Details |
Sorry Poem
|
I saw a burial with a bugler playing taps;
I turned to my father, “what happened?” I asked.
He clutched my hand and with a quiver in his voice,
he began to explain and his eyes became moist.
“My son,” he said, “this is rather difficult for me;
for an old veteran like myself this is tough to see.
In that coffin lies a genuine patriotic warrior,
an honest-to-God hero, an American soldier.
I appreciate that soldier and the service he gave,
and I honor his sacrifice as he’s laid in his grave.
He was honorable, selfless, courageous, and bold;
please remember him son, as you grow old.
The value of his service, I must explain,
if not remembered, will be lost in vain.
As a nation we’re nothing without soldiers like him;
and failing to remember would be a terrible sin.”
I listened in awe as my father spoke,
it seemed as if his heart were broke.
I suddenly remembered when he went to war,
and when he returned I thought nothing more.
I never asked why he walked with a limp,
and I didn’t care about why he was sick.
I was too busy enjoying the life that I had,
to realize that I had it because of dad.
I finally understood what my dad was about,
and it hurt so bad I cried out loud.
He sacrificed so much so I could be free,
and his battle scars were suffered for me.
It was my father’s spirit that spoke to me that day;
thank God I finally understood what he had to say.
I saluted his coffin as they laid him to rest,
and I thought about the medals pinned on his chest.
That I didn’t honor him sooner, I will always regret;
and I pledged that day to never again forget.
I’m proud that my dad was a patriotic warrior;
I’m honored to be the son of an American soldier.
Copyright © Ed Coet | Year Posted 2007
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
"When returning love, becomes to Late"
Fantastic,
From her eyes
His name the name
She mumbles silently
3 rivers, 3 years, 2 many tears
She loves him endlessly
Sending her soul
A free feeling,
Finally, he fell
Engaging, equal to the spell
Morning, mountains and more
Move across a new age moon
His heart happily
Traveling towards hers
Dashing dandy, onto her dinner plate
Too long she waited,
She's not hungry, her heart self healed
3 rivers 3 years 2 late
Her tears faded his rusty name
SKAT
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
So still and beautiful lays the rose in the heather,
Lifeless and dying, given to bring you happiness,
So fragile is this rose laying in heather,
Slowly withering and drying, crumbling to a powder,
I look at you and see this rose ever fading,
Once growing, living, accenting its surroundings,
But now gone, plucked from the bush by one mans lust,
I could never compare you to this rose laying in the heather,
For your beauty surpasses its own,
So still and beautiful lays this rose in the heather,
Now dried cracking and dead, stored in a book to bring memories,
So weak and faded is this rose in yellowing heather,
Slowly falling apart as you touch the fragile petals,
I look at you and remember the flower when it faded,
That germinated and grew where I had sown its seed,
Now gone, plucked from the ground by one mans hope,
I would never compare you to this old heather and roses,
For its life was surpassed by yours,
Now I tell you I love you with cellophaned roses in heather,
Draining lifeless this dying confession of my dreaming,
This rose is more fragile then the first had I gave you,
But I could’t approach, my courage eroding at your sight,
I look at you now and see the love I sought inward,
Once alive and growing but only within lost confines of myself,
But never quite gone I hold this consuming fire close inside,
I could never combine your world with mine,
You always looked passed never noticing me,
Now I open my book that holds the first rose, wishing I gave it for the sake of
chance,
Instead I hold a created memory that never came passing,
That never could I fear,
I hold tight to the lie that through wonted silence I painted,
But that chance for your love died with the first rose wrapped in heather.
Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
I need more lives for me to live
In this universe of beauty;
I plan more days to find new ways
Of doing freedom's duty.
I need not more joy than this
For I am life's dear lover;
And when I wage to turn the page
I'd never want another.
The glorious pledge of sunny Spring
With sweet June coming after;
Bring autumn sighs and summers cries
Lost in winter's laughter.
With virgin moons and scorching noon’s
And stars of a thousand nights;
I'd need no heaven if love be given
With all its sweet delights.
There are many splendors for the eye
And such music for the ear;
The mind would reel with all to feel
And see to touch and hear.
