Long Pain and love Poems
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A surreal vision
dreamlike and bizarre.
I felt as if I were in the throes
of a turbulent blazing blizzard,
a throbbing pulsating migraine
almost static in fermentation.
It gnawed intensively at my innards,
atrocious labor pains.
She put a small wet warm towel
Right on my forehead.
Then relief.
A calming of the spirit,
ethereal, soft, relaxing.
A vision of vastness
dotted by languid lakes,
rippling rivulets,
autumn-colored trees,
eternal waterfalls,
and myriads of emigrating geese.
I slept, feeling you besides me,
warm, homely, and satisfying.
Precisely why I loved you.
22 April 2021
Placed 1
Writing Prompt - Ache - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
The clouds above me darken, as I sit here reminiscing about my past.
It's a challenge to invest in and build relationships that are not meant to last.
Some memories are pleasant, others not so much.
Recalling your last touch.
Indeed, I'm trying to learn from my mistakes.
No matter how long it takes.
I've seen it all before, we've decided to go our separate ways.
In a matter of minutes, in a season of rage, the decision is given.
Shall we find it in our hearts to one day, be forgiven.
How did we get here, replacing hate with love?
Touching the sky above.
Unknown it is to me, the fantasy of a happy ending.
Maybe we were both pretending.
It all only exists in fairytales, played during innocence.
I no longer have a guilty conscience.
We both failed, each other, staying out of convenience.
Yes, people experience pain and love, at times, together.
But today I realize that nothing, lasts forever.
It is now winter in my Canadian world,
the ground and trees draped in pure white;
and the wind is frigid cold- howling a song,
yet, I bundle myself up for an ice-kissed walk.
Into the forest crisp and crackling I stroll,
to meander a solitary walker thinking;
and bare trees groan in the north wind blowing,
soon, I notice the abandoned birds nests hanging.
Hanging in the forks of bare branches high in tall trees,
last years birds nests hang abandoned leaving a rotting mess;
of sticks, twigs, leaves, feathers and mud and whatnot,
but, as I stand there I ponder these bird nests.
Thinking this mess- is like my past memories,
an assortment of ruin, decay, of pain and love twined;
oh yes, I have woven my own nest of sorts,
and it hangs from my memory swaying back and forth.
I wish at times a great wind would blow it to pieces,
but, I would probably miss the rotting mess;
all those pieces of me entwined so delicately over time,
for the strength of this nest of mine makes me who I am.
_______________________
November 17, 2019
Poetry/Narrative/This Nest of Mine
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1199-061-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
this is about pain and love
when i listen to myself
i hear bitterness, anger,
longing, hurt
frozen in time,
never aging
i was 25 years younger
46 years later,
i’m 21 years older
i never think of him as
what he’d be like today
never about “what if” now
it’s always then
everything was black or white
half good, half not so much
the good was shared,
the rest, rarely
he had all the control
like everyone else,
i waited for his next move,
his direction
on the rare occasions
he needed a lamb
i was the one
on the alter
when we said “see you later”
for the last time
he knew we would never
see each other again
and that he screwed up
i could see it in his eyes
hear it in his voice
there was so much unfinished
he didn't know
who or what else to be
he was reflective,
as if asking,
“does it have to be this way?”
if he had asked
i wouldn’t have had an answer
i wanted more
of what little there was
and or at least some of
what i didn’t get
that was never
going to be possible
i’ve finally come to terms
it’s been a long goodbye
sunlight on the son,
shining like a star.
king of the world,
the man from afar.
his army of peace,
come to stop the war.
a hint to the rich,
a hand to the poor.
the princely posture,
standing nice and straight.
the life that we live,
will come down to fate.
let the magic free,
dancing like a fool.
we all have to have,
some kind of fuel.
The night falls like snow,
lying on the bed.
and doing those things,
that turns a face red.
Don't try to know why,
life is confusing.
sometimes it is nice,
not the abusing.
Only time will explain,
why there's pain and love.
and when we will meet,
this god from above.
