Best Transferred Poems
Yes, life is tough!
I know there are struggles in life that we all go through.
Sometimes we secretly hide them away,
some for fear and others just because
they have no one who cares for them.
But you my dear,
I know you do not ask for much,
but I see sadness in your beautiful eyes.
I can feel your heartache
and those tears leaving trails down your cheeks.
You may not realise it,
but your pain becomes mine...
I ache for you too!
I'm here for you always.
Let me hold you awhile!
I want to wipe your tears away,
place the brightest star in your heart.
If pain can be transferred,
I would gladly take them from you,
carry the burden for you.
You are so dear to me,
I love you with all my heart.
You know I'll do anything for you,
I'll drive many miles to get you -
~ anytime ~ anywhere.
So head up baby!
Quit sitting still and letting sadness seep
its way deep into your heart and soul.
Come rest your head on my shoulder,
I will hold you close,
promise to never let go.
Dry those tears and let's start a new day.
Together we are strong
For contest: Togetger we are strong
Sponsor: Silent One
3-14-18
The words that I write
flow from a deep place
The lines I express
mirror the lines on my face
Some lines are joyful
other lines took their toll
Yes the lines on my face
on the page reveal my soul
I love my laugh lines
they are my fast friends
I can be a bit cheeky
or sarcastic, it depends
My love lines are softer
around my eyes they reveal
To the page when transferred
they let you know how I feel
Some lines are more tragic
they are my battle scars
I share lines on pages
instead of drinking in bars
Joyful, sad or happy
each line expressed is true
My expression as a writer
I choose to gift to you
Yes, all the lines scribed
mirror the lines on my face
They help me to navigate
through my mind space
Lines that reveal wisdom
are not pretty that’s true
They should be heeded
please listen to them too
Then choose to reveal
some lines of your own
I’ll see the lines on your face
and know that I’m not alone!
The first time ever I saw your face
a pioneering heart began to race,
the first time ever I saw your smile
long journey but worth every single mile,
the first time ever your magical touch
sparks the memory I remember so much,
the first time ever a glimpse of your eyes
those that shamed the blueness of godly skies,
the first time ever in warm embrace
the sweetness of your breath one could taste.
The first time ever to hold you in dance
we held on tight in true loves romance,
beneath the moonlight to “This song is Blue”
yes together we dance just me just you.
The first time ever we said goodbye
the trial the tribulations of the saddest eye,
transferred to one’s sentiment does lend
this to vow this love will never end!
© Harry J Horsman 2013
Reposted 2021
How proud they put them on display
Two thousand of the first of fortyk
There President Bukele did say
They’ll live in the jailhouse for decades
he went on boasting, in jail it’s judgement day,
as he held his glass of brandy toasting
inmates, suspected violent gang members
moved to a new mega-prison in El Salvador
Transferred to the Center of Confinement of Terrorism
Mixed up, unable to do any more harm
to the population, it was said
So why do I care about these souls,
tears flowed as I read the article
about thousands of prisoners, and Bukele in particular
Central American country’s notorious pandillas
And right then I understood why I cried
Hundreds never made it to round two, que pesadillas
There are the innocent ones who are denied
a fair trial, it's sad to think that nothing can be done
for a mother's innocent son
They held me down
and injected me with a needle
that took away my ability to sleep
It is true
I haven’t slept in six years
I imagine this persisted consciousness
will remain with me after my body dies
Then there was yet another needle
that transferred the landscape of hellfire
Will I toast for all eternity
is this the secret of the Illuminati
I can only point to others
that suffered the same fate
Aaron Hernandez
But who can help me now
is this a puzzle to be solved
When I’m gone
all that will remain
is this cryptic poem
Yet I imagine no one will care
or even understand
the evils that men do
A faceless man is standing in produce.
He’s crying. No one stops.
No one asks him why.
He says the sky is falling
He says it again and again.
He grabs a passerby’s arm
and tell them it’s falling.
The passerby drops
a head of lettuce onto the floor.
A woman in tattered jeans
says the cost of meat has gone up.
A young mother
with a baby in the basket
wheels a cart of formula
and wonders how anyone
can afford to live
while outside a boy in high school
races an empty shopping cart
through the parking lot.
