Long Teary eyed Poems

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Little Girl

I have vague memories of
Hiding behind my mothers legs
Glued to her side
Clinging to the security of her touch
Doe-eyed little girl
Far too scared to say her name
Gazing up at the infinities that lied beyond her concrete walls
Seeing the world through the eyes of others
Whom she let guide her every move
Timid child
With trembling digits
Teary-eyed, looking past opportunities
Too scared to even know who she is
Insecure girl
Her heart filled with melodies
Her mind filled with words
Locked away by her shyness
Never to be seen.
She looked up at her surroundings
At people, beauty, life
Pondering upon the world from below the surface
Never fully experiencing anything.
What happened to her?
Where is she now?
She is but another memory buried deep within me
For that little girl who looked up at what she would never amount to,
Now looks down on the person she has become
© S. Grace  Create an image from this poem.


Reflecting On Thy Long Doggone Pooch

Reflecting On Thy Long Doggone Pooch -
"Georgie Harris"

At present moment thoughts adrift,
     whereat figurative throne,
     this chap doth 
     emotionally abdicate
no particular reason finds me
     revisiting nostalgic 
     thoughts, our
     (Harris – birth
 
     family) first pet,
     who didst accentuate
mine early boyhood
     (far removed time wise
     from the crowd did place
     housing nostalgia), now over
     laid with subsequently
     decades worth of memories,

     your bow wow wing did
     sub woofer did accumulate,
I attempt to adumbrate,
while sitting facing,
     the Lenovo external screen
     (linkedin in my
     macbook pro laptop),
commencement to nuh aerate

spontaneous thoughts ruff lee
     outlining thine affectionate
"mans beast friend"
a dearly beloved,
     (long since departed),
     yet his "Georgie"
     spirit lives within me,
     and doth ameliorate

teary eyed intermittent outbursts,
     sans remembrance
     of things past,
     particularly said
     four footed best pal,
     (a hybrid Boxer and Dalmatian -
     with docked tail) asper,
     when yours truly,

     a lil whippersnapper,
     he taught thyself
     bone a fide life lessons,
     and did animate
my preschool days of solitude,
     and whose sixth
     canine sense didst anticipate
increased amplitude

     of nascent childhood anxiety,
yes unwittingly, "a therapy dog,"
     whose company,
     I did appreciate
oh, how his innocent naïveté
     bared kid lee didst articulate,
thus whose demise
     scored beloved value,
     I belatedly authenticate.
Form: Ode

Premium Member Never Let the Laughter End

NEVER LET THE LAUGHTER END
(A Poem written in memory of the late great Robin Williams)

Behind the "Nanu nanu" 
Behind the "Good Morning Vietnam!"
Behind the "Oh Captain, my Captain!"
Behind the "run-by fruiting"
Behind the "Ten thousand years will give you such a crick in the neck."

Behind the unique uncompromising 
   larger than life talent that spoke these words.

Behind the seemingly unstoppable awe inspiring 
   comedic genius of our time.

Behind the man who 
   with a single facial expression or a few words 
   could leave us weakened, breathless, 
   and teary eyed from laughter. 

Behind the brilliant quick thinking comedian 
    who captured our hearts and souls  
    in the rapture of a chaotic form of humor 
    that never failed to eclipse expectation. 
 
Behind this kind endearing well loved soul 
    who touched so many with his presence 
    was a man haunted by a demon 
    that many still refuse to accept or acknowledge.
 
Behind the echoes of laughter and makeup 
       of our most prolific clowns 
       there can exist a sadness so deep and profound 
       as to be beyond tears reach.
 
Behind any door standing just out of our view 
      could be a beast called depression laying in wait 
      to steal the laughter from our ears and the joy from our hearts.

Premium Member Kneading

I remember Grandma's kitchen
When I was a newlywed.
To learn to cook was important
But not as important as what was said.

As she kneaded bread on the counter,
Teaching me how to cook,
I learned so many important things
That didn't come from a book.

Side by side we would stand
Kneading bread as we chatted on.
We talked of life and love
And how sometimes things went wrong.

I was blessed to have a Grandma
Who was always there for me.
I still get teary-eyed
When in my memory I see

The two of us, side by side
In a kitchen,  so very small,
Whether baking pies or kneading bread
Or not even cooking at all.
Form: Rhyme

The Lore of Hastar

'Sleep my dear, else Hastar will come for you',
Cried the teary eyed lad, of barely ten and two,
His visage flushed in blood, as he sought refuge,
To save his flesh from his ancestors turned ghoul.

Slinging his never-ending purse of fine gold,
He creeps the labyrinth of his mother’s womb,
Baying in anguish for a tiny morsel of food,
A curse that has brought him eons of gloom.

Not to be worshipped, the first-born demon-god,
Banished from their midst by well-meaning kin of lords,
Found an eager devotee in an ancient family odd,
Who were greedy for gold and lusted for bawds.

They brought him back to life with their orison,
Defying the Gods through layers of generations,
Inviting their rage which became their poison,
Reducing them to repulsive abominations.

