Death Leaves Us homesick, Who Behind
Death leaves Us homesick, who behind,
Except that it is gone
Are ignorant of its Concern
As if it were not born.
Through all their former Places, we
Like Individuals go
Who something lost, the seeking for
Is all that's left them, now—
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Lost Joy...And Fading Memories
I have suddenly realized I have lost it.
I have lost the joy that was in my life.
When did that happen?
I don't know the exact day...however
as near as I can figure out, it happened
slowly. Ever so slowly...almost unperceptively.
Of course the joy in ones life manifests itself
through that in life that one loves. And so...
mine...my joy, slowly left...as those I love were
no longer in my life. Some of it left, when I
moved...and left behind the drooping willows that
fronted the house I no longer have. The house
where so many beautiful memories were born.
Lots of it left...when the friends of a lifetime
were house in places I no longer went to. It left when
I stopped the ritual of fine dining in places where I
was known by name. It left with scores of doormen,
and servers that I had grow found of.
Most of it...most of my joy, left with family...when came
the day when holidays and other celebrations no longer
was a part of my life.
I miss the joy in my life. I miss all the loved ones
that I shall never see again. Some dead...some
scattered like leaves in the wind, to the far
corners of the earth.
As I grow older, faded memories of joy become less
vivid. Until...a day like today...when something
..or someone reminds me...
Of Lost Joy...And Fading Memories.
Of Lost Joy and Faded Memories...
I have suddenly realized I have lost it.
I have lost the joy that was in my life.
When did that happen?
I don't know the exact day...however
as near as I can figure out, it happened
slowly. Ever so slowly...almost unperceptively.
Of course the joy in ones life manifests itself
through that in life that one loves. And so...
mine...my joy, slowly left...as those I love were
no longer in my life. Some of it left, when I
moved...and left behind the drooping willows that
fronted the house I no longer have. The house
where so many beautiful memories were born.
Lots of it left...when the friends of a lifetime
were house in places I no longer went to. It left when
I stopped the ritual of fine dining in places where I
was known by name. It left with scores of doormen,
and servers that I had grow found of.
Most of it...most of my joy, left with family...when came
the day when holidays and other celebrations no longer
was a part of my life.
I miss the joy in my life. I miss all the loved ones
that I shall never see again. Some dead...some
scattered like leaves in the wind, to the far
corners of the earth.
As I grow older, faded memories of joy become less
vivid. Until...a day like today...when something
.or someone reminds me...
Of Lost Joy...And Fading Memories.
Fading Memories
I have suddenly realized I have lost it.
I have lost the joy that was in my life.
When did that happen?
I don't know the exact day...however
as near as I can figure out, it happened
slowly. Ever so slowly...almost unperceptively.
Of course the joy in ones life manifests itself
through that in life that one loves. And so...
mine...my joy, slowly left...as those I love were
no longer in my life. Some of it left, when I
moved...and left behind the drooping willows that
fronted the house I no longer have. The house
where so many beautiful memories were born.
Lots of it left...when the friends of a lifetime
were house in places I no longer went to. It left when
I stopped the ritual of fine dining in places where I
was known by name. It left with scores of doormen,
and servers that I had grow found of.
Most of it...most of my joy, left with family...when came
the day when holidays and other celebrations no longer
was a part of my life.
I miss the joy in my life. I miss all the loved ones
that I shall never see again. Some dead...some
scattered like leaves in the wind, to the far
corners of the earth.
As I grow older, faded memories of joy become less
vivid. Until...a day like today...when something
.or someone reminds me...
Of Lost Joy...And Fading Memories.
Of Lost Joy...And Fading Memories.
I have suddenly realized I have lost it.
I have lost the joy that was in my life.
When did that happen?
I don't know the exact day...however
as near as I can figure out, it happened
slowly. Ever so slowly...almost unperceptively.
