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Lost Love

His eyes are quickened so with grief,
He can watch a grass or leaf
Every instant grow; he can
Clearly through a flint wall see,
Or watch the startled spirit flee
From the throat of a dead man.
Across two counties he can hear
And catch your words before you speak.
The woodlouse or the maggot's weak
Clamour rings in his sad ear,
And noise so slight it would surpass
Credence--drinking sound of grass,
Worm talk, clashing jaws of moth
Chumbling holes in cloth;
The groan of ants who undertake
Gigantic loads for honour's sake
(Their sinews creak, their breath comes thin);
Whir of spiders when they spin,
And minute whispering, mumbling, sighs
Of idle grubs and flies.
This man is quickened so with grief,
He wanders god-like or like thief
Inside and out, below, above,
Without relief seeking lost love.

poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lost Love

His eyes are quickened so with grief,
He can watch a grass or leaf
Every instant grow; he can
Clearly through a flint wall see,
Or watch the startled spirit flee
From the throat of a dead man.
Across two counties he can hear,
And catch your words before you speak.
The woodlouse or the maggot's weak
Clamour rings in his sad ear;
And noise so slight it would surpass
Credence: — drinking sound of grass,
Worm-talk, clashing jaws of moth
Chumbling holes in cloth:
The groan of ants who undertake
Gigantic loads for honour's sake —
Their sinews creak, their breath comes thin:
Whir of spiders when they spin,
And minute whispering, mumbling, sighs
Of idle grubs and flies.
This man is quickened so with grief,
He wanders god-like or like thief
Inside and out, below, above,
Without relief seeking lost love.

poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of delicate poems

These poems speak their minds
Be it grief
Be it bliss
But what matters most is that these poems
Have minds of their own
And they do not just listen, and absorb

Or absurd, but what matters most of all
I repeat
For emphasis
For you who like to see

The stone saints along the pedestal
Remembered as you say
By the ravages of the times,

Is that
These poems have minds of their own
And they have mouths that speak,
So delicately, that they have threads
Like tendrils that entwine
A fence
Like it is making love and you watch
It with contempt
But as I see your face

You watch it with envy,
Really, these delicate poems, now speaking
More of grief
Of lamentations

Like a woman veiled and wailing then singing
The most beautiful song of the lost,
Her husband dead
One of the time’s war’s casualties

A grief in a song
And you shall hear it, a grief in a song,
Reverberating through the winds of change
Inside your ear

There are no ballads, or odes to your
West wind
There are none, for in truth, in this world
The ballads are outdated
Run over by the grief of the many
Some even still untold
Waiting to unfold

And you are there, how insensitive!
Telling them to have a grip of something else

Why not walk your dachshund?
And watch it pee beside a tree and
There you watch with so much glee!

poem by Antonio Liao
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Not With These Eyes

Let me not see your grief!
O, let not any see
That grief,
Nor how your heart still rocks
Like a temple with long earthquake shocks.
Let me not see
Your grief.

These eyes have seen such wrong,
Yet remained cold:
Ills grown strong,
Corruption's many-headed worm
Destroying feet that moved so firm--
Shall these eyes see
Your grief?

And that black worm has crawled
Into the brain
Where thought had walked
Nobly, and love and honour moved as one,
And brave things bravely were begun....
Now, can thought see
Unabashed your grief?

Into that brain your grief
Has run like cleansing fire:
Your grief
Through these unfaithful eyes has leapt
And touched honour where it lightly slept.
Now when I see
In memory your grief

There is no thought that's not
Yours, yours,
No love that sleeps,
No spiritual door that opens not
In the green quiet village of thought
Shining with light,
And silent to your silence.

poem by John Freeman
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And his poems have other poems

And his poems have other poems
Hidden, camouflaged inside them, as through the holocaust
Men hid within other men's homes, and workplaces,
And women within other women's closets, and dressing rooms
As a woman would hide her babe
First within her womb, and then inside her very heart
So his heart-poems reside and procreate in darkness, in hiding,
Spin their souls together to weave the spiders tale, and into
The famished strings of singing wormholes, which orbit
The always living, and the once-quickened dead;
From whence one day the spirit shall stride out; spin out
At his soft call, to take the percolating universe
By latent storm of surprise, and do a souls-token worth of battle
Only in silken strings of love's long-suffering silence.

poem by Patti Masterman
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Magic Lies In Silence Of Grass and In Your Voice

I am barefoot walking in the grass of morning,
The dew drops are comforting my feet,
I felt relieved by my stress and grief,
When i heard your voice in the grass rustling.

