No.106.
At no.106 she sits in the dark
Watches snowflakes fall and gently park.
Cruel lights as rats race home
Her only guest one gaerden gnome
On her dresser is perfume, 'Elizabeth Arden'
And make-up she now doesn't use
She still sees him smile, her heart wouldn't harden
Though beauty numbs she still tries to enthuse.
Silence screams-so unforgiving
She spills her blood with ink in prose
The only proof the dead are living
With pills and booze the feeling goes.
She lies unloved as the devil's clock ticks
A countdown to suicide at 106.
At no.106 the world isn't fair so
She takes in some wine and an Elgar concerto
She floats in a haze like a butterfly in hell
Her nights meet her days with a silent death knell
Memories all bad, save for love's only drummer
One lonely swallow never made a summer.
She still holds his hand, in dreams they still meet
The life they both planned blows down a dark street.
She kisses a photo that never was taken,
A poem not written, a love not foresaken.
But reality rises with the dawn and cuts her like a knife
On her knees she prays, though forlorn
At no.106 still clinging to life.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Suicide
I sit here by myself, thinking of suicide
I look at a knife, wanting to commit suicide
I look at a photo, hating my life
Telling myself, suicide stops the pain
I turn the lights off, alone in dark
Reaching for the knife, that’s going to take it away
I think of certain people, they don’t care
For the first time, I think of myself
I dig the knife, into part of my skin
Letting all of my blood, pour out
I’m not dying quick enough, so another cut I make
Then a final cut on my neck, and a stab in my heart
poem by Lisa French
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Depression State Of Mind
I would love to slice my leg and watch the blood run down in a stream.
I would love to put a gun to my head and blow my brains out thinking a happy scene.
I would love to rip my heart out of my chest and watch it make its last few throbbing beats.
I'd love to say goodbye and walk the lonely streets.
The lonely streets of death and depression where no one says a word.
The lonely streets of pain and sorrow where no one's voice is heard.
I hate myself from deep with in my core.
In my head i'm bleeding away my life laying on the stone cold floor.
I look in the mirror and see a corpse.
I look inside and notice everything hurts.
I know no one understands me and no one ever will.
I should just overdose on a bunch of pills.
Everyone i've ever trusted has let me down and ripped me apart.
Im left alone crying in the dark.
The tears that fall turn into blood.
The tears that fall are made of pain and unforgiving lust.
There is no light in my life and nor will there ever be.
I'm doomed with this wretched life for eternity.
I'd like to say thankyou to those made me this way.
I wouldn't be surprised if todays my dying day.
poem by Jean Pullman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Losing Grip
Losing grip she holds to life,
She tells herself she won't let go,
Yet here she sits holding the knife,
Moving it ever so slow.
She sits beside her bed,
Knife pressed to skin,
Knees drawn to her head,
For she knows this is a sin.
Tears fall from her eyes,
They fall against the cuts,
Until the blood begin to dry,
She doesn't like this habbit, yet she's stuck in it's rut.
Her head falls back,
As sobs break the silence of the air,
Crys pour from her thoat, yet in volume they lack.
At the back of her eyelids she stairs.
Her hair falls around her,
A warm brown shall,
Not even the touch of a hand would make her stir,
As she listens to her creators call.
Along the slits she traces,
Time after time, line after line,
Forming a pattern like lace,
The paths, the cuts, so even, so fine.
pain shows through her face,
yet she drinks this pain, it is her feast,
Along her wrist, her body, the blood does trace,
She feels the least.
in the depth of the room,
She sits with nothing, no light,
Only the shine of the moon.
She knows sha can't stop, yet it feels so right.
The anger, the sorrow, flows through her, it all leaves,
The blood wipes it away, let's her feel numb,
A blanket of blood is weaved.
Her heart beats; a steady drum.
She looks down at her art,
When all the feelings are gone,
She stands, and slows her heart,
And waits for dawn.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suicide Countdown.
suicide, suicide i wish i was dead.
suicide, suicide oh how much my wrists have bled.
suicide, suicide were almost there.
suicide, suicide no more skin, the blade will tear.
suicide, suicide we have one week.
suicide, suicide so filled with relief, i cannot speak.
seven days, suicide; until i die.
six days, suicide; no longer will i cry.
five days, suicide; ooh i cant wait.
four days, suicide; until i meet my fate.
three days, suicide; till my last word is said.
two days, suicide; twenty four hours till im dead.
one day, suicide; till night tears through dawn.
today, suicide; i am dead, i am gone.
