Long Weigh down Poems
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It was sunny the day our hearts broke away.
A decade has passed—but some wounds ignore clocks.
The news bloomed like bruises on a nation’s chest.
Shoreham stood still.
Time forgot how to move.
Eleven men.
Men of mornings and small routines.
Lunchboxes. Laughter. Motorbikes.
Some had children. Others were children—still.
And one…
one kept wildflowers on his phone.
Too shy to say, “This made me think of you.”
There’s no symmetry to this grief.
It leans sideways and doesn’t apologise.
It smells like engine oil and funeral flowers.
It hums in the throat of widows and mothers,
grows moss in the cracks of pub tables,
clings to the wings of the plane that didn’t stop.
Somewhere, a bottle of red remains uncorked.
Somewhere, a bike rests against a wall no one will move.
Somewhere, wildflowers still bloom—
and someone remembers
the man who loved flight,
but stayed grounded
for everyone but himself.
Still.
Author’s Note:
For the eleven lives lost on 22 August 2015 at Shoreham:
Dylan Archer, Richard Smith, James Mallinson, Mark Trussler,
Matt Jones, Matthew Grimstone, Jacob Schilt, Daniele Polito,
Tony Brightwell, Mark Reeves, Maurice Abrahams.
You are remembered.
Dear Editor,
I won’t let you stand on my throat—
Stifle my compassion,
Weigh down my shoulders
With a chip — not sweet like chocolate,
But sharp like ice.
Not from the old block,
But cracked from the freeze
You placed in my bones.
You guillotine my fire
And return me only grief.
Dear Editor,
I know your job is important—
But is it louder than the truth
That begs to be heard?
Just because a stanza doesn’t touch you,
Or it ends without rhyme or convention,
Does that make it any less real?
Dear Editor,
Please see the substance beneath the design.
We poets are crucified
For daring to call out—
For letting our voices
Tremble, burn, and bleed.
Dear Editor,
I once wrote about loss
So heavy, it cracked the sky.
A plane fell — and a friend was gone.
And I wrote it raw.
And I sent it whole.
And it came back with silence.
Maybe the timing was wrong,
But the pain was right.
Dear Editor,
I beseech you:
Look into your heart,
And look at the piece.
Admire the craft,
But let truth ring through.
Then maybe more of the unheard,
The undervalued,
And the unpolished
Will shine, too.
A true story, based on family oral tradition
from the oldest part of the city of Bern,
capitol of Switzerland, where my mother was
born and raised, in the Nydegghoff)
He lighted the candle with a quivering hand,
his overcoat seeming to weigh down the old man.
He paused in the aisle to genuflect,
and wondered if God knew his heart was a wreck.
He found a pew and got to his knees,
hands clasped together, he sent out his pleas.
He is old and he's tired, now he's alone,
his wife died last Spring, now his house wasn't home.
They'd been blessed with one son, he'd died in the war,
and now there was nothing for him to live for.
He prayed until his knee pain was great,
then sat back in the pew and tried not to shake.
The cathedral was beautiful; he loved the stained glass,
but, oh, they brought memories of Sundays past.
How could he make it through Christmas alone
in a house that was empty, no longer a home?
The kitchen was silent and cold as a tomb,
but her scent lingered on in their modest bedroom.
He said one last prayer, then rose to his feet,
genuflecting again, he went out on the street.
He walked home near blindly, not even aware
of the snow that was landing on his shoulders and hair.
He was cold inside, his heart like a stone,
and he felt completely and utterly alone.
He turned down his street, saw his porch light's glow,
and only then realized it had started to snow.
He opened his gate, thought of making some soup,
but froze in his tracks at the sight on the stoop.
On his porch sat a basket, the old wicker kind,
he thought for a moment, he was losing his mind.
Inside the basket that sat on his mat,
were three tiny kittens and one momma cat.
What a pitiful sight, so cold and so thin,
he scooped up the basket and hurried them in.
He found some canned tuna and warmed up some milk,
gently petting the babies, whose fur was like silk.
He never discovered who left those cats there,
but, as his love grew, he no longer cared.
His wife had loved cats and this comforted him,
as they slept on his head, or tucked under his chin.
The kittens grew quickly, as they're wont to do,
amused by their antics, his love grew and grew.
There was laughter and joy 'til the end of his days,
for God works, as you know, in mysterious ways.
