En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Present From A Thief

Papa always picked the smallest doll,
Movable legs and arms loosely
Held together by rubber bands.

Sneaking through the door
In bare feet-not waking all
And placing it in a box beside
Little candies and fruits

The firewood snapped and popped
Lighting up the house like firework
On the Fourth of July…they slept.
Was that terrible act
Perfectly covered up?

For years, I called the action into question:
Whose eyes the wool was pulled over?
How could he in his drunken stupor
Slip in and out unnoticed to
Steal her innocence?

I remember mama sitting
At the kitchen table, with
A baby in arm,
Another on her knee, and
Starring down
At the butcher knife.
Eyes dripping blood as
She looked at her little girls.
Then regret and silence
Slit her heart.

Years later…
I visited her in the nursing home.
She was seated in an old rocking chair with
Head bowed; her silver hair wilted on shoulders;
Each day's images and thoughts were
Trying to dig a passageway out of her mind…
I asked, ' why you couldn't -or
wouldn’t catch that thief'
“ I had to wait for the grim reaper to catch him”

Almedia S. Knight or ASK,
04/24/07

poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Christmas Gift From Papa She Didn't Like

Slipping in on bare calloused feet-
though my little ears had heard
that friction sound many times before-
placing the doll in the stocking where
a peppermint stick, fruits-
[One of each] an apple, orange,
and Satsuma dangerously,
hang over the dry mantle –just a bit
above the cracking and popping
fiery oak log-without waking anybody

Nothing seems to silence the
Night after nights memories
Of the Incestuous bed
that even sheets couldn't
cover up...
Mama where were you?
Will you'll ever know
How my life turned out?

I can remember seeing mama sitting
at the kitchen table [that was bare of cloth]
burden with the weight of silence, as
she nursed the baby in her arm, while
another stood knee-high
pulling up on her leg,
as the other two girls[six 1/4 and seven]
played in a room nearby
Hopelessly and helplessly
She glances at her little girls
then sorrow fills her heart…
O lord, redeem my soul!

Decades later…
I visited her in the nursing home
Silence had weighed heavily on her head;
Her silver hair wilted on her shoulders; and
Tears commenced to flow Images of hell,
She contemplates heaven at last!
I asked, again, why you couldn’t…
Or wouldn’t catch that thief?
“ Only the grim reaper could catch him”

Almedia S. Knight or ASK { revision 12/19/ 09)
04/24/07

poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Are You Going To See Your Mom?

'Mom,
I come back again.'
I shouted
in my mind.
It is said that
Plane flies fast.
But my heart
flew to my Mom
before the plane landed.

I knew
that my sisters come here
in turn everyday.
Now this day
I would be on duty.
When I stepped into the nursing home,
I saw Mom in a wheel chair,
with more white hair,
and more wrinkles on face.
I gave her a hug,
'Hi, Mom.' I shouted near her ear.

Mom stared me with dull sight,
then held my hands,
'Sister' she called me,
She couldn't recognize me!
I couldn't hold my tears any more.
Mom didn't cry,
just wiped out my tears
using her hand.

When lunch was ready,
I fed her one spoon after another;
Mom nodded her head while she's chewing;
A little smile showed up at the edge of her lips.

I hated that It's time to leave,
I stood up, and said
'Good bye, Mom.'
She looked at me,
held my hands, and asked me:
'Are you going to see your Mom? '

* Mom had dementia two years before and moved into a nursing home.
Also, she has hearing problem.
Are You Going To See Your Mom? *

poem by Jade Huang
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Hot Dogs On The Fourth Of July

The BIG BANGS on the fourth of July!
Picnics, fireworks, barbecues, hot dog for everyone!

Cool-dog lay in fresh whole-wheat bun covered with mustard,
ketchup, and onions-thinks it taste better than all others.
Humble- Ilana, one by one, pluck them off 'delicious'

Hot-diddly-dog barked, 'Leave the rest out just cover me
with mayonnaise and sauerkraut! '

Juicy-dog, filled with by products lay in bun with everything on it,
looking like the pigeon dropping that fell on the topping.
Innocence-Kayla said, 'I pass…a hamburger, please! '

Naked-slim-dog stretches out in just a plain toasted bun,
Demure-Kamille sits alone enjoying her bare hot dog

Happy Fourth of July!

