Doomed to Die?
That old man over there looks a bit of a freak
Thought the woman sitting in the opposite chair,
He just sits there fidgeting and he doesn't speak
Wearing an expression of absolute despair!
Perhaps he's just fallen out with his wife
Or had some bad news but what do I care?
It's not up to me to rearrange his life,
There are people with problems almost everywhere.
I think I'll go out for a cigarette
She decided and smiled, for a bit of 'fresh air',
It's hardly time for my appointment yet
And I'm getting the creeps with him sitting there!
As she stood outside smoking she heard a loud thud
And went back in and saw him lying there,
Twisted and crumpled and covered in blood,
It was over his clothes and smudged in his hair.
'Quick! Phone the police! ' she heard somebody shout
So she made a quick exit and ran down the street,
'I don't care what they think but I've got to get out
There's a killer round here that I don't want to meet! ! '
'You'd better come down to the station, dear, '
The policeman said with that look in his eye
That told her he thought her behaviour quear
And her claim to innocence was merely a lie.
'It's really got nothing to do with me! '
She exclaimed in frustration and started to cry,
'Please let me go home and cook the kids tea,
It's a terrible shock to see someone die! '
Later that evening as she lay in her bed
She pictured the scene and still wondered why
The victim had seemed already half-dead
With the strange light of madness that shone in his eye.
'Perhaps he deserved it, or welcomed his death,
Perhaps he was paying his ultimate debt,
Whatever it was he's breathed his last breath,
It's a day I will always want to forget! '
In her dreams she was standing overlooking the shore
On a headland when suddenly he appeared at her side,
'I can't stand it! ' he said, 'I don't want to live anymore! '
And he threw himself down to the sea and died.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Thought
Into the skies, one summer's day,
I sent a little Thought away;
Up to where, in the blue round,
The sun sat shining without sound.
Then my Thought came back to me.—
Little Thought, what did you see
In the regions whence you come?
And when I spoke, my Thought was dumb.
But she breathed of what was there,
In the pure bright upper air;
And, because my Thought so shone,
I knew she had been shone upon.
Next, by night a Thought I sent
Up into the firmament;
When the eager stars were out,
And the still moon shone about.
And my Thought went past the moon
In between the stars, but soon
Held her breath and durst not stir,
For the fear that covered her;
Then she thought, in this demur:
'Dare I look beneath the shade,
Into where the worlds are made;
Where the suns and stars are wrought?
Shall I meet another Thought?
'Will that other Thought have wings?
Shall I meet strange, heavenly things?
Thought of Thoughts, and Light of Lights,
Breath of Breaths, and Night of Nights?'
Then my Thought began to hark
In the illuminated dark,
Till the silence, over, under,
Made her heart beat more than thunder.
And my Thought, came trembling back,
But with something on her track,
And with something at her side;
Nor till she has lived and died,
Lived and died, and lived again,
Will that awful thing seem plain.
poem by William Brighty Rands
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Surprise Me Again
Well I remember the day when she said go away
I rearrange my hair
Well I cant take anymore
I bought some natural food
And then I fell on the floor
Well I cant take anymore
I need a change of address
By the way, why cant you smile
She said at first it was great
And in the middle I stayed
But at the end I was sick
I said Ive got to get out quick
Then you suddenly smiled
You took me by surprise
You suddenly smiled
You took me by again
Well I remember the time
Wrapped up nice and cosy
She was washing my hair
Well I was thinking of midnight, falling in love
Watching the rain fall
When we relax Im going to sleep on your chest
And listen to your beats
And lets go to norway, live in rain and snow
And get totally depressed about nothing
At all really hello
Then you suddenly smiled
You took me by surprise
You suddenly smiled
You took me by again
You suddenly smiled
You suddenly smiled, again and again
You cant smile
Then you suddenly smiled
You took me by surprise
You suddenly smiled
You took me by again
You suddenly smiled
You suddenly smiled
You suddenly smiled
You suddenly smiled
You took me by again
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Day That Time Would Stop!
The passageway was longer than he thought
He would have said,
It seemed to go forever,
But the words stayed in his head.
That drumming in his ears was surely
Just the lack of sound,
And could it be, he floated,
With his feet just off the ground?
The ambulance had called for him at just
On half past three,
He'd told his wife: ‘Don't bother,
It will go away, you'll see! '
His wife was more determined than she'd
Ever been before,
She dialled up on her mobile
And she waved him, at the door.
‘It's all just fuss and bother, this, ' he thought,
And flushed quite red,
The fellow in the ambulance
Looked grim, and shook his head.