{ some Tiddely Winks person, copied and pasted my poem on their profile. I WROTE THIS, IT ANGERS ME SAVAGELY TO THINK SOMEONE TOOK MY POEM.! !
poem by Marissa E '
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Her Bliss
Death is in the flower's heart –
Why to cry for life of any petal?
Death in purple ink of weary pens
Betrays the written yearnings
On her scented paper.
Death is laughing in her cry;
Her broken heart forlorn upon the sleeve.
Death ignores the plight of any purity –
He doesn’t care or seem to be aware of
What her dewy eye desires,
For Death beckoned:
'Embrace the jar! '
And yes, she did –
For Death, of course.
After all, no other man would
Open up her hand and bid her with a kiss,
So Death became her bliss.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide suicide
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just A Drop
Just a dropp of water into a still pond, sends out
Ripples to an even larger area.
And so is the love from GOD.
For what he gives is better by far.
The ripples create more than we could ever imagine
Or dare to dream, of things that are seen and unseen.
It gives hope to the ones in despair
And with that, they continue to share.
They share that hope to all that they meet
As they walk down a lonely street.
We can never exist with out feeling and thinking
about how we came to be
if it wasn’t for GOD
Within you and me.
He created that dropp for he knew
that it would create the ripples
that would save me and you.
That dropp that I speak of is not water you see
It was the blood he shed at Calvary.
He gave up his life, because he knew
That this was what his father
Planned for him to do.
He was taken away that very day
But three days later he was on his way.
He now sits at the right hand of GOD
And sees all that his death created
And the love that he taught others to share
Is spread daily through out the year.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What a beautiful suicide
What a beautiful suicide
The night skies so dark
The stars shine brightly
Tonight I’ll make a mark
What a beautiful suicide
With a knife next to me
Alone in a room
How good will this be
What a beautiful suicide
I’d already planned
Alone in silence
Nothing could be more grand
What a beautiful suicide
I’ll have to no longer life a life
No hurt or pain
All it takes is a knife
What a beautiful suicide
I don’t think I could die
Come to think of it
It’ll make others cry
What a beautiful suicide
I’ll no longer commit
I’ll just mend what’s wrong
That was stupid I admit
Like it? Leave a comment =D
poem by Lisa French
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Dark Becomes Dawn
Dark as pitch - Dawn spreads light
Dark as dead - Dawn expires graves
Dark withers - Dawn freshness wears
Dark un-paths - Dawn re-strides.
Dark dapples gray - Dawn paints days
Dark specters doubt - Dawn assuredness' gate
Dark limitless plain - Dawn corrals night
Dark swifts shadows - Dawn hastens un-obscures.
Dark dissolves pace - Dawn zeniths one's range
Dark devours - Dawn sun rises
Dark bends down relief - Dawn uplifts sight
Dark dismantles - Dawn scatters golden arrows.
Dark de-flames - Dawn matches day
Dark invisibles - Dawn globes light
Dark unfolds dark dreams - Dawn un-sanctions screams
Dark submissively retires - Dawn crimson splendor.
