Long Death of a friend Poems
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Your words, which seem to be my words,
are but footprints on the fen floor of
the white page, echoes of wand'ring lyric loping.
And if, perhaps, the P's that B have blessed,
they click, they crunch, they sweetly rot underlip.
Tearing words from mind, squeezing through that jealous heartspace.
Tearing follows, wetting page after page, piling into a formless stream.
They clatter upon the mocking whiteness, an array in disarray.
A shattered and graphic mythography, mud clots on tile
after a hike. Why do not my hot words summon Leidenfrost?
I love words, no...I love meaning.
I love meaning, I don't love
the promise of words' bringing of
meaning.
It is National Poetry Month and Shakespeare.
died today.* The first time he died today was
four hundred years ago. I am set to write and read
'publicly' (which spellcheck insists and my heart
does not insist is better writ as 'public ally') some
'poetry' while dancers carve the air, in response to,
in love with, in relation to, hand/heart drawn trees
which have drawn, well-
wishers to wine 'n cheese' 'n chit 'n chat
an opening. A gallery.
But Prince died last night.
The artist formerly known as Prince Rogers Nelson,
and formerly known as a symbol,
and now formerly known as Prince. He died.
The symbol has gone and I don't know what it means.
The words are here behind my teeth, within my fingertips,
astride my heart, tickling that lump in my throat.
It is Earth Day, too. I'm supposed to say some words and make
them meaningful. And make them sing. And ring in the hearts as though
my ditherings are one tine of a tuning fork and the other is the spirits
of those dearly beloved, gathered here. Our coils unshuffled, for in our
sleep of life what dreams may come. But we stand upon, today, both
the funeral's grounds and the corpse to be. The Earth. We are meant
to celebrate her life as she withers. Strangled, starved, and trampled. And I?
I can't.
I just...
cant.
-ShhDragon
*He died today but every day we don't give birth to him with our tongue, on the stages of our heart, he remains a fetid, rotting, beautiful corpse. ’Lo four hundred years ago he died, but every day he isn't summoned, isn't animated, he remains dead. The fact of anniversary is our failing, our repeated failings, to bring forth what might be dead.
Drug Addiction and suicide are no joke.
Some people find it entertaining when those individuals croak.
Recovering and living I've seen both sides
I just wish people could live their lives.
Whether it's a pill, powder, or a needle
This epidemic can be unspeakable.
Whether it's a rope, gun, or a razor.
Society can make you feel crazier.
The addictions and the feelings are real
But unfortunately not everyone can heal
These things are not one bit bias.
Our surroundings are what supply us.
I've lost many to these addictions.
I was lucky enough to leave these conditions.
Ones I've loved and lost I wont forget.
Not helping more is definitely a regret.
There was a boy that was 18yrs old.
His heart not one bit cold.
Always laughing and smiling.
But on the inside he was dying.
He couldn't deal with the pain no more.
He felt it deep inside of his core.
At home he took a gun to his head.
That's where his parents found him dead.
There was a girl that was 22yrs of age.
Always in life she was engaged.
Her huge hugs that held me tight.
It seemed her life was full of light.
But then one day just changed it all.
I guess she felt she couldn't fall.
A needle in her arm led her to an overdose.
Lost yet another one that was so close.
A hard working man 37 and strong.
Always made people fell like they belong.
Family was his always his number one.
He got clean and figured he was done.
But the addiction took over one night.
Unfortunately he couldn't keep the fight.
The needle took him to a new place.
Now our earth cant ever see his face.
Beautiful and young another one.
Always happy and free and we had fun.
We would joke and laugh through the night.
Life had its struggles and that was in sight.
She couldn't continue on no more.
Her insides became way to sore.
She took her own life in a blink of an eye.
Didnt tell anyone she wanted to die.
26 a mother, still young and free.
Always was a happy smile she could see.
She had no fears in the world.
Everything in life must have twirled.
She gave in to her addictions.
She believed in every last conviction.
Her life was taken by an overdose.
There's no set lethal dose.
They dont all end bad, some turn out right.
Some are accidental, others are what's in sight.
But education and understanding is key.
If lowering the count is what we want to see.
