Best Sadwrite Poems
Poetry contests we enter with zest
And hopefully write to our best
Sometimes we don't win
So our re-writing begins
Some poets, just over protest
This poem is about another site I had joined, where poets went
in the huff when their poems never got any attention. So many
thanks to Constance for prompting me to write this.
Needless to say, I don't post there anymore.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/humour-4.php
i write this poem to pass away the time
to make me forget that loving her was a crime
i sit here and type these endless awkward rhymes
to help me cope during the darkest of times
i write this poem to help my mind forget
to stop my eyes from crying, from getting wet
stop tears that flows when i am upset
i wish that she and i had never met
i write this poem because its all i can do
with a heart so sad, a life that's so blue
i wish that my love for her wasn't true
i wish i could live a life that is different and new
i write this poem that does not make any sense
about a feeling that is so hopelessly intense
i write it without even a trace of pretense
this is my last stand, my last line of defense
i write this poem to bid her goodbye
to my existence she will always be the reason why
though to my messages she won't reply
i will always love her until the day i die
Writing a Poem of Love
Not much to cheer
Guess not my love
No one is my dear
Everything is virtual
Nothing is real
None write for me
None bother to read mine
Can’t lead my life
This way in strife
I write for myself
The Poem is for me
"I never travel without my diary,one should always have
something sensational to read........Oscar Wilde,1891
Date:04/10/2011
A
blank page
of my diary
kept asking me
why it was left blank?
As I opened the page
I saw many painful words
written all over it with tears,
that was the day my father left us;
never did I try to write on that page
for I wanted to keep that page truth-white
sometimes I write not with ink but tears
it is the best ink to write pain;
I open that white page now
and shed two drops of tear
which fall down below
mingle with tears
and dilute
my old
pain.
© kashinath karmakar
============================
Placement:HM ; (April 2011)
Contest:The diary
Sponsor:~~A Rambling Poet~~
By:kashinath karmakar (10th April 2011)
**This poem is too long and will not fit so I had to break it into two parts**
When I speak my mind, and tell you how I feel, you get defensive.
Claiming my facebook, sudoku, and everything I do online is a game.
You don’t even know what I do online dad.
You have no clue that I write.
You have no clue that my one and only passion in life is writing.
You have no clue what I write about.
You don’t know who my friends are,
Or even that I have these emotions.
You know nothing about me.
And no, I’m not blaming that on your game.
Cuase this started long before your game,
But what I am saying is that your game just extended our distance.
I bet you have never even thought that I wrote poetry, did you?
I bet you have never even thought that I have such strong emotions about things, to be able
to write them down.
I bet you think everything between us is just peachy.
Well I got news for you!
Most of these emotions I have, the bad ones at least, are because of you!
I hate you! I’ve hated you for years.
We used to be so close,
I remember when I was little we used to play all day long.
But now,
now I have to say hi at least 5 times when I get home before you’ll even acknowledge that
I’m there.
Why can’t you see that I miss you?
Why can’t you see that I love you?
Why can’t you see that I’m here.
I’m waiting for you to realize that this problem you have is putting a wedge between us,
A wedge that I’m not sure will ever come loose.
Why can’t you realize that you have an addiction?
An addiction that’s killing our family?
I was in pain
while you ask me
about the sneaking time.
As the sun is creeping
on the sidelines
of your home window,
illuminate every page of the book
you reading are a widow.
Then really, they took
despite you do not sit
on the shady cloud climb.
I am friends with the rain
and made friends with the dark.
They really talk
without looking towards me.
Then I write the night
to fight against the sun.
They scramble to write down
the words of love
in every book you read
in every sense that you love for
your life as in the time.
Rather profane than eternal was.
I'd do anything to obliterate you,
From my heart; from my side.
I don't want to care anymore.
So go away, just go away.
Ich liebe dich isn't yours anymore,
Leave my heart, runaway.
I am a danger to your life.
I'll eat your sanity, eat your heart.
I wish I could hate you, but you're my friend.
Friends are family; I'd never leave.
We just aren't going anywhere.
In a test, I'm the blanks.
You sit and think, but you just don't know,
Where we'll go; if we'll go.
I'm that blank sheet of paper,
Just write friends, just write friends...
I’ll not write of depressing things that make you sad or make you want to crawl into a hole
and die, though that is where I'd like to be sometimes.
I’m not going to write about how much my stomach churns and burns with disgust as I think
of things that have happened in the past few weeks both my fault and of your doing.
No, that's not going to happen here.
I’m not going to say that I’m tired of it all, or that I don't think I can go anymore, or that I
just really want to lay you out with my fist.
That wouldn't be very uplifting.
I’m not going to talk about how when I sleep I have dreams of the things you've done that
make me cry, that steal my focus, that change the way I view the world.
No, you don't have that power over me.
I’m not going to sit up all night until 4 a.m. wondering what you are doing or what dreams
you are having or if you think of me at all.
I’m not going to even go there.
I’m not going to keep on with the annoying tirades of someone who has lost their mind, who
can't get over it, who holds onto everything that passes their way.
I’m certainly not going to sit here and whine and complain and then wonder if anyone will
care because I know that would be a useless idea to ponder.
But hey, at least I’m happy.
Now your gone and all i can say is d4mn
Man imma miss all you and your antics
And the fun times we had, ahhh those were grand
Especially when we could just be dicks
I cant stop myself from reminiscing
Its like im broken, and stuck in rewind
But this helps, yea i mean writing
It feels like its getting me out a bind
I never pictured myself doing this
I mean writing these sappy love poems
But i think you changed me with our first time
Dont believe me? Find the letters, see 'em?
I dont write poems because i want to
I write 'cuz i cant stop thinkin' bout you
Why must a poet write such things
Of sorrow and despair?
Does he not understand he brings
The darkness with him there?
He brings a hollow lonesome wind
That chills us to our souls
Each time he waves his mournful pen
The breeze of heartache blows
For he writes with pure emotion
Where demons sometimes sleep
He will write of his devotion
He's ever reaching deep
He will write of his rejection
He lives with every day
He knows no words of affection
His mind doesn't work that way
So write on now lonely poet
And tell us of your scars
Tell us of your lonely prison
With heartache as your bars
A tear can have a powerful voice
Though you'll never hear it speak
It tells a story just the same
As our eyes begin to leak
A tear's been called most everything
Some even call it rain
But those who've had a broken heart
Know it as liquid pain
There's no such thing as a single tear
For soon another will follow
It always leaves you all alone
With your soul broken and hollow
Sometimes we can write with tears
For it becomes our ink
We write our pain with tears we cry
To let our heartache shrink
And though we cry for many reasons
Our tears are not in vain
It heals our souls from the inside out
Thank God for liquid pain
He promised he would write her
She asked, "Every single day?"
He said, "If you will write me"
"Of course I will", he heard her say
They drove to the airport
For it was time for him to depart
The thought of him leaving
Was just breaking her heart
He was headed to Afghanistan
A Marine, for many years
But as he was leaving
He couldn't hold back the tears
The letters kept on coming
Day after day, after day
They wrote about everything
And never run out of things to say
Her letters were always
So loving and tender
Til one day he got one
That said, return to sender
He didn't understand it
Why didn't she write
He started to get worried
For something wasn't right
Three days have now passed
And still, not one letter
If he knew she was okay
It would make him feel better
The next day at mail call
He broke down and cried
For he opened a letter
That said, his wife had died