'2008'
poem by Robert Sheridan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Pearls Worth
Silver pearls fall down her skin
She knows she must do it for she can't stay strong
For all she has to do is count to ten
She knows he's always wrong
Silver pearls fall down her face
In the dead of night, it is so dark
She stands in the room with fear, with hate
In her soul the pain he gave has left its mark
Silver pearls fall on the barrel
As she holds the gun in her hands
For long before this night their love grew stale
And oh how she thinks it is easy to hold life and death in her hands
Silver pearls fall over bruises, the pain
She bites her lip as she counts one... two
In her heart he's left the stain
She looks at his still body three... four
Silver pearls fall as she moves her hands
She walks to his side
In front of his face she stands
As her mind starts the chant 'he lied'
Silver pearls fall five... six
She holds the barrel to his head
Seven... Eight... she moves her feet just to stall
She knows it won't matter for she is already dead
Silver pearls shade her eyes
Nine... she counts on
her mind filled with his lies
Ten... her finger tightens as he opens his eyes
Silver pearls fall as she pulls the trigger, pulls the string
His eyes wonder, as he fades
His mouth moves, and she remembers the thing
Now she only see dark shades
Silver pearls fall as he leaves her, as she turns
Her daughter stands at the door at only six
Her hand turns
Her eyes search through the young girls eyes
Silver pearls fall as she mouths her last breath
The trigger is pulled as she sinks to her knees
The girls screams fill her mind, for she feels the hand of death
And only now she sees
Silver pearls fall as her daughter sinks to the floor
The pearls fill her eyes as she watches her daughter fade into black
She closes those tired eyes for now she knocks at heavens door
It's life she knows she lacked
Silver pearls fall as the rubies of blood over her face
As she goes, and says goodbye
She looks to the light, white as lace
As she rises into the sky
Silver pearls fall as her daughter waits
As she lays there with a cold heart
No feeling, no end, no clean slate
Silver pearls fall as she takes the dart
Silver pearls fall from her daughters eyes
The daughter she shall never hold again, never watch laugh
For now silver perls fall from her eyes
For only she knows the pain that she has left behind
Silver pearls so cold
Siver pearls worth more than gold
Silver pearls that haunt the girls dreams
Silver pearls that fell from her mothers eyes that night
Silver pearls fell down her skin
She knew she must do it for she couldn't stay strong
For all she had to do was count to ten
But now she knows she was wrong, now shes gone, as silver perls fall
(ok yeah this is my longest poems and probibly most confusing, so I guess I will make a summery: a lady was abused by he husband so in the night she kills him and then she turns to see her 6 year old daughter and kills herself and leaves her daughter alone. hope that helps, and I hope you like the poem)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Reality spoken of Lies
One night I came home to tears from my mother,
the quietness of my father,
to realize my life would never be the same.
I felt for my sisters, as this is their father,
who has forsaken our mother.
I lost all I had to Lies.
Lonely nights, Lonely days,
Feeling of despair cascaded me, Loss of reality,
Loss of the loving family I thought I had.
No one is there in the shadows to comfort me,
I lost all I had to Lies.
Then to find out the man I loved,
also lied, was painful and so deep.
Another loss, another heart ache,
The shadows tried to reach me,
but loss of reality reached me first, till family intervened.
I found Love I was looking for,
I just had to reach out my hand, they grabbed onto me so tightly, fearing I would fall back, into life of shadows.
Remind yourself of this,
Reality spoken of Lies, may be like a poison,
which spreads till your reality is lost.
But please never fear to seek out that hand,
the one that is reaching out to love you and help you!
Your love is wanted, needed, & cherished by someone.
You may never even have realized they were there to begin with.
poem by Tracy Elizabeth Welter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Revenge Suicide
i don't know what this is
this scary feeling inside
it's taking over me
forcing a young suicide
and i can't run away
from the voice in my head
screaming over again
makes me wish i was dead
yes, i can feel the hurt
and i can see my dark pain
in rivers of red
flowing down from my vein
all alone, by myself
nobody can hear
my unforgettable screams
as death's darkness i near
as crimson runs down
from my black broken eyes
im looking around
slitting my wrists with your lies
i have the knife in my hand
letters by my side
with one silent slash
it's a revenge suicide.
Few Minutes in the Dark
A few minutes in the dark.
What kind of dark?
No light shining?
Depression?
A reality check?
A few minutes in the dark can change you.
Change you how?
Change your outlook of life?
Change your personality?
Cause you to sin?
A few minutes in the dark is dangerous.
How is it dangerous?
Swallow you up in fear.
Never feel happiness.
No more friends.
No more family.
No more love.
No more life.
No more light.
A few minutes in the dark is scary.
You see the evil in the world with no light.
You lose your light for a few minutes and soul dies.
You lose a person, a loved one, every single second.
You lose sight of them and they're gone forever.
A few minutes in the dark and you cant see anything.
