Do you now feel at ease?
When it's all said and done
When you've seen and loved
Saw the darkest side of life
And even questioned the sands of time
When you looked up in the sky
And acknowledged the beauty of the sun
Seen storms imbibe people and trees
How did you feel?
When you sometimes had friends
But sometimes thought you didn't care
How much hurt or happiness did it bring?
Did you have those nights where you could not sleep?
When you said you were fine but you were not
You wanted to vent but kept it short
When you saw the worst but kept going
Did you ever feel like quitting?
You were not wrong to feel wounded
You weren't wrong to keep your heart wooden
I want you to ask yourself this,
"Do I now feel at ease?"
This little life of mine
I think I’m not inclined
To live the life I want
Don’t think I have the time
To figure out the wrongs
To Fix them from the right
But I’ll put up a fight,
I will put up a fight
Why do they not care
Why do they not hear me
I feel I see them here
It’s like they know I can’t breathe
Its like trying to scream air
To people that aren’t there
Why do they not care
Why do they not see me here.
-Rosie Louise Hill
each poet dreams of a secret retreat, a refuge, isolated
a solitary place in which to write, to enfold oneself
in bliss and peace, perhaps where waves crash
on rocks, or a garden, or a tranquil cemetery
yes, that is where I find my poetic voice
amongst the mossy cemetery stones
if your partner has to be mollified and pacified
If he pouts and makes fun of you unless you out-guess him
If being around him makes you feel like you are tiptoeing around glass
If you spend your days trying to outguess his angry moods
If you have been isolated from your family and friends
If everything you do or say has to be careful and deliberate
in order to not receive his wrath, and his disdain
know that you can do better.
And you should.
On clean clear cerulean sky,
fluffy cotton clouds to fly
Small isolated island in sea,
holding grass and few trees.
Calm quiet ambient in glee.
each sleight is the haunt
of some evicted ghost.
grieving me a life of greater pain;
I see pieces of people passing,
drifting into the footsteps
of another's future.
I feel the rough sandpaper surface
of the concrete bridge
as I prepare to jump.
For a moment my heart slumps.
It takes the smallest of memories
to interrupt a courage.
I thought each flower finer
in a different way,
if there’s a word for that,
I cannot say.
Far more acute
than any thing precise,
far more astute
than scholarly advice.
Is there a right kind of poetry?
In a room far away
behind a desk in an office,
someone else decides.
My home is
where my family is,
my family of one.
Others taint the
peace of mind,
you are not welcomed.
She lived in a castle, isolated,
Time flew slow, gruelling and full of hatred,
The crown lay broken on the floor,
Shattered, scattered, one piece no more.
Royal duties thrown away, Pirates life, plundering, stealing,
But not knowing the tight, suppressed feeling,
Of hatred to themselves,
Sadness, madness hidden on the shelves.
As they drown there worries in the sea,
Emotions revealed after tremendous tragedies,
Ship sunk at sea, forgotten princess lost again,
Unstable, betrayal, no strong knight to save them.
They drown in their guilt,
Mistakes from their pasts rebuilt,
No army to pull her out of the water,
Unknown memories sown; their love slaughtered.
In an abandoned house where echoes sigh,
Whispers of memories 'neath a fading sky,
A pet dog waits with eyes so sad,
Yearning for the touch of a hand once had.
The old folks' laughter, now but a trace,
Time's weathered lines upon each face,
In the corner they sit, stories unfold,
A lifetime of memories, a treasure to hold.
And in the land of the forsaken and lost,
A newborn arrives, innocence embossed,
A beacon of hope in a world so wide,
Where the past and future gently collide.
Remember the lessons it imparts,
In each of these lives, beating hearts,
For in the abandoned, there's room to mend,
To find in each other a lifelong friend.
Braced to fight tough for triumph
Stockpiled testosterone
Fizzed bicarb in her bloodstream
Sucked bitterness alone
Flooded home, battle surmounted
Safeguard marshy roost
Maladvised maveric trudged pond
Stacking bags of no use
Swirling water swarmed by spiders
Fear erased from register
Starless, deserted street industrial
Duty lead dim endeavour
Depth defiantly rejected her efforts
Scream's echoing ignorant
Yelled "help" at selected emptiness
Six months pregnant Sigrid
Fortfied ego, throat sore, exhausted
Dry in her fortress upstairs
Concede agitated bruises encumber
Defences laid dull despairs
31st March
Dependence is not defeat
You ought not to have left mama.
To take good care of me, you promised.
Remember.
Mama you went too soon.
When I knew no East from West.
Mama, my life is not what you aspired.
All you entrusted with me have teleported.
I have faced a lot.
My life took a new phase
Soon after your demise.
Mama, I promise to work it out.
I am not an aquatic plant mama.
How principled I'm, remember.
Mama I'll make it.
Send you spirit be with me.
I'm certain you went to the better side mama.
With Papa Jesus you are seated.
Listening to my cries mama.
Coax him to bless me mama.
@Tha Formidable Cheru.
marginalized
again
just a widow
whose family is grown
no longer a central figure
overlooked
forgotten
until something
is expected from me
then parameters shift
I am needed, anticipated
counted on for help
until that window in time
passes
then
marginalized
once more
prioritized
off the grid
of life
~
is it any wonder
I gravitate
to the one who supports me
appreciates me
listens
with his heart
beneath circling clouds
in the depths of the ocean
with little nearby
lies a speck of an island
of but thirty-five square miles
green mountain rising
from which hot lava once flowed
most toward the west
where the people live today
in modest isolation
not quite as busy
as during the Falkland War
a remote haven
for whale and turtle watchers
and those not easily bored
the Two Boats village
an airfield called Wideawake
the days are long past
when lookouts stood chilly watch
so 'Lil Boney' wasn't freed
amid the high seas
and the bluest of waters
a little island
not so much as forgotten
as never really known
It can be as lonely as you want it to be—
or you can make it whatever you want it to be.
A year seems to be a very long time
if you keep thinking about it
Isolation can be very introspective
if you want to climb inside
A mind is a very powerful tool
if you let it wonder afar
Socialization is an embraceable thought
if you want to suffer it
Beautiful but sad
Too vast yet little
My wings have been seized
By this lonely and quiet island
A beauty in it's own mystery
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