Long No hope Poems
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Each day, I long to feel your warm touch, your sweet affection,
Only truly satisfied when I’m yours and your hearts my possession.
Though rejection may linger, my heart will always stay,
I rise each morning eager, dreaming of you every day.
Misguided in the past by what I thought love could be,
I wandered through the shadows, feeling lost and empty.
Wondering why my heart felt like a fading, distant light,
Searching for the answers, with no hope I’ll ever find.
All my hopes of being loved became a distant fantasy,
Leading me to question if true love was really meant to be.
I came to terms with heartache, thinking love was just a game,
A fleeting, fickle notion, nothing to obtain.
Then, in divine timing, you stepped into my life,
From our very first encounter, my heart filled with delight.
You showed me real love, with no need for convincing,
Our hearts entwined so effortlessly, I found what my hearts been missing.
Yet beneath the surface, I battled demons deep inside,
In my struggle, I caused you pain, and your love began to hide.
How quickly a sweet melody can turn to disarray,
As if the devil beats the drums in a strings only symphony.
Then the pounding drowned the whispers of those I held so dear,
Pushing true love away that I looked for all these years.
But here I stand, despite my faults, ready to wait for you,
Forever sorry for the hurt, for all the pain I put you through.
If I never feel your love again before my time is done,
Know that hope of us has kept me living on.
It saddens me to think of a world where we’re apart,
The day death shall come, may it take my broken heart.
But as long as I have air that my solid lungs can breathe,
May one day it be shared with you, with you right next to me.
a veil descended upon his restless soul
converted into apathy and grave sadness
no need to take off the mask of shadows
there was no living persona left to reveal
he dreamt of Venetian Carnival nights
but the only seduction was an illusion
of free flowing movement in stagnation
Henry was well versed in nagging despair
he had been living a pantomime in disguise
a rebel with course that led to destruction
now in the naked light of nothing to show for
his drama was an epitaph without real prologue
curtains drawn and only mocking applause
script empty and the protagonist sidelined
a prompter whispering mindless nothingness
an epic disaster personified with no hope
he tore his bleeding heart out of pulsation
ready to sever his wrists in an almighty gush
yet only red make up trickled upon his face
and rescued a lonely narration never to be
17th July 2020
The unbearable grief he never wished for or imagined
made him a secluded man shunning all Humanity;
he clung to a feeble breath so void of each certainty,
telling himself he had to fight harder and be admired.
I saw him chasing clouds out of his bleary sky
with an urge stronger than desire, " Let no hope
be held from me, I deserve joy unlikely anybody."
What made change his mind staring at that rope?
How many bottles of rum he had stored in his hut?
Did the small paycheck he earned cover the hefty price?
At no vail, he tried to rob the local liquor store twice;
nobody bailed him out, prison brought despair not guilt.
He sits in the coldest room staring at the darkest sky,
who dares to shake his hand and lift him up to mollify
his confined spirit not emboldened by actual reality?
Help him overcome his dire loneliness and sobriety!
Jesus was dead
There was no hope
Disciples' dread
How could they cope?
Christ crucified
It was all o'er
Crowd stupefied
Death they deplore
Messiah killed
What more was left?
Dreams unfulfilled
All felt bereft
Laid in the grave
Still Saturday
Some sign they crave
To pave the way
Silent sadness
Could not believe
This mute madness
They could not grieve
They had to wait
For one more day
To witness great
Miracle sway
Patience tested
They did not know
One day rested
Christ would then show
What did they do
On Saturday?
The select few
Had lost their way
Led by Peter
They went fishing
No wait's sweeter
When faith's missing
Let us rejoice
Sunday's coming
Crush Satan's voice
Rout doubts numbing
One day will change
Your lifelong wait
A marvel strange
Resuscitate
Christ rose again
On the day third
Let's say Amen
God proved His Word
No dejection
No need to mope
Resurrection
Needs patient hope
Ice Ages Come With Colder Days
By February March moves on to centuries
Still the sky comes laden with atmospheric vapor
As light as ice, clouds abundance falls to the ground
As thaw fails to gather life’s potential
If nature could take her pulse it would be cold
As it turns whiter in the depths of endless frost
It moves much slower
Birds fall from trees, snow dusted cotton balls
Frozen, wrapped in winter gowns
Ice laden, as thermometers grow longer
To accommodate the permafrost engaged
Temperatures plunge next to zero
Stretched, bound to solid rocks
But why bother with the calculus
When the net effect is O
Where can barometers go but down
Where zeros abound out numbered
Devices known to man stop time
Unwind realities effects on climate
Blizzards lay out the land with no regrets
With blinding wind and white theatricals
Lost directions and compasses offer no hope
No protection in the endless snow
Where are the strawberries this year?
Why do blueberries not come to crop?