He tried to give him oxygen, then
Called out to his mate:
‘You'd better put your foot down,
Or we might be there too late! '
He felt the lurch of speed, and heard the
Sirens start to wail,
He only felt embarrassment,
‘Such fuss! Beyond the pale! '
But then the light had faded in the
Middle of the day,
And that was when he found himself
Deep in that passageway!
The light became much brighter, at the end
He saw a door,
It slowly started opening,
He couldn't see much more,
But then he floated through it, standing
Stark within this room
Filled wall to wall with flowers that
Had just begun to bloom!
He stood there for a moment, he could not
Believe his eyes,
A crowd of happy people jumped
On out, and yelled: ‘Surprise! '
Then streamers and balloons appeared
And tangled round his feet,
He stared at them in wonder as
His heart had ceased to beat!
His father stood there grinning, he had died
Before his time
While his mother wiped a tear away,
She'd left when he was nine,
And all the aunts and uncles from
His distant memories,
Now stood and charged a glass to him,
And smiled, and shouted: ‘Cheers! '
‘He doesn't know what's happened, give him time, '
Said Uncle Ron,
‘We're just so glad to see you - My!
The weight that you've put on!
You must have seen it coming, all
That pain before you drop;
It's common to us all, you know,
The Day that Time would Stop! '
He paused to think about his wife, and
Wondered if she cried,
Or simply shrugged her shoulders when
She heard that he had died,
The heart that he no longer had
He knew would never mend;
He stood erect and dignified -
A funeral to attend!
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A little Ghost Story
As I was going to bed
I turned out my light
tucked myself in
on a long winter's night
All of a sudden
I heard a door squeak
I thought someone was in my house
so I decided to take a peak
I heard the wind blow hard
and started to shiver with fear
and heard some noises again
but this time I knew I was near
I went into the living room
and noticed my door was opened wide
squeaking back and forth
I laughed so hard I almost cried
So I decided to go back up to my room
When I heard some terrible cries
I rushed to my room real quick
but a ghost stopped me in surprise
I ran and yelled
and I ran outside my house right then
and decided I would never
go back to that house again
At my new house
I turned out the light
you can probably guess
what went on that night
poem by Shaina Lloyd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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T'was the Night Prior to the Real Nightmare
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it,
Have to sit and finish them off!
T'was the night prior to the real nightmare.
People were sunbathing without a thought or care!
Mockings of inner city people were good and well done!
And out of the blue,
Bird doo hit the head of someone,
And he became startled, baffled and stunned!
Was that the bird of truth?
His nervousness begun!
People stopped listening to him like they should.
He sent in fresh missionaries to keep the 'hood' good!
He took away the alcohol from his kids...
Took away their weapons,
Although they had some hid from him they did!
He spoke to his pastor...
Who was also his lawyer,
Banker and baker of his bread!
He didn't know what to say,
About his dread.
And it was dreadful!
He tried his best,
To provide for everyone.
By selling the land,
Running it!
And racking up bills as he ran,
As far as he could from reality!
And now he wants to be perceived,
As the one most willing...
To piece together a portrait of universal love!
And this...
Will be yet another,
Failed concept!
Laid out on the table....
From a chair he sits that is much too big!
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it,
Have to sit and finish them off!
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it...
Are no closer to an exit,
Than the first exit plan they claim...
Would win the game!
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it
Must do something quick,
Or sit and be finished off!
T'was the night prior to the real nightmare...
People were sunbathing without a thought,
And none dared to care.
Until out of no where...
Strange Beings appeared.
With pierced skin and tattoos from toe to ear.
They were quite drugged,
And their focus wasn't clear.
But they began to stalk...
In growing numbers.
Surrounding those...
In numbing fear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Wing And A Prayer
I heard someone talking
about kids and what they wear.
They said they walk about these days
wearing nothing but a wing and a prayer.
I smiled to myself at that remark
because it was obviously they had forgot
about the clothes they used to wear.
So before we are quick to condemn
lets take a trip down memory lane,
back to the clothes we used to wear
when we were that age
and to the designs that were all the rage.
Suppose we go back to the sixties
now that was a good time,
the Mods and the Rockers,
scooters and motorbikes,
not to forget Flower Power.
Oh, yes I remember it well.
The drainpipe trousers,
sitting in the bath
to shrink the jeans down,
not forgetting the holy vest and long hair,
brothel creepers and winkle picker shoes,
and that was just the boys.