Of course the joy in ones life manifests itself
through that in life that one loves. And so...
mine...my joy, slowly left...as those I love were
no longer in my life. Some of it left, when I
moved...and left behind the drooping willows that
fronted the house I no longer have. The house
where so many beautiful memories were born.
Lots of it left...when the friends of a lifetime
were house in places I no longer went to. It left when
I stopped the ritual of fine dining in places where I
was known by name. It left with scores of doormen,
and servers that I had grow found of.
Most of it...most of my joy, left with family...when came
the day when holidays and other celebrations no longer
was a part of my life.
I miss the joy in my life. I miss all the loved ones
that I shall never see again. Some dead...some
scattered like leaves in the wind, to the far
corners of the earth.
As I grow older, faded memories of joy become less
vivid. Until...a day like today...when something
.or someone reminds me...
Of Lost Joy...And Fading Memories.
Somewhere...Somehow...I Lost It
I have suddenly realized I have lost it.
I have lost the joy that was in my life.
When did that happen?
I don't know the exact day...however
as near as I can figure out, it happened
slowly. Ever so slowly...almost unperceptively.
Of course the joy in ones life manifests itself
through that in life that one loves. And so...
mine...my joy, slowly left...as those I love were
no longer in my life. Some of it left, when I
moved...and left behind the drooping willows that
fronted the house I no longer have. The house
where so many beautiful memories were born.
Lots of it left...when the friends of a lifetime
were house in places I no longer went to. It left when
I stopped the ritual of fine dining in places where I
was known by name. It left with scores of doormen,
and servers that I had grow found of.
Most of it...most of my joy, left with family...when came
the day when holidays and other celebrations no longer
was a part of my life.
I miss the joy in my life. I miss all the loved ones
that I shall never see again. Some dead...some
scattered like leaves in the wind, to the far
corners of the earth.
As I grow older, faded memories of joy become less
vivid. Until...a day like today...when something
..or someone reminds me...
Of Lost Joy...And Fading Memories.
Of Lost Joy...And Fading Memories
I have suddenly realized I have lost it.
I have lost the joy that was in my life.
When did that happen?
I don't know the exact day...however
as near as I can figure out, it happened
slowly. Ever so slowly...almost imperceptibly
Of course the joy in ones life manifests itself
through that in life that one loves. And so...
mine...my joy, slowly left...as those I love were
no longer in my life. Some of it left, when I
moved...and left behind the drooping willows that
fronted the house I no longer have. The house
where so many beautiful memories were born.
Lots of it left...when the friends of a lifetime
were house in places I no longer went to. It left when
I stopped the ritual of fine dining in places where I
was known by name. It left with scores of doormen,
and servers that I had grow found of.
Most of it...most of my joy, left with family...when came
the day when holidays and other celebrations no longer
was a part of my life.
I miss the joy in my life. I miss all the loved ones
that I shall never see again. Some dead...some
scattered like leaves in the wind, to the far
corners of the earth.
As I grow older, faded memories of joy become less
vivid. Until...a day like today...when something
.or someone reminds me...
Of Lost Joy...And Fading Memories
.
Lost It...I Don't Know When Or
I have suddenly realized I have lost it.
I have lost the joy that was in my life.
When did that happen?
I don't know the exact day...however
as near as I can figure out, it happened
slowly. Ever so slowly...almost unperceptivly.
Of course the joy in ones life manifests itself
through that in life that one loves. And so...
mine...my joy, slowly left...as those I love were
no longer in my life. Some of it left, when I
moved...and left behind the drooping willows that
fronted the house I no longer have. The house
where so many beautiful memories were born.
Lots of it left...when the friends of a lifetime
were house in places I no longer went to. It left when
I stopped the ritual of fine dining in places where I
was known by name. It left with scores of doormen,
and servers that I had grow found of.
Most of it...most of my joy, left with family...when came
the day when holidays and other celebrations no longer
was a part of my life.
