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Andrew Weeden Poem
The Echo of a Soul
By Andrew Weeden
In the windswept hills of vibrant green,
Here I sit at your lonely grave.
The bright flower that made my heart beam,
Is the wilted flower I could not save.
From the beginning I did not know,
I was oblivious from the start;
Cancer’s blade cut away your happy glow
And would thrust to pierce my very heart.
Consumed in the darkness of raging anger,
Ten years I stand alone in the rain.
With death no longer a distant stranger;
My only companion in the storm of pain.
Now it seems no one remembers,
But you did not cease to be.
Your spirit still burns in glowing embers
And lives inside the fire in me.
The storm is passing; I finally see its end.
Happiness smiles again and shakes me to my core.
I realize every time I lift my pen
My Grandma speaks once more!
Reflections of your love
Weave tapestries in time.
As a singing mourning dove,
Your words whisper in my mind.
So though you had to go,
You remain in your begotten;
As an echo of a soul,
Gone but not forgotten.
Copyright © Andrew Weeden | Year Posted 2014
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Andrew Weeden Poem
While walking I hit a fork with two streets,
One was bright and one was bleak.
I chose the one warm and bright,
More pleasing to my sense.
I chose the street to my right,
A more pleasing consequence.
A smiling man approached,
He led me through the many lights.
So it was that I encroached
And stayed for many nights.
He whispered to my flesh, ”Thou art man,
Do not worry about lust or vanity;
There is no wrong in this land
When you create reality.
He gave me the best food,
We drank the sweetest wine.
I did not want to be rude,
But I asked him for the time.
He said, “It is too late for that,
For thoughts of going back.
You made your choice so long ago,
As you can plainly see;
Now it’s time for you to come
Take your place inside the flames with me.
I found myself down the Devil’s road.
I found much that glitters is not gold.
Copyright © Andrew Weeden | Year Posted 2014
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Andrew Weeden Poem
Eyes that cry in anguish,
Uncertain and alone.
Seeking some solution
And searching for a home.
When we used to play as kids,
In contentment’s warm embrace,
Was the smile I saw each day
But a mask upon your face?
Haunting memories past,
Trapped in voracious pain.
A chance to fill an empty heart,
You push a needle in your vein.
You become the living dead,
But pain rises from its grave.
The tortured mind seeks freedom,
While the needle makes a slave.
Each night you come and go,
Looking worse for the wear.
Life hangs by finest thread,
To you it’s of no care.
Everyone gives up on you,
They say nothing can be done.
Your tears have gone from hate to pain,
To the tears of opium.
Why escape the chains that hold so tight?
Arms dependence is soothing bliss.
Once you have had just one taste,
You will crave the dragon’s kiss.
A lost orphan in a cruel world
Cast aside by your mother.
The needle becomes one with your flesh,
So death is now your lover.
As you dance with the shadow of death,
I wish I could stop the tragic harm;
To the little girl who played with me,
As she injects death into her arm.
I’m afraid one day you won’t return
From the misty eyed walk in the night.
With your needle as your boarding pass,
You go forth to take the Devil’s flight.
No more pain left to feel,
No more sights left to see;
Nothing but vague memories
Of my friend who played with me.
Copyright © Andrew Weeden | Year Posted 2014
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Andrew Weeden Poem
Over an insult, I learned man will kill.
The man's hurt ego speaks in his thoughts,
Pride will do anything to have its will.
On that day peace ceased in the city street;
A shot rang out to seek tender flesh,
Innocent blood was spilled on the concrete.
An instrument of death not meant for you;
Seventeen years, a sheep among wolves,
Over pride your life was taken from you.
In your memory, everyday we pray,
For the A student walking from school,
Who will not live to see another day.
R.I.P STM
Copyright © Andrew Weeden | Year Posted 2014
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Andrew Weeden Poem
Before you came in my life
Consumed by stress, torn by strife.
Now I wake to the reddest hair
Without one worry, or one care.
But here I sit all alone
Waiting for you to come home.
What you mean to me, Where to start?
You made a home inside my heart.
Just one kiss, I would go to the depths of hell
Know I would do anything for you Rachael.
Copyright © Andrew Weeden | Year Posted 2015
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