By
Almedia Knight- Oliver
July 3,2012

poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Four Stages Of Life

She with child waged a fight
But baby won outright

Then she struggled with self
Innocence and lighthearted left

Later, she struggled with her mind
But, couldn’t gain entry into the mine

Now, the battle with life begins...
If you're wondering…the grim reaper wins.

poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Unexpected Father.

Your mother
had brought Helen

home for tea after school
and she had held on

to the handle
of the pram

your mother pushed
and you walked

along side
thinking of whether

to show her
your toy soldiers

and cowboys and Indians
and the guns

that fired
loud banging caps

or whether to just sit
and watch the TV

and eat your tea
and show her nothing

but once you got home
and your mother went off

to the kitchen to prepare
the tea stuff and such

Helen looked at you
and shyly smiled

and said
Can I see your sister's dolls

and pram
and does she have

a doll's house
I could play with?

you dismissed the idea
of showing her

the guns that fired caps
or your toy soldier collection

and took her
into the room

where you kept the toys
and pointed to

your sister's dolls
and the pram

and said
Take care

my sister doesn't like
people messing

with her stuff
and Helen nodded

and picked up a doll
and held it to her chest

and rocked it
to and fro

and walked up and down
murmuring there there sounds

that echoed softly
around the room

Where's your sister?
Helen asked

will she mind me
rocking the baby to sleep?

Guess not
you replied

and stood watching her
as she walked

and talked to the doll
in an undertone

and you stood there
hands in pockets

like a father
of an unexpected child

wondering what to say
or do and taking in

her thick lens glasses
and her eyes

seemingly enlarged
focusing on the doll

and the way her head
moved from side to side

so that her plaited hair
went from side to side

and up and down
and she said softly

and suddenly
We may have a baby like this

one day and you had better
say something more

than you are now
or I'll think

you didn't want it
and off she walked

up and down the room
and hoped your mother

would come soon
and save you from the fate

of being the father
of a doll with a dodgy eye

and a painted smile
but having a tender spot

for Helen
all the while.

poem by Terry Collett
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Are You Happy With It?

Are you happy with it?
I asked the smiling man,
his head nodding, so fast,
I could not catch his
Maddening eyes.

Are you happy with it?
I asked the sitting lady,
as she rocked squeakily,
paper-bagged bottle,
splashing down her drunken legs,
but I could not sharpen her blur.

Are you happy with it?
I asked the limping child,
its lop-sided neck,
angling the world to 45,
yet even there,
she only grinned
by degrees.

Are you happy with it?
I asked the patient,
strapped to a white bed,
pulls, pipes and promises,
dragged out of his soul,
as his stare spoke
a steep silence.

Are you happy with it?
I asked the reflection,
while speeding into a vacuum.
It looked familiar,
almost me,
but afraid to change pace,
he just mouthed NO.

poem by Jerry Pike
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One Leg Anne and the Innocent Flirt.

Sister Mary pushed Anne
in her wheelchair
to the white table
where you were sitting

with Lydia Sad
and Malcolm
and a curly headed girl
with burn scars

on her face and neck
there
said the nun
here you can sit

and wait for breakfast
and catch the morning sun
Anne looked glumly
at the sky

and said nothing
as the nun
walked away
I wonder

what's for breakfast?
Malcolm asked
stewed cat on toast
Anne said

looking at Lydia Sad
whose blonde hair
and blue eyes
gave her

an angelic look
that's horrible
the girl with burn scars said
don't eat it then

Anne said
Malcolm looked at you
it wouldn't be that
would it?

He asked
no
you said
Anne's just having you on

why do you have to spoil
my fun Skinny Boy?
Anne said
it's not funny

Lydia muttered
not funny to say that
about cats being on toast
how are your haemorrhoids?