I lie down on grass and i could feel its silence,
I close my eyes and i enjoyed your voice,
The smell of grass was taken on the wings of wind,
Magic lies in silence of grass and in your voice.

Is amazing how much miracle stays in a blade of grass,
Opening my eyes i saw above the sky,
There was your face among the clouds smiling,
I had the feeling that i want to hug the sky.

I'm gonna miss you all the days of life,
And even when death will take my last breath,
Last thing i'll do passing to eternity,
I'm gonna miss you.

Winter will come, grass will fall asleep,
I 'll not hear the grass rustling anymore,
Only my memories with you will be always alive,
Rustling in my mind as grass did.

poem by Cristina Teodor
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The Grass Smells Red

The grass smells red.
Untill these mortal bounds find thier way into the catostrophic fire's of love and redemption, the grass will smell red.
The grass tells a story of wars unsung and battles lost.
The grass tells a story of love gained and a fury found again.
The grass smells red...but does it speak?
Does it's voice ring out like the bells in a steeple?
Does it feel the pain of those who died?
Did it hear the screams?
The grass smells red and it grow's red.
It feels red.
This grass will die red.

poem by Troy Nichols
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Grass stands tall! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

How do raindrops balance on grass blades?
It seemed like stars had descended on glade.
Startled, I watched standing by a lamppost.
Undeterred by clouds, and earth played host.

Overnight the grass had gained inches in height.
I sat and looked despite mosquito bites.
You would have said if you were by my side,
They have tears of joy glistening in eyes.

Does grass have feelings, eyes and ears?
Could it be… music of rain it can hear?
Raindrops, tears or stars… whatever you name,
All I know is we have talked and shared.

For on that moonless, still, cloudy night,
I simply forgot whatever was on my mind.
I bent down, and am sure heard it whisper,
Oh yes, I have no doubt grass can speak and hear.

When I woke up after a fitful, disturbed night,
And wandered out, I was aghast at the sight.
Grass was quiet yet dignified; it had been run over.
By a merciless, noisy and rusty lawn mower.

The stubble reminded of an unshaven face.
, Stoic, no trace of grief or need for solace.
A couple of days later gardener stood exasperated.
Grass laughed and stood tall, wet and animated.

poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Licia Sonnets 36

Hear how my sighs are echoed of the wind;
See how my tears are pitied by the rain;
Feel what a flame possesséd hath my mind;
Taste but the grief which I possess in vain.
Then if my sighs the blustering winds surpass,
And wat'ry tears the drops of rain exceed,
And if no flame like mine nor is nor was,
Nor grief like that whereon my soul doth feed,
Relent, fair Licia, when my sighs do blow;
Yield at my tears, that flintlike drops consume;
Accept the flame that doth my incense show,
Allow the grief that is my heart's perfume.
Thus sighs and tears, flame, grief shall plead for me;
So shall I pray, and you a goddess be.

poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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398

words like a forest hide me
and you will not see me crying
because my eyes have become leaves
without tearglands

words like a wall of rain cover
my weeping with the sound of its heavy rainfall
and you cannot hear me anymore
except the tender sound of a shower
and the rolling of the accompanying thunder

now i have grown words like a garden of grass
and some seeds are groomed to become trees
now i have kept my words like wild vines
and climbers and they cover everything about
my grief and lamentations

now you ask me where i am, ask my words
oh they will not tell you. You are my pain.
And there is no word equivalent to your name
anymore in this forest, in this grassy garden.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Words Like A Forest Hide Me

words like a forest hide me
and you will not see me crying
because my eyes have become leaves
without tear glands

words like a wall of rain cover
my weeping
with the sound of its heavy rainfall
and you cannot hear me anymore
except the tender sound of a shower
and the rolling of the accompanying thunder

now i have grown words like a garden of grass
and some seeds are groomed to become trees
now i have kept my words like wild vines
and climbers and they cover everything
my grief and lamentations

now you ask me where i am,
ask my words
oh they will not tell you.
You are my pain.
And there is no word
equivalent to your name
anymore in this forest, in this grassy garden.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ring Of Grass

