Long Heartbreaking Poems
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Nature brings us such astonishing beauty,
and one of the most lovely sights is Flamingos.
Whether they are in a huge group or two by two,
or a pink mother and baby with feathers new;
light gray feathers than will in time have a pink hue.
Flamingos are in truth quite bizarre and grotesque,
with their long necks and long, long legs and odd faces;
comical how they stand and even sleep on one leg.
They love to gather around a shallow lagoon or lake,
oh, such a breathtaking sight - it makes my heart ache;
they look so unique that at first you may think they are fake.
These ancient birds can live up to 60 years of age,
spending their day eating algae, crustaceans and bugs;
they are quite peaceful and tranquil but do have enemies,
one is man, too many have been captured from the wild.
You know what I mean if you have been to a zoo,
you really didn't think that to the zoo- they flew;
but there is another bird that likes them, too.
The Lappet-faced Vulture Buzzard consumes Flamingo,
this huge, powerful old world bird who also eats carrion;
has been known to hunt Flamingo adults and chicks.
Nature gives us both fantastic beauty and heartbreaking horror,
yet, even Buzzards have a beauty in their skills.
The in air cartwheels and soaring, the high-pitched crying,
spectacular displays that show off their awesome flying;
but, to hunt Flamingo is just dreadful - no denying.
____________________________
January 9, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/Painted Pink By Nature
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1102-481-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Scewed XX
sponsor, Rob Carmack
Ninth Place
Received, NA in Buzzards and Flamingos Contest,
Judged, 1/29/19
When amidst broken equals, we approved,
Ere a freed grain of nomadic sand slipped,
Melancholic surrendered, whole reproved,
Monitor the saved life single and stripped.
Two separate paths once joined normally,
One courses happiness, opposite naught,
Depraved, unprincipled, lived lukewarmly,
Blossomed languishes, internally fraught.
Provocative commencement surefire fade,
Arrangements, invites, sent cancellations,
Heartbreaking embattles a soul betrayed,
Evoke mother's "time out", do causations.
Solely talks like being ere his gravestone,
Passersby ask he says, "Gauging my own."
In New Jersey
I started meeting David
for many years
once a month
When encountered something important or heartbreaking
couldn't see each other
When we ate at a cheap restaurant
or enjoyed eye shopping
Inexpensive but delicious and full of kindness
We also went to the local pizza store
these are all
no matter what
happy greetings
we spent time with a grateful heart
we parted
hugging with a smile
David never married
lives underground
have few friends
relatives are in Arizona and Alaska
but his blessings are the source of my strength
David couldn't paid for food, shopping, or pizza for 12 years
But we never felt strange
however, Last month
David promised
To listen to my favorite classical music better
to buy a CD player
I ask for a phone call
"David, do you have money?"
David laughs and says "a little bit"
i am happy
David will be happier than I am
Finally, tomorrow is the day.
I am trying to find, what to write,
When I don’t fight with my lover,
I write sweet little love poems,
Which She never likes it, she never reads it.
The dilemma grows in my mind,
My thoughts are getting bottled up,
It needs venting, it needs a release,
No need to fight it, I must write it in words.
When I am choking with pain in lonely nights,
I am struggling to be with my lover,
I am not going to fight to hide my emotions,
I am going to write a heartbreaking song.
There must be many turmoils in life,
Simmering inside my heart for long,
No need to fight, but write the feelings in words,
Someone will read it; my heart will find some peace.
May be this effort will release all my secrets,
But the struggle to speak the truth rises in me,
If I can write a sonnet, it will be a great relief,
I assure myself please, do not fight it, write it, no one will read your sonnet.
One of the most difficult experiences we have as humans is leaving someone we love with our whole being. It is heartbreaking to accept that someone we love is really bad for us.
This acknowledgement and acceptance can take years but the key thing to remember is that it doesn't have to diminish the love in our hearts.
We can let these souls go with love and light and the understanding that no one belongs to us. And no one is lost to us. It's just part of the life path we are on. We'll be connected eternally at a higher level.
Hold hands and fly through space
By Michelle Morris
20/06/2024
It took me so very long to accept
That you were not right for me
All my love and light and longing
Would have to be there eternally
Where we are joined together
Connected throughout space and time
No longer in a relationship on this life path
But sent in different directions through our lives
These lessons can seem particularly brutal
Especially if we have so much invested in them
But, there is a rhyme and reason for it all
We won't always know whilst we are living
And as we move through the rhythms
The heartbeats and heartbreaks that we know
We'll experience the ebb and flow of emotions
And eventually learn acceptance and let go
Don't be sad if you don't see me again
And I'll do my best to do the same
Let's focus on the joy we've shared
And learn to keep dancing in the rain
Where the rainbows and sunshine find us
Dishevelled and messy and glorious
For our souls are not here to play it safe
We're meant to rise and shine victorious
I will think of you often, my love
I'll remember the warmth of your hands
I'll focus on the love and the blessings
As I live through the passing of sand
The hourglass can never be replenished
Those sands only move one way
But we know that we are eternal souls
And we'll see each other again one day
So, keep me in your heart and soul
Keep our memories close always
I'll look for you as I watch the stars
When we hold hands and fly through space
© Michelle Morris, 2024
I cried at the Wall today
I can’t explain why.
These were men, boys, who lost
their lives for me.
I never met them, I never will.
