Long Turned down Poems
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No More Me
I have asked for help
Been turned down
Been ignored
No one asked what was wrong
They all said things will get better
I waited
I hoped
I even prayed
But things got worse
My prayers fell on deaf ears
Hopes died on the side of a lonely path
Yet I waited
Day after day
I saw people smiling
Laughing
Living life
Now I sit all alone
Not asking anyone for anything
A piece of steel in my hand
So thin, so sharp
One fast move
I watched as it moved as if in slow motion
There was no pain
A few moments of coldness
A minute of darkness
And suddenly things didn't matter
There was no more pain
No more tears
No more me
There was much chatter about the new mad hatter
He is madder than the other, said my sister and brother
I want to meet him, I told them, intrigued by the new him.
He was a bit crazier than expected, nutty as suspected, on a whim.
How else would he have met the council’s approval? I said.
He was upside down backwards weird, named himself Odd Ted.
He could run for mayor of crazy town, I suggested immediately.
It was agreed upon unanimously, and delivered with expediency.
For if there is one thing we know about our delightful city, Crazy Town,
It’s undeniably the weirdest, zaniest place under, over, above or down.
Mad hatter turned down our offer to make him mayor and ran away.
The sixth crazy mad hatter mayor that had gotten away that day.
He stormed Omaha Beach in Normandy during the Second World War.
The old soldier knew all too well the din of battle and its heinous gore.
He'd fought his way through France ending up in the Battle of The Bulge.
He was hailed as a hero, but was loath his heroic deeds to divulge.
They pinned medals upon his breast - he suffered through the accolades,
And was honored by his hometown folks marching in their parades.
But there was something lacking - he was listless when among others.
He desperately missed his buddies - they'd become as close as brothers.
Through many restless nights he wrestled with demons from the past,
Tortured by bloody battlefield scenes and the thunder of cannon blast.
He was turned down by government agencies trying to relieve his plight,
And was met with unconcern at every turn - it seemed a hopeless fight.
He became addicted to the Devil's curse, the bottle, out of desperation.
Friends and family forsook him - he was headed for a life of devastation.
He was seen pushing an old grocery cart here and there about the town,
That held his meager belongings - he looked so pitiful and so worn-down.
The headlines read: "Veteran found dead beneath a blanket of snow!"
He'd sought shelter 'neath an overpass when it was twenty-one below.
He was buried with military honors while "Taps" sounded o'er his grave.
Come on America! Can't we do better than this for America's brave?
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
He was a child
Dark hair, blue eyes
Smiling, laughing, delighting
He tried not to cry
While pain was absorbed
By his heart and soul
He invited the fear
Crimson shadows, doubts
Despair and hollow feelings
When life turned to dark
His light turned down, reflecting
All the silent sighs, the blend…
Of isolation, remote depression
Flowing in the veins
Where the needle sent its flame
Edging him from the reality,
Where pain wove its way through,
His heart and soul, his joy
Went cold, where he learned to turn
The fear into laughter,
The sorrow into a smile…
The darkness, faded beyond the ache
Where his love was once so sure,
Where his heart had once been pure
As his blue eyes, lost in calamity,
Found a way to twinkle,
Even as the hazy burden of woozy days…
Changed from hope to useless,
When he became the statistic,
Addicted to the prescription, proof…
He was a child once
Dark hair and blue eyes, laughing
Smiling, sincere….
Then his pain came to seal
His fate, addict
In need of saving….
Only God can change him
From dark to light,
From wrong to right,
From abusing – using…
To the hope of one who sees
Despite the pain and fear,
There is a love so sincere…
It is love that can restore joy
Back into the soul who is lost,
Love that saves despite the cost!
This is the love that comes from above
Love from the One who died on a cross
To silence the fears, restore the hearts
To those who believe…
No matter how we grieve,
His love can bring true peace.
Yes! His love can save me from me
His love can save the addict
Silence the craving with an amazing…
So amazing – I’m forever praising
The One who came to save me,
The One who made a way for me
The One who will make a way for the addict,
And the liar, the thief, even the killer…
Because He is love – He’s the hearts best defender
He saves the worst of us
Because He is the greatest love there has ever been
He is the One who lived without sin,
So He could save sinners from eternity without Him!
To dust, The old boxes in the attic, the old toys in the basement, they turn to dust as they stay forgotten, the cotton rabbit going rotten. The boxes taped close, as if reopened they'd grow and Molden. the small bed in the room, needing dusting, the frames rusting and the sheets clustering. the pictures turned down, the stand broken and the glass broken, the frame cracked and dusted. The kid in this room loved it, but moved out for peace, getting a lease and building a life, new bed, new pictures, new boxes and new toys for the kids they had themselves, and soon enough that kid's room will dust too. Not in dirtiness but in affection, showing how much it was looked in, slept and cried in, and used. SO if you dust it don't throw out the boxes, don't resell the toys, don't throw out the broken pictures and please don't dismantle the bed, leave it to be, leave the memories fly around, leave it as a museum until the kid comes into that house, picking that same room, using that same bed, ripping those same boxes and playing with those same toys. To dust, is to love.
