Best My Own Thoughts Poems
in the fervour of my sweat
sheets drenched
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
bent
out of sorts
barely able to walk
i return to the inferno of my now
quiet
i keep my affliction private and unassuming
Feb 28 2016
armand
To Daddy, Mama, Billy-Bro, Punky and Massachusetts....
Glazed, deep snow, virgin crunched under my aimless walk
as I idle rambled onward through a vacant, bare-treed park.
Sun was so high that its brightness flashed sparkling pastels.
Fleeting blue spots danced randomly and surrounded me
with images of us until old tears appeared and newly swelled.
In and out, snow to house, young you and me in tender years
of igloos, snowmen, skating, snow ball laughing and fighting,
in animal mittens Mama knitted and snow suits tightly snug.
On some far stage, I feel sure we are still close and at play,
but today I have no smile to curl, just winter’s bleak weight
from tons of missing and reminiscing for my ill, lost brother.
Climbing a hill covered in deep snow reminded me how thick
my own thoughts were sadness bogged, of love now long gone
that was once joyously caught and I swear that hill mocked me.
My legs moved on their own accord as memories of other hills
caught my heart and held it painfully, eloquently still-scored.
Looking up as though Daddy could see me, remember with me
the hand holding and hill rolling he showed me decades ago
as his delight from falling snow created and molded my own.
Years later it was my son’s hand he held, watching icicles melt
while from a distance I watched their silence spill laughter
and their sled fly hills, growing a bond now many winters gone.
At hills peak, I felt my aches that winter etched as pains’ crafter.
Memories where finality marks each season, hurt me most of all.
Through thickening haze,
I hear your voice call my name,
encouraging me, words beating
with my heart, guiding me home
as I stumble and crawl…
lost in a winding maze,
blinded by a smokescreen haze.
My life falls off-course; a sudden struggle,
I am suffocated by my own thoughts,
by perfectly manicured hedges,
by a world of betrayal…a world of deceit.
Yet, I live every moment with hope –
I see filtered rays of light,
feel their warmth on my skin,
a reminder of Heaven when I shiver within.
As I climb my leafy-green, prison walls,
my courage creates new heightened paths.
Like English Ivy weaving
through a garden lattice,
I grow taller, plan my escape,
hear your unwavering voice
drape over me with love and strength…
Your hand, outstretched,
seems just within my reach.
I focus on a life without walls,
a place I can learn and teach,
an open field of tomorrows…
vibrant, full, free.
Every singular cell, every breath I draw,
every soulful feeling…all of me,
with all of my flaws,
reaches out to all of you.
With a touch, I am saved…
I am found.
A new dawn breaks just within my reach.
The creaking of old hard wood floors
Flowers, weary with wet petals stuck to the pot
The absence of dogs barking and cats purring is almost unbearable
My own thoughts ticking by
The familiar smell of food does not waft
There are no lights on
Just dust
Dust on the chair, the tv, and even my favorite picture on the wall.
The house, almost empty but the language on the walls speak, calling out memories
The presence of her comes close
Presence. Here I am.
In this place I am... I once had a dream,
A dream of sunshine moments and cold lemonade
The dust is now clearing as pictures become bright
Past becomes present and the roads of memories end at the horizon where I also end,
Seeping into the cold dark couch
In this sea of comfort it is an expression of love
for death is not a loss,
but past memories of life.
it's morning again;
i watched the sun yawn across the sky
making its way to my window
but the stars were still in your eyes
and last night's dew, still fresh
as i laid in your arms wanting more
wanting anything but a new day.
i always hated good-byes;
arms locked tightly around one another
lips pressing firmly while tired tongues whispered
"i love you" over and over again
but the hands of time never held still
and we'd start to part, then repeat the process
over and over again holding what we could from night
but day always dressed us
moved us along
left us standing alone.
i saw lover's leap;
it was this big rocky cliff
jutting out of the side of a mountain
and i settled deep in my own thoughts,
i'd like to climb it,
before sunrise,
when the stars are still fresh in your eyes
and the dew still wet between us,
kiss you,
close my eyes
and whisper "i love you"
over and over again
without having to say good-bye.