It all started as fun like it usually does
Back when she was a great girl who'd always been beautifully loved
Way back before she'd been brutally touched
She goes out weekly and has a few drink like most teens
She doesn't let boys get close, only in their dreams
She goes to university to try and make her future career better
One day she gives in to peer pressure
She's scared when alone, but they don't feel Fear together
Her friends pressure her into popping pills
Now the world is not as real
She's feels high but low at the same time
Trying to think, but is struggling with her mind
She leaves the bar with a strange guy, who spoke kind words
There's no harm in a little flirt
Is what her friends say, but that night he gets her out of her skirt
Takes her home, but never calls back
Her whole confidence, begins to fall flat
Now she's doing lines of cocaine almost daily
Her and her friends haven't spoke lately
She's going off the rails, her friends should be keeping her on track
This is when her whole world starts to turn black
She used to say she'd only give a chance to a man who treats her
But her new man, disrespects and beats her
She knows her time is coming, she doesn't have long left
She keeps taking the wrong steps
Her dreams are broken and faith's lost
Her teeth are rotting and she's had a severe weight loss
We all know how enjoyable sex is
But she doesn't enjoy it, she's sleeping around for her next fix
As long as she gets the drugs she doesn't care about being respected
She's happy to continue destroying the beauty she was blessed with
There's places she doesn't want to visit on her next trip
She's not into small talk or sharing the facts
She's just doing what she can, for her next heroin bag
Her man beats her worse than before, because he finds out she has aids
No new beginning
No happy ending
No chance of winning
She's almost at the end of the chapter on her page
She's never been suicidal
But she's been caught in a vicious cycle
She grabs the knife and cuts until she bleeds
Tears in her eyes, right before her heart no longer beats
I wrote this based off the world we live in, so this girl doesn't exist
But there are plenty of true stories just like this
I wish this had a happy ending, because this girl was meant to set the world alight
But it's a sad story of how drugs ruined a girls life
Ancient Greek and Roman Epigrams
Stranger, rest your weary legs beneath the elms;
hear how coolly the breeze murmurs through their branches;
then take a bracing draught from the mountain-fed fountain;
for this is welcome shade from the burning sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here I stand, Hermes, in the crossroads
by the windswept elms near the breezy beach,
providing rest to sunburned travelers,
and cold and brisk is my fountain’s abundance.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sit here, quietly shaded by the luxuriant foliage,
and drink cool water from the sprightly spring,
so that your weary breast, panting with summer’s labors,
may take rest from the blazing sun.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is the grove of Cypris,
for it is fair for her to look out over the land to the bright deep,
that she may make the sailors’ voyages happy,
as the sea trembles, observing her brilliant image.
—Anyte, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is nothing sweeter than love.
All other delights are secondary.
Thus, I spit out even honey.
This is what Gnossis says:
Whom Aphrodite does not love,
Is bereft of her roses.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Most revered Hera, the oft-descending from heaven,
behold your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense
and receive the linen robe your noble child Nossis,
daughter of Theophilis and Cleocha, has woven for you.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Stranger, if you sail to Mitylene, my homeland of beautiful dances,
to indulge in the most exquisite graces of Sappho,
remember I also was loved by the Muses, who bore me and reared me there.
My name, never forget it!, is Nossis. Now go!
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Pass me with ringing laughter, then award me
a friendly word: I am Rinthon, scion of Syracuse,
a small nightingale of the Muses; from their tragedies
I was able to pluck an ivy, unique, for my own use.
—Nossis, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords: ancient, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, epitaph, epitaphs, lament, mourning, funeral, grave, death, death of a friend, dead, bereavement, eulogy, funeral, goodbye, loss
Given as a gift from Germany to Kabul zoo in Afghanistan
No fields to run in - just a miserable enclosed barren land
You were blessed with a beautiful lioness partner, Chucha
She must have made you feel no less than a majestic Shah
You survived against all the invasions, and the bloody wars
Behind those dark miserable cramped closed barren doors
You were a survivor, that against all the cruelly made odds
Was even threaten to be killed, by the unholy Taliban sods
But your loyal keeper fought for your life, using the Quran
With the prophet Muhammad to aid you to all understand
That an animal should be respected as he had his own pets
To kill Marjan’ would in the end only leave you with regrets
But you were brought down by an egotistical Mujahedeen
Who you killed for mauling your Chucha, for fun it seemed
In turn the killed brother gave you a hand grenade as a gift
As the damage caused was more than, un-deservedly swift
You lost your sight in one eye and near all of it in the other
Because of that un-deserving revenge of a grieved brother
You lost most of your teeth and with the blast your hearing
Yet you survived, to Afghans, you became more endearing
That they took it upon themselves to then kill this very man
For the ignorance of the situation as he did not understand
You had thought this man was a threat to your lioness pride
As it was in the end his own fault he was attacked then died
As the wars in Afghanistan raged, so did the famine drought
When it came to food for you there was too little of it about
But the Afghan people gathered in force to see you were fed
No one wanted the Shah Marjan from hunger be found dead
You came through all of this, skin sagging on a frame so lean
But for it all, never did once made you ferocious or be mean
Your beloved keeper walked with you, within your enclosure
Despite your injuries you always maintained your composure
Your name travelled the world, and they wished you the best
But near a quarter of a century, you as then laid yourself to rest
This tribute is to you mera jaan Marjan – the pearl of Afghanistan
May you always with Chucha, fly free, high above this desert land
Higher and higher, with the longed for eternal peace may you soar
As the winds carry along with it your once mighty and proudly roar
I went to visit her on the morning of Tuesday, March 14, 2017. Her name was still assigned to her room; so I went inside. There were bags on her bed, but no sign of my friend Beth. I questioned a nurse that was attending another patient, and she directed me to the front desk to make further inquiry. It was at that point I was informed that Beth had passed on.