I miss the joy in my life. I miss all the loved ones
that I shall never see again. Some dead...some
scattered like leaves in the wind, to the far
corners of the earth.
As I grow older, faded memories of joy become less
vivid. Until...a day like today...when something
.or someone reminds me...
Of Lost Joy...And Fading Memories.
Forfeiture
Seeking love,
She lost her innocence;
Seeking security,
She lost her freedom;
Seeking passion,
She lost her honor;
Seeking solace,
She lost her sanity;
Seeking an end,
She lost her life.
Requiscat in pace
poem by John Bliven Morin
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Homesick
(Buddy Bue, J.R. Cobb)
Guitars ring in the dead of night, sing so blue, sound so right
It makes you homesick
Listen close to the guitar man, narive sone of a foreign land
The boy's homesick
He's homesick, for days bygone
Homesick, for home sweet home
Where were you in '69, smokin' dope, drinkin' wine
Just an outlaw
Distant drums beats an old refrain, shakes your feet, pounds your brain
Like a buzzsaw
In the darkness down the hall, black-light posters on the wall
Jimi Hendrix
Someone's lost in yesterday, hazy dreams of Monterey
And Woodstock, all right
Repeat Chorus
Guitars ring in the dead of night, sing so blue, sound so right
It makes you homesick
Listen close to the guitar man, narive sone of a foreign land
The boy's homesick
He's homesick, for days bygone
Homesick, Lord, for home sweet home The boy's homesick
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Skeleton Butterfly
A skeleton butterfly, Kisses my cheek,
A kiss so beautiful...so gentle....so sweet,
It floats around the air, where death has been,
Always following me, for death has always been to close to touch,
Its beautiful bones, and wings of Crimson embers, Is left as a reminder that death Lives within us all,
he'll pay you a visit the cost is small,
This beautiful creature of death, left to ponder the living,
Lost in the sarrows of humans Frightened be fear,
It clings to me for life has more meaning when Death visits and leaves,
Lost in the devils eternity,
A butterfly stays with those touched by death, forever there friend,
when the world has left.
poem by Crimson Love
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death And Me
Death settled onto his dark Cleopatra couch
picking admirers who in black auras
sought immortality in magnificent deaths.
'I have artists, kings, monarchs, and especially writers
who sometimes write their own epitaphs years in advance
who cozy up to me seeking my fame and finality.
I say to them there will be no communiques you know beyond this
but they don't relent
some determined to write their final scene
for sequestration in all of memory
in family
in friends or foes minds.
Some believe, I think,
that a magnificent life
deserves a magnificent death.
But you see, '
said Death
'so many imitators
come to me
using me, yes using me for petty means
to revenge, guilt slinging, and often accidentally.
I forever have to suffer amateurs in this.
Many dress for the occasion
identify stardom at last their last equation
and I raise my cloak
disabuse the few and the many
who seek individuality not understanding that
I death only distribute
rearrangements of individuals
into the future many;
Individuals too; often see their own demise
as death
which of course is not true;
individuals are only conduits
for the what is to come to be.
He sighed.
I am merely the medium
which takes individuality
and re-center it
into the cosmos.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Finding Perfection..Is It Death?
Anyone who has sought this has failed
Some even died trying
Can't you see?
It's just not there, no such thing exists
It has gone extinct when the world was born
They are all looking in the wrong places
Searching for something unheard of
No one deserves it, can find it, and can earn it
There's only one way to acheive it
Life's basic principle..is imperfection
And anyone seeking perfection
Shouldn't be breathing
Death is perfection
But hey, death is the worst thing, right?
So death cannot be perfection
The irony of it all..
poem by Candy Lemons
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Ignorance sooths
The new born is ignorant
That it has been born.
The dead one is ignorant
That it has been dead.
The lovelorn are ignorant
That they have been thrown out.
0405.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sick of home
Sometime I get homesick for places I have never been.
I get wanderlust so badly it makes me grind my teeth till they shatter..