You called me Memory
not realizing that is all I want
I couldn't ask for anymore
than to be a lovely memory in someone's heart
To be remembered is a great responsibility
I will wear this name well
I'm proud of this name bestowed to me by one of my heroes
One of my friends
One of my sisters
One of my own
One of my most precious memories
A memory with a future
My dear sweet loves
Silver cannot describe your voice
It's far more valuable
It's like gold to my ears
Comfort to my soul
Honey to my throat
It coats me in love
It muses my own thoughts
An ancient way of thinking
I'm an artifact
But don't put me behind glass
Leave me buried or clean me up
but appreciate my beauty either way
I'm too lovely to be forgotten
So don't think that you can leave without thoughts of me
I'll haunt your own memories and gain the trust of your dreams
I'll stay in the creases of your heart and be the sleep in your eyes when you wake
I can turn necks with a simple smile
Don't hold a candle to me
For it will only pale
The rust and dirt that stains me are contributions to my selflessness
I'm a warrior of time
A bandit of sorrows for I will wear yours as my own
I'm cracked but I've withheld against wind a torment
A treasure lost for far too long
The map that leads to me has been smudged beyond repair
But I'm not...
No I'm not the shiniest or the one filled with the most riches
But I am to be cherished
For I am only one
The caverns of my heart are to be explored with reverence
I'll open up but can easily crumble
I know how to rebuild but I've come too far to start over again
I've withstood the test of centuries and I will make it to the end
My treasure hunters
You've found me
Don't look anywhere else for what I can hold
It's too great for most
But you can handle it
I was made to be found by greatness
To hold greatness
And that is what you have filled me with
You've prepared me for wondrous things
Things that can't be reached in just one lifetime
No wonder that I have so many more to live
Rising early to seek the Lord, while he may be found
I take a breath to cleanse my heart while the world keeps spinning ‘round
As the sun peaks o’er the edge to wake from thoughtful sleep
I find my own thoughts leaning to, and plunge in waters deep
I think about the hands of God; the wounds he took for me
The weight of that heavy cross he bore to set me free
I think of his strong and sure embrace to comfort when I’m down
How those hands lift me up and turn my every frown
When sickness rears its ugly head, His hands are there to heal
I know He’s with me when I pray, hands touch me when I kneel
His hands are there to point the way; they’ve guided all along
His hands, like a father should, correct me when I’m wrong
When my very world is shaking, I know that Heaven stands
When my anxious heart is breaking, I’ll not let go His hands.
By Christopher Thor Britt and Lucy Gutierrez Matos - 2014
Motif: Spirituality
A Collaboration
MIRROR of MEMORIES
Disappearing into the mirror,
fading slowly from my own thoughts
memories, photo shopped to black,
voices striking chords of longing
for the once known unknown.
Fearfully I gaze on living’s death
beseeching spiteful gods – spare them
those that I love – this torment
this coming agony of absent presence,
blank stare of empty vessel.
Greedily, will I cherish every touch,
each kiss, savor the leftovers of
reheated passion, hold softly to
hands that offer aid, rage silently
against a stolen past.
Hopefully, they will know
I have not forgotten them
they will live within me
protected, as in their youth,
held tightly in my arms.
John G. Lawless
11/18/2015
submitted to – Mirror of Memories “Alzheimer’s’ – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Tammy Reams
I always thought writing with a broken pencil was useless and pointless
But then I became a broken pencil myself
I became emptiness, a wilderness of my own thoughts
I became depression and healing all at once
But then I was my blank pages created with empty pieces of hope
Then there were my sharp edges and ink to begin my journey of a scowl life
Pain was my sharpness with everything I did leaving a mark of grace
Making visible my scars to be useless from the inside
I was a broken pencil written for the last time and my destination was changed
But then something was important for me to know that I had to turn problems to opportunity
That at some point broken pencils, lost erasers
But mine lost its mind to its broken heart
Poet
Masego Nkuna
I feel so tired… not with my work.. or my life…
I am so tired with my own thoughts own heart..
I would really like a few minutes break at last..
I have searched the whole world for a honest friend…
A friend to be with me always.. To talk to me and to know me..
Not physically.. But emotionally… With thoughts and calls..
Even a single message to know that I am alright…
A person just like me.. From my own heart..
Who will understand my silence in my words…And tears behind my smiles…
Who will care for me and be there for me…
Not only in my happiness but also in my tears..
Like I am there for friends.. like how I care for them..
Everyone is busy with their own daily working life..
Phone calls are not answered and messages aren’t replied…
So many have become so cold hearted like ice..
Its really heard to fins a true one,, honest one and a caring one..
I have searched the whole wide world..But I haven’t still found none..
One a wise man told me and wrote to me and said..
“Friends are like ships in the sea… they stay for a while and leave…
And there will be many ships that will passes by..
But not even no ship will stay on the sea forever and by..”
So I feel like I am the sea and all my friends have passed me by..
But I am still searching for that honest one.. Careering,,,
To be my friend for until deaths do us apart..!