What about the girls with their skirts?
There was the maxi, the mini and the micro,
the latter once described as nothing more than a long scarf.
So before we condemn the youngsters today
for going around with nothing but a wing and a prayer, l
et us not forget what we used to wear.
I can remember my parents saying
your showing your knee
now that is so shocking.
Today people look at youngsters
saying it wasn’t like that in my day.
Don’t you believe it,
we were just as bad,
and we were just as crazy as kids today.
When it came to our clothes,
we have no right to condemn
for whatever they wear.
We were just the same at their age,
we used to wear
nothing more than a wing and a prayer.
We called it Fashion
way, way back then,
the same as they call it now.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Girl With Demon Eyes
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
A girl raped and they say it was justified.
She was asking for it by being such a tease.
Wearing skin tight cloths.
Walking with a strut saying I know you want it.
But you'll never have it.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
Her brother died trying to stop it.
His head got shoved right through a window by three men.
The glass broke and dropped slashing his throat.
And the men turned back on her.
She could smell the whiskey on their breath even from distance.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
She knew what they wanted.
But looking at her brother she had to fight it.
She grabbed the nearest object she could get her hands on.
And clobbered the biggest one of the bunch with a lamp.
Down he went crashing right across the coffee table.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
The other two grabbed her and started ripping off her cloths.
She screamed multiple times at the top of her lungs.
Kicking, punching, and clawing her way to be free.
And it was not a completely an unanswered plea.
The a man and his wife next door heard the woman being brutalized.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
He thundered, call 911 I'm going to grab my gun.
Tossed her his cell phone, as he started running.
To bedroom he went.
No hesitation, for it was a matter of life and death.
Meanwhile these gruff men were taking turns forcing her to do unspeakable acts and her brother just lay there unable to move.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want see.
By the time he made it their these men were already in their car.
They peeled out like never before.
He shot at them but only took out one of there headlights.
The front door was wide open.
And there on the floor lied a naked woman crying out for her brother.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
He knew not what to do.ay's
hits
He first grabbed a blanket to cover her up.
Then he went to see about her brother,
The brother was gurgling something.
He listen closely and heard these words.
'I don't want to die here, but if I do tell her I love her.'
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
He tried to put pressure on this mortal wound.
But her brother lost too much blood.
With sadden eyes he went back and whispered something in her ear.
She screamed out in agony.
'Oh how can this be'
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
The cops and ambulance finally arrived.
With all the flashing lights onlooker came and gawked.
Witness statements were taken.
Descriptions were given.
One of these men still lay on her floor.
Unconsciousness but not dead.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want see.
The others didn't get far.
They made to the bar.
As it happens too be one she frequented very often.
They claimed that took them her house.
Where her brother was also temporarily staying.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
They said she agreed to a threesome till he got involved.
But she said they followed and forced their way into her home.
Figuring she was all alone.
But she was not.
And that's when things went all wrong.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want see.
The cops discovered that she was telling truth.
For their was an eye witness on the other side of the street.
Who saw the whole thing.
The question that bothered the police is why this did nothing about what the witness saw.
The witness thought by the way woman dressed that she deserved it.
This was the story behind those demon eyes.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Told You I Was Ill
I'm lying on a cold wet slab,
I seem unable to breathe,
Is it because I smoked too much?
That thought just makes me seethe.
The pathologist said as he went in,
The cause of death I think,
Is the fact this guy smoked far too much?
He also enjoyed his drink.
I'm trying my best to answer back,
I want to make it clear,
That what he's saying is rubbish,
I should not be lying here.
I've never felt like this before,
Could someone tell me why?
Is it something that I've said?
I didn't ask to die.
The last thing I remember was,
Sipping whisky and having a smoke,
As I inhaled my cigarette,
I started to bloody choke.
As I stood up to clear my throat,
My chest felt really sore,
I careered at speed across the room,
Then landed on the floor
I then looked down upon myself,
As I lay flat on my back,
The people all around me said,
Of breath there is a lack.
As my relatives stand over me,
They're saying I look quite void,
What do they expect of me,
To be looking overjoyed.
One of them said he's now at peace,
He's looking really well,
I'm dead you stupid imbecile,
I hope you rot in hell.
I cannot move my arms or legs,
I'm feeling pretty rigid,
My wife is telling all out loud,
I told you he was frigid.
One thing I'll always remember,
Since I first learned to speak,
I warned them all I wasn't well,
How I always felt quite weak.
But they just used to say to me,
Stop walking with that limp,
There's nothing really wrong with you,
You're just a bloody wimp.