Anne asked Lydia
saw the fat nun
giving you the bum pill
Lydia blushed

and Malcolm looked
at the white table top
I'm telling Sister Bernadette
about you

the girl with burn scars said
go put your head
between your thighs
and breathe the air

Anne said
the girl got up
and left the table
followed by Lydia

and Malcolm
that's got rid of them
Skinny Boy
Anne said

why are you so horrible?
you asked
looking at her red skirt
just covering the stump

of her amputated leg
have a good look Skinny Boy
and she pulled up
her skirt to reveal

the naked flesh
and plump stump
you noticed
how the scar

seemed to pull
into a smooth redness
what do you think?
Anne asked

I've seen it before
you replied
when?
She asked

you showed me
the other week
while you were being weight
in the bathroom

she smiled
and pulled down
her skirt
I like you Skinny Boy

you're just
an innocent flirt
and she laughed
and her wheelchair rocked

and you smiled
and wondered
what she meant
by the word flirt

and looked discreetly
at her short red skirt.

poem by Terry Collett
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What I remember about you

I remember a wonderful day
It was the day I met you for the first time
I don't remember what made that day so wonderful
Maybe it was the the way you could always have fun and you were always smiling

I remember the time I met you
It was July third 2005 at your neighbors house and you were setting off firework
I don't remember talking much on the third
but I am known for getting shy especally around new people that I haven't met
I remember the first question you asked me
It was Ahh, Hey do you want to come to my house and set off some firework tonight

I don't remember why I said yes that sounds like fun
Maybe it was your kind and caring voice I don't normally say yes even to my best friends

I remember a forth of July at your house
It was about seven o'clock and we setting off fireworks and a police officer told use to stop

I don't remember having such a blast sents then
Maybe it is because you are loads of fun to be around and you are the life of the party
I remember the first time we talked
It was July forth 2005 at your house when we met up for fireworks

I don't remember who started the conversations
and I normally don't forget that type of stuff this easily
I remember your three favorite colors
It was at school and you said your favorite colors are winter-white, black, and yellow

I don't remember what I did with the christmas presents
I did make one for you and some other friends Hmm..I think they are in my bedroom some where
I remember the first thing I gave you
It was the last day of school before Christmas break i gave you some kissable candies

I don't remember ever giving away chocolate before
I guess there is a first for every thing though even for me getting rid of candy
I remember your sixteenth birthday
It was March fourteenth 2006 and you passed your road test
I don't remember the last time I saw you outside of your car
I mean out side of school when I say that by the way nice music sounds like what I listen to

poem by Amber Lyn Charneski
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Catch Me Up

Hello, hello, I'm glad to see you
Now we'll only stop to say goodbye
We'll go, we'll go just where we want to
We won't let the others bleed us dry
'Cause I am but a fool for you, that's right
And I got nothing to lose that I'd choose tonight
Come on, come on we should be leaving
But I let another one go by
Oh no, oh no, I couldn't leave you
Though I know they'd like to make me try
'Cause I shot down the moon for you, that's right
'Cause I got something to prove to you tonight
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up
You know, you know I want to please you
And now's the time to let me try
Will you, will you do as I do?
Will you wait for me it's do or die?
'Cause I don't ever wanna see you cry
Yeah, I will never leave you high and dry
I, yeah, I...
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me up, yeah
I will always wait for you to catch me
I will always wait for you to catch me
I will always wait for you to catch me
I will always wait for you to catch me

song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love In The Rearview Mirror of The Car

Sitting in the back seat, I could
See his eyes glancing from
Right to left, as we drove along-
Side the grassy hills and plains.

His dancing eyes held me
So close that, I felt like a
Trembling heart of a captive
Bird held under his command.

I thought I saw the moon rise
In his eyes and his pupils
Light up the dark highway
And endless heavens

I peered into his tender heart, saw
the essence of the purest love
permeating the space beyond

Times your eyes lay on mine,
Feeling your lips on mine and
Your heart beatingg on mine
At last! I know our is love heavenly.

Almedia S. Knight

poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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All I wanted is for you to love me

All I wanted is for you to love me! ! ! !