She sits by the stream of consciousness with the echo of silence
Takes her mind into blistering darkness below false reason’s truth
Down by the water of tears she lights a candle in her mind’s storms
Embraces the sadness of sorrows and rewires misleading thoughts
They called her a witch with no conscience a gipsy lost on the road
Burnt her broomstick branded her skin and confiscated her wagon
Shackled her whistles and bells to hot metal rods and straightjackets
Turned down the heat in the foregone conclusion that she was gone
Yet when the ashes rose she floated on wings of kind forgiveness
Remembered her many friends in Auschwitz in the chambers of hell
She had come prepared in a purple jumpsuit made from asbestos
Forged by history and knowledge that she was stronger than hatred
She assembled a step ladder one rung at a time and slowly ascended
To a waxing moon sickled with hope and compassion into laughter
‘These imbeciles did not take my passion for starlight and wisdom’
‘My tea leaves are stronger and smell of freedom scented in love’
She brought a basket of sandalwood and sweet lavender dreams
And retrieved a besom bequeathed to her by ancestry’s lineage
Looked up to the sky and breathed a prophecy painted from clouds
Sealed her escape with seven locks of her hair and brushed off the dust
15th November 2019
Autumn Lullaby
Peaceful moments drifting by
As slumber takes its cue
Sweet dreams come to pacify
This quiet twilight view
Restful sleep, my evening prayer
Dear child, don’t you cry
For I am here with you to share
An autumn lullaby
~
Listen to the whispers as the autumn leaves now fall
Softly as you close your weary eyes
Rest my precious child while the chilly night does call
Stardust shimmers drift on velvet skies
Soon you will be dreaming of a very special place
Fairytales within your heart to keep
Always I will be here with a comforting embrace
Sleep my precious child, go to sleep
~
Softly sung for tiny ears
As lights are turned down low
Perfectly to calm your fears
Beneath a full moon’s glow
Whispers float the evening air
My angel time to fly
For I am here with you to share
An autumn lullaby
Good night Soupers
it’s quiet
it’s late
only the humming and gurgling
bubbling and whirring
that go unheard all day
keep me company now
you see, the world
well my world
is asleep
and I’m sat on the floor
by the back double doors
with the sounds of the inside
as they gutter and stutter
I see the outside
but no one sees me
a well hidden voyeur
shutters turned down low
I drink as I wait
for a private peep show
whiskey and darkness
gift me predatorial sight
it’s two in the morning
the middle of the night
and I watch
watch the world beyond that window
whilst my world sleeps inside
I wait and I drink
I drink as I watch
a shaft burst through that darkness
bright as a warship’s beam
and begin poking and probing
disturbing the night
bathing her streets
in a rich silver light
seeking out secrets
which scurry and chide
my attention now focused
what does this night hide?
I clutch my pen tightly
the moment at hand
to capture some outside
not mundane inside -
interminably bland
but clouds rally quickly
grey fluff plugs the gap
and as the foothold is choked off
the heavens shrink back
back beyond the shutters
leaving me in gloom
sat on the floor
by the back double doors
ink oozing from my pores
.. it’s quiet
it’s late
but the page still lays naked
I pour another drink
and together
we wait
How often has a friend told you that line?
Each email, each call, they are always in a hurry.
Like mice making Cinderella's dress, forever in a scurry.
Do they really care, or dare to dream, that they and I, always will be fine?
And, especially now with Covid so terribly relevant.
There may be no tomorrow for our friends, nor or us.
Don't they understand that a grave maybe covering one or both of us?
We stand at the very precipice of our life's very end.
Do not communicate with those, forever in a hurry!
The frustration of being turned down, again and again,
Bid them a final adieu, right there and then.
You will be free of the victim....excuse trip in a floral flurry!
3/15/2021
~2h
A couple weeks before her fourteenth birthday,
We knew something was wrong
Peanut, who loved to eat above all else, suddenly turned down food
To make it worse she was having trouble breathing
I had urged my dad that we had to take her to the pet hospital, and he agreed
At the hospital, when they told us what was wrong,
I could see the look in my dad’s face
Even I knew, it was her time
We all got to say our final goodbyes,
Held her paw, and stayed with her as she drifted to sleep
Her passing had hit us so hard, like a huge weight had fallen onto us
I kept asking myself, over and over again,
“why did she have to go?”
We all thought she was gone forever,
And tears of sadness had stuck with us for a while
Then a strong realization came over us,
Peanut was not gone,
She would always be with us
Tears of sadness soon became tears of happiness
When we learned about the Rainbow Bridge
Hearing that touching story,
We all knew Peanut would forever be in our minds and our hearts
If Peanut is waiting on the other side of that Rainbow Bridge,
Then I look forward to the day when we cross that bridge and can be with her
again
Dedicated to Peanut
In our memories,
The pets that have passed will always remain
We realize upon having them
That they turn out to be something more-
A loving companion, a protector,
And most of all, a friend
Someone who will always be there for you
And understands,
One who gives you a shoulder to cry on,
A creature subtly unassuming,
Who will simply listen..
There is a connection with our pets
That is impossible to break
And when there comes a time to say goodbye,
That connection will help us continue on
We never want them to leave,
But all of us know that nothing lasts forever
But the effect they leave on you
And the love you have for them does