I overheard the doc one day,
He made a sick wisecrack,
He told my parents I wasn't ill,
I was a hypochondriac.
Now what they are trying to imply,
Has put me in a rage,
It wasn't just the smoke and drink,
They're saying it was my age.
If that really was the truth,
I'd be the first to say that's fine,
But they're all talking nonsense,
I was only ninety-nine.
The undertakers are walking in,
With what I've to be carried off in,
How dare my relatives say to them?
Oh it ‘s such a lovely coffin.
If it's such a beautiful piece,
Then in it they can hop,
If they give me back my life on earth,
Then I will gladly swap.
I've always said I was unwell,
But that's now a bitter pill,
If I could talk I'd shout out loud,
‘'I Told You I Was Ill''.
Ben Duggan
Jack Denver died on Talbragar when Christmas Eve began,
And there was sorrow round the place, for Denver was a man;
Jack Denver's wife bowed down her head -- her daughter's grief was wild,
And big Ben Duggan by the bed stood sobbing like a child.
But big Ben Duggan saddled up, and galloped fast and far,
To raise the longest funeral ever seen on Talbragar.
By station home
And shearing shed
Ben Duggan cried, `Jack Denver's dead!
Roll up at Talbragar!'
He borrowed horses here and there, and rode all Christmas Eve,
And scarcely paused a moment's time the mournful news to leave;
He rode by lonely huts and farms, and when the day was done
He turned his panting horse's head and rode to Ross's Run.
No bushman in a single day had ridden half so far
Since Johnson brought the doctor to his wife at Talbragar.
By diggers' camps
Ben Duggan sped --
At each he cried, `Jack Denver's dead!
Roll up at Talbragar!'
That night he passed the humpies of the splitters on the ridge,
And roused the bullock-drivers camped at Belinfante's Bridge;
And as he climbed the ridge again the moon shone on the rise;
The soft white moonbeams glistened in the tears that filled his eyes;
He dashed the rebel drops away -- for blinding things they are --
But 'twas his best and truest friend who died on Talbragar.
At Blackman's Run
Before the dawn,
Ben Duggan cried, `Poor Denver's gone!
Roll up at Talbragar!'
At all the shanties round the place they'd heard his horse's tramp,
He took the track to Wilson's Luck, and told the diggers' camp;
But in the gorge by Deadman's Gap the mountain shades were black,
And there a newly-fallen tree was lying on the track --
He saw too late, and then he heard the swift hoof's sudden jar,
And big Ben Duggan ne'er again rode home to Talbragar.
`The wretch is drunk,
And Denver's dead --
A burning shame!' the people said
Next day at Talbragar.
For thirty miles round Talbragar the boys rolled up in strength,
And Denver had a funeral a good long mile in length;
Round Denver's grave that Christmas day rough bushmen's eyes were dim --
The western bushmen knew the way to bury dead like him;
But some returning homeward found, by light of moon and star,
Ben Duggan dying in the rocks, five miles from Talbragar.
They knelt around,
He raised his head
And faintly gasped, `Jack Denver's dead,
Roll up at Talbragar!'
But one short hour before he died he woke to understand,
They told him, when he asked them, that the funeral was `grand';
And then there came into his eyes a strange victorious light,
He smiled on them in triumph, and his great soul took its flight.
And still the careless bushmen tell by tent and shanty bar
How Duggan raised a funeral years back on Talbragar.
And far and wide
When Duggan died,
The bushmen of the western side
Rode in to Talbragar.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paddington Ear
alone
i made
a call
home
far away
from platform
one
& found
upon
my phone
a family
(half
asleep)
in bed
one half
my wife
one half
my son
& spoke
to both
a wife
i once
(or twice)
had listened
to
(or more)
a son
i heard
now speak
who wouldn’t
speak before
today it was
the first time
that my son
would speak
today
the first time
i would hear
him speak
today
i heard
my son
speak
today
i heard
my son.
13.iii.08 London Paddington
poem by Andrew Fincham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sad Story 3 (A True Story)
In some lives tragedy lingers
like a low hanging dark cloud.
Take the life of a friend of mine.
A few years ago, he fell off his horse
and missed a lovely weekend away.
After months of recuperation
life started to build itself again.
Getting home one evening,
he found his partner not feeling well
and within a matter of hours, she was gone.
The weeks that followed
his world seem to be caving in.
First his job was to go
and then the flat he lived in.
Nothing seemed to be going right.
