Everything has a soul; maybe it’s true,
The walls have ears,
do objects have eyes too?
I look at them and they at me,
displaying wonders, they’ve seen of you.
Captured like a moment in time,
these things store a glimpse of you.
I touch the table and see your figure,
Scribbling into a paper with furrowed brows.
I lay on the bed and you smile so bright,
cuddling, kissing, discussing knows and hows.
I open the cupboard and there’s your face,
Unsure of what to wear tomorrow.
I close the windows and feel your hands,
That hold me oh so tightly, that’s where I belong.
I look into the mirror and you look back,
A vision forever etched in my mind.
I step inside the room,
seeing you everywhere yet nowhere in a daze.
I walk through the door in a rush,
Only to see you gone.
Like poets waiting for a subject with tears in their eyes,
I stand there silently, all tattered and torn.
Yours poetically,
v.s
Forever To Hide
You’ll never escape
a bad memory
when it’s buried deep inside
It’s hard to run away
from the ‘stalker’
in dark moments that reside
Within to keep you captive
your soul
indentured and restrained
Forever to hide
from what lives to prey
— on what you cannot change
(Dreamsleep: March, 2026)
Though Tattered And Torn
Many salute
before the flag
some will turn their backs
Many will bleed
to keep it flying
some let it go slack
Many fight ...
Old Glory tattered
some avoid the fray
Many will die
within its folds
some — their hearts betray
(Martha Browns Woods: March, 2026)
A Darkened Sprit
With Satan’s
vow
He damned
his soul
Denying
God
His fate
ran cold
Blessings
offered
Turned
away
A darkened
spirit
His will
— conveyed
(Dreamsleep: March, 2026)
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Again
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Changing Defense to War,
Claiming to stop foreign wars,
Won’t win any peace prizes—
Just more of what the world despises.
Black helicopters and unmarked vans
Enforcing edicts across our lands;
Masks and rubber bullet diplomacy
Shouldn’t become our normalcy.
Secret police with unlawful powers,
Brutal enforcement ordered by cowards;
The rule of law squandered and subverted
To serve personal vengeance perverted.
Our Constitution tattered and torn
Needs her defenders all bravely sworn
To stand shoulder to shoulder and hold back the night:
This is our moment, our duty, our fight!
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Again
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Just saw something very
touching a man,
a man of color looking
like he has been on the streets
for a while saluting old glory
just standing before a flagpole
as the red, white, and blue
flaps in the summer breeze
a random salute, silent in repose
on the side of the street
he was wearing a turban
he was tattered and torn, dirty
scared and broken
I felt I knew what his faith was
despite the fact
that this country's
disrespect for people like him
to fear to hate what is not white
what is not like the norm
at least I can see a man
a simple man, regardless of where he is from
or where he was born
still has respect for his country
I just saw something very moving
a man looking down on his luck
a man looking tatted and torn
like he has been on the streets
just standing for a while
saluting old glory
just a random salute
on the side of the street.
All night long, when I should sleep
My mind wanders through memories
Some tattered and torn by time
Others are obscure beyond belief
Yet I see them, and I relive them
There is no release from them
They are a blessing and a curse
It is something my mind creates
Maybe it thinks I will lose my senses
But I cannot, will not, let that happen
Those battles are not mine to lose
So bring on every one of my memories
I lived through them once, and I will again
Even if they are only in my mind
© Poem – XXIX/IX/MMXXV
LRET
I saw a woman standing there
Her clothes tattered and torn
I saw a woman standing there
Her face looked so forlorn
A women full of worry lines
Grey streaks throughout her hair
A tear was rolling down her cheek
But she was unaware
Life had been hard, bitterly cruel
Her dreams taken away
And yet she’d fought with all her might
To face another day
I’d watched the woman standing there, now for quite a while
And as I watched her, she watched me
And we both began to smile
For as I looked into her deep, lost eyes
I soon began to see
The woman I was staring at, in the mirror, it was me!
Lately, my only passion is for poetry,
I quench my soul's thirst endlessly.
The newborn babe’s cry in verses,
I leave behind just as it is.
My heart is tattered and torn,
I write my poems, scratching and worn.
One day, with these papers I've penned,
Everyone may wipe them clean in the end.
I pour my thoughts onto the pages,
Relentlessly, my pen engages.
If I fail to share my mind,
What good is a blank page left behind?
I wear a poppy every day
And always there’s someone who’ll say,
“You’ve got it wrong! That’s not the way,
My man, you’re disrespectful!”
You know the type. They take delight,
Dictating what is wrong, what’s right.
But really I don’t give a sh*te.
I’m not at all regretful.
“Not on your hat! It’s all askew!
The leaf at eleven, not six or two!”
What a ridiculous, pointless to-do!
Really? Does it matter?
So my poppy’s on a shirt, a tie
Low on my coat or pinned up high
I really do not understand why,
There’s so much outraged chatter.