There's many ways to spend the days
And more to do what's kind;
For bread now cast on waters past
Returns again I find.
There are such gifted souls to know
And many more to learn;
While a promise rests in earth's warm breast
And unknown stars still burn.
In six days God made all the earth
The bible is known to say;
Six lives I need to plant a seed
Of love with one for each dear day.
But sad if love should fly away
Or hide his face from me;
Six lives aren’t much if I had such
But one’s all that need be.
With unhappy May and sorry June
Sad dawns and weary night;
A sorry world through space was hurled
When love had lost her light.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Dear Ex,
I know you and I had our differences.
We were always finding new ways to say I loathe you.
It was my blameworthiness that allowed the rain to enter your car,
because your window was down.
I’m sorry I didn’t carry my 9 months of pregnant girth,
down four flights of stairs, to the
outside parking deck, in the rain to roll it up.
It was my fault when the bank account was overdrawn by 6 cents,
due to paying all the bills on time.
I apologize for keeping the power turned on
so I could cook fish sticks and green bean soup on your salary.
It was my fault the car was always out of gas,
since I never drove it anywhere.
What could I do but apologize for that?
It was totally my fault. By the way, I met your supervisor.
Like when I forced you
to have an extramarital relationship with a co-worker
because of the weight I had gained.
I’m so sorry my Motherhoodness was so repulsive to you.
It also was my fault our marriage didn’t last longer than 3 years,
because I chose to be happy without you.
I do regret that almost never. Did I mention my promotion?
But let’s not be sad.
For all the hurtful comments I made about your manhood because,
I couldn’t think of anything nice to say. I’m sorry.
I regret that I didn’t save some of those photos for Ripley’s Believe it or Not.
I deeply regret having never told you I entered you in an ugly man contest.
Or that your third placement, won me an additional $5 gift card.
Did I mention my new job?
So Ex,
I hope this heart felt letter of apology
finds you prosperous and in good health.
Keep those support payments coming, and
Don’t forget to feed the kitty!
Love, your new boss
Copyright © Sandra Hudson | Year Posted 2009
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Along the fickle path of love I weep
For patience has been tested many times;
Deceit has broken hearts and now they seep
Fulfilling pages void of verse and rhymes.
Why does the past bleed into life with you
And echo thoughts I cannot leave behind?
I’ve seen the love you claim; it echoes through,
From peaks ne’er seen before; no more confined.
I should have known you’d never do me wrong,
Play hurtful games the mind cannot endure.
But I am no artwork or perfect song,
Just woman, strong and sometimes insecure.
Forgive the doubts that plague me now and then,
Your love has brought me to a state of zen.
03rd December 2016
Copyright © Nicola Byrne | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
You call me insensitive,
But I don't believe that's true;
Because, you see,
It's all about me.
It's not about you.
You say your opinion doesn’t matter,
That I’ve no respect for your point of view;
But I do if we agree,
Because it’s all about me.
It’s not about you.
You say I’ve no compassion,
No feelings for your troubles or your blues;
But none of us is issue free,
And mine are all about me;
But…not about you.
A time old adage,
“To thine own self be true.”,
Is all about choices you see.
My choices are all about me,
And, certainly, not about you.
So, when its time to make your choices
You’ll understand and know it’s true;
To decide what will or will not be,
Won’t be at all about me;
It will be all about you
But special moments confront each of us,
When what matters isn’t “Me”.
And while these moments are few,
They’re not about me, not about you.
For a time, it’s all about “We.”
Yes, “…no man is an island.”
Is a valid point of view;
But if it’s not about “We”,
Then it’s all about me.
Sorry. It’s not about you.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Can you see them run to me – arms wide and laughing,
calling me, Mama: keeper of the stars, moon and hearts?
Can you see them kiss away my pain, healing every hurt
that’s ever marked me broken, dead or dying?
Can you see them hurt me? When they curse me, flay me;
ground me with their unformed anger and bravado-uncertainty
until they fly behind doors, crying over what they’ve said –
wishing they could take it back?
O’, does that pride HURT!
It stabs the chest and holds…holds…holds.