He met up with his ex-wife
because his daughter had become
a drug addict and an alcoholic.
Somehow, their love for one another
started to blossom again.
He began to grow in strength again.
Life was getting better at every bend,
but tragedy hadn’t left him,
it just waited to come back.
Then I heard it had struck again
just as he was getting settled
it struck again with vengeance
only this time to his ex wife.
He went around to see her
as he normally did
only to find police everywhere.
Asking why they were there,
they told him it was a crime scene I am afraid
and that his ex wife had been murdered.
How is he coping I am not sure.
I’ve tried to phone him,
but his phone is switched off I’m afraid.
There is an emptiness in my heart
as he is a nice and gentle man.
I shall keep on trying to get in touch with him,
as he is a good friend.
I just hope he doesn’t fall
into a depression again.
One never knows
how much tragedy any man or woman can endure.
This story has no end and nor will it
until I hear from my good friend.
27 February 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death's Call
I heard my friend died yesterday,
It knocked me off my feet,
I'd passed the time of day with him
Last Wednesday, on the street,
He'd caught me at an awkward time,
I strained to get away,
He had some awful flu, or cold,
I didn't want to stay.
He phoned me later, chatted on,
I looked up at the sky,
I'm always so impatient with
This one annoying guy,
His jokes were inappropriate,
He laughed at them himself,
When wit was handed out, they left
His sitting on the shelf.
He wrote a bit, of prose and verse,
It wasn't up to scratch,
I'd see him coming up the drive
And flick across the latch,
He'd want me to critique them
And I'd hate to lay him low,
By telling him his talent was
Not up to 'so and so'.
He seemed to think that I was
Someone special in his life,
And tried to join the family
By chatting up my wife,
He really thought I didn't know
But still I kept my peace,
I didn't tell his wife on him,
Or tear him off a piece.
The one thing I will say is that
He always had a smile,
Whenever he caught up with me,
With notepad, book or file,
I've never known one try so hard
For friendship, in despair,
And in return, I'd tell the wife
'Just keep him out my hair! '
But now he's dead, so suddenly,
It's time that I took stock,
The friendship was all his, you see,
And all I did was block.
The fault was not in him, I see,
But in my tardy soul,
For he deserved much more than me,
And now, I'm feeling old.
I wasted all the chances that
He offered me, for free,
To just enjoy a simple soul,
One who looked up to me.
I'm going to miss that little man
And pray his soul to keep,
For now I'd welcome anyone
To talk to, in the street!
29 January 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A soldiers last letter
I left the town
A night in June
Towards a war
That I didn’t knew
You sent me a letter
But when answering your words
We passed a graveyard
Who corrupted my words
I wanted to scream
And run back home
Darling I’m afraid
I’ll be delayed
So I won’t be home
When our baby is born
When writing this letter
I wanted to cry
But I can’t
Because baby
I’m a guy
Men must be strong
So men don’t cry
But baby
I want to kill this guy
Who said such a stupid words
I swear I’ll kill him
And make him eat his words
In this moment
We arrived at the camp
Blood, sweat and tears
Welcomed us back
Darling...
Men twice my size
Were crying for momma
Covered in blood
And still in their pjmas
Darling
I’ve got good news
And bad ones
I won’t be delayed
But I won’t come home
Either
Tomorrow, next week or in years
I fact my dear
I never will.
Don’t spill your tears
You’re so fragile my dear…
Please tell my son
To not play with guns
Move on my dear
But do never forget me
Marry a man
And do never regret it
Darling
They say
That I won’t be okay
But I already knew that
So I guess its okay
The bindings are falling
And blood is crawling
Out of my body
Leaving me spotty
And stained
But I guess, I’ll soon be drained
Darling, these are my last words
Written on a bloody paper
I dedicate these to you
Darling live your life as I tell you to
I’m not bossy
I’m just telling the truth
Darling always remember
Life’s too short to wake up in the morning with regrets
Love the people who treat you right
Forget about the ones who don’t
Believe everything happens for a reason
And if you get a chance. Take it
If it changes your life. Let it
I’m not saying it’ll be easy
Just promising it’ll be worth it
Love like never before
Live like it’s your last day
And dream like it’ll last forever
Take care of those around you
You’ll never know if you’ll see them again
Remember me for who I am
Not for whom I was
Let me live on within you
Take care of those who I let behind
Including you
And with these words
I’ll leave you
Remember I LOVE YOU
My friends are now crying
While I’m slowly dying
I am not lying
I’m closing my eyes
And taking a breath
My last breath
I love you
And never forget it
Believe it
Live it
Breath it
Love it
Smell it
Taste it
Cause its true
I LOVE YOU
poem by Mallory Piña Villa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Did I Really See That?
