Best Slipping Poems
I call to mind our nights till dawn
Watching the sunrise
Beautiful was that ocean of gold sky
We looked into each others eyes with love
Our future was a lovely rose unfolding
We had many wonderful dreams
Our life's had no shadows just open roads
And in dreams you exist
So sad
This love is lost
So sad
I pray to God with tears
So sad
Just another empty day
And I go to our secret place
So sad
I loved you, I think
My memory is slipping away
I call to mind an adventurous boyish man
I am still breathless when I think of you
Were you a dream?
(Were you a dream?)
So sad
This love is lost
So sad
I pray to God with tears
So sad
Just another empty day
And I go to our secret place
So sad
I loved you, I think
My memory is slipping away
The pages of my life have turned
And I wish that our journey did not end
Your motorcycle and the road met
And I travelled on without you by my side
I want to scream but I keep it inside my soul
My memory is slipping away
So sad
This love is lost
So sad
I pray to God with tears
So sad
Just another empty day
And I go to our secret place
So sad
I loved you, I think
My memory is slipping away
__________________________
May 13, 2016
Poetry/Lyric/My Memory Is Slipping Away
Copyright Protected, ID 16-789-300-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Theme - the lost love of an old woman
For the contest, Slipping Away
sponsor, Becca Teagan
Sixth Place
Do not lose hope; I’m coming home to you.
although you’re far away, I swear I hear
the desperation in your song so blue.
And in the dark, I see your face appear.
It’s just as if I’d never left your side.
Do not lose hope; I’m coming home to you.
We need each other. Let’s forget our pride.
I’m feeling you, Dear. Can you feel me too?
There has to be a way to see this through.
The pain we brought each other needs to end.
Do not lose hope; I’m coming home to you.
You are my sweetest lover and best friend.
I hear your heartbeat, and your lyrics seem
to shout your pain. Believe me, it’s all true.
I’m slipping out my door. This is no dream.
Do not lose hope. . . . I’m coming home to you.
Written May 25, 2016 For the Slipping Away contest of Becca Teagan
I see your face
in the car passing by
But you are gone
before I can stare at it.
I hear your voice
in the middle of a crowd
But it blends in
before I can place it.
I taste your lips
on mine
But the taste is gone
before I can savor it.
I smell your cologne
in the air
But it drifts away
before I truly catch the scent.
Why are you everywhere I am not?
Why are you gone before I reach you?
Why are you trying to tell me something--
What are you trying to tell me?
STOP.
I know
what you are trying to tell me.
And I see
that you don't want me.
So I will go,
without a fight
My love.
But do not be surprised
when the last thing you hear me say
is
I love you.
It seems like you're losing your touch
Others might even see it,
and wouldn't think much
But I know better,
better than most
I saw your hand trembling
holding the knife,
when you were spreading jam on your toast
That's bad, real bad for you
And it sure ain't good for me
I'm the target when the curtain rises,
it's me who risks getting a fatal injury
You're a knife thrower,
you've been the best for a long time
You've been a top carnival attraction
Everywhere we go,
you bring out the long lines
But I caught you slipping,
a slight hesitation yesterday
When you got my life in your hands,
that's not something where I can
just look the other way
If something is wrong with your nerves,
it's gonna make me start losing my nerve
It's me out there staring death in the eye,
why don't you put yourself in my shoes, go give it a try
Let me be the one letting those knives fly,
yeah, how does it feel seeing death whizzing by
I don't think today is a good day for me to die
You're a knife thrower,
you've been the best for a very long time
But seeing that small tremor
has really been laying heavy on my mind
I caught you slipping,
now I'm afraid to perform for the next show
Don't want it to be the last time I close my eyes
when you let the next knife go
I feel it every day
parts of me slipping away.
For a moment in passing
all of me once seemed immortal and everlasting
but now, fading like storm-threatened gray clouds
part of my mind slows through the oppressive crowds.
I dare not speak
keeping my secret hidden and discrete
while cautiously I direct my feet.
Stepping through the garden displays
I marvel at the colors as they fray.
In nature bounty resurrected in spring
I marvel at life as it begins to change everything.
In my heart, I'm still young and alive
but in my remaining years, I'm forced to recognize
All of me is unseen, forgotten, and pushed aside
time's up and needing of release unable to continue to hide
and in the waning years of time, life and death collide.
I feel it every day
pats of me slipping away.
Fading gentle touch,
Echoes drift like autumn leaves—
Sweetness slips away.
>center>Sadly I sensed his heart slipping away.
Head on my pillow,
I dwelled in a dreamscape of denial,
muffling all thoughts of losing him
until I woke in my bed alone.
Draping across my shoulders
the old sweater he’d left behind,
his scent provided comfort.
But then I paused and realized
I was still at the edge of denial.
*Words used for Andrea and Susan’s contest: slipping, pillow, dwelled, denial, muffling, woke, draping, paused, edge
C antankerous and chimerical - comingle with my childlike charms.
A morous and antagonistic - angel wings melt within my arms.
N urturing and nostalgic - as I cradle one's frangible needs.
C aress my curvaceous chasms - when shared confusion slowly bleeds.
E ver evasive, always enticing - my heart may tease you; yet not tempt.
R eminiscent and roseate - dancing with dreams not yet dreamt.
Author's Note:
Cancer - June 29th 19....
Sorry, my computer froze.