Cast away the sorrow from my soul
Make the ugliness seem so beautiful
Craft me with your eager elegance
Resurrect me with your pure radiance
My veins are flooded with the blood of my enemies
Please don't catch me off guard and set my soul at ease
My brain is whirling like a windstorm in the desert once more
The breeze of the monsoons' core has so much in store
Almost blinded by the light of His mighty hand
I take His hand and land in a lovely land
Where I can understand
Where I stand
Almost cascading into the watery pit of bitter lies
I take His hand and say my last goodbyes
Where I can meet my utmost highs
And my lows dries and dies
Almost falling away into the darkness below me
I take His hand, so He will set me free possibly
Where I can go way above the cold concrete
And gravity cannot weigh down my feet
Where I stand
Where I can understand
I take His hand and land in a lovely land
Almost blinded by the light of His mighty hand
Cast away yesterday, so I may live for today
Make my inner distress transform to joy I pray
Craft me with your words of wisdom right now
Reassure me that there are brighter days somehow
My veins are flooded with the blood of my enemies
Please don't catch me off guard and set my soul at ease
My brain is whirling like a windstorm in the desert once more
The breeze of the monsoons' core has so much in store
Almost blinded by the light of His mighty hand
I take His hand and land in a lovely land
Where I can understand
Where I stand
Almost cascading into the watery pit of bitter lies
I take His hand and say my last goodbyes
Where I can meet my utmost highs
And my lows dries and dies
Almost falling away into the darkness below me
I take His hand, so He will set me free possibly
Where I can go way above the cold concrete
And gravity cannot weigh down my feet
Where I stand
Where I can understand
I take His hand and land in a lovely land
Almost blinded by the light of His mighty hand
Endure the hardships that take place
Find a cure to help us gain His grace
End this nightmare that we all face
Ensure that happiness is here to stay,
Not just a day or night away -
Tomorrow isn't promised today
Smith’s Octopuses Party On Pontoons
Rumor Has It My Dear
Rumor has it my dear something spectacular is near
Bring your batik hats to our grand lavish scene
Wear flowing Kebeya robes
Let them flow in the air
We’re having our party upon the ocean
On pontoons made of bamboo notions
Flown in from Indonesia with crews
Planks will connect all the segments
Chris Christie will help with construction
Bridging rafts with bamboo shoots & roots
(We understand he understands bridges)
Yachts will punctuate the festivities
Covered in purple red flowers with care
Tied to the floating swaying affair
McCartney and Sting will be there
Octopuses Garden is the theme
And Paul will bring Ringo to sing
The Clinton's and Bushes are on the list
Paparazzi will see if they kiss or do tricks
And who can resist our guests of honor
Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt
The main menu is set like this;
Foie gras loco moco carne
Matusaka beef
Pheasant/Mallard breast roast
Beluga Sevruga, Osetra caviar
Goût de Diamants, Taste of Diamonds champagne
Haute chocolate ice cream
This all seems like a dream
We pray that the weather holds up
The only waves we wish to see is from us
In the form of greetings and pleasantries
The party has been planned for ages
If storms should gather
It won’t really matter
We’re thankful
The Royals, Mr.& Mrs. Smith are here
To weigh down pontoons and rafts
With billions in sacks of gold trinkets
Door prizes for sure, (sorry no doors), for those who attend
500 guests will arrive at the gala
A date with Mick Jagger and two jaguars
Assured for each person as gifts guaranteed
Compliments of King & Queen Smith
Whose parties should never be missed
A mystery guest, no surprise
A legend in his own mind
Mr. Trump and his hair might arrive
Since the pope is preoccupied
We’ll sway to the music with fine company
All are welcome to our heavenly scene
At the octopuses party on the sea
7/11/14 Rumor Has It contest
Where is my mother?
Arms legs and love were accounted for
But she was gone....
Broken by Circumstance
Suppressed by finance
3 ton bolder strapped to her ankle, but still she advanced
My mother..
Too good to be true,
But too bad to be false
She tied knots at ends met and accepted her faults..
And I love her....
But now what can I say....
Now she suffered.
Consumed by the tides of the economy
She saw the shore and just couldn't reach it..
I guess all the struggling finally wore her down
And now she drowned.. in debt
But life wasn't always like a bad dream
I still remember as a child,
Those eyes that held me and would tell me
"That everything was ok"
And those lips that fed me the love i needed
Those same lips that once mesmerized me with shushes
And I love yous, til eye lids were too heavy lift.
But now they said nothing,
Just stuck at a degree
which resembled a very unfamiliar smile; A frown.
My mother was hurt,
with wounds so deep, eyes couldn't see
and kisses couldn't reach.