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
Sleeping on my side of the bed?
Am I replaced?
So quick?
I thought we were going to talk
About it
Try to work it out
I cancelled all my plans
In a manner to surprise you
I didn't like the way things went
The other day
And now I get home
To find this?
A woman on our bed
Wearing my gown with ma woman on ma side of da bed
Am I replaced?
Just like that?
I thought what we had meant
Something to you
I thought we had a connection
I thought fate had brought us
Together
I thought our future
Was written somewhere
In heaven
Most of all I thought the feeling
Was mutual
For 5years I was relaxed
Thinking I'm in the right place
Where my soul belongs
Wasn't looking
Wasn't searching
Was content
And now I find
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
On my side of the bed
Am I replaced?
Already!
I had always been loyal
You cheated more than I could remember
And I kept forgiving n forgetting
I kept loving you like you
Never wronged me
I Kept on trusting you
but to you all that was just a blur
I bet you thought I was fool
I bet you thought I'd never leave you
I bet you thought you were ma life
That's why you cheated
That's why you lied
That's why now I find
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
On my side of the bed
Am I replaced?
I know you are
I have ran out of tears
I cried for so long*difedile*
I have ran out of Forgiveness
I forgiven you more than the
Bibble Says I should
I have ran out of space for you
The place I used to keep you is shuttered
And I have ran out of love for you
What I thought was mine
Is now ours
What I thought I owned
It turned out
We own
What I thought was true to me
It was all a lie
A woman on our bed
Wearing my gown
With my woman
On my side of the bed
She can stay
I'll leave..
poem by Diopelo King
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Requiescit
I cannot tell his story. He was one
To whom the riddle of our human life
Was strangely put, and who, because of that
And that he could not read it, died. But a short hour
Before he passed, the woman who stood by,
Weeping as once she had wept to see him born,
Tired with her watching looked into his face
And saw the heavy eyelids dropping down
Loaded with sleep. And she, for all her tears,
Bent for the hundredth time to ease his bed.
And, as she almost touched him, smoothing out
The ruffled pillows, close into her ear
He whispered, never lifting up his eyes:
``No matter now. I shall be soon asleep.''
And then, as if he would pursue the thought
A little way as once he loved to do,
And yet too weak to catch it, he went on:
``And what a trouble it has been to keep
This pillow smooth! And in a little while
It will not want another touch; and then--
This aching head of mine will have done with thought.
Thought! Thought!'' But loud the aged woman sobbed,
``Poor soul, poor gentleman.'' So they remained
For a brief space, the goodwife standing there
Knotting her wrinkled hands and he hard by
Upon the bed and breathing heavily.
For he seemed sunk again in that dull trance
Through which men often pass away from life,
When death, as the lion does, has shaken his prey
And he lies numb and dumb and powerless.
She listened. He was telling slowly over
The names of those whom he had loved in youth.
Many were strange to her; and then there came
One she knew well. She started at the sound
She had not heard for years, and bending near
Heard him repeat it twice. She whispered hoarsely:
``Have you no word for her?''--yet stopped again
Because his eyes were open. Doubtingly
They wandered to her own and seemed to say
``Who, and what is it that you ask?'' And she
Spoke it again. He seemed to catch the name
And said it after her, but like a child
Which knows not what it speaks; and afterwards:
``Ah! Bridget, I have quite forgot that story,
And now, in half an hour, it is not long,
I shall have clean forgotten the name too.''
She cried, ``Oh Sir, it is a life too late.
Would God you had forgot it long ago!''
The tears stole slowly down her withered cheeks
And fell upon his hands. She did not move
While he went murmuring on: ``'Tis very well
Thus to forget. And what a wonder too
It now is''--and there came a sudden light
Into his eyes--``that one should ever care
To recollect a single day of life.
I used to think and plan and plot and scheme
How I might build my life in such a way
That I should take fine memories to my grave.
And now what a small matter 'tis to know
How the years went, when death in half an hour
Is all that is left of them! No matter now,
But only to sleep sound in any bed
And have no dreams.'' His eyes grew dim again
As he ceased speaking. And the woman knew
That he was dying. ``He is gone,'' she said.
And then she started muttering half aloud
``They cannot pass without the sacraments,
These gentle--folks.'' And so she hurried out.
