Long Tearfully Poems
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This coming New Year
Brings with it scattered rose petals
Flowing tearfully in the air
And I dream
Of Love, picking them up one by one
To assemble them in some sort
Of unique bouquet,
Handing which to me
He would say,
Here, this is the love that you have
Been dreaming of!
The coming New Year
Brings with it angelic vibes,
Which would gather at Love's bedside
When he would be ready to fall into slumber
And would
Sing to him,
The need to open his soul
To the mysticism wanting us to be!
They would play those heavenly tunes
For him, listening to which
His heart would reach out to mine
With a sure and strong grip!
The coming New Year
Brings with it, a pen and a notebook,
Using which we would both
Write of our story here,
Of why we have chosen to be with each other,
Loving each other with all of our senses
Forsaking everything else,
And merely living for Death,
That power which would allow us
To be back there from where we fell,
There, where the Gods, in all of their manifested forms,
Want us to be!
This coming New Year,
Brings with it raindrops,
Which would be collected by Love,
And which he would use to
Mend my broken heart,
Healing me in the process,
And allowing me to say,
I knew I had to believe in that faith
Gifted to me by those skies!
This coming New Year,
Brings forth more dreams,
In the forms of revelations and insightful guidance
From those powers which we can grasp not
But which have chosen us for the purpose of love!
These will play in our waking moments,
As fluidly as do our favorite songs
And upon these, we shall walk on the way,
As mindfully as would a diver
Seeking to collect pearls from the bottom of the ocean!
This coming New Year
Brings forth fairy tales,
Horses, unicorns, duties, love,
Kisses, forgiveness and joie de vivre!
Why,
Are the New Year's dreams
Not romantic?
Are they not poetic?
Are they not fulfilling,
Heart warming even?
Of course, the magic with which they are imbibed
Rests upon the wills of faith
And I
Blindly adhering to these
Shall keep dreaming more intensely
Of those dreams of the new year!
Written on 15 Dec 2019
Frantically I turn the pages tearfully with agony
Reluctant to close my eyes to virtual reality
Ageless love, to mend this fragile heart I plea
Giving up is not a choice, please be still
Inexpressible beating heart, I need your -
Love to be perfect once again in the waves of sea
Eternal rest of raining trees and darkness be
Hold me so I won’t fall apart . It isn’t easy; a wreath I emit
Every part of me that grieves, you saw to depart
A fragile heart living behind as I breathe you in
Relentless my heart sinks deep in twisted pain endlessly
That part of peace that last forever my heart is yours
10/18/2016
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Contest Name : Fragile Hearts-Acrostic
I’m lost, the snow’s so deep, red scarf left as a mark, but gone,
I need to nap, a busy night, Santa and Rudolph will miss me
Sleep, I must sleep, so tie my shoe around a tree with thorn,
Must prepare for dread, for what lies ahead, a villager passing heard
My sleepy voice, and from beneath a steep pile of snow peeped out
A blue sleeved arm and shoe-less foot, so he awakened me,
I would freeze in this bitter breeze, a hot glass of milk is
What you need, the stranger said, so tearfully I did explain,
I feared a wolf with fang, poor tired Santa forgot to head count,
Please help, all I know is address North Pole, so elf and stranger
Walked hand in hand, leaving footprints in the snow like sand,
Was this stranger assigned, of course we know he was, with speedy swirl,
Found themselves in Santa’s house, beside his spouse, address North Pole.
A miracle Santa declared and looked around, but no-one was there!
Competition Entry: Footprints
Dated: 02/05/2021
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire
Oft we hear that trite, well-worn phrase,
"Oh! How I long for those good old days!"
I admit at times I pine for those days and reminisce,
Comparing costs then and now and other things I miss.
You could fill your Studebaker's tank for about a dollar.
If gas exceeded nineteen cents a gallon, my how folks would holler!
Fifteen cents would buy a triple crowned ice cream cone,
And you didn't pay outrageous surcharges for a telephone!
Mr. Sears would send stuff to build a house for a thousand bucks,
Or, for about a thousand more, a splendid beauty far more deluxe!
A car cost about six-hundred bucks if bought from Mr. Ford,
Some with a rumble seat and of course a standard running board!
You'd pay ten bucks for weekly grub, more than you could tote,
And for five bucks, provide each of the kids with a winter coat.
For a nickel a Clark or Power House candy bar could be had.
A quarter would get you to a movie, with popcorn, I might add!
Alas, the cost of living will surely rise for each coming generation.
Fellers smarter than I blame it on something called inflation!
Years from now the grandkids will look back and tearfully recall,
That the house we paid twenty-thousand for wasn't bad at all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
White waves that crash upon the shore,
An aestheric sunset,amber and raw,
Dusky sands peppered with the ash of bones,
A vigour of blue,leaves every heart wanting more,
Stroking her beautiful cheeks,he saw,
In the depth of her eyes ,a place forlorn,
Her golden eyelashes covered her brown core.