Anxious and afraid I’ll run out of time
Betrayed so by illusions I held dear
Concerned with life’s approaching finish line
Disappointed deeply with my shortcomings
Envious secretly of other’s accomplishments
Forgiving towards myself never been my forte
Guilt I can’t manage with a mere 24-hour day
Helpless feelings linger and are commonplace
Insecure at how time slips through my fingers
Jealous of those who have their act together
Keeping up is but a lofty dream I aspire to
Looking back I could have done so much more
Mooning over regrets of what could have been
Now time’s running out with so little of it left
Overwhelmed I struggle to catch up
Peaceful and not panic is how I’d love to feel
Quality time to be creative is what I seek
Reasoning with time is quite pretentious
Severed and sad that time is so elusive
Terrified that I won’t finish all I’ve set out to do
Under stress to perform and leave behind my legacy
Vulnerability at the heart of my very being
Worried that I won’t be all that I can be
X celling is what I aspired but how time got away
Youth of my squandered days no use regretting
Zany thoughts I govern to feel occasionally zen
AP: 2nd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on June 5, 2019 for contest GOING DEEP WITHIN AN EMOTION sponsored by SHERI FRESONKE HARPER - RANKED 2ND
Where has it gone
Those lazy days of sunshine
Making the flowers excel in their presence
What has happened, where did it go.
It's alright, just a seasonal change
The calendar is slipping towards Autumn
Soon we will have those shivering, wet days
Some sunlight, to begin with then
with the shortening days, the sun loses its way.
Before the hoar frost raises its white head,
the frozen dew, can kill a plant at once.
We will bring in the abundant harvest of corn,
the allotment holders will, pick their runner beans.
To take into their kitchen and cook in hot water
Drain, dash slithers of butter, twist or two of black pepper
Heaven on a plate.
Morning awakens, I look out of the window
Amazed to see a dusting of light snow
I rush to the garden, with icy fingers
I brush the white cold snow from the delicate plants
Covering them with special wrap to keep them warm. "
This is definitely a message advising us
To keep warm, take care
Remember the old folk who live alone
One day you might be the one living there.
Dated 14 September 2015.
Sanity Slipping
by Odin Roark
For today,
There is but a subliminal haze.
Soon…
They’ll realize spring as summer,
An impatient today
Rapidly becoming tomorrow’s scorched yesterday.
They’ll remind themselves
Of gardens once blooming,
Now dust bowls of wind-driven regret,
Shrouding what’s left
Behind nature’s pawn shop windows.
Then…
They’ll send afloat their final thoughts
As ghostwriters waiting,
Strike their polished keyboards,
Creating another tome,
Perpetuating another unswerving pattern of failure.
They’ll ponder the dark collecting quickly,
As their rising flotsam of denial
Hitches up with commerce trade winds aplenty,
Eager to satisfy more covetous progress
Waiting amongst the many heads-in-clouds.
They’ll spend their final hours
Watching their neighboring countries
Bloviate established ritual chameleon-greed
As power’s gluttony exhausts
The remaining rations for survival.
Finally
Beneath ashen density,
Remaining embers will radiate
What’s left of fate’s losing battle,
Revealing demonic faces parading angelic wings,
Readying their blind eyes
For the final act of
Sanity slipping.
I can feel
you slipping away
into the chaotic world
you are surrounded by instability
dyeing your character in grey matter
which shows in the inconsistency
one idea popping in, another image popping up
a long winding path with slopes and potholes
I can feel
you (almost) giving up
through countless disappointments
you are let down by obstacles
many things simply don't go your way
moving forward seems so difficult now
one foot forward, two steps backward
an inevitable roundabout hurdles that comes and goes
If Trump were to croak, say, by slipping on a slice of papaya,
how long before his ilk would see it as a heavenly sign and run it by a
biblical scholar who would then be given the imperative
to scour the Bible to come up with a plausible narrative
to prove that Trump's death was another example of a suffering messiah?
I slipped on a teardrop and landed
deep in the well of a dream
I cannot remember what brought me here
but I know that I've been here before
Beyond the iron gate, alone
I read your name, through tall weeds, grown
A vigil, where the mossy stones
cleave to the breast of wasted years
I feel you standing here with me
deep in the shadows, where I am drawn
Where whimpering trees, brown grass and weeds
are dripping with morning rain
I slipped on a teardrop and landed
into a web, that pulls me in
that tugs at me with silken thread
A withered garland, black with dread
It calls me to hear the wind
and where dust to dust, of what has been
Of quietude, and vague recall
that falters in the falling leaves
Yet alters what I've always known
I slipped on a teardrop and landed
into the recess of thin-leafed songs
Places recalled, that can't be seen
carved into granite years
Behind the gates where you have lain
sharing earth with dried up tears
Defying the time that lies between
I'm slipping and slipping again
I see your name, through tall weeds, grown
A vigil now, where mossy stones
are remembering the wasted years
Between us now, I feel the cold
Defying all lucid reasoning
_________________________________________________________
Contest: "I Slipped On A Teardrop and Landed"
Sponsor: Cindi Rockwell
6/21/16
moments fray and shred
tomorrow folds today; time’s teeth – rounded
memories meld a transcendent balm
deeply rubbed by fading voices
17 Feb 2021
Contest, Liberum Divisa 4 sponsor, Gregory R Barden
(4 consecutive lines from my poem, “Waiting’s Knife”)