You see, it’s not the way it’s worn;
What piece of clothing you adorn,
Smart as a guardsman or tattered and torn.
What matters is, it’s there.
I wear my poppy how I like.
The haters? They can take a hike!
You wanna moan? Get on yer bike!
My tribute’s my affair.
Memories flutter like Post-It notes,
with scribbles faint and worn.
Reminders fade in the winds they’ve made,
my pages are tattered and torn.
Notes twist and swirl, then dip and curl,
in a wild and frantic breeze.
A cyclone spins where thoughts have been,
scattering all my memories.
Papers alight and suddenly take flight,
spinning frantically far and near.
But the harder I try, the stronger they fly,
increasingly more unclear.
I feel bold and reach to hold—
but my notes slip further away.
And piece by piece, I lose my peace,
as my library fades to gray.
The scattered scraps come fluttering back,
then flicker, furl, and flee.
A swift retreat, my memories fleet,
I’m not who I used to be.
An unraveling mind, fading line by line,
my life in vanishing ink.
Clinging to time and what’s left of my mind,
my sanity is on the brink.
But the yellow storm still rages on,
the cruel winds blow with might,
And time will steal all that was real,
‘til there’s nothing left but night.
-Edward
Sturdy within myself like I haven’t been before. From the penthouse of my mind to the dirt in my basement floor.
Wasn’t focused on the destination as that would have been a chore. So I climbed the stairs one step at a time without pushing for more. Leaning into discovery along the route to guide my tour. The trail was littered with roadblocks and detours. My soles became tattered and torn as I questioned if I could endure. But courage kept me on track as eventually unlocked the door to my soul. After swinging it open I realized it was on the journey where I developed my ability to soar.
What started as whisper soon turned into a roar. Now I’m infused with resilience through every corner of my core. Not sure what’ll come next but I’m ready for whatever the universe has in store.
She stands proud,
On mountain trail,
All tattered and torn.
Her stars holding fast
To the cloth she wears.
The Fifty stars she bears
Her strips bleeding
The pain of summer’s end.
She must transcend.
She’s graced these snow-crowned peaks,
With Hardiness and Valor,
Courage and Sacrifice.
She’s Reigned over these mountain vales,
With Justice and Vigilance,
Strength and Perseverance.
She’s blessed those who’ve traveled by
With her Innocence and Truth,
Purity and Love.
She’s stood her many trials.
Though tattered and torn,
With Pride and Dignity.
Like an eagle, she flies
Over this great land
And galaxies far.
She blesses the springtime beauty,
The summer’s green,
The aspen, when they shed,
The snow when it falls.
There is much to honor
In this old flag of ours,
And the unity it personifies.
Tis nothing less,
Than Old Glory,
In all her Glory.
You mangled my life for
games of chance creating
madness within a carney
realm feasting on my thoughts
tampering with my mind crushing
me chest ripping my heart out
stomping on it raising your brow
devouring soft edges leading to
my soul attempting to block the
entrance way to wholesome
goodness reaching the height
of my existence only to be
balanced above it all falling
into the trapeze nets crawling
clawing reaching for my soul
tattered and torn yet you couldn't
reach it as i drift into a deeper sleep
sorry satan my souls not yours to keep
My little doll's smile
is fading away
a small crack in its beauty
a forming decay
My little doll's paint
is starting to strip
each colorful strand
departing
they'll be missed
My little doll's clothes
are tattered and torn
worn from living
and worn from the scorn
My little doll is leaving
a truth I rarely face
My little doll is leaving
her truth behind
erased
If I could change the world
I would not change it at all
for change has killed my dolly
for change has stained my heart
I can't believe I'd ever be
part of a normal family
that loves each other without fail
with open arms they will cradle
you with heartfelt love and care
these feelings will not disappear
I never felt this way before
my childhood was like a war
fighting drugs and alcohol
but the most awful of all
is how I never quite fit in
my life was in a downward spin
till one very special day
made the past go far away
never to return again
I'm in a place I've never been
feelings different and new
hoping they will stick like glue
staying around for a while
giving me a kind of smile
I'm not used to wearing on
a face that was tattered and torn
from all the abuse and neglect
now a new expression will be kept
on my face and in my heart
this love will not be torn apart
with two children I adore
I would give my life up for
they will never know the sorrow
I dealt with---a new tomorrow
will always be kept and made
they will never be afraid
I will ever do to them
what was done by awful kin
this past cycle of madness
will not bring them any sadness
with love that unconditional
all their dreams I will fulfill
I'm numbered among the fallen
I fell along side so many other stars. Only to be forgotten, but tell me, was it his back that turned or ours?
I gaze down at the shadow cast by my wings. Only remnants now left tattered and torn. Unable to lift body or soul, they look all the years that they've worn.
Stranded here for lifetimes,
Too numerous to recall.
Tis' the mystery of paradox, to rise because of fall!
An angels mistakes are never erased. The FLAW within perfection. Ah blessed be your gift of death, and all who find redemption.
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