  She had her when she was only 15 years old, and her baby was so beautiful! many people told her that, and she smiled tho  but! ! ! ! in the back of her mind she hated her child tho.From taking thee attention away that she craved! ! ! ! ! and she was thinking it will never be about her, but always about her so called  beautiful daughter.    Now as time went along  her mother blamed her for the  men that went away and didn't stay the mother claimed that men would say, that her child act so childish each and everyday that there developed a frown on the mother face like her daughter was the case that her men friends went away, but it was always how she miss treated her daughter in there faces like calling her Miss. little red **** In front of her male acquaintance and she would laugh! ! ! ! when they didn't think it was funny, she ask for them to leave, and they would say you crazy! ! ! If that was my baby you would regret the day you ever mat me. And when they left she start yelling at her baby telling her look what the **** you did again! ! ! ! Thee anger, the rage, the look she gave. She grabbed her baby slammed! ! ! ! ! her on her bottom in a chair and piece, by piece, start cutting her hair. Telling her you think your better then me! ! ! ! you think your prettier, then me, you red  **** You think you can compete with me **** even tho she's only eight years old. Talked  about her birthmark on her feet and said thats the start of you being ugly, and the daughter just cried! ! ! ! The mother said you make me do these things to you because you think you so got dam! ! ! beautiful. 
 
Years later a history of events occurred thur out the years and now the daughter is now 15 and her mom hating on her body, that she covered up all the mirrors or gave them away so her daughter wouldn't be able to look at her face. What ever the daughter can see thur the mother trash that too  the daughter asked why are you so mean and taking everything because this is mine **** you always think your cutter then me! ! ! You red ****you want to hit me so I can **** up your face! ! ! ! wearing your tight jeans acting like you so much better then me you red **** And the daughter didn't say a word she just looked at her and her mom responded you looking down on me and the daughter responded no! ! ! ! Then responded I should have gave you away when the doctor placed you in my ***** hand, and she went on to say that day I brought you home I should took your clothes off and left you in the cold! ! ! ! !  you red ***** should be thankful and grateful that I didn't do that **** to you I'm only telling you this for your own *** good! ! !  then her  mom said you want to hit me don't you **** and the daughter responded no but I'm sad for you tho, that you couldn't be the mother I needed  you to be, and it hurts it really hurts, and the mom responded **** you **** and the mom said  what is that chair doing in your room! ! ! ! I just wanted you to love me. The daughter stood up in the chair the mom responded **** get down off my **** the daughter said I would never be loved by you the mother said  you got that right! ! ! the daughter started to cry and the mom responded you ugly **** daughter went to her pocket grabbed the knife and cut her own wrist I had to do this JUST TO GET AWAY FRom you, you jealousy **** she smiled and fell to the floor bleeding to death. Then the mom started yelling noooooooooo my baby my beautiful baby girl! ! ! ! ! ! !

Clarence Williams of greater

poem by Clarence Williams
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Young Lovers

I like sitting at this particular table in this lively Café
eating my cheese toastie and drinking black coffee.
At a nearby table, two lovers are kissing and making up,
but then after their last kiss they decided to disconnect
to take a deep drag from their shared cigarette
and to take a sip from their cooling coffee cup.
Placing the cigarette in the ash tray they cuddled back together
fitting like a glove with their arms around each other
totally preoccupied, giving no one else a second look.

After several minutes of holding, kissing and whispering,
and the occasional passionate tongue in mouth sucking
it looked as though they were here for the rest of the day.
Suddenly her chair flew backwards, as she quickly stood up
rocking the table, which spilled the coffee from their cups
and the ashtray to hit the floor, as she pushed him away.
She then slapped his face and shouted at him in anger,
but he sat calm and collected, and said that he loved her,
and she had misunderstood what he was trying to say.

With her hot temper cooling she decided to sit back down
and asked him a question, which caused her face to frown,
as he explained she dragged the chair closer to him again.
Picking up the fallen ashtray she listened to what he said
whilst others in the Café were drinking and being fed,
and outside it persistently poured with torrential rain.
She ordered two fresh coffees, with a deep sigh of regret
while he lit up another blue tipped cigarette,
which they both drew upon until none remained.
He held out his hands as they looked into each other’s eyes,
with a smile she touched his finger, as though to apologise
then dragged her chair closer and began kissing again.