A woman with stringy, long hair
standing near the entrance
plays guitar
and the case is open
for dollar bills and quarters.
A weary clerk brings
in a line of carts
and says the task never ends.
The woman says life’s a show—
Bring in the clowns, she sings.
Displays of Doritos lined
up by the entrance
say buy more—
one bag is never enough.
The clerk stands near the front
and keeps his hands in his pockets
as he watches a wave of humanity
walks in and out the entrance.
The manager looks at him.
Smile, she says.
One month after his lady friend
transferred to another store
he is standing alone
in a crowd.
Nobodys home so dont knock apon the
door.
No need to empty the trash or sweep
the floor.
To many bottles of booze mixed with
pills.
Notes left apon the wall.
Stained souls as the blood
spills.
Pictures far from center.
Trophies from the road.
Bones collect were memories
splinter.
A long term vacation guess there's no
need to sign a lease.
May dust greet my bones.
Until I rest in peace.
The mask is but a facade.
Cracks in that perfect image.
All true art is flawed.
They know the person who is
not me.
Time traps the mind.
As love brings only agony.
Failure cast's doubt as old truthes
give way to new lies.
As the sunset bids farewell.
With it the story dies.
A fraction of myself I have yet
to release.
The pain is now transferred to
another.
Reflection to late so may it rest in
peace.
I will pedal fast to recover.
To the bookstore! To the library!
Wild for books! The feel, the touch.
Those pages fast or slow, they flip for me.
I dine on every sweet and salty word.
Their covers bid me stop, their hue marquee
cause me to laugh or weep, my mind transferred.
Wild about books! Their brains! Their brawn! I breach
a poet’s ecstasy — a golden speech.
A cemetery stone, my tablet cold.
An epitaph I read — the shards drool.
Those pretty words! I long to finger gold.
Instead reflective glass, the story’s cruel.
Wild about books! Their brains! Their brawn! I breach
a poet’s ecstasy — a golden speech.
The words, similitude of braille, lose face.
The utter joy, the scent of books, the sass.
In this isolation, I lose my place.
The ink of deep blue sky and green fresh grass.
I will pedal fast to recover.
To the bookstore! To the library!
Wild for books! The feel, the touch.
4/27/2020
Wild Poetry Contest
Sponsor is Anthony Slausin
My grandfather on my father’s side, was a pecker-toothed sidle who raped his
daughter when she was just ten. He threw down vodka from an eternal well and took my father out to buy prostitutes when he was just fifteen... It was here that my father first learned the true value of a woman. Mercifully, a permanent steel brace got loose at the Pennsylvania steel mill where he worked and crushed Grandfather into a pool of blood and urine.
My father was a dried seed rattling in an empty gourd… he had grown up
hardened with leather-stiff roots exposed too long in the sun. My mother knew
that he wanted to rape me, so I kept guard with knives and ran away whenever I could. I went to bed fantasizing how to sneak into his bedroom and kill him with
the kitchen carving knife.
My older brother hadn’t adjusted well to the chaos either, so he put all his expectations and dreams into a matchbook and burned down three houses in the neighborhood. He secretly, robbed his friends of their valuable coin collections. He grew weary and confessed and was taken to a local Mental Hospital for evaluation. At fourteen, I needed a good stiff drink! I was transferred to two different foster care homes and grew up like a weed.
My mother Dolly was an auburn haired porcelain bisque, matt finished doll from a
discriminating collections of dolls... her father's dolls. She was not a witty woman
but silent, afraid and alone. She gave birth to three children who grew up like
wild dogs while Dolly made Betty Crocker weekends and otherwise TV dinners
until she grew tired... very tired.
One day the brothers were playing with Dolly tossing her back and forth…
like a ball, one to another... until we dropped her. Fragile, she shattered into pieces
on the gray cement patio. My father came out determined to put the pieces back
together but clumsily, he repeatedly stepped on Dolly crushing the refined
fragments into powdered dust.
The demons are out tonight.
I can feel them running up and down my spine.
It’s nothing but rag water and blue ruin.
They won’t rest until I hurt something or somebody.
I must vent or die.
Better to do it now than wait.
Waiting only causes more pain to those I love.
