Long Unhealing Poems
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My Heart is just an organ no memory does it have
The blood it pumps through my viens, is an unhealing salve
I often wonder, what is LOVE; a strange concept to me
Will I ever know of LOVE, as Soupers feel and see
One day I thought, I had found LOVE; but soon that LOVE was gone
Forgotten was the moment, when I thought LOVE broke my Heart
I don't know why I cried, from colourful Sunset 'til early morning Dawn
I can not remember how this LOVE even got its start
It never did return to me, a feeling of LOVE for Eternity
As time went by, as I grew old, of LOVE I had no Memory
Late at night, a nightmare comes, a nightmare named Lenore
The only words this spectre Whispers is,"Now and Evermore"
To be Cont.
There is a part of me,
That I keep locked up and have no key,
At least, I say, one can not be found,
yet, here it comes flowing forth, like water from the ground,
Tears I feel weeping, like sap from my heart,
I don't know whether to scream or pull my self apart,
Feeling dizzy,
Feeling sick,
Hoping I can find my balance quick,
Set in motion,
These forces as strong as an ocean,
Out pours all my pent up emotion,
Spewing forth under no remorse of agony or rage,
Setting everything around me ablaze,
Its' destructive nature leaves an unhealing wound,
feeling as if my life was meant for such gloom,
I can't escape my memories, I can't escape their pain,
I plead for help yet my cries are only done in vain,
No on can hear my sorrow, my loss, my tortured soul,
Not even the pen from which my words flow.
Sad the heart
sick the mind
from world
of commotion
retiring
its past reliving
motionless drifting
to skeletons
of mind museum
odorless images
soundless captions
spirit of senses
still pricking
its heart
joy seeking
switching from
dreaming
to present of gadgets
unhealing
blowing away walls
breathing out
relics
dropping its shoes
of backward
living
raising its heels
that present
kept hidden
running barefoot
to the forest
for healing
where weeds
grow seeds
untouched by mower
flowers
pure fragrance
perspiring
petals unfold
true colors
unseen
like love
that's pure
because hidden
brooks flow gently
accompanying songs
of birds like treasure
in green hidden
each moment
the forest
renews itself
perpetuating life
by giving
with rains
and sun milk
its body
God feeding
its spirit by seeding
continuing
dependence
with patience
togetherness
teaching
God's
unifying love
revealing.
First Place Winner as "Memory Museum" Brian Strand- All Yours- 6/5/21
Words are double-edged swords
On one hand, they're used to teach and inspire
They're used to express love, to charm,
To communicate wants and needs effectively
Words are golden; emotionally soothing
When draped with silken tenderness;
Treated with care like fragile glass
On the other hand, when weaponized;
Thrusted like an epee to impale a thin skin,
Wielded like a machete to cut someone down...
They can inflict unhealing wounds!
Just like a bullet can't be sucked back into
The chamber after the trigger is pulled,
Deeply hurtful invectives can't be unsaid.
The damage done won't be completely repaired,
No matter how sincere an apology.
So when passions are inflamed, it's important
To pause, take a deep breath, and let our anger
Dissipate before we say something we regret.
Date written: 10/28/2019
Who will cry for the little boy,
Whose wails are heard resounding inside the man.
The man whose ever unhealing wounds are clothed in pride,
These mortal scars he wears beneath his flesh
To him are medals of honour
testimonies to his character
Though his visage is a prominent countenance of pride
He is ailed by a phantom of a little whelp
a wailing boy who stands at the threshold of time
ever hurling his lamentations to the man
with accusatory tones in little grievous voices
accursed day the mother's nipple he purged
with tiny bites and little nibbles his mute protests understood
and from his suckling lips his nourishment rid of with haste,
& left after the mother's guttural wails, a glutinous white trail of sweet aliment.
in persuit of new tastes, urged to crawl away from those who knew him
needing to quench his dry life with spirits and to lick his wounds in solitude
the boy's mistake his haste attitude to become a man
Ever and forever more so, suckling from a bottle's tip the said spirits, the malignant acids,
remedies to calm his demons, heart hardened and his will to live humbled, now with each sip he impugns his need to exist, sipping these pernicious aliments to tenderly nourish his grave and coax his days shorter.
bear not amiss the abhorant, dreaded days ere
when harsh lines marked the path he progressed,
in the keeping of a world with vile intentions this lone boy
with no loving hand to stroke a tender flame on his fragile emotions
accursed day when ignorancy ailed one such as he, to hate blindly
pride and arrogance his eventual downfall ever stirring him to ignorancy.
hate he suckled as nourishment from the nipples of a mother whose bosom coursed with old hate.
robbed of her maidenhood, violated absent care, then the spawn to disdain and loathe unfurl out of the desecrated womb, a gift from nemesis
woe ye the day he bid his own counsil unworthy to heed
ignorant of benevolence his creeping demise unfurl
heart unchanging ever frozen in the frame of the babe
You left us John, yet life goes on
You left too soon, unhealing wound
My brother,
Though cousin;
Closest to me
In our childhood home,
Torn from our tree
Could you have known
The heartache you'd sown
No one can replace you John
In the eight years that you've
Been gone
Remembering you, and hearing
A song
The world spins,
Time moves along
Poet, deep heart, brother mine
We breathe, we live
No, we're not fine
Your pain was deep and traceable
You knew you were Irreplaceable
Now your widows picked up the pieces
Her shattered heart loves again, though
Her pain never ceases
How we've longed to see your face
Your gone: cannot be replaced
The world spins, and life goes on
But you are SO missed brother John