Best Tissue Poems
When pain hits hard, you might feel like your soul
is bleeding out, but there’s no blood to see.
Your body is the part that takes the toll,
and physically you feel agony.
Perhaps the pain goes to your heart as though
a knife has sliced right through it, or you feel
it in your gut as if you took a blow.
No cut or bruise is shown, yet it is real!
When both the body and the spirit seem
to reach their limit, tears are overdue.
You have to let those tears go! Let them stream
and carry out the bitterness for you.
An empty tissue box becomes the sign
that soon, and hopefully, you will be fine.
Checked with howmanysyllables.com
like visitors from outer space
they came with tears, and lined the sidewalk
long in face, and arms embracing
some (I have no inkling) who
they were or why they felt compelled to come
dozens came with casseroles
a few with flowers, wads of tissues
tender words of helpless mutterings
many acts of generous offerings
don't get me wrong, I watched the suffering
expressed in words or acts of kindness
I watched it all, and felt the love
did not dismiss the warm compassion
returned it all, with pure compliance
a thankful heart, a swollen throat
I hugged these strangers at the door
to comfort them, who shed their tears
upon my shoulder, offered them
a place to share their sympathies
a place to spend their mercy, pure
but, this was my child who loved and lost
impossible........I can't express it
protected from the very start, by
loving hands, her dad's and mine,
we watched her grow, and let her go
she grew from the vine ....into a rose
but life composed a tragedy, with goals
beyond our reach...beyond belief
beyond our wildest dreams
and left her with a loss beyond control
like visitors from outer space, we watch
as others come, and others go
they blow into their tissue wads
and empty the boxes one by one
and cry with us, and then they all go home...
do we cry........? Oh no, not yet...
instead we smile a grateful smile
and thank them kindly for the while
and for the ways they share their love
but we can't cry into our own clenched wad
of tissue from the tissue box
she needs us to be strong, somehow
and so that is the way it is, we vow...to hold back all the tears for now
for, this was my child who loved and lost
impossible........I can't express it
__________________________________________
4/12/13
My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view
I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused
I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone
So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss
April 14, 2013
The bed offers cold
where you used to lie
a chill that lingers
when dawn paints the sky.
Your abandoned chair
across from mine
is a constant reproach
and an unwelcome sign
of a love that died.
On outings with friends
I feel their pity
though I wear my best mask
and try to be witty.
The places I visit
are different and yet
something always reminds me
won’t let me forget
the love that died.
Time has its way with all wounds
I've discovered
granting healing to some
letting Death cure the others.
And with every new wound
the scar tissue spreads,
fibrous and nerveless,
‘til sensation is dead.
And it’s hard to say
if I fear this or not
maybe this ether
is what I have sought
all along.
A poem on a tissue
Seeing your tear drops fall I reach,
here, let me catch those for you
my hands need the moisture
and your cheeks are beautiful already
Love your dress, but your sadness
contrasts with the color,
can I borrow your sorrow for a while,
you keep the dress, it looks great on you
Outside is a sidewalk with a smile on it
well, it depends on which direction you are walking
walk this way, the other way you will see a frown
like yours, this way waits a smile, like mine
There’s a heart repair shop on the corner as well,
what do you say? I’ve collected the pieces of yours,
want to give it a shot? I hear they are pretty good,
they have one day service…
Not working huh? Then just take my hand,
the one with the pen in it and I will write you a poem
on a tissue you can use to dry those tears,
while I hope your smile soon reappears
Tissue
Do you sleep as I do
Bent upon a dream that breaks you
Lean back in a whiskey stupor
What the hell where these dreams ever made for
To burn in flightless wings
Angel kissed with Friday night wishings
And take the bitterness pill that life has in hand
But never understand
Let the rain fall on your window
If the glass ever would remind you
Of tears that I shed
Are they now a romance of dissent
On a shelf above his bed,
Looking like a fountain,
Henry has what has become
A little tissue mountain.
Each tissue gets one wipe or blow
And then it joins the pile,
A mound that had been growing
For much more than just a while.
When asked if I could clean it up,
The answer I keep getting
Is an emphatic No; I guess
I'm aiding and abetting.
It isn't really gross because
There's not a lot of issue
Allowed to make its way upon
Each single 2-ply tissue.
And Henry laughs when I point out
His tissue mountain's growing,
An impish twinkle in his eye
Which he delights in showing.