Beth had departed for heaven, and I was four days late. About three years prior, after being informed by her niece of her whereabouts, I began visiting her. She was 95 when she passed away at the nursing home, having been in very poor health. She had deep longings for heaven.
There were many visits, and I was able to dialogue, sing, or read scripture with her. Although we had met some 30 years prior, she never really knew who I was when I came to visit. Her memory was gradually fading. However, when I came to visit, she always had a great smile, as if to say, "I don't really know him, but I'm loving these visits".
There were memorable visits with her, but none expressed her longings greater than her statement about a twin sister who preceded her in death. I observed a picture on the wall of Beth and her identical twin sister. I told Beth that I could distinguish her from her sister, and did so successfully. She then said in a very strong and serious tone that she was upset with her sister for going to heaven and leaving her here.
A memory barrier existed; the aging process and her health issues were breaking her body down; but I felt that the bond of friendship needed to be honored.
Within moments of being informed of Beth's passing, I was reminded of her comment about her sister and the 'longing' that I knew was so deep inside of her. As I turned and walked away, I quietly whispered, "She got her wish". 03232017cj PS
I was dreading my return to work. There would be a multitude of questions
especially by that sod, Riley. He and I had never gotten along; he was too weird. Death was desolating but an untimely death at the hands of a murderer seemed somehow a tiny bit worse.
I realized with a heartfelt pang that I had mourned until my eyes could not mourn any more. They were so raw already, the damage might be irreparable.
As a kind of glorious consolation Monday was a placid day. The sun was out,
the birds were singing, it felt like the first day of spring; although spring was a
few weeks away. There was a peaceful solitude when I arrived at the office.
The only car in the giant parking lot belonged to my boss, Howard. It was his old red Volvo, a monster car that we had always laughed about when we
were dating. Howard was the best kind of boss, smart, open-minded, friendly,
helpful, a great listener. As a date he had been a dud though.
I like wild boys - bad boys, not nice guys. I have no idea why, but if my adrenaline is not racing, you are not the one for me. Howard’s innocence made him seem dull to me. Yes, I think that was it. He was so quick to flush, inexperienced, I did not want him to know my wild side. I thought
it might jeopardize my job.
I would not mind having a few seconds alone with Howard
this morning. Dull was something I could do after this last week of hell. I raced up the concrete steps. When I reached the glass door my badge did not work. Dhram! I thought maintenance had fixed that.
Howard was in his office alone. I spoke to him briefly, as I could see he was not in a conversational mood, which was odd for him. His eyes were red, so I left. Sometimes work is not the best place to unleash a bunch of grief. When I reached my desk all of my things were gone. Cleared off.
I looked up and saw a giant picture of me and my boyfriend
Spider, on the other side of the room. What the ….? Irritated, I walked over there to get a closer look. Spider had been nothing but trouble lately.
A bright light surrounded me as I approached the painting. An angel was standing in the middle of it. You have said goodbye to Howard now. It is time, she said gently. I nodded. Ready now to take on a new endeavor; my real life. This one had never been what I was looking for anyway.
Awol on the aeorta,
I've built a wall around my heart,
Trying to suppress that which is grieving,
But it's still ripping me apart,
The night falls, elevating whispers,
From the silent gasps and muffled breaths,
Of a young lady in her twenties,
Crying alone and quite depressed, (left in distress)
I recognize her, I recognize this,
A mirrored scene like deja vu,
A woman weaping for a fallen soldier,
Only this time, I am you,
Those last moments start flickering,
Upon the gloomy, dark display,
Of closed lids, soggy eye-lids,
Projecting everything on replay,
My hands grasping the sheets,
My mind on forward and rewind,
As if on cue, I hear you too,
Amongst my stifled cries
My conscience replaying the voice,
Hunting me now is the sound,
Of those uttered words, that still disturb,
You sounding so sure, it's resound
"Call me, I'll be here", I hear you tell me,
Though your presence now lost,
A call too late, maybe on the wrong date
My sanity (it) shall cost,
"Call me, I'll be here", again it echoes.