Descending into the bowels of the derelict temple,
Through the dilapidated shaft of a solitary well,
Hiding dollops of soft flour in their vessel,
To awaken the hungry monster from his spell.

While he lusted for grain and they for his coins,
At every meeting of this unsavory alliance,
The demon got his food and they, his treasure,
Until they fell prey to the bite of Hastar.

It turned them into hideous living corpses,
Their only mortal escape, through death or slumber,
Consigned to the flames at the hands of their own,
Prior to which, the strain of greed they passed on.
Form: Rhyme


what if to speak is to die?

Oh my teary eyed girl
I’ve been you
I am you
And I know 
the answers I give,
You will not listen to

It’s cruel 
All I say 
I’ve heard from you
Your words 
I use everyday 

The heaviest truth
Is left unsaid 
Yet the weight presses down
In every silent moment
When I cannot steer anymore
Like the ceiling of a house 
That is soon to crumble 

It’s a terrible home
I know, I’m sorry
You look at me, 
we are silent,
But I can see 

You can’t say 
And I can’t either 
We both know
It is nicer to keep inside

But the truth 
squeezes, seizes,  
at your throat

Speaking out loud
Puts an end 
To the very thing 
We are living for

Premium Member Angels

Earthbound as divine powers on mission
Empowered by knowledge, eager to guide
Looking after weary and forgotten
Guarding the helpless and the teary eyed 
From distant rice fields to high mountain peaks
Holding tides at bay when disaster hits
From the Atlantic to the Pacific
Message of God's bliss never ever quits
Bringing every life blessed gift of love 
When grief ascends while happiness retreats
Riding on gentle breeze of mourning dove
A message that lifts from hopeless defeats
The Angels will not surrender God's will
Tirelessly working to convey goodwill

September 7, 2017
abab cdcd efef gg rhyme--10 syllables per line
HM: Strand choice 11 contest by Brian Strand
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Within the Cage Part Two

(This is a sequel to my poem- Within the Cage. Part 1. and a true story.)


I saw the Earth and its happy brood
And everything around in a sunny mood
But in my cage sat a single bird
So lonely without a companion of her own breed

Though the sky and its expanse to her, long denied
In her narrow cage, she was never annoyed
She had a partner to share her joy and woe
With him, all else she was ready to forego

There they made a haven unknown to pain
Shut the door to wind and rain
Sat together rubbing shoulders and preening feathers
Never did they mind their freedom bound by tethers

Now she feels she has lost her way
With her mate absent to cheer her day
With the break of dawn, once as she rose from sleep
Lay her ‘man’ motionless like a feathered heap

With her beak, she pecked and prodded him
Went on nudging and poking, sitting on the cage’s rim
But Alas! He didn’t stir or move
She tried in vain but finally got the painful clue

Sitting close to him, making a strange sound
She made it known that her man would no more be around
Never expected her life would suddenly take a turn this way
And never ever thought her companion would thus slip away

When his body from the cage was removed
She beat her wings as if in sorrow drowned
Thereafter she didn’t peck at the grains served
And for days opted out to remain starved

I thought her sorrow would soon end
And his separation wouldn’t leave a deep dent
But each day, gloom overcast the teary-eyed widow
And she sat blubbering looking through her window

Her lonesome state left me so agitated
I didn’t want to see her any more isolated
I let her fly into the freedom of the sky
With new companions, hoping to see her soar high!


Dec.24.2022

Premium Member Where Love Resides Teary Eyed

Holding on to dreary past when emotions cried
Looking for remnants of a happy dreamy night
Where love, once resolute, resides teary eyed

Early days saw blue skies roaming far and wide
Giving way to stormy clouds hosting dire plight
Holding on to dreary past when emotions cried

Rising waters warned of looming turbulent tide
The essence of soft shadows spurned lorn sight
Where love, once resolute, resides teary eyed

Recounting evermore moments of joy and pride
Saddened vibes overtake with raging ugly fight
Holding on to dreary past when emotions cried

Appearances blatantly lied when romance died
Regrets now multiply as hostile memories bite
Where love, once resolute, resides teary eyed

Darker motions inform abandoning rays of light
Insisting to take refuge within stories they write 
Holding on to dreary past when emotions cried
Where love, once resolute, resides teary eyed

May 9, 2018
The essence of soft shadows contest by John lawless

Premium Member A Price To High

With tears streaming down her face
A mother sits staring at a framed picture
Of a young man who answered the call
Wondering… Why my son? ...Why my son?

A young boy wearing a U.S. Army cap
Valiantly tries to fend off a storm of emotion.
Overtaken by grief he succumbs to the pain.
A down pour of tears flood his once innocent face
As he wrestles with the heart wrenching reality
Of his mom never returning home.

A tiny little girl pulls on the dress
Of a trembling teary eyed lady dressed in black
Standing next to a flag draped coffin
Asking… Where’s daddy mommy?  …Where’s daddy?

A proud Vietnam War veteran
With tears steadily filling his eyes
And a crippling wound to his heart
Shakily stands up on one prosthetic limb
To offer one final salute to his fallen son
With a hand above his brow he utters the words:
A price to high Semper Fi.

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