Can you see them behind doors and feel their wishful hearts burn?
Can you feel them loving me through it all?
Love is not something easily hidden. Love like that breaks down doors –
sees through them.
Can you see my tears; feel the weight of them on your cheeks?
They are yours.
Where you are (past the furthest/closest door) can you see me in them?
Can you see the love I kept hidden in my dark and painful dungeon?
You never knew what he did to me – but deep down, I blamed you anyway.
There was only you left, you see; always you.
Can you see, I'm just like you?
If you can see me, you know.
And if you can hear me crying through this God Damned pen (all those notes –
all those written sorry’s slipped beneath doors - you must have known that
even at 37, I’d write you my heart in a note!)
You, Gran/Mother, are my one and only regret.
That for 7 years, I treated you like a burden, a bother, and a barrier.
I treated you like you should have treated me – an unintentional intruder;
like something taken, not given.
But worse than that, I treated you like an acquaintance.
Knowing how badly that must have hurt you, makes me want to be kicked in the face
until I am unrecognizable; to the rest of the world, and myself.
But life’s not like that, is it? No. You knew that, too.
My baby boy has your nose, ears, and eyes.
Do you think that if I whisper in his ear tonight while he sleeps (between you and me –
at the doorway), you could hear me?
Tonight, I will whisper love in his perfect ear (pressed up against heaven’s door) -
maybe you will hear me say,
“Indy…Gran, I’m so sorry. If you can hear me, please give me a sign so I will know
you’ve heard me. I want to see you smile again – just one more time…please…
let me know that somewhere, behind the door, you forgive me…”
And in the darkness of his bedroom; the moonlight covering his small face
like an angel’s kiss, the baby boy in her likeness, smiled.
Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
You made the mistake and now,
your afraid to face this day.
Your thoughts are racing through
and through.
You wonder if your family looks at
you as a disgrace, but you'er mother
takes you and reasures, your very
much loved in grace.
Even though your much to young
for this breathing little thing this
has become.
You couldn't just throw it out
like it was a peice of trash.
So you grow up and take the
path that led you to your best
mistake for years to come.
Copyright © Emily Kroeger | Year Posted 2009
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
I washed my white lace tablecloth and hung it out to dry
The bleach did the best it could-it was worth the try
'Though no one else can see, the stain still remains
As old as time itself
Stubborn as mildew rot
One false step, one careless word forever etched in time
Travels the universe, endlessly
In search of a place to rest
What would I not give to reverse that step
To retrieve that hateful word
Tread lightly in your daily walk, o'er hills and valleys in between
Plot well your steps and weigh your words
So you'll have nothing to regret, like the
Unkind words carved deeply upon your heart
I wash my white lace tablecloth again, again and again!
~*~
10/09/2007
Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2007
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
The doubt and anger are here again
No surprise, my new friend
Believed I could keep it all away
Now it’s about to steal me away
Come steal me away. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Hearts are craters, deep as wells
Fill them up and hold on well
Sand and mud, the liquid seeps
Dirty tears and sorrows creep
Creep in to swallow me. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Told you, I told you. Remember I did?
This time it was raw, nothing I hid
Unacceptable loathing and regret
Nothing to explain, at least not yet
You will see though. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Consuming distraction, love that I know
It’s dying already with no place to go
You won’t agree and you won’t see
It will never be enough for me
You will hate me so. Again, and again
Why can’t I change the parts that I hate? Stupid, lying beautiful face
Let me go, for I am already gone
I’m sorry to make you believe this long
Hopeless rage, directed at you
Walls constructed to block the view
But you will still want me. Again, and again.
I can’t change the parts I hate, and I’ll never be happy again. Again
Copyright © Kelly McDonald | Year Posted 2009
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
You’re dressed in gray, and
tattered like the clouds
that hover above you.
Frozen
with the look of a person
who knows of his own
approaching death.
Like the willow that cradles
dawn's mist of unwept tears—
a practiced sorrow,
earned from decades of watching
the slow meandering river,
as it draws closer,
and the banks weather and fall.