Rings of grass crowns of flowers they're gone gone gone gone
Furs that I woven of whispering hours gone gone gone gone
She's gone away where the rings are real
And the furs have warmth that a woman can feel
Round and round round goes the wheel
And she's gone gone gone gone gone

Rings of grass and crowns of flowers gone gone gone gone
Castles of sand with seashell towers gone gone gone gone
She's gone away where the dreams are small
But the castles are rock and they never fall
And left me here to live among all that is gone gone gone gone gone

Rings of grass oh why did they die away gone gone gone gone
Whispering hours where did they fly away gone gone gone gone
And where is the wisdom to understand
That years would crumble our castles of sand
And the flowers and grass turn brown in our hands
When it's gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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I Can Hear The Grass Grow

See the people all in line
Sneakin a look at me ? ? ?
Cant imagine that their minds
Are thinkin the same as me
I can hear the grass grow I can hear the grass grow
I see rainbows in the evening
My heads attracted to
Magnetic wave of sound
With streams of coloured circles
Makin their way around.
I can hear the grass grow I can hear the grass grow
I see rainbows in the evening
Cant seem to cause allow the sign
My sense color my ? ? ? ?
Get a hold of yourself now baby
See I need you to help now baby
Get a hold of yourself now baby
Put your head down to the ground
And listen to your mind
If you cant spell what you found
I know that youre not my kind
I can hear the grass grow I can hear the grass grow
I see rainbows in the evening
Cant seem to cause allow the sign
My sense color my ? ? ? ?
Get a hold of yourself now baby
See I need you to help now baby
Get a hold of yourself now baby
See the people all in line
Sneakin a look at me ? ? ?
Cant imagine that their minds
Are thinkin the same as me
I can hear the grass grow I can hear the grass grow
I see rainbows in the evening

song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grief is a Mouse

793

Grief is a Mouse—
And chooses Wainscot in the Breast
For His Shy House—
And baffles quest—

Grief is a Thief—quick startled—
Pricks His Ear—report to hear
Of that Vast Dark—
That swept His Being—back—

Grief is a Juggler—boldest at the Play—
Lest if He flinch—the eye that way
Pounce on His Bruises—One—say—or Three—
Grief is a Gourmand—spare His luxury—

Best Grief is Tongueless—before He'll tell—
Burn Him in the Public Square—
His Ashes—will
Possibly—if they refuse—How then know—
Since a Rack couldn't coax a syllable—now.

poem by Emily Dickinson
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ACROSTIC (Lyrics)

Love to hear your melody and I
yearn so to hear you speak;
really feel your embrace. But I feel
instant relief in my heart when you
come whispering in the wind and
say the words that set me free.

poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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Sport Relief

Do something for a child,
Even if you don't feel so wild.

The money that comes,
Can be very big sums.

It goes all to charity,
to help us have parity.

It is all sport relief,
To make lesser grief.

Sport may seem like grief,
But this helps to bring relief.

To those who have grief,
Who should not be a thief.

To earn their living,
So help them get a better living.

