pain, sorrow or suffering
But I feel
My brother I feel.
Knowing there’s no day I’ll spend time with you.
No more words I could share with you.
Just thinking of the time I’ve wasted
Things I could and should have said to you.
But I’ve got to look up,
And move on.
Thou everyday is a struggle
Since you’ve been gone.
Form:
Author Note: Entry for Jon Heck Contest "EDGE." When I think of "fear," I can think of
nothing more fearful than death and wondering what it is like.
Because I could not stop for death,
my brain,
the grand inquisitor,
ponders the moment.
About six minutes,
the time it takes
for the brain to die.
What happens in that short time?
Does the brain ramble;
try to decompose
if, it indeed died?
In death, is there fear;
is recognition instantaneous?
Can you see it in the eyes?
Is six minutes time to make
peace before judgment?
Or, serenity,
a time to relax and reminisce
before memory fades for all time.
Six minutes,
biblical prophecy,
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,
does partake.
Because I could not stop for death,
in six minutes,
everything learned
erased for all time;
my body lies dead,
I say goodbye.
Ghost rider waiting at the station
crossing over soul tracks into spirit
past lives to present
regression to progression in mirrors
projection of reflection
thundering through sunshine
from another time of spellbound
with an afterglow.
Song birds of sweet angelic melody
singing internal bliss time telling all
sealed with a supernatural kiss
Neptune's desire in an enchanting dream
sent by a romantic messenger from beyond
with hopes of virtue sending soul to soul conversation
dimensional travel on higher levels of vibration
knowing destiny from the dead travelling between worlds
riding the train of destination towards the tunnel of Nirvana.
Addictions have had a great impact on my families life, all on my mother's side.
There were three people in our lives who have three very different addictions, two of them
are still with us. My uncle Ron had an addiction to drugs.
It started innocently enough with pot smoking in high school and drinking on weekends with
his friends. As he got a little older, though not much older, his taste for being high began to
consume his life. He would take acid or mushrooms just to get that "euphoric" feeling, and
when that wasn't enough, he started to snort cocaine. When taht was no longer giving him
the feeling he longed for he turned to the mother of all drugs at that time...heroin.
It consumed him. He began to sell his belongings just to buy enough for a day. He lied and
stole from my grandparents. He told my mom, who was 13 at the time, that it was like
having all your cares washed away in an instant. He compared it to getting your all time
favorite treat just when you needed it the most, and it was completely satisfying. Smoking it
eventually didn't have the desired affect, so he began to shoot it. It wasn't long after that
choice, he was at a party and several of his friends were all shooting it up, so he did too.
They all used the same needles, and that was a fatal choice. One of them had hepatitis and
he got very sick. By the time he went to the doctor, it was too late. He died four days after
being admitted to the UBC hospital. No other hospital would admit him because in the 80's
haptitis was highly contagious and deadly 8 out of 10 times.
He slipped into a coma and then all of his organs started to fail one by one, until eventually
the only thing keeping him alive was the machines. Together my moms family had to decide
to let him go. He was 21 when his life ended very sunddenly from stupid and tragic
circumstances, all because he made some poor choices in life. Sometimes I wish he were
still here, so I could get a chance to meet him. My mom says he was an amazing person, full
of love of life, and sincere devotion to his family...until the drugs came along.
You swim in the ocean of my tears
in my purgatory time machine
a designer hell, that had no heaven
to replace every negative with another positive
and you could help yourselves earn this
every grain of sand placed around the one rock
i cried upon everyday i had to earn
by wishing myself away
In this hard place
god passed me by forever
a star in the sky for ever reason i discovered that i had to die
Drop by drop the oceans were collected
grain of sand by grain of sand
the beaches created with no deception
never got a turn to live the life i deserved
just rewarded for suicidal tendancies
in this purgatory time machine
punished for something you did to me
AND ON THE 25TH OF DECEMBER,
19-, I DIED AS A STRICT SATANIC MEMBER;
CALLED HOME BY MY FATHER STILL TO BE KNOWN-
BUT HAD I ANY HOPE? I BELIEVE NONE.