But their sacrifice,
their willingness to put it all
on the line for love,
honor, duty, God, Country
Astounds me.
Every name, every etching, every
panel, every letter, so sad
so moving.
So heartbreaking that they
weren’t welcomed home, their
fight forgotten.
We stand, staring at their names,
photos, drawings, poems left
behind by those who really
knew them, or didn’t
I cried, silent sobs heaving my chest
I can’t explain why
Unless you already know
Living apart is that thought so unimaginable,
separating these hearts is so heartbreaking;
how could we hold hands and not be listening
to our breaths when silence is undeniable?
Let intuition put some sense in us,
as wise as we are, we can't go past that line
and not understand that staying together is fine;
how hard is it to give up what delights us?
Considering the unhappiness
we'll bring upon ourselves
in a matter of a few seconds
is not worth rowing the paddles
of this boat that is about to drown:
all that will be left is a terrible frown!
Separating these hearts is so heartbreaking,
it's something we never saw coming;
we can consider a possible solution,
getting rid of the hurdles that hold up a solution!
Living apart is that thought so unimaginable,
separating these hearts is so heartbreaking;
how could we bear the distance and silence...
never longing for arms and words that amaze.
How could we fall asleep feeling loneliness inside?
Whoever feels alone knows it's too impossible
to close the eyes and dream of a moon that's shining!
Friends saw us laugh and smile,
we ignored them all the while,
and running against the sunshine seasons,
we took all without leaving none;
we were greedy and unkind...
we loved life more than ourselves...
and floating among clouds we heard no sound...
deliriously chasing dreams!
for the unpleasant things, we have done.
Separating these lips from yours
is a concept so inconceivable,
missing each other is harder than anything
we expected to make us tremble...
from the coldeness if shadows coming!
You were taboo
The one we didn't talk about
A faint memory shaping my life.
You were a presence
Real once now gone
But you lingered in our minds.
You were the curiosity
The one I couldn't ask about
Starting tears and days of sadness
You were the obsession
the one kept secret
But I took note every time you were mentioned
I hold close every vague detail
wanting to learn
The storyteller is gone and I'm searching.
I rummage through her things
looking for you, and there are few answers;
So few pictures and a small box of writings
Some may deem it easy;
Asking your siblings or mine.
Breaking through the wall of silence
takes more breath than I have.
And so I sit with a box of letters and poems
Trying to put together the essence of you.
Heartbreaking notes--
their love and contents painful and rare
too brief sentiments--
sent from reaches of the world.
Strophes, carefully crafted and guarded
Lest parts be deleted in transit.
I look at my own scribbling
And I see part of you,
A precious part, that no one else shares.
I guard it jealously hording it away from the light.
This is the one part they cannot have.
This is the only part I have and they don't.
They have memories,
I wonder if they can be persuaded;
I wonder if they'll share.
I'm just getting to know you,
but, perhaps, I had
one of the best parts all along.
About Langston Hughes’ Suicide Note
My intention is not to offer an exegesis
We can all remember the kiss of Judas
Which of course was a death sentence
The twelve words of Langston Hughes remind me
Of the dozen disciples seated peacefully
Around Jesus for his inevitable sentence
I said too much already. The Poet’s temptation
Was heartbreaking and it caught everyone’s attention
About death, about suicide, about drowning
In the calm, cool face of the river, for a kiss, for nothing
Suicide is deadly serious; it is losing life, losing wellness
Everything forever. Depression is a serious mental illness.
P.S. Please read the twelve words of Langston Hughes’s poem.
Copyright © August 2023, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
Last Will and Testament
I think ?, I have known all along
that one day, you would be gone,
as the days – for me – where few,
not much left – for me – from you.
Everything I have said - you have read.
there is not a word - you have not heard,
and so my dear, what is there left for me to say
to squelch the fear, in some compassionate way ?
Brighten up – for you and me – this sad, sad day.
The days we have known, now come to an end.
count upon you ?, will not know, can not call friend.
As you depart, step from my Probe, silver gray,
on your way into the light of a brand new day.
My soul sits silent – not a word – nothing more to say
for it all was – had been said – about the way
in which you left me, many times before, and that day.
Silence, it appears, is to be my fate,
darkened corridors, nothing you state
to enlighten – closure, none – no clean slate
as you move on, behind you, lock the gate.
I leave to L. B. - silence – I bequeath, to her, freedom.
Freedom from me, my presence, my thoughts, my feelings.
Freedom from my words, my prose and poetry of enlightenment,
enlightenments twisted by the prisons, the prisms of her mind
that have prevented her from enjoying, - with a clear conscious.
This I understand, for I know the life she has chosen in the light of
her nurturing, her nature and how they have come together
to create the heart and soul of this troubled young lady.
I bequeath to Linda, my acceptance, ( disappointing and heartbreaking
as this may be ), and my forgiveness ( for all ) for her termination
( in silent avoidance ) of our ?, friendship.
I leave to L. B. my heartfelt, best wishes for her new freedom ?, to enjoy
the relationship she has been cultivating for some time and for the
adventures that may come her way, as I, in specks, in slivers, in flakes,
flakes of fading light that vanish from sight as the wind changes
and I become not but a distant, fading memory, lost,
behind the steel doors of those dark corridors in her memories hoard .
Signed this 29th day, in the of our lord, 2004
Wm. J. Atfield Jr.
B. J. “A” 2