No more things that coused you joy or filled with love.
A few minutes in the dark.
It takes only 30 seconds for a child to be kidnapped.
Then after that, they fall to the darkness.
Soul burned out, and love gone.
Another life fallen to the darkness.
A few minutes in the dark.
When you left the light, there is no turning back.
A few minutes in the dark, and you lose sight.
Lose sight of the light.
See what happens in the dark?
A few minutes in the dark.
Causes death.
A breakup between lovers and one points a gun to their head.
A few minutes in the dark and you die.
The light will be sealed from you along memories.
Memories of light and love.
The two things the dark can never have.
Light and love.
A few minutes in the dark.
And you cant remember your friends.
Did you even have friends?
A few minutes in the dark can change your way of thinking.
Reminding you of death at every corner.
You wander forever not ever finding the light.
A few minutes in the dark will change you forever.
Happiness always has its sadness.
Sadness always has its happiness.
Where there is life, there is death waiting around the corner.
Where there is death, there is life some where waiting.
Death is darkness.
You cant find your light if you cant handle a few minutes in the dark.
And maybe people are still stuck in the dark and we dont notice.
Reach your hand out and show them the light.
Everyone around us may look happy but they dont see the light.
A few minutes in the dark is a very sad place to be in.
Your blinded and confused.
you dont feel love and people all around us will always be in the dark,
waiting for a friend to pull them out.
There will be better days
poem by Natalie Vail
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter Love Song
My heart is now in dark
As the day dimly goes
In the wintry cold and spark
As the winter now grows
Summer feeling deep in heart
Only memories now on
Kisses and touches apart
To yesterdays now gone
Summer feeling we had everywhere
Burned in yellow brown leaves
Red and gold is still thou here
In those moments of old grieves
Every hour is in a silence deep
Through the streets we walk alone
Nothing but old memories to keep
With this dark and wintry tone
I miss my roses red
All the sunshine flowers
My garden's an empty bed
In these lonely hours
Summer feeling deep in heart
Only memories now on
Kisses and touches apart
To yesterdays now gone
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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By the end of this...
By the end of this poem you will love death
because death is a figure of speech
as heaven and hell
to all that believe
they will be deceived
By the end of this stanza you will love death
you don't see death
he sees you
and who am I to say he?
he, she I don't know
My the end of this line you will love death
Death is your friend
when you are tired and sad
you can summon him
with the flick of a knife
by the end of this word you will love death
death is beautiful
don't deal with the pain
don't deny the beauty
don't sacrifice your life to living
something so insignificant
your ego will kill your pride
Now comes the truth
it was coming all along
Now at the end of this poem
...You love death
poem by Lady Viola Of The Grave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pills for Pain. Blood for hurt
How much can a person endure
Before realising pills make the pain stop
They numb all feeling and leave you cold
Cold and dead inside
Pills for pain blood for hurt
It trickles slowly out
The harder you push the faster the hurt escapes
How can a person hurt themselves
When all they do is hurt
When you hurt emotionally physically is easier
Pills for pain blood for hurt
To be nobody to no one
To be unloved and unknown
I am know by the pills
They know me
They make me a someone
Pills for pain blood for hurt
To have a heart broken
Shattered and screaming for less hurt
To feel so much love and the next day non
Pills for pain blood for hurt
Love leads to pain
Caring leads to hurt
Pills for pain
Blood for hurt
Nobody to save me
poem by Maxine Isherwood
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A Way To Make A Living
From an epigram by Plato
When I was a boy, a relative
Asked for me a job
At the Weeks Cemetery.
Think of all I could
Have raised that summer,
That money, and me
Living at home,
Fattening and getting
Ready to live my life
Out on my knees, humming,
Kneading up docks
And sumac from
Those flawless clerks-at-court, those beautiful
Grocers and judges, the polished
Dead of whom we make
So much.
I could have stayed there with them.
Cheap, too.
Imagine, never
To have turned
Wholly away from the classic
Cold, the hill, so laid
Out, measure by seemly measure clipped
And mown by old man Albright
The sexton. That would have been a hell of
A way to make a living.
Thank you, no.
