I carried grief,
an ache deep in my chest,
each breath tight,
each step heavy,
my world closing
around the hurt that stayed.
I held that pain
in my hands,
turning it over and over
as if feeling it
kept me alive.
But time flows on
and even stones soften...
edges worn down
by patient currents.
One morning,
I set the stone aside.
Not because I forgot,
not because I excused,
but because I was tired
of dragging yesterday
into each tomorrow.
Forgiveness is not
a letting go meant only for me:
it is what saved my chest,
the breath that rebounded
the sky opening above.
I No longer look for any contact
Your memory is fading like the past
Dreams we shared once alive
Dreams now give possibilities
Values shape our soul endlessly
Honor yourself and your family and open totally
Dancing with myself is like singing in the rain
Future I welcome with excitement
Fear is exempt
Letting go has saved me
Dreams are my right you see
What’s in man that makes him go
Is it the satisfaction of the craftsman
Or the drive for more dough
Ask the baker ~ He may just know
I ask not shadows whence they come,
Nor where their silent footfalls lead;
The grave is mute, the mouth is dumb,
Yet still it speaks, above the land.
The dead are writ in flesh and stone,
In echoes cast from ice to flame;
Their march is onward, not alone—
We follow, bearing blood and name.
They go where time has lost its teeth,
Beyond the crown, beyond the rod;
Their ashes drift in winds beneath,
Their spirits rise and rest in God.
It matters not what tombs proclaim,
Nor how the mourners bow and weep;
For in our veins survives their claim,
The dead still guard the lives we live.
So let me walk, though night is vast,
Unfearing, steadfast, to the last.
Do go behind that cloud.
Do I wish to see your face?
Feel your warmth?
I seem to say no.
Why should I reject you?
Why, oh why, this no?
What foe do I face?
What warmth do I try to expel?
Yes, allow me to say no.
A cloud is there,
oh yes, it is there.
So go behind it, do go.
(placed 8 Sep 2025)
Letting go
I write this poem to my dad,
Although it makes mad
And also sad,
To find out you were nothing but bad
You wrote a poem similar to this,
In different circumstances
Having people thinking,
You were the only one hurting
I am attempting to let go,
But will I ever though
Letting go, of you S.T
.
thuh artist i've been
since mine first
pencil
lover since she put
that
[X] in thuh yes box
SLOW MURMUR
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
there’s a kind of
s a d n e s s
that seeps into your skin;
it lets you breathe
and smile even,
but when shadows hang
heavy at night
let yourself
d
i
s
s
o
l
v
e
into the slow murmur
of the
v o i d
When I
go by
the cove,
I can
see your
face on
its brow
When I
look up
at the
blue sky,
find you
wishing
me ciao
When I
roam in
the woods,
I hear
bird songs
calling
thy name
How can
it be?
It’s your
portrait
mounted
in my
heart’s frame
Place: 2nd
GO AHEAD, MAKE MY DAY!*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a squirrel named Clint,
who lived in tree branches in Eastwood near Flint.
With an armored tank near,
he ruled without fear,
for in Eastwood, with his reign Clint was content.
The rabbits did quake in their burrows,
while Clint fired acorns like arrows.
“Your cheese is certainly no match,
for my tank’s bulletproof with a perfect hatch.
Remember, I’m king of these woodsy meadows!”
So, if you should wander through Flint,
and see Clint with his tank beat up and bent,
just remember this tale,
of nutty squirrel with acorns to impel,
who fancied himself a powerful prince!
That song sounds so good,
Go back to the beginning,
Reminisce moments of childhood
All while rhythymically dancing.
That story sounds so good,
Go back to the beginning,
Retell how you done all you could
All while laughing while crying.
That speech sounds so good,
Go back to the beginning,
Reenact every word you should
All while proudly standing.
That story sounded so good,
Go back to the beginning,
Recollect all the ways you would
Once again relive everything.
And the saying goes,
That you reap what you sew.
But at this point I don't know,
What the hell I could have sewn.
I can tell you, I didn't want your anger to grow,
I could tell somebody, if I let the bruises show.
I'll tell you it isn't right, I shouldn't have to take the blow,
That you never should have wanted for my blood to flow.
And if this is knowing love, then I don't want to know,
And I don't want to spend another night crying into the pillow.
So have you got any more questions now?
Is there something else you'd like to know?
Yes, I am leaving this "so-called" home.
Yes, it might hurt, but this is the end of our road.
I'm ready for better days to come tomorrow.
I can still, in my bones, feel every punch or kick you have thrown.
And my blood still runs cold when I pick up the phone.
I still fear all of the unknowns;
And I still am ashamed that I didn't have more backbone.
I can still smell your sandalwood cologne;
And when I saw the truth in your words, it hit me like a stone.
"You can leave but I'm still with you,
everywhere you go."
Wait for me, my sweet heart, don’t go,
About you, I dreamed all my blossoming youth,
My heart serenaded you with my love song,
Alas, they were lost in the whispering wind.
Wait for me, my sweet heart, don’t leave me behind,
With the grace of God, you came to me as a runway star,
With love and affection, we marched on life’s treacherous paths,
On one sad day, you said good bye and never returned.
Wait for me, my sweet heart, don’t leave me alone,
My hope to be with you lingers in my heart,
My joys are desolate, my songs have lonely tunes,
My tears dried in the core of my heart.
Wait for me, my sweet heart, till I am satisfied,
With love overcoming grief, with love conquering all the hurdles,
Till all my dreams and desires get fulfilled,
Sweet heart, please don’t go!
Like a Merry-go-Round
While we all keep spinning
Does our circle of life
Have a way to get off?
hear the sound
found a way
stand on ground
earthbound stay
no playground
Old sorrows return
years of re-runs still bruise me
ghosts I cannot hush
appear and glint in the dark
insignificant yet loud
I re-track to ask—
why did it unfold that way
what should I have done-
the past provides no answer
only revives of my doubt.
closure is a myth,
no band-aid can seal the wound
karma has no plot
the past is never prompted
the present no curtain call
better to own up—
it's not solved, over, done with
embers in ashes
needs care not to kindle them
go on with and without them
yet still I linger,
hand clutching unknotted threads—
I want to let go
but echoes cling like cobwebs
and knots retie in my grip
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