I dream in color.
Shades of grey mix to form shadows of black and white.
Pictures melt together like wax candles on a strawberry birthday cake.
I like roses, the red ones flecked with black tear drops.
The one's with scars and stains that refuse to fade with time.
I relate to their pain.
They stand tall with the look of disgust painted upon their tattered leaves.
Heads are bowed and eyes are averted as passerby refuse to take notice.
Shame, it makes the world go 'round.
death took her from me
my adoring wife
I try not to cry
there's no one to refill
my empty tissue box
4/14/13
Though it has been five and twelve years
and you are both now tucked safely deep
in the unfathomed depths of sub-conscious
At times you still invade troubled dreams
Oozing cold sweat; wrestling unseen demons
Jolting half awake and bolting upright
(No-no-no-why-where have you gone)
I find it placed conveniently at arm's length
A trembling, fumbling hand reaches out
to grab hold and blow away memory…
Oh, the wounds, the gaping wounds
The wounds that never truly heal
Merely self-sutured, leaving jagged scars
left to swell, ooze and re-infect
A temporary stop-gap, a leaking dam
built to hold back the raging river of pain...
Oh, would that the scars would explode,
burst open and gush out
Gush out in primal fury,
leaving me helpless and drained
Helpless and drained before the Almighty
who is able not to simply close and smooth them over,
but who is able to brutally and lovingly rip them loose
Oh yes, He is able and willing; if I am willing...
Spare change was rare at our house when I was a lad,
But you could bet on it, when I got a quarter from my Dad,
I didn't blow it on mundane things like a baseball or a mitt!
I flew to the local Five and Dime to buy a model airplane kit!
The store shelves were piled high with model planes galore!
Spitfires, Hurricanes, Mustangs, Thunderbolts and many more!
The man at the counter patiently waited 'til I made my selection.
I needed the perfect specimen to add to my vast collection!
I set up my shop in the seclusion of our cozy attic,
Sanding, painting, gluing and poring over the schematic.
In isolation if things went awry, I could utter a cuss word or two,
Without Mom yelling, "Son, I don't know what's to become of you!"
From the ceiling of my room hung dozens of the things,
Each floating aloft supported by delicate gossamer wings!
How oft I'd lie abed dreaming of flight, sensing total elation,
Freed from earthly bonds, soaring above the beauty of Creation!
Assembling balsa wood planes required a certain degree of skill.
Nowadays, they're hard to find and cost a twenty-dollar bill!
The plastic models of today are realistic but will never compare,
To building your very own creation and releasing it in the air!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Entry for Frank H.'s "A Childhood Memory" Contest
Counting crows crackle to be free
The cauterized blessing you sold to me
Hangs by the door nail in tombstone majesty
What did we say
When blackholes stripped breath away
Are the promises murdered in flight
Sharpening again in poise of night
Electronic souls dash and torn
The emblem of false exchange is born
When you gave what we agreed
Something missing in hearts seeking relief
Now the misused caliber rocks and treads
Calligraphy on the wall, stories we feed
When rumination pursues without ease
Or tear from history when we please
My Grandma usually had some,
stuffed in her sleeve,
and like a magician pull some out,
when she started to sneeze…
And when I was young,
didn't like to wear a hat,
so Mom would pin some on my head,
can you imagine that?...
And as soon as we got to church,
I'd sit down low in the pew,
hoping no one would recognize me,
I'd feel just like a fool...
Then there are times,
I'd be in a strange bathroom,
and suddenly aware,
"Hey theres no " t.p." around, anywhere!"
Then trying not to panic,
I think I might have some with me,
so I dig in my pocketbook,
and viola! pull out 2 or 3…
They also come in handy,
when you are at home,
and you suddenly see out of the corner of your eye,
a rather large bug…
And I know this is mean,
but I stomp on it, wad it up with a tissue,
and give it a quick burial at sea...
And you can almost redecorate,
your room with a colorful box,
if you buy it from Wal-mart
it won't cost an awful lot…
But it really comes in handy,
when females start to cry,
dabbing at our eyes,
it helps keep our mascara dry...
So I thank the person,
that invented the versatile tissue,
because if are like me
theres always some kind of issue!
Red Nose, Swollen Eyes
No more time for me to care
Next box not empty
4/10/13