The blue waves smack the shore
Outlined by the oaken door.
Stand beside the cypress tree
Throw your arms out to the sea
On a mossy cliffside you can spy
The wheeling curlew, hear it cry.
Smell the cedar in the grove
See grass wave where rover's rove.
Hear the sea gull, feel the wild
White sails on silver, be beguiled.
So far from madness of the city
Cell phone rings, no longer free.
You run inside the cottage door
Find your backpack on the floor
Dig the phone out, as it plays
A ringtone singing "yesterday"
Its Chase bank, with a suspect charge
Ten thousand, that's awful large.
Text message comes from your landlord
Rats with fleas came in a horde
Your boss says he's needs you back soon
Work has come like a monsoon.
You leave the cottage bitterly
But you can't eat the scenery:
Can't throw the cell phone in the sea.
At least you have the memory...
Eyes beg for mercy, what do I do?
rain bucket handy offers a clue.
Mouse caught in sticky trap
Immersed, a quickie wrap.
One jerk, and blitzkrieg, his Waterloo
An angel trapped in Heaven.
Pleading to see earth once more.
She cries for possessions left behind.
She weeps for memories she will forget.
She is safe in paradise but yearns to be back home.
Crying rain as she sees her world move on.
Why am I in heaven?I just miss home.
I'm hurting, I'm wounded –
looking for an escape.
This life’s become unbearable –
there's nowhere I feel safe.
If only there was something –
(that) could take away my pain.
I searched for any remedy –
(that might) make me want to stay.
I drink on any antidote –
I'd stitch me up myself.
I'd literally do anything –
to find something that helps.
But I don't have the tools –
nor do I have some type of potion.
The ways, they come and go –
I'm overwhelmed with my emotions.
So, if I were to find something –
that might make me feel sane;
something to bring me peace –
and calm the noise inside my brain.
I'd probably believe it first –
that it were just a dream.
I don't think that I would believe –
that it were what it seemed.
I'd likely think it were a hoax –
just lies coded with glitter.
Not all that glitters is real gold –
so what makes this thing differ?
Don't get me wrong, I'd try it –
I’d risk it all for new found hope.
If there were just the slightest help –
I do anything to cope.
I’ve found an all new low –
is it just me, or am I dying?
I'm running out of options –
so tell me: what else is worth trying?
"Verses in the Ash,"
is where my soul was born.
Where hot coals singed me,
as ashes covered my tiny body.
My soul was,
"Trapped in Your Pulse."
This body has me trapped,
as a helpless baby.
"I am the asylum of your ache,"
in time as it goes by so slowly.
"I taste your truth,"
the truth of life is bitter.
"Where orchids dream,"
is a place I wish I could live.
A place away from the hot ash and pain,
in a place of beauty with pretty orchids.
We all trap ourselves in our own misery.
Afraid that if anyone knows, we'll crack.
Locking the door to freedom as we're stuck in the past.
Slowly bleeding out, while not letting anything go.
We try to forget, but always end up looking back.
The memories taking us down fast.
And the relief coming slow.
If at all, it's like we'll never know.
Trapped in our own minds.
Awake every night.
Scared of what others may find.
Waiting for the light.
Watching each tear fall to the ground.
Crying, trying to not make a sound.
Because if we do, they'll know.
And if they know, they might leave.
Making just another person to grieve.
But, if you relate to this, then you're not alone.
There's many out there that can relate to this poem.
You may feel like it's never going to end,
But, I believe, this is something you can mend.
Trapped into slavery, wanting freedom, freedom to retire and live life with enjoyment.
Trapped into a life with limited options, without the needed stuff to be a success.
Success with living a way that makes us feel okay, like freedom to walk around in a safe environment, free to have food that is healthy and will not make us sick, free to pick the apples and take home to eat, free to enjoy all the free stuff God gave us.
Trapped can come in many forms, and we cannot get free because of many reasons, some known and some unknown.
So, lets pray today for all to be free, to be able to achieve all we can be.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Captive
Locked in your shadow
Rigid as a board
Twisted in the dark
Eyes fixed and insane
Arms like heavy chains
Captive in a haze
bells tinkle gently
I’m trapped in a cup
watching cows in spring
loamy Earth beneath
ceramic walls crack
moo-ing opens base
______________________
Contest : Standard : Trapped in a Tableau
Sponsor : Nette Onclaud
Placed : 4th : March 26
Silver glinting thread -
Eyes go to its source.
A li'l fly lays dead -
Spider's fault, of course.
Wings can barely flap
Once in spidee's trap.
I found the old map
folded neatly there
in the desk drawer,
unfolding I see
our last journey, planned
but never taken.
I should be home,
And waking up with you,
Embracing the beautiful chaos
Of our family
Together
Instead, I'm asleep
Trapped in this cruel nightmare,
Cut off from the ones
I love most
In my dreams
I hear only echoes
And see only shadows
Of my life before
As I wait in darkness,
Longing for moments
Lost,
And memories
Unmade
And as each day passes,
I grow convinced
No devil could concoct
A greater misery
Than to take a loving man
from his family.
There's gravel grinding in my gut; a godless gearbox of grief growling in my belly's black cathedral.
My heart hammers like hell's hooves, hauling the hearse of every hope I ever had.
I eat dirt for dinner and call it divine, choking on crumbs of my own creation.
My lungs lurch like dying engines, exhaling elegies of exhaust and extinction.
Every breath burns a furnace of forgiveness that refuses to cool.
The devil drums on my ribs like thunder made of teeth and tin.
My tongue tastes of tombstones and tar and a sermon spat through shattered glass.
Even silence stabs sharp sanctified hollering hymns of pain through the marrow of midnight.
I am the meat of my own misery devoured by despair divine.
And stll the gravel grins inside me, grinding and glorying in my ruin.
Once I was trapped just as a pet,
And let them do what they set.
Some people call me dirtiest place,
They do not know about the race.
Race of development, race of grace,
Race of making a perfect face.
I got freedom years before,
Yet not properly - the truth is sour.
A day I will reach so high,
And thus I will keep to try.
i’m not lonely
i’m just so alone i feel trapped with myself
a claustrophobic in a padded room
but in all reality it’s just my own thoughts suffocating me
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