Long Slumber Poems
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Regrets
Regrets hit hard
And run deep
Regrets will make
The tears from you eyes
Forever seep
Regrets are made
To remind you that
Into your past
You will always have to peek
When all you really want
Is to put them all to sleep
You want them to settle
Yet all around your head they creep
Regrets can plague you
And haunt you non stop
Taking away your sanity
Drop by irrational drop
Regrets play off your fears
Cause way too many tears
The time you go through it
All the wasted years
You let go by
You scream
But no one hears
You cry
But whose there to even try
To start understanding
The emotions you are going through
The only one who
Truly sees this is you
Regrets are never saying
What should’ve been said
To him and for that it’s the remembering
That you dread
Then saying to much
Regrets are losing
That certain special someones touch
A flood or rush
Of never ending unhappiness of such
Reminders of better times
Regrets are the first thing
You think of upon waking
You go through your day faking
About being okay
Regrets are the last thing
You think about before slumber
Leaves you feeling somber
Regrets yes I have many
Regrets have taken control
Thank God for my family and friends
Thank hold on, catch my fall and pull me back
Regrets cause me to lack
The self confidence, the skills needed
To on my own find my way back
Hopefully some day soon
I will no longer be in this gloom
Then I could put them to rest
And move on, forgive myself
For my past for which
I can longer change, it’s already written
My time would be better spent
With having no regrets
That would be a miracle
Which would be heaven sent
Beside the railway
barefooted I walk
into silhouetted trails:
And as twilight descends
upon cascading tears of nothingness~
old pavement darkens
until all I see
is a quandary
of black labyrinths
Leading me into indigo horizon.
Darkness besets me
like shadowed daydreams
that keep coming back
haunting me softly
whilst morose hymn soars
to night's phantasm.
In slumber I fall~
whelming in darkness;
As he comes closer to me
with eyes effulgent
melting in my dreams
my torch returning
and I no longer
wander in the dark.
15 April 2021
For " Anacreontic Verse Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Silent One
1st Place
Entered for “A Brian Strand Your Choice Poetry Contest”
Winter emerges from her slumber,
dazed and a bit bemused
feeling just a tad encumbered,
as Autumn leaves with a clap of thunder,
Winter realizes it's her moment,
Her time to reign over heaven and earth,
a silhouette of wondrous radiance,
she stands so pure and sparkling,
I can see and feel her presence,
but the world shivers from her essence,
the icy cold breath that envelopes them
is a white frosty blanket of snow,
even though they know she's coming
they still grumble and complain,
they bluster, bristle and never prepare
for the beauty we encounter,
as Winter gives her icy stare.
1/20/15
Four fast friends and I sailed away to war.
Our dreams were fresh, and we owned forever.
On Omaha beach a shell took Trevor.
His Spring life sap gushed on the stark seashore.
Joe’s gardens were the splendor of Summer.
Bright marigolds bloomed as his youthful kids.
One day a viper he woke from slumber,
Leaving a wife's love to life on the skids.
Autumn’s leafy mosaic graced the ricks
With eye-popping colors down to the cricks.
Ben went for a cheerful leaf crunching stroll
Heart failing, in woods he fell with a roll.
Winter memories parade back to view
Medal of Honor friends we bade adieux.
Shedding tears for things that cannot be passed,
Will and I are racing to finish last.
It was 1st July 2005
The day that changed my life
An holiday car crash terror
An experience of horror
Quick dash to hospital port
Put straight on life support
My conscience was asleep
I could hear but not see
I could feel touch but not pain
My husband tried in vane
To wake me from my coma
Holding my hand and shoulder
Talking and whispers in my ear
Get up and get out of here
Two weeks of unconscious
My husband was continuous
My slumber finally broke
From my coma I awoke
To hear devastating news
I couldn't believe the truth
My husband died at the scene
So was it all a dream?
Or was it all real?
An angel helped me heal
I am the seamless season of rebirth
That every year rejuvenates the earth,
Lays down carpets of green on the parched hiils,
Leads flowers to bloom in gardens and fields.
