Withdraws Poems

Angel’s Heartbreak is Profound

Preferential treatment does hurt.
Jealousy swept under bedskirt.
She pinches the harp in background.
Those black and blues strings, plucked, resound.

The eldest withdraws with lone words,
Tends to the notion of firebirds.
Flames of wind, harassing, unbound.
Those black and blues strings, plucked, resound.

Not love, nonetheless - of first things.
Very little under her wings.
Harping and lost, in tears she drowned.
Those black and blues strings, plucked, resound.

Carried on military style,
Untucked blouse, fell in love meanwhile.
Innocence of strumming, compound.
Those black and blues strings, plucked, resound.

Existence - inky endeavor;
Playing this life of whenever.
An angel’s heartbreak is profound.
Those black and blues strings, plucked, resound.

Peace

A feeling so demure
Withdraws from the core of my
Apex
To the depth of my soul it goes
A fountain of fresh violets at it's purest blue
As a trail
Unknown I label 
Yet in it's purity
I reminisce.

I Am

the clockwise spiral
withdraws the universe
manifestation and movement 
making potential all that is kinetic
humming at a stillness point
at core of consciousness 
being the eternal I Am

then the exhalation
creative energy in motion
allows dream forms to dance
in the template of sacred geometry 
wherein I Am all that is manifest
present as love’s heartbeat
within each earth entity

repeated immersions
into whirlpools of duality 
gradually refines sensibilities 
of eternal light of Self which I Am
that merging into heart of God
I glisten therein like a gem
radiating love and light

River Of Tears

A river of tears have cascaded
Down both my cheeks and face,
Praying I would find the slightest relief;
Unfortunately, that was not the case.

This heartache you have bestowed on me
Has cursed me greatly with this pain,
Consistently and relentlessly attacking me;
This torment has surpassed inhumane.

My heart will never be able to heal
Unless this pain withdraws and goes away;
If my heart heals, it will forever be
Covered with these scars that stay.

Forever tattooed on my deformed heart,
Each one has a story they will tell
Of a lover who was never loved
And suffered needlessly through Hell.

Am I a fiction?

                                        Strange is the Creator
                                       Even the ashes are lost
                                       But I survive as a story
                                Why did I come and from where?
                                 Bound by mind I cannot decode 
                                        The wisdom is hidden 

                              I unfold as love, compassion and joy
                                   Sorrow, fear, greed, and hate
                                          But, I will disappear 
                                       Looks unbelievable today
                                       I am a drama embodied
                                       Who is playing this joke?

                                       He sends and withdraws
                                        The game is on and on 
                                       But, why? Am I nothing?
                                             Is all an illusion?
                                               What is real?
                                    Utter helplessness haunts me

 


, 

Ment to be broken

They tell you to ment what is broken,
but what if broken is ment to be broken.
They show you a world without flaws
but what if our reality comes with withdraws
A gift of imperfections to shine upon the surface
Layering emotions that do make us nervous
As fear is the chain that keeps us in line
So tight up to the system as we bite our time

The Healing Balm

Shadows of the day leaned against the wall
applauded the bug which made you fall
A search began for the healing balm
and called to arms ways to calm the storm
Heaven was warned and the Earth informed
Life must work for a prize if death is armed  
with aches and pains sharp as an arrow
its bleary eyes piercing through every window
formed grey clouds to hang over the meadow
But see, how refreshing the sprightly rain falls
Upon holy grounds where snow-flakes thaw
The running quake subsides and withdraws
dissolved in a ray of hope and welcome joy 
And savor every moment your heart employ
With every twist of threshing sinews and nerve 
The flagging weight goes lighter in a rare view
When bright moons break through the gloom 
Your exhilaration see how happy children play
Admire great faiths when frenzy people pray
Dark atmosphere fades into the ever-glades 
Recite praises with the gracious healing balm 
The healthier days are coming to you again 
Each step is victory in the journey you create
On the realm where healing virtues await 
 

Artic Hunter

Slow sleek steps,

Pounces on its paws,

Snow-clad fur,

Brushes off impatiently,

 
Ears perk up,

When squeals and squeaks are heard,

Steady and slowly,

Merges with the blanket beneath,

 
Almost at ease,

Confidently it please,

Lowers into its position,

Ready to strike,

 
Pounces on its paws,

Announces in its jaws,

Mouse struck beneath its claws,

Ounces in vigilant strides as it withdraws.