I like sitting at this particular table in this lively Café
eating my cheese toastie and drinking black coffee
watching people fall out who later make up,
and it’s by no means unusual to see in this busy place
a few exchanged words followed by a slap across the face
and then a kiss and make up, over a fresh coffee cup.

poem by Orlando Belo
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A Rush of Wild Wind

Love is like a wild wind,
love is a scented roses
in the air everywhere

Twirling and twisting into a knot
ought I pull this way or not?
Head spinning, heart running,
and following its path.

Oh sweet heart see the flowers
hanging over the picket fence,
five lovely petals crying
out for-get-me-not!
In the never-ending heaven hangs
as many shinning stars as angels!

Having slept long nights times,
cause desire to crest, overflowing
waves over waves

Sitting alone on the riverbank
Pondering the long dive.
Billows give me a ride.
Having no buds in waiting
Love blooms in its age

Growing older against your junior-
wasn't well thought out-yet knowing
years between us are felt,
Its distance can be dealt.

Almedia Knight

July 9,2009

poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Today, Let's Celebrate Our Love

The first day we met, fall had
Changed shift with summer

There, two trees had changed colors,
were bare, and fruit-less

The little winged boy launched his arrow,
Striking, and seriously injuring two hearts

Darling, let’s watch the sun celebrate
Its Golden anniversary at the close of day

In praise: thunder claps, lighting strikes,
Wind whispers sweet music in our ears

Here, sun beams, and dances across the sky,
And the rainbow, with its bands color us pink

My dear, our arms shall not hang idle,
And our lips will remain partners

Now, we’re a bit old and grey,
Eyes growing smaller every day

Pains mounting
Minds slowing

Darling, when we sleep, our
Poetry will be forever awake

Almedia S Knight Or ASK

poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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The House of the Scarlet Moon

I fell in love with a Chinese girl
Her name was Chen Xiao Fei,
We worked together in Middle School
In the Province of Anhui,
She'd join me in my apartment when
The working day was done,
But never would take me to home to meet
Her mother, Chen Shaojun.

Xiao Fei was going on thirty, which
Had meant, in Chinese terms,
That she was a spinster, on the shelf,
She had no marriage plans,
I asked her once if she'd marry me
But she laughed and said, 'No way!
My mother would jump from the balcony
If I married an old Yang Wei.'

I called in once to the family home
To win her mother round,
She glared at me as I paced the floor,
Her father sat and frowned,
She wouldn't sit at the table while
I stayed there, under her roof,
But screeched at her daughter, in Chinese,
Some slang that was quite uncouth.

She came one day to say, Xiao Fei,
The wedding date was set,
I asked her who was the lucky man -
But she'd not even met him yet!
Her mother had schemed and arranged it all
To thwart what plans we had,
She cried a bucket of silent tears
But would do as her mother said.

She stayed away for a month or two
To let things settle down,
Then married the man that her mother chose
From a village, out of town.
When a month had passed, I was feeling lost
'Til there came a knock at my door,
It was Chen Xiao Fei in some deep dismay
So I sat with her, down on the floor.

She clung on tight to my shoulder, sobbed,
And cried, wouldn't let me go,
The man she'd married was such a brute
As the marks and the bruises showed,
But worse than that, she looked at me
As her eyes had begun to mist,
'I'm having a child, and I don't quite know
If the baby's yours, or his! '

I sat quite shocked in the evening gloom,
And I felt a sudden chill,
'You'll know as soon as the baby's born, '
I said, but my heart stood still.
If she should deliver a foreign child
She'd be left in a deep disgrace,
And her family then would turn their backs
From the horror of 'losing face'.

Our fears were proven a few months on,
The child was a baby boy,
At first the father and parents danced,
They couldn't conceal their joy,
In China, there is the one child rule,
One chance is all that you get,
So girls go missing there all the time
If the father's mind is set.

For sons are valued as girls are not,
A boy can work on the farm,
A girl will grow to be someone's wife,
Will travel away from home.
So often, just when the child is born
The father will wait outside,
The judge and the executioner,
It's often a question of pride.