I CAME TO MY SENSES, THE AREA COLD,
AND I FELT A WEIGHT ON ME IN THE COLD HOLD;
A STRANGLING WEIGHT, AN UNKNOWN HUMAN BEING:
BUT I WAS DEAD – IN THE MORTUARY’S BIN.
“WHO ARE YOU UNTOP ME?” I ASKED AS CORPSES
SAY-“YOU ARE A HEAVY CORPSE:BAD SIZES.
I HEARD HIM YAWN AND STIR AS CORPSES DO.
“ WHAT ! DON’T YOU FEEL THE COLD? HAVEN’T’Y A CLUE.
“HERE’S A MORTUARY, AND I NEED ALL HEAT.”
I MERELY SIGHED, REGRETTING THE PIT.
“AND I AM DUE TODAY.” I HEARD HIM SAY.
“ THEN LET’S ENJOY THE TIME WE HAVE IN PLAY.
AND … AND WE HEARD THE MORTUARY’S DOOR CREAK
FOR TRULY HE WAS DUE FOR A SAD PICK:
A TIME WHEN FAMILY MEMBERS SO WEEP
WHILE OTHERS ATE DINNER WITHOUT SLEEP.
EXTRACTED FROM THE EPIC: “THE LAST DAY’S TALE.”
BY NFORCHE GERALD
APPROX: 600 STANZAS LONG.
SEARCHING FOR A PUBLISHER.
Each time I leave this place
My mind always sits back
Pulling my weight back
Telling me, something is missing
Each time I hold on
To my breath hoping
It doesn't escape the tip
Of my lungs
I'd rather much prefer it drowns me
But this never happens
Each time as we drive away
And memories of you in the rear view
Gets smaller, but their place
In my soul gets heavier
And so I never know whether to look back
Or continue to push my weight back
Whispering, each time
That I left something behind
will i ever be whole,
without a darkness inside,
it swirls around in hunger,
wanting to taste the blood,
to feel the teeth sink into the vein,
the iron taste of blood calms it,
but time after time it wants more,
so why can't i curb it,
do i have to kill to fill it,
why can't it go away,
i just want it to go away,
to stop acting like a hound after blood,
to stop giving me these feelings of death
Form:
You tried to hide your exploits in the dark. The wives of those men knew you were
sleeping around the trailor park. You spread the disease of adultry around town. Your
promiscuity kept you financially above ground. In a diary you kept every conquest written
down. Even that sexually stimulating ride that night on the merry- go-round.
A limousine pulls up and you walk out in a fabulous red strapless dress. That politician
fed you diamonds an dfor the first time you felt like a princess. You felt loved and secure by
his wonderful deeds. In exchange you catered to his sexual barbaric need. Until eventually
you found yourself physically abused and on your knees. It was just a matter of time before
he blew his top like some T.N.T.
You crave revenge, but you're afraid to be a blackmailer. So you're back home alone in
your trailor. But now you wear an ugly scar across your face. The memory of the newly
elected governor you can't erase. In your diary you keep pictures of the two of you
together. The scar will be a constant reminder forever.
Over the years life has been so hard on you. From motel rooms to the avenue.
Abusive men and steady drug use have left their residue. At times you still blame the
Governor for what you've gone through. With no job skills and mouths to feed, you find
yourself on your back spreading your knees. Slowly over time sex for drugs would satisfy
your needs. And from appearance no one would have guessed you used to cheerlead. Your
health begins to rapidly decline. You told your mother you were fine, but she did not agree.
So off to the clinic you went, only to discover you were positive for H.I.V;
After she died, her family discovered the pictures and the diary. Titled "Shattered
Dreams". End of story.......