My hair is smiling sunshine, sunny bright,
A sparkling golden crown of morning light,
I awaken the world with wary hands
Across the sleeping, silent snowy land.
I softly share secrets to all the trees
To wake up from slumber, with a soft sneeze,
And buds slowly unfurl in soft and white
Like silent stars sparkling amidst the night.
I paint the meadows verdant green and gold,
A story whispered, endless ages old,
The dandelions, brave, brainy and bold,
Their sunny faces, men like to behold.
I melt snow on hills and river beds,
That erewhile frozen, start to flow instead,
I chase greyish nimbuus clouds on the blue
And sprinkle on earth, raindrops soft and new.
I stay a scheduled stretch, then start to fade
As summer`s searing shine begins to raid,
But leave behind a wholesome memory
Of beauty, hope, delight and ecstasy.
The woods have eyes that never close
And sounds which echo in the night
Its winds will haunt you as it blows
As shadows slither in pale moonlight
When footsteps are heard passing through
The owl asks 'who who who'
As a silhouette he spies
Moving deeper into the woods; but why?
And those whose fate with it are spun
Will wander through its leafy realm
And before the night unveils the sun
They slumber in the shadow of the elm
The woods have secrets it has kept
It knows where all the bodies are
Into the woods intruders crept
Their dark deeds done beneath the stars
1-8-19
Into the Woods Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Fiendish, they encapsulate strawberries;
Subliminal message makes mouths water;
Phantasms won’t let go of the fields
lost to the four winds of conflagration;
Subliminal message makes mouths water,
you can smell such a superb sweetness;
Lost to the four winds of conflagration,
smoke is no match for rich history;
You can smell such a superb sweetness,
esculent you taste but can’t find them;
Smoke is no match for rich history
writing a declaration into urban legend;
Esculent you taste but can’t find them,
an overwhelming vision overtakes you;
Writing a declaration into urban legend
shared at slumber parties for continuity;
An overwhelming vision overtakes you,
phantasms won’t let go of the fields;
Shared at slumber parties for continuity,
fiendish they encapsulate strawberries.
As the twinkling stars clung
to the ceiling of earth
they glittered as darkness
gave way to new birth
Fireflies flickered
and danced through the trees
as the rippling brook
made its journey with ease;
tripping and bubbling
o'er stones on its way
anxious for oceans
too eager to stay
The blue mist arose
and met up with the sky
as the creatures stood silent
to watch me walk by
With heart in contentment
my footsteps were light
aimlessly wandering
on through the night
Where was I going
and what lie ahead?
My sleepwalking soon
took me back to my bed...
...and resuming my slumber
with memories so sweet
the night in the forest
made dreaming complete
Unequally yoked didn't deny
common grace in an atheistic womb.
Half of the prayers were enough for him.
Blessed in health and time,
but reckless in his early years.
Under other tapestries laid all those fine linens of Egypt.
In each embrace, I placed a wager on just how slow your anger.
The hypocrite damns their own house.
Demons perched on the edge of puberty,
filled my son's eyes hopeless and left his rare word—flat.
Paper towels the papyrus of superficial coping
lines of scabs formed sleeves of braille
as the wages of sin reached for my son's throat mocking
two inpatient stays hanging in a precarious chemical salvation.
Another orphan from faith and repentance disobeyed,
juxtaposed with Job who lost ten.
Fear cultivated the prayers that grew
the humility that put your Son on the Cross,
and wouldn't gamble with mine.
Your general call turned effectual
A new volition has moved my son to gather
with those that feed the hunger
from the table of the Word.
When the hand of Grace shakes the elect
from their own slumber
in The Storm on the Sea of Galilee.
Taken back from Rembrandt's thieves,
no longer hidden away.
Beyond Jonah's anger that killed the vine,
and desecrated memories of seized temples
roam those ghosts of the giants of Lebanon.
Every idle word winnows the threshing floor
forever the wheat from the tare.
The solace that the chosen
are given in this life's labor
under The Cross that the world must hate,
divine regeneration gives the measures
of reverence and gratitude
for every thorn on this side,
and your Heaven full of treasures.