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
High upon the highest heights
I see the most tremulous sight
A small girl, fair and tranquil
Smiling strangely, sitting still
Beneath a sobbing willow tree
She recites a verse upon her knee
She sings a rhythmic hymn
Not of death, nothing grim
But prays that life will return
Even for those who are doomed to burn
The girl is a woman now
Beneath the tree and upon the cloud
She whispers, “I am watching you”
Why then are you so blue?
A single tear of sadness and joy
Rejuvenate the quirky earthly boy
Who sits down beneath the blooming tree
Listening to her silent voice attentively
She reminds him she was once young too
That she also was a misty shade of blue
But when the boy grows into man
He has come to ignore the fair woman
Who watches him still from above
Burning and swelling with disdainful love
The ways of the world have sweltered his heart
And time has torn his soul apart
Thus he has lost all innocence and light
Battling his sinful lust—an endless plight!
I watch as he feeds on others’ pains and fears
Reducing the vigilant woman to tears
The prayer of the innocent has been ignored
Life has died and hellfire stored
Into the hearts of the impotent
In blue, fires of haze their heart is sent
Toiling in misery and lament
Savaged and severed by our regret
The heavenly woman grows old and frail
And the man still treads the sinful trail
As the rotting tree withers into dust
Can I revive it? –I must!
Low as low can possibly be
I watch myself condescendingly
A tombstone, gray and hell-bent
Frowning knowingly in bewilderment
Above the dust that once was a tree
She cries out a verse anxiously
Faintly she whispers the undying hymn
Not of happiness, nothing of whim
And prays that life will come to end
For those that break instead of bend
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Call Me Baby
I must confess
I’ve caused a lot of mess,
blatantly calling you nasty names,
playing all kinds of childish games.
I used to think you couldn’t get enough
of me because I was hot stuff.
Never thought you would ever leave -
that you would always stay, I believed.
Now you don't call since you've been gone…
like the proverbial cheese, I am standing all alone.
Without you, Baby, I’m feeling so crazy,
really scatter-brained and hazy.
I feel like such a big fool
losing you and losing my cool.
Tell me this is truly not the end;
please give me a second chance to make amends.
I’m sorry I did you wrong;
so sorry for stringing you along.
Please let me make it up to you;
I’ll do whatever it takes to start anew.
We were so wonderful together;
I promise this time it’ll be even better.
I miss being your leading lady…
please, please call me Baby.
Poet: Pandita Sanchez
Written: 10/13/2015
Contest: Trashed #3, Broken Wings
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
I would like to spill,
What is harbored in my soul.
I would like to say,
Things that no one really knows.
·
I’d apologize to you,
In a measurement beyond the stars.
For not being there with you,
Has left my soul this scar.
·
I’m reminded of the heartache,
From that dreadful day.
Of an ordinary time,
When God took you away.
·
I would’ve quickly taken,
The fate that you have faced.
Than to see your children suffer,
Savoring sorrows aftertaste.
·
If I had straps on my shoulders,
Attached to an antique plow.
You’d see deep ruts in the earth,
From the weight I carry now.
·
I’m harvesting my burdens,
In my open fields of pain.
In the drought of happiness,
Awaiting a smiling rain.
·
I’ve cultivated memories,
From the 3 years you’ve been gone.
Laying on glistening blades of grass,
That I cried on sorrow’s lawn.
·
I reminisce on the tears,
That only my heart knows.
Waiting for bouquets of smiles,
From the seeds I just now sowed.
·
I’m sorry you faced such madness,
Without me along your side.
And things could have been better,
Perhaps you would have survived.
·
I’m sorry I didn’t call you,
To distract your vivid mind.
But I replay those what if’s,
All the freakin’ time.
·
No one knows my heartache,
Of not biding my goodbye.
These are things I’ve harbored,
Way down, deep inside.
·
It feels like you’d still be here,
If I’d used my earthly power.
I’m sorry for not distracting you,
From your darkest hour.
·
This is a poem I had to write,
To regain my inner control.
And release my encumbers,
To unburden my soul.
·
You will always be my best friend,
A notion I’ll never condone.
You know I’ll await your answer,
When God calls me home.