Bandaids, too old to use and 911 was busy.
Now she's falling
Like an angle too heavy to fly
Her burdens, weigh down her burdens
But still she try's....
She's going down.... CRASH
And who best to pick up the pieces but herself
Too proud to except help, in this living hell
We know all to well.... As life
But with her eyes narrowed and focused,on a goal to obtain
She raises her head up high, only to see... It looks like rain
So now continuing is just insane
Time to sit here a bare ones pain?
Just her luck things go from bad to impossible
But in her mind she defines what's logical
Makes an attempt and defeats any obstical
That's my mom from stop-able to unrock-able....
But that wasn't her tonight..
Tonight with eyes painted with sorrow.
She cried tears that eroded my heart away.
But what was I to do, What was I to say?
It's okay?
Tomorrow is another day?
Well what's the point when waiting is only another way
To take one's day.... and suffer?
Written: 5/25/11
I never possessed time.
Time that I would call my own.
You see, amidst a broken heart.
I had heard a friend cry.
She said her own heart had been broken.
So I listened, counselled and wiped away her tears.
There was no time to sit and feel sorry for myself.
With a broken thumb.
A pounding headache.
A hard day at work.
I wanted a hot bath and cup of coffee.
To lay me down, I took a couple of pain killers.
But you see, amidst fatigue.
I had heard a cousin sob.
She said she had lost her job.
So I listened, counselled and wiped away her tears.
There was no time to sit and nurse my tiredness.
With a heavy heart upon seeing an accident.
A horrid image in my head that I had to let out.
I went looking for my best friend.
But I had heard her cry.
She said she was not happy in her life.
So I listened, embraced and wiped away tears.
There was no time to share and offload.
With yet another broken heart.
I had told myself to cry and shut it down for once.
I had planned to watch sad movies.
With a box of Kleenex by my side.
But you see, amidst another heart break.
I had heard a sibling cry.
She said she had hurt a person unintentionally.
So I listened, counselled and wiped away her tears.
There was no time to cry and weigh down my feelings.
With a torchlight.
I had decided to do my favorite thing.
On a warm summer evening.
Walk about the park and listen to the night.
Amidst my time of reflection, I had heard a close kin cry.
She said, her husband had cheated and had another child.
So I listened, embraced and wiped away tears
There was no time for me to reflect.
I never possess time.
I don’t think I will ever possess time to myself.
But you see, that’s okay.
I have made my peace with it.
So I guess that’s what someone meant when they told me:
“Straighten up soldier, There is never time to cry”
© Herzel Poshiwa
I'm feeling overwhelmed to say the least
Why do I feast upon my fears before the Feast?
I'm feeling out of place, yet free in space
I'm feeling lazy and insecure; far from grace
I haven't forgotten the feeling of discouragement
Neither did I forget to remember encouragement
A Soaring, sweet sensation not yet felt
Is holding on to me like a reliable belt
But, I'm sorry for the way I feel if it hurts you
Disgraceful to the touch is the burns of rue
If only you knew what kind of a mess I've been
Then again, understanding me is another seven times seven
Maybe I should be happy, mother
Maybe I shouldn't feel crappy, father
I just want to deal with these issues on my own
I just want to be left alone, yet call you both on my phone…
I'm being annoying as usual…
I'm being selfish and it isn't cool…
I need another outlet to get me through this regret
Lord, I need Your love to guide me, so I won't get upset
2019 has been a long and strenuous year for me
I have been struggling to avoid my reality...my fatality…
Overcast skies won't weigh down my wholehearted smile
I would walk a million miles just to be with you for a little while
Agonizing pain reigns upon me today
Weeping is woven on my mouth I must say
You dug up a hole of hatred for me to fall in
I've fallen into the strange in-between once again
Mother, come back home
Father, where do I roam?
Please hold on to my arms and be free
I didn't do any harm physically, but emotionally, I messed up vainly
It's okay to be alone
Out there on my own
Out there on my own
Into the strange in-between
Wondering where you been
Wandering how you've been
Again...once again, left in the dust of my own words
Once more, left airborne with the brazen birds and I soar…
No longer feeling overwhelmed to say the least
This year is going to be a rather fantastic Feast
Shamefully dull, life would be,
Without seasons to nourish me.
Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall,
Nature’s blessings the nourish us all
Apathetic and harsh, winter is,
With arctic gales that pierce
Every linen shielding my frame.
Anomalous flakes of snow drift from the sky
As sheets of white accumulate on the ground
And weigh down the healthiest trees,
Teasing those ready for winter festivities.
