Best Pain And Love Poems
Your poetry talks to me in the moody night
a voice of indigo telling me secrets of pain and love
while Luna licks my ear with impatience for my excitement,
I begin to walk faster, like a wolf on a scent, your red scent,
following shadows into sounds of howling winter
seeking just one more whisper from your passion
one more paw print in the hard snow of destiny,
will I ever find your lair of love in the cold night
I swear that I can see the copper glow of your eyes -
J.A.B.
I can see the past glory, though it is humble now and all the more reverent....
With thoughts of deep ocean bliss,
that comes with fading hope,
I walked along the tide line,
no longer able to cope.
I stared at the setting sun,
its brightness, burns the eyes.
I glanced back at the sand stone cliffs,
where a building caught my eye.
I don't recall it being there,
when I traveled the cliff top path.
I shrugged my shoulders then turned back,
to the ocean and waiting death.
I take a step towards my fate,
when I feel a tap upon my shoulder.
I turn to see who is there,
all I see is sand and boulders.
My eyes are called to the top
and to that small building.
Something there outweighed my need,
so up the cliff path I started walking.
There upon the windswept crest,
were trees leaning with the wind.
I followed the overgrown stone walk,
to the building, just round the bend.
The steeple leaned, but still spoke volumes.
No stained glass to catch the sun.
No bell to call folks to service,
no roof, as the rot had won.
Yet a charm was there to see,
strength came from the ancient stones,
that made up the four standing walls,
of this Chapel, now just bones.
I made my way to the entrance,
amid dead leaves, the scrag that enfolds.
I felt a welcome pour over me,
as I crossed over the threshold.
The setting sun cast long shadows,
that all pointed toward the alter.
My need, took me down the aisle.
Not once did my feet falter.
There He was, looking down,
from a weather beaten cross.
His countenance both pain and love,
I suddenly felt small and lost.
The sun sank deep into the sea,
and gave its final flair.
Within that light I swear I saw,
His face lift, so he saw me there.
I fell to my knees and I prayed,
as I had never prayed before.
I prayed for guidance and His love,
I felt both, to my very core.
I visit that Chapel, now and then.
It's still crumbling with time.
But, to me it has more glory now,
than it did when its bells did chime.
Paula Swanson 9/25/2011
For the contest; Church By The Ocean
Sponsored By Constance La France
Placement: 1st
The clouds above me darken, as I sit here reminiscing about my past.
It's a challenge to invest in and build relationships that are not meant to last.
Some memories are pleasant, others not so much.
Recalling your last touch.
Indeed, I'm trying to learn from my mistakes.
No matter how long it takes.
I've seen it all before, we've decided to go our separate ways.
In a matter of minutes, in a season of rage, the decision is given.
Shall we find it in our hearts to one day, be forgiven.
How did we get here, replacing hate with love?
Touching the sky above.
Unknown it is to me, the fantasy of a happy ending.
Maybe we were both pretending.
It all only exists in fairytales, played during innocence.
I no longer have a guilty conscience.
We both failed, each other, staying out of convenience.
Yes, people experience pain and love, at times, together.
But today I realize that nothing, lasts forever.
Angels falling
From man's heaven onto man's land
This world is hell, blooming
And blood and fire, and roses
And wounds and pain, and love
And me, fighting again
Feathers swirling
Cut off from darkened wings, bleeding
Sliced and torn in an endless dive
Tears of life, crimson
Sometimes flying, mostly failing
From man's heaven onto man's land
Heaven in hell and hell in hell
Angels bleeding
The bliss of pain, cut me again
Wings I do not want
Bound to a fake sky
Chained to a cruel Earth
Hell everywhere, blooming
Reality, crash into it
And blood and fire, and roses
And wounds and pain, and both
And you, smiling maybe
Blacks and blues, a cruel kindness,
A paradox that leaves us blindless
Words that wound but also heal
A mix of pain and love we feel.
Ink blots spill onto the page,
A canvas of our inner rage,
Delight and sorrow are intertwined.
A reflection of the human mind.
Each stroke is a story to be told.
Secrets are hidden yet unfold
In the ink, we find release.
A way to cope, a sense of peace.
The blots become a crafting art.
A glimpse of what's within our hearts
A reminder of the ups and downs,
And how we wear our battle crowns.
So let the ink spill on the page.
Let it be a cathartic stage,
For in the blots, we find our way,
To live again, another day.