During the grave shift, at the shelter,
some nights, will I do nothing but look up bus and (even better) train schedules.
(Everyone knows trains are the only romantic way to travel)
I use maps and red markers to plot escape routes.
I always have a fire escape and enough bills to leave town.
8 hours spent with maps and bus schedules spread out on the floor of a locked office... plotting the great escape.
I have been homesick for Russia: (Thanks to Dostoyevsky and Akhmatovaa)
Henry Miller made me homesick for the Paris of the 40's.
I blame two things on literature:
two fatal cracks and fissures in my personality,
cracks and fissures that often manifest in 'strange' and 'inappropriate' places.
(Watch the news and tell me there is anything that can be called
'inappropriate behavior' these days....)
The two 'feet of clay' I place squarely on literature's doorstep are:
My ability to only feel at home in places where I am not,
and my Heroin addiction.
Cos every good junkie:
Heroin or travel
have their mentors.
poem by Brevet Wilson
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Seeking Salvation From The Nightmare
The purple journey bends my mind
It leaves me lost and hard to find
Smiling within a shadows ghost
Smiling with the blind
Seeking salvation from the nightmare
Where are we to turn?
Seeking redemption from the redeemer
Who are we to burn?
There's something gone a miss here
Something out of time
Something lost and never found
Yours and never mine
There’s been something lost in nothing
And nothing seems so real
Tell me of the feeling
Tell me how you feel.
poem by David Lacey
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If You Are Among Those Who See Things
There are those who are lost.
And there are those seeking clarity.
Some see those who are lost,
And seeking clarity.
Those are the ones ignored by all.
Since what they see,
No one wishes to admit.
But then again...
If you are among those who see things,
That have not happened yet...
You have to have more patience!
Just like the dawn awaiting to be enjoyed!
Some will know it exist.
Some will not come to realize it at all.
And there will be those still in argument,
About what happened to them yesterday.
Choosing to stay there and have it relived.
These are the folks left to wonder,
Why they are left alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Meant To Be
Thoughts are born,
yet die thereafter,
nothing more satisfying,
than that of solemn touches of death...
a child,
a cursed blessing,
A mother,
A whored Vessel,
no child into bringing,
destroyed and defiled.
Never meant to be,
Left to finish what was started,
Braving the cold,
a womb-less warmth,
lost to life’s virginity,
seconds of breaths,
left it dying,
moments so short,
yet extended toward eternity,
An infant child,
besmirched and left thoughtless,
A child only born to be named death,
Reaping the benifites of final breaths.
poem by Crimson Love
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Was Not When You Were Born, You Were Old When I Was Born
I was not when you were born,
You were old when I was born.
You regret that I was late born,
I regret that you were early born.
I was not when you were born,
You were old when I was born.
I wished to have been born together,
We could enjoy our time together.
You were not when I was born,
I was old when you were born.
I was so far away from you,
You were so distant from me.
You were not when I was born,
I was old when you were born.
I’d become a flower-seeking butterfly,
And sleep on the fragrant grass every night.
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Manners count
It is your dress, cleanliness and manner,
Not your skin, countenance, and glamour,
That earns you a woman’s concern.
Your clean mind, clean teeth, clean habit,
Not your muscles, jewels and wallet
Are which earn you a woman’s concern.
Be your manner and calls above her reproach.
Refrain from over care and over indulgence.
Then you will have earned a woman’s concern.
You lend her your ear and not eye.
You tend her passion, not her lust.
You will have won her concern.
If you have no concern for women,
If you have no woman’s concern,
Then no use of you being born.
13.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Is The Battle Worth Fighting?
some individuals fight battles
with other individuals needlessly
some individuals are never long
content with getting their own way
some individuals fight ferociously
to dominate all those around about
some individuals who cannot safe vent dominate
their own desires seek to next dominate all others
some individuals who cannot control own emotions
seek to control all within range sphere of influence
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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