Dilu D Wijegunasekara
19th of august 2019
RELATED BY CHOICE
For my adopted grandmother Nancy Enloe
I met you at a friend’s house,
standing stately on your cane,
tall and rosy-cheeked like me.
In your smile, I basked and thought,
“Long-lost cousin, could you be?”
Like my great aunt long ago,
when you learned I love to write,
you gave me three r’s of verse:
Robert Wash, Service, and Frost,
and asked to read my own work.
Like my aunt in my childhood,
you invited me for swims.
In your pool, I splashed and laughed.
Like her, you asked to hear me play
my organ -the whole grand staff!
On a ten-day Rockies trip,
Jasper, Banff, and Lake Louise,
friends asked if you were my mom.
We smiled at that pleasing word
like Gilead’s healing balm.
One day, as we drove along,
you said just out of the blue,
that you’d be Grandma to me.
As if you spoke my own thoughts,
I grinned as wide as you could see.
Oh, once we got to be twins
in blazers you bought for us.
You knitted us two rainbow scarves
for walking in wintry air
or through the winds on the wharves.
You’ve been family to me,
all six relations in one.
How fun it would be to find
on genealogy sites
if we’re related for real.
No matter! It feels just right!
I never knew, I had the strength to write these verse
I always thought silence was a gift
But to believe that freedom of speech is an art of expression
Is just the beginning of happiness?
To have the courage to express one self
Learning to understanding you
Is the key to inner peace
I have always been a coward
Afraid of my own thoughts and shadow
Dancing in the dark
Afraid of the crowd
Sleeping in the corner
Sneaking away
The first to finish
Last to start.
But it’s my destiny to write these lyrics
To allow my voice to tell you a tale
I have always been afraid to write what I felt as words never came easily.
I walk with a frown and I am always falling down.
Tired of getting burn
Always on the run forever holding the gun never seeing the sun
But today am putting my feet firmly on the ground.
I am alone traveling light, so solitude
My God is intimate in his light;
He is quiet
Alone He speaks truth, absolute, so solitude;
My soul is solitude my mind self alone, I enjoy
His present soul shown;
Alone in essence in my gratitude
I'm absolute, nothing to refute;
No need to recluse, I choose isolation;
I belong to His Quiet Nation
My space, His grace, my faith
Solitude abundant
Me myself and I
Father Son and Holy Spirit El Shaddai
Me and my him and I my light brightly
Shines I am all His and He's mine
Together we thrive on the right side;
I am alone I stand surrounded by God's angels;
Alone I am solitude my soul finds peace and rest this is myself;
Me at my best, me alone in the arms alone with myself
On my Father's chest soul solitude
So solitude breath to breath, chest to chest
Alone together concentrate my own thoughts only unattended
And accomplished together with no humanity connection;
Thoughts alone I am one's own on;
His throne a singular traveling light lights;
I am alone traveling light soul solitude alone;
And in essence and my gratitude in Him everything is all right
A dedicated verse to Candace Djissenou
12/11/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
I am resigned.
I was once full of neoteric life, fresh as morning dew.
Blank as a hardened sponge waiting for that morning, to
soak in all this life.
I was curious and surprised by the innocence of young creatures. Playful, and distracted by all the colors, flavors, scents, sounds, and textures whirling around me. I was but one drop of water yet presumed myself the storm.
I was then full of new life within my growing awareness. I was the life giver. The female womb, ripe as fruit from the tree. The planting of which was forbidden but irresistible in its passion and pleasure.
Life and death growing inside me.
I was then blind sided by reality, by my insignificant self.
I lost the morning dew, I lost the fevered curiosity, I lost the ego.
I was left with cold questions and fear. Knowing myself to be corruptible.
I became the seeker, the hunter, the collector of truth.
The water dried up, hardened the sponge once again with no more mist or dew to soak in. It was not for me.
The colors no longer distract.
The flavors have lost their savor.
No perfume in this decaying stillness.
I am deaf to their noises, and they shrink from my touch.
I am resigned to listen to my own thoughts… of what is to come.
I am resigned.
NoT HuMAn Living in Another World,
Lost in an unknown World, a world of mystery.
Feeling like I'm living in a world of only one,
Me, Myself, and I.
I keep going on in Life, living a life of a Loner.
I go on living Life clueless, not knowing what to do,
Having no one to talk to,
I'm just another Lost little Boy looking for his way.
There's no Love, Peace, or Happiness in this World,
Only Pain and Sorrow.
I feel like a prisoner held captive of my own thoughts,
With No Way Out.
But through all of my troubles,
I keep my Happiness
Even though I'm NoT HuMAn Livin in Another World!
~NoT HuMAn