I
Want to
Be engulfed
By the ending
Of this unknown tale;
To never know how it
Will play out, I'll live in bliss.
Trembling, I still patiently crave
What is neither saddening nor pleasing;
It is cathartic, and overwhelming.
Take the strands given to you; tightly,
Weave and tie that heart together.
Don't tell a lie until I
Can understand the truth,
And embrace the tale
Who's ending will
Never be
Told to
Me.
Writing provides a catharsis, said the poet
All those who are stressed-out know it
Asked, “Does it do the job better than sex?”…
Thumb and finger supporting his chin, the poet sighed,
“For the answer to that ~ I defer to my ex.”
Here's a tribute from me to you,
Recalling the old pet cockatoo,
His very vivid vocabulary,
Cathartic swearing, so funny,
He rose at dawn, would greet the day,
Sat on perch, screeched away,
Acquired language eagerly,
Nothing polite from that old he,'
Shared his emotions with us all,
Ended each day with his call,
Sleep tight now, so suitable.
Good night, bird beautiful.
Magma,
Earth's deep anger,
Fire erupts, ash ascends,
Life's raw, transformative power,
Mountain.
©bfa030925
Don’t be foolish, Jenny!
Don’t be pathetic, Jenny!
Don’t you run away,
‘Cause this is your time!
Don’t be stupid, Jenny!
Don’t be pathetic, Jenny!
Don’t be anything ‘cause this is your life!
Stand at attention,
Straighten the spine,
You are her teacher, so teach her at school
She’s not your problem,
She’s not your life,
So pretend to move on and don’t be a fool
Don’t be pathetic, Jenny!
Don’t be foolish, Jenny!
Don’t be anything ‘cause this is your life!
She doesn’t need you, Jenny,
Stop wasting time,
On loving a child who could never love you
But this little girl…
Is someone special…
…A miracle…
It’s so sad that she doesn’t know
Could I call myself a teacher,
If she…
Fell through the cracks I can see?
This little girl needs,
To be showered with love,
But it won’t come from me…
I can’t meet her needs,
She has found me…
Pathetic… Little me…
Pathetic… Little me…
Pathetic…Little…me…
Pathetic! Little…me…
I am PATHETIC! Little… me…
Pathetic!
Pathetic!
Pathetic!
…Pathetic… Little… Me…
LIVING LIFE LOOSELY, I CHOOSE TO DREAM MY DREAMS LUCIDLY
LIVING LIFE LIKE ME IS DREARY WOE IS ME.
LIVING LIFE IN A DREAM, I'VE NEVER FELT SO FREE .
LIVING LIFE IN REALITY, SLEEPING SOLACES ME.
LIVING LIFE IN A DREAM TRANSLUCENT, HAPPY, AND GLITTERY.
NOW I SLEEP PEACEFULLY BECAUSE I'LL STAY FOR ETERNITY. - Maleeeon
11/14/23
5:34 PM
Helper for heartbreak's dissipation
Coat of slick paint covers pain
His younger hair longer temptation
Gives dead Romeo fresh frame
Travel miles along Australia's coast
Brought assailed soldier to me
Astringent ginger kisses Kylie ghost
Instant skin soothe of proximity
Tersely told stories, recently passed
Undo injury of passion's abort
Urge rapid recovery, characters cast
Script for infant territory taught
27th January
Cathartic Cleanse
(He chose name Katherine)
writing is cathartic; I write one-liners when my muse~ feels burnt out
Alexis Y.
01/07/2021
Age twenty-one, so young...was I
I scribbled words, so time could fly
I've always liked to riddle and rhyme
So, I wrote a poem to pass my time
John Lennon's name had filled my slot
I wrote about...when he got shot
So sad a day...I'll always remember
Nineteen-eighty the eighth of December
How cruel a world- is what I wrote
But "most are kind" was in my note
Imagine- if John...were still alive today
There would be more great music...to hear and play
His songs be filled with peace and love
The moon, the earth...the skies above
I'm sure he'd write of righteousness
His poetic thoughts, most of all...I'll miss
Next forty years- I wrote no more
Till one rainy day...when it began to pour
It poured divorce- and it drenched my name
My ex, myself, ourselves...to blame
So, I grabbed my coat...and I grabbed my hat
And I moved myself- a bedroom flat
Then, Lennon's poem...came to me again
So I grabbed my pad, and I inked my pen
With so much time- beheld by me
I started writing again; poetry
So easy now, are words to find
Cathartic thoughts...now cross my mind
Catharsis Poetry Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
12/2/2020
~ after ablutions in the Ganges River, her state of mind, pristine ~
Date written: 09/06/2020
Poetry writing is cathartic for me.
It makes me happy.
Helps me to be
me.
My own words
On a page
May help others to see
I am not nearly as fierce as I want to be.
To define the word cathartic
It means providing psychological relief
Through expressions of strong emotions
To substantiate one's beliefs
An example is a conversation
With someone 'bout their hopes and dreams
Hopes they have for themselves and family
Helping them stay on stream
Allowing someone to vocalize
Their anxieties, their worries, their fears
Can help them out at a time of great stress
Appreciated for the coming years
Therapeutic also defines cathartic
Rewarding both the giver and receiver
Providing each with a feeling of fulfillment
Making each in life a believer
To define the word cathartic
It simply means psychological relief
Through expressions of strong emotions
And to substantiate one's beliefs>center>
Cursing Cathartic
I blooming swear too much these days
It really is disgraceful.
Went from one not to boo a goose
To using words distasteful.
It happened by design you see
Set emotions free from me.
From where they had long lain -
Damaging and wasteful.
Don’t get me wrong it was
Effective in the expressive.
Speed it became habit alas
Just a little too impressive.
Cleansed now of historical debris -
Free at last to be me here now.
Contentment has no such hold over me
It is time for cursing to take a bow.
Cathartic Eclipse
I witnessed the death of the universe…
Tumbling, crushing, spinning
in the maddening chaos
of the spiral Time!
Eternity… ceased to exist,
Time… was no more,
my soul ripped asunder
the stars… show no more!
Pleading internally
I succumb my farewells,
emptied my concavities,
ashes of solitude reminded me
of quixotic moments
dismissed involuntarily
you were oblivious to my presence
gazing emptily a brimming space,
surreality became my twisted fate
and no transition left for immortality!
My world is hushed
And I crave for volumes of light
in this glaring darkness of hope
succumbing throes
of cacophonous silence
cocooned in webs of deceit
awaiting the promised resurrection.
In these nights of forgetfulness
my poetry still bleeds inside me
in this realm there is an aeonic distance
between my Soul… and your Heart!...
The consummation of this
escape
blossoms into unhindered perception;
Naked, amenable gushes of slated clarity
wrack the the bounds of form;
born to change
the metamorphosis of itself
and evolve into the beauty seen
by
your eyes.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
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