Thick cloudy sky filled with tears__woe
Crying at the swiftly passing era
No more old generation__new day
The passage into a modern time
A time all its own with difference
Whole set of problems separates it
From times that have gone by but yet__same
History tends to repeat itself
Demise of Hotel Upson brought thought
A time of reflection to many
To some joy that ugly eye sore__gone
Others landmark history removed
Today in America there is
A church or more on every street
Evil, lawlessnes, drugs on the beats
Gangs, violence, road rage, and much more
It seems times like when the Hotel raised
Back in Nineteen twenty eight are gone
A simple time when families, friends
Was an important part of the plan
That hotel was built solid and strong
Built to withstand the test of hard times
Who would have thought its hey-day would end
With a track-hoe beating its walls in
Its architecture was a simple
Design Georgian Revival Style of
Red brick trimmed in limestone best in day
Had a ballroom, elevators, air
No matter it is no longer there
Gone forever to C&D landfill
No even sold to reuse the parts
That made it the best in its day__gone
Was a long time ago
but so fresh in my mind
your light burned so bright
beautifully blinding
was a long time ago
but still see you clearly
can still hear your voice
don't need reminding
The storm has long past
the dust long settled
but the pain remains fresh
like a scar unhealed
you burned out too quickly
taken far too soon
my soul mate,
my friend,
my protector,
my sheild.
Form:
i can sense the tension in the house.
i tiptoe downstairs,and peek around the corner,
just in time to see him pouring the liquor.
i can hear it,and the sound is enough to make me cry.
i crawl into my bed,and fall asleep quickly.
i awake to a loud boom,shaking the whole house.
i jump up and turn on the light,i wander down the hallway..
when i pass my sisters room i hear them whisper "jess!no!don't go down there.come in here"
i can tell by their eyes, that the liquor has yet again got to him.
i go to lay down with them,by that time i can hear him racing up the stairs.
he walks in with a furious look,his lips are tight,he's red and sweaty-
i hear sirens outside and he runs back downstairs.
they knock and knock,until finally he gets the door.
time passed by slowly.i started to fall into a slumber.
the sound of him opening the door woke me up.
this time he didn't look so angry, he looked hurt.
his eyes were glossy,and red.
he sits down on the bed,and tells my sisters and i how much he loves us,and how sorry he
is for screwing up.
in my mind i'm thinking- but daddy,this happens all the time.wat's so different now?
a police officer walks in,and puts him in cuffs.
the last thing i remember is the pathetic look he had on his face,when he glanced over his
shoulder at me,and mouthed "i love you"
Form:
You heart open teacher for some,
Smiling most times yet stern others,
Moments in time forever memory,
As if in a dream you fade away,
Your family pleads searching why,
Tears fall hearts heavy with pain,
Anguish meshed with emptiness,
Confusion, all thoughts unfocused,
Wanting answers none ever come,
Strength, resolve our only answer,
Feeling loss is forever demanding,
Knowing our rendezvous will happen,
Yearning for that time to transpire,
Reminiscence, our only task left,
I wear these stains of time upon my wrinkled brow
I wear the marks of hurt in places they cannot know
What will I do now that the coals have ceased to glow
Where will I lay my head, I have no where left to go
This worn and tired shell is breaking from with in
The fissures start to show the surface wearing thin
If I could find a way then I would save myself
But I think now is the time to come falling of the shelf
As I think back on my past and all the things I’ve lost
It’s the fire in my heart that I really miss the most
Now I am stood on the edge of this deep abyss
I wish for all the world that I had just one more kiss
As the images arrive into my foremost mind
I am forced to again to live those actions so unkind
Know that hell is not a place of fire, heat and pain
Hell is forced to live with these pictures in my brain
The shell begins to break and tumble to the ground
It’s then I realise as I start to look around
I’m meant to be alone without a single friend
As everyone I loved went away in the end
My mind finds resolve as my marks begin to tell
I will let myself go and descend into my hell
I know that I will fall as my head begins to spin
I could even save myself if I hadn’t given in