They'd do anything for a living,
So please give them a shilling.

poem by Kaleb Brown
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Alls Quiet On The Eastern Front

Watch the watch the way I walk
Cant you think my movements talk
Watch the watch the way I walk
Cant you think my movements talk
See me silently quietly creep I am too
Amped up to sleep lamp rays shining down
Street lamps make the bussing sound subway
Creaking down below garbage piled up and ready to go
Lock the windows the gates on taxi in the
Distance coming along stalking the streets
Till the break of day new york beauty take my
Breath away near some cats but dogs dont
Bark cool cats strolling after dark
Watch the watch the way I walk
Cant you think my movements talk
Watch the watch the way I walk
Cant you think my movements talk
Shaky lock and kicky door smokey air that
I adore down in the alley is where I hunt
All is quiet on the eastern front
Stalking the streets till the break of day
New york beauty take my breath away
Watch the watch the way I walk
Cant you think my movements talk
Watch the watch the way I walk
Cant you think my movements talk
Cant you think my movements talk
Cant you think my movements talk

song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beware Of Darkness

Watch out now, take care
Beware of falling swingers
Dropping all around you
The pain that often mingles
In your fingertips
Beware of darkness
Watch out now, take care
Beware of the thoughts that linger
Winding up inside your head
The hopelessness around you
In the dead of night
Beware of sadness
It can hit you
It can hurt you
Make you sore and what is more
That is not what you are here for
Watch out now, take care
Beware of soft shoe shufflers
Dancing down the sidewalks
As each unconscious sufferer
Wanders aimlessly
Beware of maya
Watch out now, take care
Beware of greedy leaders
They take you where you should not go
While weeping atlas cedars
They just want to grow, grow and grow
Beware of darkness (beware of darkness)

song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hear no Evil, Speak no Evil, See no Evil

Evil is all around
It’s everywhere
Easy to be found
Hear no evil
It’s when you hear the lies of those who speak
To listen to the words of the weak
Whispering secret syllables to the dead dusks of hell
Lying words enter your ear
The lies people tell
Speak no evil
When sour words leave your lips
Cursing other innocents with horrible sins
Speaking lies
See no evil
Watching innocents in pain
Viewing the flames of burning witches
Seeing a baby tormented by a mother
You do not just watch
You take action
Those are my three rules
Do them correctly
Or suffer my vengeance

poem by Angel OfDarkness
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Quickened Endings Speeds The Change

Quickened endings speeds the change.
And games played once reliable...
No longer,
Remain the same.

Quickened endings speeds the change.
Knock down those blocks,
And...
Open up what's been locked.

Quickened endings speeds the change.
Don't try to cease them.
Hoping to keep...
Whole and complete in one piece,
A picture wanted perfect...
But,
Soon from you to leave.
Soon you will believe!

Quickened endings speeds the change.
Let what was known go!
And....
Don't try to cease this speed.

Quickened endings speeds the change.
And games played once reliable...
No longer remain.
So...
Knock down those blocks,
And...
Open up what's been locked.
It's futile to keep clinging,
To meanings coming to a stop!

Quickened endings speeds the change.
And...
Don't try to cease them,
With a picture held to keep.

Quickened endings speeds the change.
And...
Don't try to cease them,
With a picture held to keep.

Quickened endings speeds the change.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grief Is Never Having To Say I Grieve

Your grief has been too heavy

I don’t know how much grief buries you down

Please let me weep with you

Please let me weep with you

Like the others, I adore you for keeping up with life

I could imagine how you cry in your thoughts

How like blade, grief cuts your heart, your throat,

the top of your skull - slowly

Like wars in history, there are no exits

and there are no choices

If you were there, you had to face those rattling guns

Plead, please plead

Remember “Our Lady of Sorrows'

Mary carried part of the grief Jesus has

been carrying to save us, during the crucifixion

Mary had no one with her

She was helpless, yet in those moments

God’s strength kept her unmovable and brave

How long does grief stay?

People are not things

How long does grief stay?

If you lost something, you can always build it again

How long does grief stay?

If you lost someone, and someone, and someone

again, in any way – they are part of you

For as long as you live, grief changes into

remembering happy days with each other

Grief becomes faithfulness

Grief changes unto faith

Those drops of blood, while Jesus prayed in the garden

Is grief

Grief is never having to say “I grieve, ”

but “I love, ”

This is how long grief stays.

poem by Rosalinda Flores Martinez
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