A boy is swept up in loving arms,
A girl will wait on the thumb,
If the thumb goes down then the baby drowns
Or is dumped in the cinder drum.
If a boy is born with a fatal flaw,
His fate is the same as hers,
Or he may be sold to a heartless soul,
They call it the Chinese Curse.

The boy was fine 'til he opened his eyes
And they saw that his eyes were blue,
His skin was yellow, his hair was black
But the eyes... the eyes... They knew!
Not even a day had passed before
The baby had paid for our sin,
He was sold to a beggar for ten yuan,
A beggar named Sun Lang Lin.

The birth, already forgotten there
Was marked - 'delivered but dead! '
The Doctor was paid a forgetting fee,
As Xiao Fei cried in her bed,
She told me, when she returned to work,
What they'd done with our beautiful son,
She looked aside, avoided my eyes,
Pretended they'd done nothing wrong.

It took me a month to discover the name
Of the beggar, Sun Lang Lin,
I haunted the areas beggars haunt,
But could find no sign of him,
Then just by chance, a crippled child
Who begged by a streetside bin,
Cowered away when I asked her the way
To the beggar called Sun Lang Lin.

She raised a hand to protect herself
At the sound of his hated name,
She said that he'd kicked and he'd beaten her
Had crippled and brought her to shame,
This child was one of a dozen he had
Who begged for him, night to noon,
She whispered his place of ill-fame in my ear,
'The House of the Scarlet Moon'.

I couldn't find anyone willing to talk about
Where this old Tavern was,
I knew it was out in the countryside,
Beside a deserted Mosque.
I travelled by day and I slept rough at night
As I searched in the dusk and the gloom,
Then finally, there in the distance I spied
The House of the Scarlet Moon.

Sun Lang Lin lay in his dirty rags
On a bed on the floor at the back,
I waited 'til midnight, picked up a rock
And I worked out my plan of attack,
Children were crying in fitful sleep
In a room in that dark old den,
I crept through the dark to the crying there
To look for my blue-eyed son.

Around the walls were earthenware jars
And each with a child within,
He'd jammed them in tight, where nothing could grow,
Their legs would be twisted and thin,
This house of horrors and nightmares kept
Its secrets all wrapped in gloom,
My son lay there on a coverlet,
In the House of the Scarlet Moon.

I seized my son, I smashed the jars,
The children fell to the floor,
They each were maimed and deformed, I knew,
They'd never be able to walk,
They'd spend their lives in the gutters for him,
Set up with a begging bowl,
I wondered how people like Sun Lang Lin
Could open the doors to the soul.

He woke, came running right into the room,
And he pulled out a long, sharp knife,
I laid my son on the coverlet
And prepared to fight for my life,
He lunged just once, I stepped aside,
I hit him just once with the rock,
He fell and he didn't get up again
So I picked up my son, and took off.

Once well away in the undergrowth
I stopped and I turned, to see,
A flame was flickering through the roof
Of the Tavern that used to be.
It all went up with a mighty roar
As I hugged my son in the gloom,
There's no more babies, or cripples made
At the House of the Scarlet Moon.

2 December 2008

poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Little Girl With Curly Hair

there is this little girls with black curly hair
flat nose, thin eyelashes, wavy goatish eyelids,
sitting on a bamboo pole
(the common furniture there)
with bare hands and bare feet
staring at me,
for i am new here and i have a big tummy
and i am white skinned, and i have candied
inside my pockets, she knows that soon
i will throw all these candies in the air
for all the other children

but there is something strange about this
little brown girl with curly hair sitting all alone
on that bamboo chair

her father and mother were killed in the last rebellion.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Sorrow Leads

You walk in the door no one does anything
Your walk to your room without a word
They say nothing
Their silence is the wound, it is the sword

You take the knife from your table
You slit you wrists and watch the blood drip
They wouldn't help even if they were able
They would just smurk and curve their lip

The blood slowly drips to your bed
This is where sorrow has led
For tomorrow you will be dead

Your eyes search for answers, they look deep
The knife shines red, as you turn it
Tonight you will forever sleep
The room is lightly lit

Tomorrow will never come
This you know
A distant horror for most yet a dream for some
Some say it's black as night others as white as snow

The blood slowly drips to your bed
This is where sorrow has led
For tomorrow you will be dead

Your mind is filled with pain
Waiting, waiting for a sign
The lamb will rest with the lion head on his maine
You think as you watch 'I know no future, but this is mine.'