_________________________
For Christie and Sharon's
"I'm Sorry" Contest
Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2009
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
The rage I feel now is boiling inside, pressure in my head
I have never liked this feeling when I’ve felt it before, too close to being dead
I am tormented between jealousy and guilt, not sure how to deal
If I could figure it all out and make it all right, to tell only which is real
My head is throbbing hard, my eyes real sore, something’s gotta break
I lie in my bed and think it all through, not sure how much more I can take
No one on the phone, no knock at the door, no answer to my call
If it does not change soon, honest to God, I fear I am going to fall
With one final thought, I head for the door, a crime I am to commit
Rage filling me now, unable to stop, damned, this I will admit
Copyright © Christian Collins | Year Posted 2007
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Always around
slightly small mostly black
think of my kids
that's what holds me back
cracks in my heart
such a delicate shell
tears fill my eyes
my eyes start to swell
try to be a new me
no drugs no liquor
now my eyes open wide
more reasons to pull the trigger
thought it was real
did you mean what you said
starting to see the truth
make the target my head
holding back so much pain
but still some leaks out
no one to talk to
feel better with cold metal in my mouth
no peace in my soul
it will not rest
another thought comes to mind
aim straight for my chest
even then I cry
thinking of taking a last breath
seriously thinking without me
would the children be best
feeling like a criminal
I've committed no theft
here is a person that's broken
I have nothing left
I'll walk away now
before I do something stupid
stop leaving it around
one day I might use it
no, no.... I can't
gotta remember my babies
this is a silent prayer I'm tormented
God please save me
Copyright © Serenity Baker | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Why would a 12-year girl want to die?
What would make a 12-year-old girl end her life?
Why would a 12-year-old girl want to say goodbye?
Now I lay here with an empty bottle of pills by my side.
It was just too much to hide.
My little brother found me on my bathroom floor.
He went screaming out the door.
The ambulance came and I heard voices fading away.
I can still make out what they say.
Why would a 12-year girl want to die?
What would make a 12-year-old girl end her life?
Why would a 12-year-old girl want to say goodbye?
Now I lay in a hospital bed.
He can’t hurt you anymore the nurse said.
Thank god the gun box was locked.
Now theirs a knock.
The cops came in and said my sister talked.
They said after what my father did he will never walk.
Why would a 12-year girl want to die?
What would make a 12-year-old girl end her life?
Why would a 12-year-old girl want to say goodbye?
He came in my room at night.
Something’s a child just cant fight.
Tired of living with this dirty feeling.
Tired of all together feeling.
Why Daddy Why?
Why would you make me cry, lie, and all-together die?
Why would a 12-year girl want to die?
What would make a 12-year-old girl end her life?
Why would a 12-year-old girl want to say goodbye?
Mom didn’t know.
She said it wasn’t my fault and beyond my control.
They said there were more.
They just were scared to come forward before.
Now I’m on the stand facing a child molester.
The lawyer asks my father.
Why would a 12-year girl want to die?
What would make a 12-year-old girl end her life?
Why would a 12-year-old girl want to say goodbye?
What did you do that was so bad that your daughter wanted to die?
Copyright © Jeanette Huston | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Y can't i hate u?
Hate you like iv'e hated myself
Y can't i escape the memories that stain my heart like
fresh blueberries on a crisp white shirt?
Y couldn't you forgive me for my acts of stupidity?
Y wont you save me from my solitude and misery?
Why? Why? Why?
Cant i stop loving you?
Copyright © nanyamka johnson | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Before her heart stops beating
Before it's too late
She has things to say
Things that just can't wait
This pain she's lived with
Has made her push people away
She thought she wasn't worth it
So they weren't allowed to stay
But before her heart stops beating
Before it's too late
She has things she must say
Things that can no longer wait
To her parents,
She's sorry she couldn't hold on
As she lays there while
Her lasts breaths are being drawn
To her family,
Everyone who showed her love
She's sorry she couldn't stay
She had too many things she couldn't get rid of
To her friends,
She's sorry, too
It wasn't their fault
They did everything they could do
To the guy she left
Waiting for an answer to his question, "Why?"