A beastly wind,the drastic thunder,
the pour of rain,feeds the pitiless storm,
The sky,a greasy course tarnished with white,
Souls flash in the rain, immoral blunder,
Their eyes shine with sin in bloody forms,
Lips that tearfully wronged the right,
As reckless as thunder,a handsome blunder.
The serenity of the chirps,
Serenading birds on the peak of the branch,
The beautiful monsters of nature,
Just like the soul in her eyes,they rise up,
To him she's beauty in an avalanche,
A beast without a nomenclature,
A spirit in her charm,disturbed.
The beauty of drops of dew on the grass,
Energies of gushing waterfalls,
Or mere ripples that grace the stillness,
She was a breeze that wore off the brass,
A dreadful reality,to him calls,
Like a painful,incurable illness,
He learns that his apparition won't last.
“The Difficulty Of Change”
Written: By Tom Wright
2-18-2006
I’m sure it’s been a most daunting task,
Parting with things you held most dear.
But in God’s light you continue to bask,
Seeking guidance to combat your fear;
Another location you’ll now call home,
Though it may not seem quite the same;
To neighbors, you’ve tearfully bid shalom,
For a new milieu and neighbors name;
Age has crept among us on velvety paws,
There’s but one escape to this fact given.
You have lived upright, obeying God’s laws,
And your witness has been most driven.
The mental mementos of life you hold,
Now, summon from mind’s corners deep.
But continue on in Christ, being bold,
Until, in Christ, you are called to sleep;
One day as I laid in the ER bed.
Thoughts of dying ran thru my head.
This time I thought, I might not pull thru.
Lord I'm not sure how, but I must trust You.
I surrendered my fear to Him and just let go.
I was trying to predict an end that I didn't know.
Suddenly two people came my way.
Bringing words of comfort and a desire to pray.
Next they moved me to the "Cath Lab" preparing to start.
A procedure called a "Conversion" to reset my heart.
As they prepped everything for the procedure to begin.
The Nurse said "Hey Doc! he's back in Sinus Rhythm again!"
They stood down on the procedure and prepared me for home.
My praying wife by my side, thanked God nothing else was wrong.
In the morning afterwards, at about 3:45 am.
For me that's the best time to fellowship with Him.
I said tearfully "Father, please speak to me!"
Even though it is over, I'm still scared somewhat you see."
I wrote down the next seven thoughts that came to my head.
I knew it was God and this is what He said!
I made the body you're in and I also made you.
With Me nothing's impossible, or no thing I can't do!
I was there in the ER and Procedure room too!
My word say's I'd never leave or forsake you!
I also said trust in Me with all of your heart.
You are to believe only and let Me do my part.
I am the Lord God, that healeth thee!
I am your Shepard, just listen to Me!
It is I who says when, how or who it is will leave!
I also promise to comfort those left here to grieve.
How can you be sure this is Me that you've heard?
Check in your bible, does it line up with it's words!
Do you paint with words?
Well, maybe you are a poet!
Of course, all words, by themselves
are morgues for art~ stores for outwardly
portraying
one’s private thoughts and feelings in
colorful, expressive ways. The baby
paints her own basic language – cries her
picture gestures,
hopefully appropriately responded to
by loving parents, often challenged
to transcribe
a vaguely familiar, long forgotten
non verbal~frantic vocabulary –
So, words are clearly voice: while liquid,
like blood and oils – they are colorful, the
pigments of flowers and death --
and when a relationship fails, the essence
of words are what
we frame and tearfully regret.
I am a selfish heart
but you knew that from the start.
Self absorbed and oblivious to your needs
and yet, you loved me despite myselfish deeds.
Those last few years I was awakened
by your suffering and my meager care taking.
Through it all you never once complained
surviving silent every ache and demeaning pain.
Faith was yours, so steady and sure
unlike mine that faltered as it watched you endure.
Because of you I loved and prayed
knowing well the coming of your end of days.
And it came, quiet in the mid afternoon
and tearfully I fell hearing a distant celestial tune
and in the heavens, even angels wept
gathering your spirit forever to be in God's arms kept.
There are no words to adequately describe
the blessings in my life which you did provide
but the angels keep the memories alive
while I await our reunion to arrive.
The rose petals color drained,
as my eyes tearfully pained,
over how I failed to maintain
A bed worthy of thorns contained
No gardens lush, where beauty bloomed,
Unyielding, lost, my dark heart entombed,
Each fragrant breath, putrids perfumed,
Now, just whisps of a florist doomed
The dry thorns, razor sharp, a warning strong,
Guard deadly blooms where love doesn't belong,
In my haste, I wrought the bouquet wrong,
and watched as life was reaped, swiftly by the throng
With every year, a memory fades,
Of sunlight's kiss in gentle glades,
Can roots revive in shaded trades,
Or will we mourn what time evades?
Oh, teach me how to plant anew,
With tender hands, a heart that's true,
To grow of the earth in a vibrant hue,
and cherish thorns whose sting l never knew
In every bud, a tale very few conceive,
Of broken dreams, of hearts that grieve,
For the Rose, it speaks of love's reprieve,
In petals, soft, dare we believe.