Your heart beats it's last beats
Your eye lids close and your head falls
It is the creator you will meet
When you think this you smiles and then your heart stalls

The blood slowly drips to the bed
This is where sorrow has led
For now you are dead.

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I’ll Catch You When You Fall

You wanted so much to be a star;
wide eyed you looked at what could be,
so you started on your climb.
Not looking back at the misery,
you were leaving behind.
However, one day when your star should stall,
I will be here to catch you when you fall.

Friends have all told me that
you’ve turned your back on us here,
but I bet when you hear,
some distant train whistle blow
you stop for a moment
and something in your memory will recall,
that I’ll still be here to catch you when you fall.

You have moved on and upwards,
new friends you have by the score,
while your star is burning bright.
But what will happen when it begins to dim,
how many new friends will you have then,
and how many time will they come to call?
I’ll still be here to catch you when you fall.

Everyday I see your face on the TV.
Your false smile seems to have faded a little.
Isn’t the stardom what you thought it was going to be?
So on nights when your pillow is damp with tears.
Do you remember what you left behind,
and do you remember and recall what I said.
I’ll be there to catch you when you fall.

Leaving all your glad rags behind,
you closed the door on your dream.
Wandering aimless around for years,
not sure what you were going to do.
You wrote me a letter and asked if you could call.
I wrote back to you simply saying, come home,
I am still here to catch when you fall.

30 July 2007

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those Unsaid And Untouched By My Lips

my hands shape what you desire
in willingness my thoughts form the petals
of the flowers of your longings

i cater to love i submit to loving
naked i stand before the judgment of your eyes
you touch me and i become alive
in the days of my famine
my hunger is satisfied
in the days of my thirsts
my tongue seeps the dews of dawn

when you sleep beside my body
your head above my arms unfolded
i look at you and i regret not having said
all that i have seen in the dark

there are images still unspoken
there are still feelings unfelt by your innocence
i look to the sky beyond the windows of our beings
i gather silence like leaves under my feet
i walk away feeling triumphant about what i kept

the treasures of my heart
these i own, and these you must never know
for whatever happened
for all those years.... i have always been alone and happy.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eve

Detdicated to Eve Croft
May she Rest In Peace

It was over forty years ago
when I first met her.
I had barely left my teens.
She was older than me;
in fact, she was a friend’s mother.
Divorce had left her lonely
with three sons to bring up.
Life was not easy,
not much time to herself.
Slowly after meeting her,
a friendship between us grew.

To make her life sustainable
I took her out
from time to time.
We held hands at the pictures
and when we went anywhere.
She often worried
what people would think of me.
I didn’t really care what people thought.
Eve was a friend
and there was nothing more to be said.

For the next couple of years
our friendship never wavered.
We would hug and smile
whenever we did meet.
There was never any romance involved,
we were just very good friends.

I never forget when she had an offer
to move in with someone.
She was so worried
that I would think badly of her.
She was almost in tears
when she told me his proposition.
I put my arm around her shoulder
and reassured her it was all right.
That our friendship would never diminish
regardless what she did.

Sadly, her going away
was never meant to be.
She fell ill with cancer
and went to live with her sister
who would care for her.
It was the last time
I was ever to see her.

It was a few years later
I bumped into her eldest son.
When I asked him about his mum
he looked at me strangely
with tears holding back I his eyes.
She died I thought you knew.
I said that I didn’t.

He said he couldn’t stop
as he had a bus to catch,
and then he was gone.
With head bowed, I turned away
and started walking home.
Tears leaked from my eyes
making small lines across my cheeks.
My regret then and will always be
that I never had a chance
to say a proper goodbye.

1 January 2008

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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