Written: June 08, 2023
I'm tired of writing love poems and trying to put spins on them;
So for inspiration and ideas i go brainstorming;
But each thought, each idea seems to be a duplicate of the last poem;
"The glimmer of her memory never seems to diminish" if i should quote one;
The most amazing part about all these poems is not that I wrote them;
its that they're all about you;
so a thought about you is always around the corner from my mind;
But loving you was always harder than putting thread through a needle if i was blind;
And i could never figure you out even if i was smarter than Einstein;
See pain and love reside in the same exact address of my heart either one would answer the door when you runged;
Like when you didn't say nothing when your brother called me out my name and we got the scrapping cause i ain't no punk;
Or when you finally said i love you who would've thunk;
In my hearts mind i know i have to free you from the prison that is deep inside my aorta, pass the pulmonary valve;
there you'll find all of our memories that were once upon a time;
before i unlock the doors with the keys of forgiveness and free the memories we once shared like wind to leaves;
I just want you to know a couple things to put my mind at ease;
You were my definition of love when problems arose we chose to be more discrete;
Who knew my heart would tremble, broken like a Haitian street;
They told me to be patient and that time heels all wounds;
But you leaving left a big whole in my heart the size of a balloon;
Ive been walking around these streets hoping nobody pops it so i wont end up a guy in a loveless casket
My dearest Cordellia, I miss you, so I thought I would send you a note
Telling you all that I have been going through and asking you to give me hope
I walk this dark and lonely road carrying all this pain
Wondering, were all these tears I have cried simply cried in vain
Using my heart and not my eyes to navigate the darkness in this place
The only thing that remains clear to me is the memory of your face
I have missed you since you have gone, I have to confront this on my own
Can not put into words this pain I feel it is something I have never known?
If it were not for all the love you poured into my heart
I would have no strength to keep myself from falling apart
You have left this life and have gone to where only the angels are permitted to soar
But the love I have for you has allowed me to open up another door
The love this father has for his daughter has consumed his very heart
And all these memories of you have allowed me to make a brand new start
Daddy’s little hiny, that was my name for you, because of your tiny baby butt
How you use to make me laugh, you were such a little nut
Cordellia Miriam, your name was as unique as you were
A piece of heaven on earth is what you were to me and that is for sure
I never knew that I was capable of feeling a love as strong as the love I felt for you
And now since you are gone I become confused at times for just what I should do
I could gain pleasure for hours just by sitting and watching you play
I would try to understand everything you had to say
So my sweet child I hope you can hear me when I speak to you each night
I hope that you are listening and I hope you understand my fight
This pain and love seem to be tearing each other apart, leaving me as a shell
I pray each night to God in hopes that you are doing well
I miss all the times you would run down the hall just to greet me
You would jump into my arms to give me a hug and tell me how much you missed me
Well my little one Daddy has to go for now but I shall certainly visit with you again
I will talk to you everyday until we shall meet again
The End
By Greg P
A surreal vision
dreamlike and bizarre.
I felt as if I were in the throes
of a turbulent blazing blizzard,
a throbbing pulsating migraine
almost static in fermentation.
It gnawed intensively at my innards,
atrocious labor pains.
She put a small wet warm towel
Right on my forehead.
Then relief.
A calming of the spirit,
ethereal, soft, relaxing.
A vision of vastness
dotted by languid lakes,
rippling rivulets,
autumn-colored trees,
eternal waterfalls,
and myriads of emigrating geese.
I slept, feeling you besides me,
warm, homely, and satisfying.
Precisely why I loved you.
22 April 2021
Placed 1
Writing Prompt - Ache - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
You do not expect me I am going to describe the stands
Or the moon that is reflected on the river's water
Or the ghostly tribes running along Winnibigoshishi Lake,
Up to the Shakopee and down to the Sioux City,
But the holdings and the last fragrances
Thatt have been grown along my Mississippi Nights.
Since my childhood, no shadows, no scarlet
Has been broken, and back I go:
I was five years old, teeny and dark, so beautiful around my mother's arms,
All proud and bough, and I sung all summer
As I was watching my Mississippi Nights.
Long tales as they had been told through the stripped dance
And drowsy learning, yet it already has been told by wrinkled faces,
And by those toothless mouths, that arisen sun has gone,
In such fashion of pain and smoke,
But no one could tell me after the long ceremony
How beautiful and still my Mississippi Nights.