I am going to take my last nourishment
Of measure from a dark blue
Ripple on swell on ripple that makes
Its own garlands.
My dead are the secret wine jars
Of Tyrian commercial travelers.
Their happiness is a lost beginning, their graves
Drift in and out of the Mediterranean.
One of these days
The immortals, clinging to a beam of sunlight
Under water, delighted by delicate crustaceans,
Will dance up thirty-foot walls of radiance,
And waken,
The sea shining on their shoulders, the fresh
Wine in their arms. Their ships have drifted away.
They are stars and snowflakes floating down
Into your hands, love.
poem by James Arlington Wright
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Summer Kisses, Winter Tears
(words & music by wise - weisman - lloyd)
Summer kisses, winter tears
That was what she gave to me
Never thought that Id travel all alone
The trail of memories
Happy hours, lonely years
But I guess I cant complain
For I still recall the summer sun
Through all the winter rain
The fire of love, the fire of love
Can burn from afar
And nothing can light the dark of the night
Like a falling star
Summer kisses, winter tears
Like the stars they fade away
Leaving me to spend my lonely nights
With dreams of yesterday
The fire of love, the fire of love
Can burn from afar
And nothing can light the dark of the night
Like a falling star
Summer kisses, winter tears
Like the stars they fade away
Leaving me to spend my lonely nights
With dreams of yesterday
Leaving me to spend my lonely nights
With dreams of yesterday
Summer kisses, winter tears
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Nothing!
nothing....
i am nothing,
nothing but the breeze
walking through the trees.
nothing but the caw of the crow,
the echo of the mountains' silence.
nothing but the empty bowl
held by the hungry child.
nothing but the dark face,
the white hands,
spoken in different languages.
nothing but the blood,
of the family killed by the bombs.
nothing but the lonely terror
of the suicide just before dawn.
nothing but the footprints
the lonely traveller follows
on the way back home.....
nothing but the leaf
turned from green to red to brown.
nothing but the memories
of love calling back to you.
nothing but a prayer,
an offered hand, an unknown friend,
a tear, a smile....
the dance of the living,
a small fire on the darkest night!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Single Candle/Death Herself
A single flame lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death
Her hands clasped anrond their souls
The souls of the dead
She feeds of their screams
The screams of the dead
Her legs lay bellow her
Bellow death
Her black gown over her body
The body of death
Her chest rises and falls with her breath
The breath of death
Her cloak drawn over her long flowing jet hair
The face of death
Her eyes unmoved unfeeling
Do you see it?
Do you see the soul of death?
Do you feel it?
Her skin as white as snow as it fades into darkness
The snow of tears
Her cloths as dark as night that swallows the light
The dark we all shall see
Her eyes close as she feels their souls flow
Flow from the dead
She leaves them there to lay in darkness
She steals from the dead
A single candle lights their faces filled with her
Filled with death
They fall into the darkness of her eyes, of her heart
The darkness of death
A single candle shall stay to light their way
Their way through the dark
A single candle holds their past
The pain and trials
A single candle lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death herself
A single candle
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loving The Light Nights
The light summer nights are here at last;
The spirit of winter has finally passed.
Now, when I leave work, the sky is blue;
Until recently, it had a much darker hue.
On many a morning, there is a misty haze,
Then, during the day, the sun will blaze.
Now that the days are getting a little longer,
My soul, within, feels so much stronger.
When I walked home: when it was dark,
I never dared to walk through the park.
Now, there is nowhere for shadows to lurk,
As, in the daylight, I walk home from work.
Now, when a day's work has taken its toll,
Through the park, I feel happy to stroll.
In the light, the park is a pleasant place to be;
Enjoyed by everyone, up to a hundred and three.
Now, I often see other people in the park too,
And, no intimidating teens are within my view.
In winter, when it was dark, by late afternoon,
Teenagers got drunk, and litter was strewn.
I hated walking home, when the light had gone;
For it to be dark at 5pm, just seems so wrong.
It's lovely to be able to walk home in the light,
When, sometimes, the sun is still burning bright.
I love it when summertime officially starts;
I feel much happier: there's hope in my heart.
I would love long evenings for all of the year;
For the long summer nights, let's give a cheer!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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