She's sorry, but she knew
It would be a hard goodbye
To anyone else
She may've left out
She promises to remember you
When she gets to the end of her route
But before her heart stopped beating
She spoke the words that could no longer wait
Even though her words would reach us
Too late
Copyright © Rachel Couvillon | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Maybe I hurt you and
Caused you to cry
I know the pain went deep
And this I won’t deny
I know I am to blame for
All your sleepless nights
The things that I said
I know it wasn't right
I never meant you any sorrow
And I never meant
To make you cry
I am the cause of your pain
I accept all the blame
I called you cheap words
And a lot of other stuff
Sometimes saying I’m sorry
Just isn't good enough
Somehow I felt what you
Felt deep inside
So much hurt and pain
Like a reflection in your eyes
Every breath you took
Filled with deceit and sorrow
Maybe your forgiveness
Will come on tomorrow
I can’t expect you to push
This all away
Maybe another time,
Another hour in the day
If I could take the words back
That caused you to cry
I would do it in a heart beat
And you know it’s not a lie
Nothing I can say right now
Will keep your heart still
I’m sorry, I apologize for
The way I made you feel
Even a broken heart is
One that’s hard to mend
This will follow me
Until the very end
In your eyes I am the enemy
And you have to do what you must
But sometimes saying I’m sorry
Just isn't good enough
Copyright © Lillie Williams | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
A Palindrome, also called Mirrored Poetry, is a poetry type not listed, so I put it under Free Verse. If anyone finds a better categoy for this please let me know. Thomas
______________________________________________________________________
Temptation
Temptation
And porn replaced love
Day after day
We are bombarded
Sex and beauty
Objects over heart
Thoughts lustful, confused reality
Isolation supplanted communication
Clouds out move clarity
Facade my life
~Redemption~
Life my facade
Clarity move out clouds
Communication supplanted isolation
Reality confused lustful thoughts
Heart over objects
Beauty and sex
Bombarded are we
Day after day
Love replaced porn and
Temptation
Copyright © Thomas Carney | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...
Let me back up a bit...bear with me if I might turn out to be confusing here,
but I just need to write this, release something, in some way
Although I must admit, this is not exactly what I had in mind to write for this day,
hopefully I can write something more decent later...
I have been wanting to write something for my brother since yesterday,
since February 26 is his 10th year death anniversary.
The words remained stuck in my heart, 'til I fell asleep.
Visited him again today, heard mass for him,
ate a Chinese dinner with my parents and sister, went home.
I now needed dessert. Got a piece of Ferrero Rocher, but just one wouldn't do.
So I got a piece of Almond Roca this time and ate it while walking.
All this time, I have managed to keep my tears away
but maybe somehow, someway, if tears want to fall, they will find a way?
I walk to that area again as I ate that piece of chocolate-
when what do you know, what do you know??
Oh sighs.
I stepped on a lizard. Again
Yes. Almost exactly the Same area, tail falls off, and the lizard skitters away.
But. I did not slip this time. But, yes, I still screamed, scaring everybody again.
I. Could. Not. Simply. Believe. IT.
One month and 25 days after, I step on a lizard. Again.
Today, of all days. As if I needed more reason to be sadder.
This time around, I had the sense to try to find that lizard.
I had to know if it lived, if it was okay.
I pushed away the nearby cabinet.
And there it was.
Rather, and there they were.
The lizard that I stepped on now
and the petrified remains of the lizard that I stepped on on new year's day...
the other one didn't live after all :(
I know it was that lizard, same area, no tail, who else could it be?
Survival mechanism, no match for my killer foot.
By this time, I am crying, sobbing.
Seriously, the tears just start falling, and my heart so heavy.
And I know it's from the combination of so many things.
The day itself, what I had just done, just things running through me.
What broke my heart, was to see that lizard.
I was wearing rubber shoes this time, last time I was wearing slippers.
And its guts had spilled from its sides.
I couldn't help but keep on saying, "Oh, oh, oh lizard, I am so sorry"
I touched it feebly, and it was literally gaping its mouth.
I don't think I can ever forget that?
Such a small creature, gasping, with its insides out,
its skin on its legs and body scraped.
In pain.
Dying.
And it was all my fault.