Once the snow angels and snowmen are made, and
Once the sledding and snowball fights are done,
Into their warm homes, all will run,
Hiding under hoards of fleece
Until it’s time for spring to come free.
Pleasant and lively, spring is,
With liber rains falling lavishly
On soil beds of assorted seeds,
Nursed diligently by the avid gardeners
Who thirst for the sight of the first blossoms
Of poppies, roses, lilies, and tulips.
Blueberries, cherries, and strawberries
Entice the onlookers waiting to pick
The ripest harvest in a timely manner
And savoring them until summer can flare.
Fierce and fervent, summer is
With a feverish breath, that makes rain a treasure.
People gather in masses to absorb the bodies of water
As a radiant sun desiccates the land.
Outdoors, pitchers of lemonade are carried everywhere
And thriving honeysuckle sweeten the air.
Yellow lights of fireflies flicker through the night
As exhausted bodies relax beneath the stars,
Gazing in admiration, until autumn can appear
Calm and homely, autumn is
Wither green, red, and yellow foliage taking over.
Crisp leaves bustle about the ground,
Trapped by flurries of whirring winds
Until they are raked into heaps for children to dive in
And pumpkins growing in preparation to carved or baked.
Families huddle together around brilliant fires
While couples stroll through parks, taking delight in the landscape,
And having picnics until winter’s brisk rise.
Heal the sorrow, uproot the sad willow
Make it happy
There's another tomorrow to borrow
To set you free
Burn away the icy ickiness inside me
Churn away the sea of distress that I see
Brew away the sensation of solitude
Chase away my ill-tempered interlude
Many smiles will weigh down the frowns
Many suns will guide you towards moonlit towns
Many hours spent with you is oh so wonderful
Many times, I tell you you're always beautiful
You are...
Beautiful and free
My star...
You'll be free as can be
Your scar...
Will be cured as you flee
You are like an alien on this planet of plenty
You are a passerby, roaming in liberating captivity
Ready or not, I'm coming to the rescue
Believe me, you will be the happier you
Make it happy -
The sorrow that leaves you feeling
Rather crappy
I know, these emotions aren't so appealing
Reality is a cruel, yet honest weapon
That fights our battles or stabs our back
You need some faith fuel once again
So, carry on, carrion heart upon your sack
Never forget how much you mean to me
Never seek revenge, but forgiveness alone shall live
Victory is in the hands of the man of glee
Never take avengeful actions lightly - there's love to give
Enliven the gladness, enlighten the owl's ancient elegance
Make it restore grace to this verse
Renew the remedy of relieving remembrance
To ensnare the burden's curse
And to unwrap unconditional utility...
Uprooting the sad willow's vain insanity
It's the only way
To unchain you from your fatality
Starting today,
I'm going to make you beam, truly
It's the only way
To make you beautiful and Free
With my cheerful sway,
I shall encourage eternal ecstasy
It's the only way,
My beautiful and free angel
It's the only way
Above the ruins of your cell
The journey began from birth
Since presented out into this life,
The brow beating experience,
Gloom besetting this vagabond soul
Are harrowing like the trail in front,
The ancestors had proclaim the future
To be bright, baring all retributions
Encounters in life,
They have spat out hard wine
Cracked the obliging kola nuts
And chewed the Alligator pepper,
Honey gel and Adun had featured in my throat
I have been boiled in salted perfume
And showered with herbal spring,
My soap is dark mushroom from an ancient iroko
Soaked in the pot of palm oil
I am spick and span;
The red-hot emerald from ember of coal
Have burnt into my chord
And swallowed into my belly,
I, lifted up with shaking hands
And showed to the rising sun,
The two hands clasped together
Taken up at wrists with shaky hands
And showed to the setting sun,
My legs brought together
Gripped at the ankles with shaking hands
And turned upside down;
Showing me the underside, inner in of the universe
The world is not trust worthy
Don’t take more than you can chew
Don’t give more than you can chew
You will grow and yet old
Prosper in life yet progressive
Go in peace,
You will not miss it
You will not die
You will not smell
You will not wander
You will not miss the entrance to your abode
You will not suffer reproach
Go with joy,
I then gathered together including
Sack of experience of life on my back
Loaded with my egg on top,
They weigh a tone but, not a weigh down.
I have journey to the end of the ocean,
Climbed to the tallest peak
Tour to where the wind originated,
Seen and met genera diverse in
Mythology, taste, setting in milieu
I have gone to the end of pleasure
And back; still I am on trip.