The dying man smiled. When they came again,
She whispered in his ear, and looking down
Saw him still smiling; so she lit in haste
A candle by the bed and knelt aside.
They put the holy oils upon his hands,
Which closed upon the fingers of the priest.
The priest bent over him and laid his ear
To the half--open mouth and presently,
Thinking he heard some words, gave absolution.
But, when they would have gone on with the rest,
They found that he was dead. They buried him
With some small pomp to comfort the old dame,
Who said her master was a gentleman
And must be followed with a mourning coach
And mutes and weepers. There was no one else.
His name is cut upon a stone. His dreams
Were written on Time's hem; and Time has fled
And taken him and them. The grass is green
Upon his grave. I cannot doubt he sleeps.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down
I thought I heard you raking the coals
Underneath a lonely man's soles
Why can't you just let it all go
Then I start to go down
I heard him say life is a joke
His words burned like acidrain smoke
Why can't you love what you don't know
Then I start to go
Down, down, down
Way too low
I start to go down, down, down
You can't pull up anymore
Once you go down
I thought you said, what is it's worth
You just get pain for all your life's work
I'll just crawl into my black hole
Then I start to go
Down, down, down
Way too low
I start to go down, down, down
I can't pull up anymore
My Superman's all covered in rust
All of my dreams gone bust
This time I've fallen down
I'm stuck in this rut
Maybe I'll try falling up
'Cause I've fallen far enough
I start to go
Down, down, down
Way too low
I start to go down, down, down
I can't pull up anymore
I start to go down, down, down
You can't pull up anymore
Once you've gone down
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Barren Land
As I walked upon a barren land
I saw pain and destruction from man's hand
What once was alive, no longer did thrive
And what once had stood no longer did stand.
Everywhere that I looked, I saw only death
With no pain, or remorse, or even regret.
GOD must had surely forgotten this place
As all that I felt and saw was hate and waste
No birds were flying, and angels were crying
Faith and hope must of left here in a haste.
I looked and I thought, I tried to care
But I didn't, so I cursed, I did not say a prayer
I began to hear voices as I walked
They started out as whispers then they talked
Persons were nowhere, voices were everywhere
I was being asked to 'not forget' as I was stalked.
Forget what? I then thought to myself
Were the voices from heaven, or were they from hell.
I looked at my hands they were now covered with blood
The boots that I am wearing are now covered with mud
Then I tried to recall, any memories at all
Then they rush back to my mind like a ravenous flood.
I was a soldier, and I fought in a war that day
But I was dead, and I forgot, and to eternity I had lost my way.
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Mother Doesn't Know...
Theirs times that you’re not around.
Theirs times it seems like you don’t care.
Theirs times I don’t see or speak to you.
Theirs times I question you.
Theirs times I don’t even care.
Theirs times I even wish I didn’t know you.
But what would I be without you?
Would I be different or would I be the same?
Have you changed my life?
Or did I change it on my own?
Was I different before?
How come you want nothing to do with me?
You leave me in the dust whenever you have the chance.
Doesn’t seem like you care.
If you do care you have a funny way of showing it.
We use to be like best friends.
I grew up and you kicked me off to the side.
Or did I kick you off?
So many questions.
Not enough answers.
Not enough time to even ask all the questions.
My mind feels like it’s going to explode.
Not enough time in the day to even express my feelings.
Not enough time to share my thoughts.
It never seems to be the right time.
When is the right time?
Is it today or tomorrow?
When will you be there again for me?
You went away so quick I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.
I guess drinking really got a hold of you.
Some have the will power and others don’t know how to say no.
How could you let drinking get to you?
When you have three kids.
Now two don’t even live with you.
Granted one of them is married.
But the other is still a young child.
Looks at you with disgrace.
You don’t even seem to notice.
While your family is breaking apart you just care about your glass filling up.
How do you live like that?
I know you’re not happy, so what’s bothering you?
You’ve been through a lot granted.
BUT SO HAVE I! !
Look what you’re doing to me.
What you think it doesn’t bother me?
It does but I guess that’s what blindness will do to you.
When will you notice me?
IM RIGHT HERE! !
Pick up the phone and call me sometimes.
Why do I always have to be the bigger person?
I’m supposed to be the kid.
When was I able to be a kid?
When will it be my time?
I’m always there for everyone else.
How come you can’t be there for me?
Your always trying to mess up what I accomplish.
Putting negative thoughts into my head constantly.
Do you want to see me fail?
Well I'm going to tell you right now IM NOT GOING TO FAIL! !
How come you hate me so much?
