I'd rather smile than cry in front of you
I'd rather cry than wait for you
I'd rather read than sing for you
I'd rather write than talk to you
I'd rather dream than actually face you
I'd rather sleep than dream about you
I'd rather be everything without you than watch the red string evaporate with you.
I might write letters to you or mean words to rattle the cage of a soul in despair and be THROUGH
I might play an unknown tone like a deal with the devil, like a tear on a keynote, on a piano.
I will play for you.
Once or twice I might end up dreaming a faceless you-
The soft winter, cold water, warm sunshine and leaning against you under the blanket i quietly crawled into-
I will see you
But I 'd always be everything without you than believe in another lifetime with you.
Black fur, bright sun
The superbolide that kept the night away
Green fields, brown eyes
A happy smile that blazed bright
Brighter than the endless blue skies above her
Home safe in familiar grass
Though riddled throughout and stiff of limb
I'll keep the peaceful smile in mind forever
Sleep tight, my love
You've got friends waiting for you
You've fought long enough
And earned a pleasant rest
Of earth and sea 'neath starry sky
She sleeps in spots most favored
Resting in the endless grass
And bathing in the peaceful stream
Drink deep of the mountain sun
And cool off when you're ready
Play with friends until sunset
And rest beside the fire
I wish I could make yesterday last until the sun died
To rub your fuzzy belly whilst you placed your paw on mine
I'll miss you dearly K, so sleep now without worry
And to my own passing day, you'll be warm inside my memory.
you can let go now
I love you, Mom, I whisper
her hand rests in mine
In the hush where summer
has already surrendered,
autumn flowers unfurl with
a defiant, molten grace.
Chrysanthemum burn in
burnished amber and saffron,
petals layered like antique
parchment catching the late
light.
Dahlias deepen into
oxblood and plum, velvet
crowns that hold the dusk
inside them.
Asters tremble in lavender
mist and violet dusk, small
constellations against the
cooling air.
Marigolds flare in carnelian
and gilded gold, stubborn
suns refusing to dim.
And the last roses- oh, the
last roses- blush in
russet, claret, and
copper,
their edges kissed with the
melancholy of frost.
They do not mourn the
shortening days.
They incandescent.
They are the earth's final,
extravagant exhale-
a chromatic elegy written in
pigment and perfume.
Crisp wind combs through
them, and they answer
with color so rich it feels like
a benediction:
ochre, bronze, burgundy,
mahogany, and sunset coral.
Every stem a small rebellion
against fading.
Every bloom a reminder that
endings can be opulent.
Autumn doesn't take the
garden quietly.
It dresses it in jewels, and
sets it on fire with beauty,
before letting it go.
They’ll always be another Eye of Newt around.
Or an ancient bone to be found.
But after the cauldron simmers down.
Better to not to find the unfound.
I should let the spiders take a rest.
As spiders always know what’s best.
Let the evening turn to shadows delight.
Trust in the process of fright.
After the last spell is cast.
At 3:00 am which comes so fast.
We can always break a mirror another day.
But for now, let’s just play.
With evening dew that looks like blood in the shadows of night.
The last spell cast helps us sleep tight.
When I lay on my deathbed,
counting my last heartbeats,
I want you to be the last person,
whom I meet.
We'll share our laugh and our sorrow ,
where I quietly hope to live till tomorrow.
Thousands of flashback flooding in front of my eyes,
yet I only want to relive the moment I have spent with you twice.
In the end I hope ,
you'll cherish me forever the way I do,
and love me until the next time we meet,
cause I am laying on my deathbed counting my few heartbeats.
In my end days I hope people visit me,
For I have been lonely all my life.
The room is lit up yet I feel being in dark.
My heart is still pumping
but it might stop leaving a mark,
If the last seven minutes recalls all human memories,
Would it only recall my sorrows and griefs?
Would it show the doors,
I watched but never knocked.
The words I held, the love I never spoke?
The heart that stayed empty, the calls that never came,
A life lived in waiting, that too without a name.
And when the light finally leaves my eye,
No footsteps will echo, no one will cry.
Just a silent room, A window left open,
a chair pulled back, the hallway humming
until the morning realized no one was coming.
Oh, how I’m longing to float to my death
Not e’er again heave sweet CO2 breaths
Each of us whirl with a dance all our own
Loosed by a mistral and heavenly-blown
All of our lives we’ve provisioned The One
Synthesized O2 with bright from the sun
Tasting the rainfall whene'er a cloud burst
Wetting our folds for the deep-rooted thirst
And now in the autumn endeavor the spring
Let loose our branches to dance and to sing
Trading our green for the shades of the sun
Zanzibar waits when our last waltz ... is done.
Copyright © 2017 / 2026 Gregory Richard Barden
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
WOLVERINE KARMA
WESTERN MICHIGAN GOES HA
LOST TO IOWA
?Solitude my friend
?I hope you find me in the end
?Every night, I whisper and wish
?Yet sunlight falls upon and makes things worse
?Reminisce back to the years
?Who would have thought this is the end
?Just like a candle in a dark room whoosh A little blow thus everything vanish.
Oh, how I’m longing to float to my death
Not e’er again heave sweet CO2 breaths
Each of us whirl with a dance all our own
Loosed by a mistral and heavenly-blown
All of our lives we’ve provisioned The One
Synthesized O2 with bright from the sun
Tasting the rainfall whene'er a cloud burst
Wetting our folds for the deep-rooted thirst
And now in the autumn endeavor the spring
Let loose our branches to dance and to sing
Trading our green for the shades of the sun
Zanzibar waits when our last waltz ... is done.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
Written: September 24, 2026
******
Moonlight falls on empty fields,
hunger keeps the children awake.
There is no rice left for supper,
only water warming on the stove.
Mother says she isn't hungry,
then gives the youngest her last bite.
Outside, the wind rattles the door,
and Father counts what little remains.
Tomorrow, he'll walk to the market,
though there's nothing left to sell.
Children sleep under one blanket,
dreaming of bowls to the brim.
Mother sits by the dwindling fire,
watching the darkness.
Leaves out of the fields,
and tomorrow may be nicer.
the last amber leaf
waiting longingly to fall
before winter comes
the last amber leaf
waiting longingly to fall
before winter comes
What if our universe is merely a snowflake
Within a snow globe on God’s desk
And we think of ourselves as the center
When we are noticed but not the winner
Of first place for the superior species race
What if we get shaken up by His hands of love
As a reset for all the crime and corruption
The rainbow in the sky a divine sign
Of a powerful intervention a show of mercy
A chance to heal and be revealed as worthy
The first chapter was light and creation
Of a system of stars bigger than ours
And the beauty of the black sea of skies
Can be seen as God’s personal canvas
With the last page a power play missing
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.