Death does not arrive with bias or mercy.
It sneaks between ribs and chokes beating hearts.
Eyes close and breath ceases — bodies go quiet.
We go, we go,
Gone.
Back to where the stars have patiently waited.
Where we scatter outward, and what we lose
Becomes light again
In a universe that never forgets.
We loved in ways we didn't say
Afraid the end would come one day
We stood so close, yet far apart
The fear of pain and a broken heart
I wish we could have found tomorrow
Instead of finding pain and sorrow
The silence between us left words unsaid
The echoes of "someday" still fill my head
We knew our truth, but let it hide
Let "maybe later" be our guide
We felt the pull, but stayed unsure
A fragile love we couldn't cure
If only I could rewind time
I'd run to you and make you mine
I'd take your hand and never let go
And guide us back to where we know
But time moves on, here I remain
Still softly calling out your name
And though the road has set us free
My 'what if", you will always be
Some loves are written in the stars
But some are full of pain and scars
You'll always be my one regret
The love I never will forget
Now every night I feel an ache
For the chance to love we didn't take
I tell myself it's best we're free
That letting go was meant to be
The world moves on, but here I stand
Love gently slipping through my hand
But if tomorrow forgets name
My heart will love you just the same...
By Raina Hutchins
As my memory gives me fits,
an elephant never forgets.
It should come as no surprise
that a head of such huge size
holds a hundred gigabits.
Passed the setting sun,
is the inevitable —
The unknown,
The necessity,
The silence,
after the last word spoken,
The way the room forgets
your laughter,
your pain —
Over time, the door closes
and the walls exhale your name,
Collecting dust,
to settle in your place.
Untamed, wild they rise
flowers don't beg for kindness—
roots break through the stone
their petals flare, loud colors
lure bees to their greedy feast
weeds at heart they sprawl
never pleading for a hand—
only to be seen
their fragrance a ruthless lure
their beauty a cunning snare
perhaps I was born
to beg for love that I missed—
waiting in the aisles
clamouring for attention
while flowers thrive without pleas
I reach out for care,
while the ivy climbs the wall
not asking for help—
I reach out with tendril claws
but my quest is not fulfilled
where are my flowers—
gone to be weeds every one
petals fall like ash—
only weeds endure the light
feeding on what love forgets
"Sometimes the softest dreams unravel into ash."
My mind walks landscapes made of ash,
where stars collapse in whimsy’s flash.
I reach for light, but it turns to dust—
a mirror cracking from broken trust.
A hallucination holds my hand
and leads me through this haunted land.
Here, love once bloomed in endless spring,
now silence grows in everything.
The bones of joy lie at my feet,
while reverie weeps down the street.
I build my hope with shattered clay,
a dream that fades at break of day.
My imagination carves the sky—
with wings no real bird learns to fly.
Visualization paints a place
where I exist without a face.
Fantasy kissed me in the dark,
then vanished—
like the last cold spark.
The night unfolds like ink in water—
a cascade of darkness over the hills,
dripping slowly from the corners of the sky.
Above, a nebula pulses,
not with light,
but with memory—
a soft, aching breath of color
too distant to touch,
too alive to ignore.
The river winds in serpentine motions,
its skin moonlit,
its voice a lilt against the rocks.
In the reeds, something stirs—
the subtle slither of what does not wish to be known,
but cannot help being seen.
A myriad insects chant the language
of things that were never written down.
The moon—
that cold, familiar lunar sentinel—
hangs overhead like an old regret,
casting a pale, indifferent eye
over the ruins of our intentions.
Even the stones are glowing now,
faint and phosphorous,
as if remembering the sun
in the hush before dawn.
And somewhere—
somewhere beyond this moment—
the sky forgets itself,
and begins again.
God Forgives And Forgets
By: Miracle Man
1/29/2025
The risen sun of each life too quickly will set,
our manner of life will determine what we get.
We’ll stand before the judgment seat of Mighty God,
and answer for each deed upon the path we trod.
So it behooves each one to seek forgiveness now,
and then not loose any unfirm hand from the plow.
We know not the time, place, or hour our sun will set,
but when God forgives us from sin, He will forget.
God Forgets, People Often Don’t
Miracle Man
5/19/2023
*“come unto me and I will give you rest,”
all that God requires is we give Him control.
When from a contrite heart we’ve confessed,
He forgives our sins and makes us whole.
But a person’s future can still be impacted,
by the number of skeletons hanging around.
These unpleasant things can’t be redacted,
and in the eyes of many we’re forever bound.
*Matthew 11:28
Love often manifests itself in things we say,
But even more so by our actions each day;
Tom
This is for all the forgets that you found. The not coming back but are always around. The next step at losing a back for the frame. Lost in a lesson like “remember my name”. This is an always with a door next to there. A face in a crowd yet a fact of so rare. The never, the notion, the nearer by far. The lesson, the blessing is easy, like a seatbelt for your car. With an over and under in a trip down a lane. The “how to” and “whys” for a second the same. So forget all the figures in a withdraw like a loan. The found is around near in never alone. The detail, the retails are not a sell for a dash. The stars not three bars like a win for the cash. So like all the teachers there’s a reach for a test. The AB plus C in a make for the best. This is an always with the end like in near. With remember my name for a dart-like in dear. This is for the all your if’s with regrets. With better at bat and a base on a yet. So recall the snowfalls with the tracks of your tears. They’ll keep coming back if you never get clear.
Sparrows delight the grass.
A hawk swoops. Death dances,
the living rejoice.
The day arrives
blaming no one.
The sky wipes its face.
Sparrows delight the grass.
A hawk swoops. Death dances
the living rejoice.
The day arrives
blaming no one.
The sky wipes its face.
Not bringing along my tool
Has me made a Big fool:
A breaker of workers First Rule
And copyist of The Empty Mue
That should back turn to school…
So unprofessional an omission
That I be quick about its admission
But here I am rather cool,
Placidly surveying a greenish pool
While I had all deserved but a stool
And time to over spirogyra drool.
A narrow muddy creek,
beyond the creek
a new housing lot.
Further on
a small stand of wood
where a large woodland once spread all the way
to the highway.
Beyond the highway a farm
clings to fifty acres
but not much thrives and much is failing.
Then you arrive at the only hill for miles around
I sometimes go there in the snow
when all the displacement and sully
are covered over.
Occasionally, on a fresh morning when the sun is up
and shining like the first day of creation;
when the snow sparkles its blue diamonds
I forget the muddy work-boots
that kicked over the native and natural.
The land forgets its wounds and heals
momentarily,
but for a little while.
Our plump Santa did search in his pouch,
In the table, he searched, near the couch;
He searched there, he searched here,
But found not his specs dear -
"On your face" said his wife in a grouch!
I Need A Good Laugh: Xmas Limerick Contest Poetry Contest
Date: 12/16/2021
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Syllables: 9/9/6/6/9
Syllables checked in Syllable and Letter Counter
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