What did I do to you?
I was always the one that listened to how bad your day was?
I was the one who listened all the time
Who else was their for you?
Dad was always at work.
Sam was never home.
I was I was their.
But you don’t think about that now do you.
Since I left you don’t seem to need me anymore.
Now you have toked my friend to live with you.
But threaten her she will have to leave when she make’s a mistake.
How true are you?
You shad your tears about how much you miss me.
But do you really miss me?
Telling people lies after lies.
Why do you do what you do?
How come you act like that?
Can’t you go back to being yourself?
You’ve changed and I don’t like it.
To be honest not a lot of people like it.
But I guess whatever you want to do you will do.
But this is my time now.
Now you know how I feel.
So don’t ask me again.
poem by Ashley Olson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Talbragar
Jack Denver died on Talbragar when Christmas Eve began,
And there was sorrow round the place, for Denver was a man;
Jack Denver’s wife bowed down her head—her daughter’s grief was wild,
And big Ben Duggan by the bed stood sobbing like a child.
But big Ben Duggan saddled up, and galloped fast and far,
To raise the biggest funeral ever seen on Talbragar.
By station home
And shearing shed
Ben Duggan cried, “Jack Denver’s dead!
Roll up at Talbragar!”
He borrowed horses here and there, and rode all Christmas Eve,
And scarcely paused a moment’s time the mournful news to leave;
He rode by lonely huts and farms, until the day was done
And then he turned his horse’s head and made for Ross’s Run.
No Bushman in a single day had ridden half so far
Since Johnson brought the doctor to his wife at Talbragar.
By diggers’ camps
Ben Duggan sped—
At each he cried, “Jack Denver’s dead!
Roll up at Talbragar!”
That night he passed the humpies of the splitters on the ridge,
And roused the bullock-drivers camped at Belinfante’s Bridge;
And as he climbed the ridge again the moon shone on the rise;
The soft white moonbeams glistened in the tears that filled his eyes;
He dashed the rebel drops away—for blinding things they are—
But ’twas his best and truest friend who died on Talbragar.
At Blackman’s Run
Before the dawn,
Ben Duggan cried, “Jack Denver’s gone!
Roll up at Talbragar!”
At all the shanties round the place they‘d beard his horse’s tramp,
He took the track to Wilson’s Luck, and told the diggers’ camp;
But in the gorge by Deadman’s Gap the mountain shades were black,
And there a newly-fallen tree was lying on the track—
He saw too late, and then he heard the swift hoof ’s sudden jar,
And big Ben Duggan ne’er again rode home to Talbragar.
“The wretch is drunk,
And Denver’s dead—
A burning shame!” the people said
Next day at Talbragar.
For thirty miles round Talbragar the boys rolled up in strength,
And Denver had a funeral a good long mile in length;
Round Denver’s grave that Christmas day rough Bushmen’s eyes were dim—
The Western Bushmen knew the way to bury dead like him;
But some returning homeward found, by light of moon and star,
Ben Duggan dying in the rocks, ten miles from Talbragar.
They knelt around.
He raised his head
And faintly gasped, “Jack Denver’s dead,
Roll up at Talbragar!”
But one short hour before he died he woke and understood;
They told him, when he asked them, that the funeral was good;
And then there came into his eyes a sad and softened light.
He said. “Poor Denver’s wife and kids—you’ll see that they’re all right?”
And still the careless Bushmen tell by tent and shanty bar
How Duggan raised a funeral years back on Talbragar.
And far and wide
When Duggan died.
The bushmen of the western side
Rode in to Talbragar.
poem by Henry Lawson
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We'll Meet Again
We’ll meet again she said
but you never did
at least not
as she had meant
as once before
but through a window
of a florist shop
where you were buying flowers
for some other woman
whom you thought
you loved
with passions hot
and thoughts crazed
and there she stood
gazing in
not seeing you
and you looking at her
standing there
remembered the time
when you and she
had almost made it
to her bed for hottest sex
when you heard
her parent’s car
pull up in the drive
and car doors slam
and feet on gravel
and rushing
to put tidy clothes
in disarray or half removed
and she blushing red
like a bottom spanked
made haste to button
undone buttons
and zip up zips unzipped
and all before the key
undid the lock
and both of you in shock
made fast
your footsteps down
the stairs with faces flushed
and unbrushed hairs
and looking at her then
in the florist shop window
all proper and prim
you wondered
what it was
that made hot fires glow
then in short time
burn out or sadly dim.
poem by Terry Collett
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