By Sarah Shahzad, July 2024

Father Christ Shares Our Grief

Couldn’t past the 1st sentence in today’s Gospel
Describes Father Christ in deep mourning
His cousin
His herald
His friend is dead
Brutally and senselessly murdered

Father Christ wants to be alone
He needs to be alone
He withdraws


Grieving is one of the most important thing we do in life
Loving relationships we form in our lives
Are one of the greatest thing we experience

When a loved one dies
Emptiness can seem too great to bear
Ay need to withdraw 
Even reach out others for help

Someone says grieving means” relearning the world”
Relearning to live without this cherished Person
Physically present in our life
It is comforting to know that Father Christ
Shared in our human grief

Loving Father Christ
When I am mourning the loss of loved one
Please let me hear You say
“Lean on me
I understand”
Remember
Your grieving is the other side of your loving”

Sr. Melanie Svoboda, S.N.D.

Turned to poetry by: Jacqueline R. Mendoza
Poetry Form: Free Verse

Lament

What more a f*cking fickle fable
Is found forlorn like this

Full of feeble fallacies
Far from fields of bliss

A word abused like ‘love’ 
withdraws,
so when it finally shows

It shines too brightly
Or too dim…
And kills whatever grows

Peace in Solitude

To embrace solitude is to find peace.
Solitude, everybody feels it.
Even when we are young,
we sense it sometimes, and look away
when a friend drifts apart.
Then we laugh for years in the bustling
crowd, carefree and fulfilled. But a friendship,
that started with joy, dissolves
into whispers at a party,
and a sibling from youth fades
slowly without a word.
If a close bond sustains us
through tough times, our dearest ally will leave
at their warmest and most genuine.
New acquaintances come and go. All go.
The friendly neighbor who mentions
that he's not staying
is fleeting. The closest friend,
busy with his own life,
withdraws under stress he cannot manage.
Another colleague of decades turns distant
with a comment that fractures ten years.
Let us walk in the forest at twilight
and accept that it is calming
and gentle to find peace in solitude.

White Lies

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawns a courtroom closing in on midday, and a cheery sun
uncovering its place being less demanding--a sage who
dons sufficiently in her vocation that imparts one who bears
a respectable position, and one of a high office--so without
delay, the judge withdraws to his chambers for consultations
with the defense attorney and prosecutor, et al., she then
advances towards the lone defendant from her private seat
in the gallery--an officer of the court, immediately takes
notice of her movements and in anticipation presented her
with a chair for her pleasure--the defendant who sees her,
respectfully stands, whereto, she politely informs him that
he may remain seated and air him in a one-sided
conversation being the soul speaker, and he as the soul
listener. Albeit, exceptions to that disclosure evolved at the
end as there is cause for the conversation to become ironic.

*The opener of My Short Story: White Lies, in two parts; I'm 
afeared of old habits unchanged as alit surface, amid dim, and 
aligned depth of mired cliché, sways a gavel 'ere ...

The Endless Cycle

Spring, summer, autumn, winter,
Nature’s endless march.
Each a cherished visitor.
With grace and determination, 
one by one each takes its turn on stage.

Seeds, long buried, know their time
to release next generations
of flowers, grasses, trees, all else.
Each a phoenix in repose.
Deeply programmed to unfold. 

Blossoming young sprouts—
break free from earth's clutches,
under ever-changing skies.
Suddenly, a grand symphony erupts.
Rapturous melodies released.

The meadow basks in warm sunlight,
where perky wildflowers seduce the bees.
Luring them deep into their folds.
With life’s nectar on their feet,
they fly off, sharing their fertile riches.

Summer’s end, a clarion's call to autumn.
No need for mourning—
the leaves set themselves free.
Unabashedly beautiful,
they tumble ceremoniously to the ground.

Frost arrives, a masterful artist, 
draping a shimmering veil over land and wood,
under the cool whisper of winter’s breath.
Nights grow longer, 
while days slumber in long-awaited rest.

Behind the closed curtain,
silent dormancy arrives, 
as life withdraws into hidden chambers--
Till once again, 
they hear thaw's gentle call to awaken.

Silent night

Wake’s retreat brings calm,
Silence cloaks the once-roaring,
Unease whispers near.

Nightfall descends, hushed,
Absence of life’s symphony,
Uneasy shadows.

Atmosphere withdraws,
Silence shatters tranquility,
Unease lingers, still.

Hallowed Moon

In this late hour, the moon withdraws behind a cloud
Hiding her face and her light so dearly loved
And wraps herself in her old, moth-eaten shroud
As the last jack-o’-lantern’s flame is finally snuffed.

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