As our lips meet for our undisclosed appointment, I slowly get a picture of those green and blue waves in your eyes
It makes me feel like the ocean if the waters under the sun were to smile,
She is my own personal sunset, and I hope for her that I could be the sky,
Always to cherish and hold rain or shine,
We complement each other like pain and love, roses and thorns, day and night, misery and company, happiness and sadness, or better yet r&b
Yellow light blinking telling my heart to slow down, but who doesn’t speed up right before red
I want to love you softer than an r&b song and harder than my stubbornness
You know the feeling you get as the beat slowly washes over you and the melody holds you and just makes you move side to side
Let me be that for you as you lay down close to my chest and my fingers run through your hair
I hope you feel a little bit of vibrations as my lips move from your forehead, to cheeks, to your lips and then stay there for a little longer like the end of a song fading out
But I am just getting started if you are ready you don’t even have to tell me
I know what you need when you are lying next to me and turn away, or caress my chest in slow circles, or fit your head right between my neck
Together we move like cursive except we never disconnect
In sync but never close to a good bye, standing by the door of regret
Cinderella this is the last song but not the last dance
When you feel down, I promise to sing “don’t worry about a thing, because every little thing is gonna be alright…”
Just right, like that song you know?
p.s. your rhythm keeps me going when the song goes off and my blues try to cry…
Silk merchant 's gaze, a practical sweep,
Fine thread he seeks, where shadows sleep.
A finger points, with eager grace,
"This crimson hue, a rare embrace!"
Young maiden stands,with eyes so deep,
My mother's hand, it secret keep.
The silkworm spun a crimson stain,
Where pain and love, did interwine.
"Her wounded hands, the thread did hold"
A sacrifice, a story to told.
The silk, it glows, with life's own fire,
A mother's love, that "burns no higher".
Merchant's hand is still it's quest,
A sudden weight, upon his breast.
No words he speaks, no price he names,
But feels the sting, of hidden flames.
He sees not silk, but crimson Tide,
Where love and loss, forever ride.
The silent tears, the woven plea,
A mother's heart, eternally.
~Byeol
Love that I see so deeply within his eyes
Words not being spoken, yet I hear every word he's said
Moments taking place so that I realize what I'm feeling is real and far from being in disguise
Trusting that my heart is so done with being bled
Feelings through everything we both have dealt with and still the love for him is not dead but
very much alive
The kind of emotions to where I lose control upon him looking at me let alone to feel his touch
Passion between the two of us so strong he's the only one to which can bring that out in me
so ravenously that sweet surrender only he can provide
Knowing this time with him is what I've longed for so much
Sweet pain and love to which becomes one in the same
Time at this moment I feel there's nothing to lose and everything to gain
Bewitching movements that takes ones' breath away
Sensuality brewing so high no one or nothing can bring me down
Hoping I will continue to feel the same even after today
Excasty full filed for both he and I
Time has now again captured another sweet memory made as he raptures me with his arms
all around
Leaving me to believe that true love never dies
Oh, how my heart is shattered,
and my thoughts are scattered;
on this day of your young death,
on this day of your last breath.
I recall a sweet May day,
with the songs of birds so gay;
after- I strolled in the blue,
where a bird came (I think was you).
I promise to plant you a garden bright,
with flowers swaying and birds in flight;
each May- I will do this for you Mom,
I will plant you a garden calm.
Oh, how my heart is shattered,
and my thoughts are scattered.
____________________________________
May 3, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/My Thoughts Are Scattered
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1141-474-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Applicable Not Applicable,
sponsor, Richard Lamoureux
Third Place
Note: I wrote this poem for a contest recently and it received an
NA. I was so sure the sponsor would feel the pain and love in my
words. My Mom, Jacqueline died at 69 years old after suffering
for many years. When she passed I not only lost a mother but
also my best friend in the world. There is an empty place in my
heart that will never be healed. Mom loved gardening and I grew
up with a huge garden of flowers so I made her a promise that I
would plant a garden in her honor each year. It is more than just
flowers, it is a tribute to my Mom, but I am not the gardener Mom
was, gosh she knew all the Latin names and she would be talking
about a flower and I would say,"Mom, just tell me what color it is!"
The sepulcher within its confines hold
a withering shell where once a grand life spent
a journey both of joy and discontent -
of pain and love and stories left untold.
Too simple and complex I contemplate
mortality where souls are briefly weighed,
and conscience where the weight of sin is paid
against a deed of good that came too late.
So...what of death, a tax that must be paid,
and measured by the value of my worth?
It matters not - the plaintive cry "I tried"
when even that was honest truth betrayed.
Each day anew I celebrate my birth -
and not regret a humble life that died...