Dropped out of boundaries is Spring
Colored butterflies fly off the wing
Adopted by Winter it would seem
Frozen leaves hold on to cold
As on the trees they cling to memories
Fall spinning into muddied puddles
Turned to ice by dim moonlight
Reflecting lake’s late midnight
Sounds so quiet, so serene, as if not audible
Make their way to invisibility, silent in the air
Drift silky into mysteries of crystal ice
To nowhere special, collecting what air has to offer
Which is somewhere around but where
Words can not describe the inside outs of Winter
Ice ages are unforgiving, lasting for centuries on
For eons, music is unheard where it once abounded
Unearthed to be recovered in melodies un-listened to
Songs remain unsung however without the living
A world has yet to be discovered colder than our own
No one sings a song with no one there to sing along
Passion – on the road to death
January 28th 2008
I thought I had found a path towards the light –
on my way to the end days of this, my life.
This to be my last adventure into the realms of love.
This, my last throes journey into the kingdom of heartache,
as my tears cry out – fears scream in pure agony
as passion – my love dies on the vine – not accepted.
Not appreciated !!!
This state, tears at the very fibers of my broken heart,
ripping my jute bound pride, self-worth, ego, to shreds,
leaving me no hope, just some beautiful memories – experiences to carry this defeated,
subjugated, old soul – onward.
Onward ?, towards what ?, can the beauty I fell for,
be duplicated ?, replicated ?, in the soul and body of another.
Once in thirty years – since – is to much ! – not enough time.
I will be long gone before another beauty could come along –
and so, before me lives, grows more alive each day -
a painting - as the model fades away,
image, in oil, the naked body of my last dream.
My last Love !!!
B. J. “A” 2
January 28th 2008
We can't hear you
Your voice was so loud
Few years back
When you were all around
Our communities
All around our streets
All around our schools
All around us we could
See you always
With louds words of hope
From our windows
At home we could hear
Even your big loud speakers
Of campaign
We could hear you so
Clear with out getting
Close to you
So why can't you speak now
Oh man speak up
We can't hear you
We can't hear you
Your voice was the loudest
Every sunset on our hot streets
But so sad all you said
Were just mere words
They were just echo to the air
You were just a waste of an era
Cos you bleed betrayal
You bleed porverty
You bleed death
You bleed atrocities
You never bleeded for our good
And when we cry to you
You remain mute
And now it's so hard to see you
It difficult now for us to hear you
Suddenly you became an invisible leader
And even when we found you
When you speak to us
You speak like you've forgotten
All your promises
There is no hope in your voice no more
And the saddest thing is now all the while
You speak wasting our time
You never spoke nothing
Reasonable and more worst
After all
We can't hear you
Oh, shattered and broken
after my husband's accidental death!
My life was darkness and tears,
I was in a pit of pain with high walls,
and no hope-
I lost my job and was collecting- welfare
humiliated- I moved back home with Mom and Dad
He died way too soon
after the babies death!
I wanted to be strong. I
looked deep into my soul, and found nothing-
even wished to end my life-
to break free of the imprisonment.
I wanted to cast off the cloak of death!
Oh, just to end the captivity!
And I dreamt of the sea, that blue
chasm, always struggling, never surrendering
seeking its path. And I listened and
found deep inside of me a little bird
singing. And she was growing
stronger. Her song
mighty, full of hope and courage.
Then, one day she broke free!
And a broken wing-
did not hold her back
and she just flew and flew-
_________________________
April 19, 2017 (Repost)
Poetry/Verse/Broken
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1518-120-19
All Rights Reserved, 2017, Constance La France
(Written for a PS contest, NA, Judged in 2017)
Submitted into the Standard contest, Second Chance
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 01/18/2023
Honorable Mention
harsh cold wind howls
steel gray clouds low over head
racing quickly torn to shreds
merging coldly into the sea
whitecapped waves flung by the wind
ice cold spray flung in the sky
crashing down upon ancient stone
of ruined dock vacant there
pitted stone pillars of ancient stone
baring lint stones falling down
as the wind howls between
tearing at banners of what once was
empty square of weed choked stones
lined by buildings fallen in
devoid of people who once were
city empty locked-in death
long lost road passes by
overgrown by lining trees
pitted with holes of missing stone
a lone traveler passes by
traveling on a lost errand
cold and wet from passing storm
seeking shelter from the cold
see no hope in city dead
wondering of the city dead
lying upon the angry sea
lying in death no people there
wondering of what once was
how did the great city die
and stone harbor abandon be
what of the people who once here was
passing by not knowing why
Music Of The Damned
The pounding beat of a drum
The haunting call of a guitar
The woeful sound of a saxophone
A singer singing the thoughts I have
Thoughts I cannot share
All heard in the darkest of night
Alone with my thoughts and the thoughts of the singer
I hear how life is not worth living
How there is no hope
How there is no chance of a future
Depression reaches into my very soul
Tearing me apart at the seams
I listen, absorbing every word
Letting the notes control my heartbeat
My head throbs as I listen
My hand reaches to table next to me
A thin sliver of shiny metal
Sharpened by men who didn’t know how it would be used
The singer had no idea what his words could do
The last note of the song matches my last breath
My heart beats to an ever slowing beat
It stops as the drummer screams
The song ends and so have I
Just the last victim of the music of the damned