My sister was there with me, trying to help in her own way.
But yes, there's nothing you can really do...I didn't want to stress it even more,
and let death finish what I did.
There's so much I can glean from this, and I want to ramble on, so badly
but I will try to stop myself from rambling too much.
I put the two lizards, along with a note, the dates when I stepped on them
(ok, killed them), and placed them carefully in a chocolate truffle box.
I buried them and still feel so sorry.
In some ways, this is can be so funny, and just freaky & crazy (what's new, this is me?)
What were the odds??? Same place, same thing happening.
And I can't help but roll my eyes at myself as well, just finding it so hard to fathom
how I stepped on not just one but Two lizards in just two months.
I bet that the lizards are all afraid of me now,
saying how I am a lizard killer. A serial lizard killer.
MO: stepping on them while screaming, maybe my screams also killed them off?
I actually took photos of both lizards, I am not sure why though.
Oh dear God, help me, I am acting like one, even documenting them.
I tell you, as I watched that lizard die, I couldn't help but just also
think of St. Jude (for the impossible) and St. Francis of Assisi (for animals).
I know he was dying, but somehow, yes, prayers still comfort me.
I just feel so guilty, with this happening.
I still can't help but cry for those lizards, death by me, for no reason at all,
no purpose served.
Animals, people....death.
I know it's all a part of life...
but it still doesn't change the fact how death can change us
and of how I am responsible for two lizard deaths.
I know they were just small animals, but Still. They were living creatures.
Death can change us in small ways, some in big ways, negatively or positively.
It all boils down to death transforming us one way or another...
I won't expound on it anymore, this is too long,
but one of the ways I can think of comparing it to, is that of a chemical change,
maybe of the spirit, the soul? Not merely a physical change.
And we can never be the same.
022720141207123552
Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
She writes her songs and her poems,
not one person know 'em.
She listens to the sound of her music,
she's stuck to it like a tick.
If someone took the time to listen,
her true colors would glisten.
She's put on a mask,
and hid everything when someone asked.
She was the type of girl who would always laugh,
making you wish it would last.
She was the type of girl who would smile the day away,
too bad it is no longer that way.
She is now the girl who is depressed,
I bet you're impressed.
Since no one could tell
that she was going through hell.
Everyone thought she was happy,
when really, she felt crappy.
Everyone thought she was having the time of her life,
who would have guess her best friend was a knife?
She spent her days alone,
she seemed to do everything on her own.
Never once wanted help.
Thought she could do everything herself.
Then the day came,
when she lost the game.
She fell apart,
and everyone saw her broken heart.
They saw the way she overreacted.
Oh, if only you saw the way she acted.
She bruised herself, scratched herself, and made herself bleed,
no one knew what it was that she needed.
They saw her tears,
and that was what she feared.
They found out she wasn't okay,
oh, she hated that day.
Everyone found out about her secret,
and she wish they'd just forget,
but she knew they couldn't,
and that they wouldn't.
She left that town and started over,
no one knew she went undercover.
She said she got better,
when really... something else occurred.
She secretly hurt herself,
and walked away from help.
Everyone thought she recovered,
when really, she was undercover.
She secretly wanted to get worse,
no one knew of course.
No one cared to ask,
if she was wearing her mask.
Now it's too late,
she locked the gate.
Killed herself,
everyone had forgotten she needed help.
Goodbye cold world,
this was a story of a girl
who once loved everyone
then feared who it was who won.
Copyright © Ana Jusino | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Sorry Poem
|
Shall I compare thee to your mother's arse?
Thou aren’t more lovely, but more flatulent.
Rough winds do shake it; and bring on a farce
And all her clothes hath all too short a rent
Sometime too hot-headed of hell doth burn,
And often is the true nature exposed;
And every foul from fowl; my stomach churns,
By reason, or by nature's raging closed.
But thy infernal diet shall ne’er start
Nor gain possession of which now I grasp;
Nor shall we meet again; let’s stay apart,
When in eternal sounds the voice does rasp,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can cry,
So long lives this, and I bid thee goodbye.
Copyright © Flippant She-Creature | Year Posted 2012
|