From the South to the North; from Granite Falls to
Prairies Island, I knew every stone and leaf, the flavor
Of the smokes and shine, the cute young Indian girls
Who were best known, that by June
I fell and hit -- even though I was skinny and dumb --
Every girl in delight but there was nothing like than my Mississippi Nights.
As a man now so unique and coward!
From whom I have got no Indian Blood Left,
Princely I bent. Not to risen against the Great Spirit
Even perhaps by pain and love I should say
But I was still looking at myself through my Mississippi Nights.
Graceful and healthful to the tradition I call you too my strong boy.
Along with my Indian woman, now fifty-two, and caring spring she has before;,
Through the lower Sioux, and the higher St. Cloud and beyond,
And somewhat south and north, I must demand
To myself to see once more my Mississippi Nights.
(Dedicated to Pope John Paul 11)
Is Religion a symbol of unity?
Dedication for the welfare of mankind
A spirit of understanding
A respect for existence
An honour for leading the path
For awakening the human beings
A challenge for impurity
To protect equal opportunity
The explanation of Nature
And its system
And a power who runs it
Nobody can touch it
Nobody can see it
Nobody can hear it
But that can realise only
A passion of pain and Love
A spirit for dedication
To face the problems
To find out the solutions
To maintain a standard for living
To protect the ancestor’s progress
For liberty, integrity and fraternity
Religious spirit never cares for boundaries
Never cares for ruling dignity
A fight against misusing
The power of freedom
A barrier to stop cruelity
A barrier to control feelings
A barrier to nominate the respect for relations
A barrier to protect natural beauty
An encouragement to develop individuality
A technique for learning
A chapter of self reliance
A movement of skills
A path of failureness and achievements
A goal of patience
Maturity of determination
Wisdom of deeds
Perpetuation of truth
Shameless and shameful divisions
Sense of goodness and dirt
Faith in existence
Action of belief
Motion for aims
A smell of enjoyment
Efforts to protect future.
The sepulcher within its confines hold
a withering shell where once a grand life spent
a journey both of joy and discontent -
of pain and love and stories left untold.
Too simple and complex I contemplate
mortality where souls are briefly weighed,
and conscience where the weight of sin is paid
against a deed of good that came too late.
So...what of death, a tax that must be paid,
and measured by the value of my worth?
It matters not - the plaintive cry "I tried"
when even that was honest truth betrayed.
Each day anew I celebrate my birth -
and not regret a humble life that died...
Pain is suddenly being left alone
its when you lose someone who was everything
pain is when you don't know what to do
when all seems to be falling in on you
pain is when you have no one to dry your tears
or hold you in the night
when everything seems a fright
pain is just hurting because you feel all alone
and don't have anyone to hear you call out in the night
its when you walk and walk and walk, and have no where to go
pain is all these things and more;
but somewhere - sometime - a gentle soul enters your life
and gives you a smile,
dries your tears, and lets you know that you're not alone.
you find that pain is no longer controlling your life
when this gentle soul shows you the way
its when you can tell them:
when I lost my smile,
you gave me yours;
when I needed a friend,
you were there;
when I didn't know what to do,
you showed me;
for all that you have been, and all that you are -
I will love you.
Dedicated to my wife, Janet - for all that you have been and are.
Do you know what it's like?
To hold your best friend tight
Hold her close to your arms
With a kiss that's just so light
Do you know how it feels?
To hold her soft cozy hands
And walk together Down the street
While the lights turn on at night
Do you know what a friend is?
She's more than just laughter
She's pain and love and happiness
And she creates for you disaster
But what is life without those things?
It's boredom and depression
For disaster is excitement
And from it we learn lessons
So yes a friend is a person
But the magical things she can do
It makes you think, I'm a friend
So can I do that too!
A rose falls on the sore wound
Healing the deep agony within
Both pain and love have been seen
Friends, feel the futility of fatal fights...
The sepulcher within its confines hold
a withering shell where once a grand life spent
a journey both of joy and discontent -
of pain and love and stories left untold.
Too simple and complex I contemplate
mortality where souls are briefly weighed,
and conscience where the weight of sin is paid
against a deed of good that came too late.
So...what of death, a tax that must be paid,
and measured by the value of my worth?
It matters not - the plaintive cry "I tried"
when even that was honest truth betrayed.
Each day anew I celebrate my birth -
and not regret a humble life that died...