The dogs are restless they know I am not right tonight.
I have this razor sadness
That only gets worse when the Southern Pacific pulls out of the world.
There is no place to go and no place to be
Except with this clanging and sorrow that knows no home.
I count the tears on the counter and they don’t mean anything.
Salt and water a sorry excuse for loneliness.
And the demons they keep peeking their ugly heads out
Feels like the whole damn town is ready to blow.
I reach out and tug on someone’s coat and spill over the side.
Then like metal raining down on your shores it stops.
I have transferred the pain.
I am one again.
And you now suffer my sorrow.
The demons are happy and I am sad.
It is life-eating life.
"Felt"
some people
have magic
in their bones
it speaks
another language
silencing the
Kurdaitcha Man
seen pointing
unnecessarily
without conviction
time is ours
in this endless place
we circle rings
rippling our marks
deep within trees
depositing stories
they breathe
us in
we breathe
them out
gifting
their leaves
we fall softly
crumpling
under others’ feet
the stories
conveyed
and transferred
replenish and feed
the microcosm
to become
something
much larger
some people
have magic
in their bones
it speaks
another language
it is felt
not seen
falling softly inside
we become lighter
rising like myths
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
("Portal of Souls", 2019, original encaustic)
Just Another Door
Our society is sick
Spiritually sick
Because it has lost religion
Or transferred it to hollow
Shallow faiths – such as Scientism,
Environmentalism, Feminism, Marxism
Which can give us literally nothing
At death’s door.
Death should be the big day
What our lives have been not only heading to
But aiming for, preparing for
As our BIG day – THE day –
D-Day.
People prepare for other big days;
Prom nights, graduations, weddings, births
But curiously
Not death.
How do you want to die?
Or put another way,
Do you want to die randomly,
And without direction
Or with intention and vision?
Either way, it’s just another door.
(9/19/23)
You are to me the essence of a dream
The very piece which makes my life complete
The clearest drink you give me from love’s stream
Your touch brings out in me a nectar sweet
You are to me the warmth of sun by day
The dance of the Aurora in the night
You are the voice that calls my heart to play
The wick that burns my love transferred to light
You are the waves of passion surging strong
You sweep across my form in full command
The sea of fantasy to you belongs
I bathe myself in you by heart’s demand
Yet for all things you do and are to me
I know I am the truth that sets you free
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Beware, social media's worldly platform,
Blameless, guilty wannabes shower esteem,
Heady headlines bathing in common manure.
Knowing one’s neighbour.
Selfie, groupies searching for public reason,
Poetry kindled reframed and lovers bonding,
Gossip transferred digital nonsense bemused.
Silence youth golden.
Sapphic stanza contest
Sponsor William Kekaula
Devastated at the news I've heard.
Totally shocked this is absurd
The passing of a Welsh legend
Proud to have served my butty friend.
He started his long career
As a proud Welsh infanteer
He then transferred to the Corps
His knowledge he used thats for sure
I first met taff in the Adriatic
In a place we all called FRY
Former Republic of Yugoslavia
For those that don't know why
Taff was known to do silly things
But one that comes to mind
Being pumped up a scam 12
Blind just leading the blind
He earned a commendation whilst in Afghanistan
As multiple commander he looked after every man
A real genuine gentle man who liked a practical joke
His favourite tipple was vodka and coke
The next verse is for you
Reading from above
I hope it hits a chord baloo
Also for those that you love
Gwneud hyn yn Gymraeg i chi er fy mod i'n teimlo'n las eich calon oedd calon y ddraig Gymreig chwedl a pharagon
Doing this in welsh for you
even though i'm feeling blue
your heart was that of the welsh dragon
a legend and a paragon
I apologize now if my grammar is wrong
Like butty would say you f*****g mong
When you served you were a "RELAY"
Not one if gods chosen what can I say
The black dog was on his shoulder
I know It's a crap place to be
I'm gutted brother soldier
You didn't shout out to me
My condolences to the family
The brotherhood does feel your pain
R.I.P Brother Mark Langley
Until we meet again
So save all of us a seat at the bar.
With Tony, Mac, Ange, to name but a few.
You have left behind your family and friends
We all miss you!!!!