Best said, forgiveness I now seek
My heart racing, my memory chasing,
Every essence of you makes me weap,
I still remember you crying in Daddy's ears,
Moments before he passed me the phone,
Yet when we spoke you changed your tone,
For me you wanted to be strong,
How alarming it was to hear you cry,
Like a leap year, (it was) a rare occaission
You stood tall and with pride, taking fear for a ride,
Standing at a whopping 5'11,
But it seems one day on Friday the 13th,
While you were stationed on the army base,
A gun was triggered, by the love of your life,
Which continues to baffle me to this day,
It was he, who you cried for when speaking to father,
A lost soldier conquering demons of the mind,
A mental affliction called PTSD
Deteriorated his spirit over time,
He was a soldier in pain, with PTSD,
Even more a father, a spouse, in distraught,
His sweet baby, The heart of his world,
Now the source of his paranoid thought,
Persistent accusations of cheating,
And all the places his mind did go,
The struggle he bore to fight those demons,
Now just part of the media’s show.
I try to find a level of understanding
But this battle I fight on my own,
As guilt consumes me, recurrent thought
Why hadn't I dialed your phone...
In time
Long ago in the short-time lively spring
In the grassy plains of a small island
Came from nonexistence a young sapling
Nurtured by the love of her mother’s hand
The world accepted her newfound nascence
Fueling her a love for joyfulness
Beaming out from the depths of her bright heart
A Happiness no being could contest.
With the blessings from the sapient world,
She quickly discovered a lifelong friend.
His solicitude for her unbounded,
They were surely a match made in heaven
They always walked together as one,
Carrying each other through life’s sojourn
Truly did the love between them abound
But all good times must arrive at an end
Her childhood soon sped by before her eyes
The novelty of memorable times
Fading into the dark depths of her mind
Pleasant memories like leaves in the wind
Her transition into adulthood near,
Deep concern for her friend’s future life flare
Taking no heed of her own life troubles,
She does what she can to help him succeed
At the zenith of springtime season’s bloom
She invited her dear friend to a club
A group of three girls all connected by
Their adoration of books and poems
It pleased her heart greatly to see her friend
Forming and bonding with new companions
Yet, unknown feelings of jealousy formed
As her indulgent desire for him grew
Like the swirling typhoons of the oceans,
The tsunamis that wash away cities,
Doubt flooded into her mentality
Confusing thoughts fogged rationality
She bottled up her true feelings tightly
Suppressed the complex emotions duly
Only ever showing her happy side
Wishing to see no concern from her friend
Each passing moment spent in the classroom
Watching his relationships with others
Deepening, evolving, and ascending
Left loneliness to consume her insides
For three days she tried hiding her sorrow
No longer could she veil her emotions
Despite her friend’s kind attempts to console
He only shatters her heart into shards
The following day, lying in her bed,
She looks up at her room’s ceiling and thinks
“Why get out of bed? Why am I still here?”
She recalls her friend, breaking into tears
That day, Sayori never came to school
Leaving her friend worried and bewildered.
In his concern, he traveled to her house
Only to find her hanging by the noose
I am in the midst of the woods,
With the heart filled silence,
Greeny trees shakes it's branch,
Brook in the woods reflects me while flowing......
Nature played it's own melody,
I am glaring the woods,
As it's beauty goes in vain,
With the heart filled silence.....
Trees with colourful fruits,
Enchanting flowers with dew drops,
Tries to pluck my wandering heart
Dew drops from my eyes saved my slipping heart....
Brook flows through the meadows,
Reflects my painful face,
As my Heart is in silence,
My fellow mind started making noise...
I am thinking of
The day when I left my buddy,
To gift her a special locket...
Forget to mind her precious words,
To make her happy on that windy day....
When I am back,
She is afar waving her hands,
Like a moving flower in the wind,
Her rosy face glanced like a last look..
I stood there with a gift to her,
Looking at her departure....
Rustling sounds woke me to follow her,
But I was late...
Without knowing that was her last day,
I waited for her long time..
But she didn't meet me again..
I heard only a news of her departure to heaven....
Brooks, trees and birds in the woods,
Whispers her last words to me,
Which I failed to mind on her last day..
Loaded by heart with arrows of thorns...
In the midst of the woods
My silence turned to whimpers..
As her last words enters my ears
DON'T FORGET ME FOREVER.
In the midst of the woods,
I want to shout like a heavy wind,
I wish to hold her hands and answer,
I will never forget you
BE WITH ME FOREVER.
Every minute of my silence,
Reflects her last day like mirrors...
Dew drops from my eyes rolls down...
Blowing wind soothes me and embraces me,
I wish It could be you came as a wind...
I don't know why you left,
I don't know your pain,
If I could go back to that day...
I would hug you and answer you,
And accompany you while you're leaving..
Years have passed five,
Still It was like yesterday...
Every silence is filled with your presence...
My characters has changed like your
Reflections...
Chirping of birds wakes me up,
I looked back it was already noon..
I walked back to my home from the woods...
Holding a locket which I bought for her,
With the rustling sounds to break the silence