An Unborn Prayer
A twisted journey starts on wings
after the end of the road. Ambition
sits in corner,
nonchalantly and a tempest
hollers around the spires.
Broken down from parched ceiling
a mural turns into a mundane knife.
Lifts the rage,
of the fallen shirts
and starts a war with bleeding arms.
Light weeps on the shoulders of night,
I am not yet conceived in the womb.
Suns and stars
beyond the innocent years
have not crossed the boundaries of guilt.
Naked mankind sits on the banks of grief
after the futility of mourning
for death. A child rises from the shadows
of flame.
The eternal burns become green.
poem by Satish Verma
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Little Angel...
Alone in the corner,
The innocent girl plays,
In her own world,
And in her own daze,
No one ever siad,
That to even her bad things can happen,
And when Mom's friends around,
She won't even try nappin',
Livin' in fear,
That he'll get to her again,
She tries to stay with her mom,
But mom's got dates with men,
So she sits in that corner,
All hidden and safe,
Until hide and seak starts, ...
...There is no base...
poem by Deyanira Yari Rodriguez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter Night
It snowed and snowed ,the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
As during summer midges swarm
To beat their wings against a flame
Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed
To beat against the window pane
The blizzard sculptured on the glass
Designs of arrows and of whorls.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
Distorted shadows fell
Upon the lighted ceiling:
Shadows of crossed arms,of crossed legs-
Of crossed destiny.
Two tiny shoes fell to the floor
And thudded.
A candle on a nightstand shed wax tears
Upon a dress.
All things vanished within
The snowy murk-white,hoary.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
A corner draft fluttered the flame
And the white fever of temptation
Upswept its angel wings that cast
A cruciform shadow
It snowed hard throughout the month
Of February, and almost constantly
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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As Time Starts
As time starts a river flows
As the river flows a child cries
As a child cries the tears become a river
As the river is made life starts to grow again
As time starts a tree grows
As trees grow children climb
As children climb the stars shine
As the stars shine a story begins
As time starts a child runs
As a child runs danger chases
As the danger chases death awaits
As death awaits, the death takes you
poem by Isabella Epona
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Baby Face
Why did not you
cross the black river
and remained innocent?
Unhealed, failed inside, broken and honest?
You won the race,
the space, the heaven.
Moving away to the farthest blackness.
Your god sits crosslegged, clotting.
Brown hands on white shoulders, boneless
move in circle. Deportation
of words opens the green wounds.
Birds carry the snow on the wings.
I was confused, wanted to love
my broken vowels, for absolute you and me.
The baby face pops up again
in my perfection, speechless.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Process in the Weather of the Heart
A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
Turns night to day; blood in their suns
Lights up the living worm.
A process in the eye forwarns
The bones of blindness; and the womb
Drives in a death as life leaks out.
A darkness in the weather of the eye
Is half its light; the fathomed sea
Breaks on unangled land.
The seed that makes a forest of the loin
Forks half its fruit; and half drops down,
Slow in a sleeping wind.
A weather in the flesh and bone
Is damp and dry; the quick and dead
Move like two ghosts before the eye.
A process in the weather of the world
Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child
Sits in their double shade.
A process blows the moon into the sun,
Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin;
And the heart gives up its dead.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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My Friend, My Friend
My friend, my friend hes got a knife
A statement from his former life
When he was easy but alone
Beside him was an empty throne
But what of silver silken blade
Affix his gaze, his features staid
Grasps the handle, clips the cable
One steps up, sits at his table
My friend, my friend, hes got a knife
My friend, my friend, hes got a wife
My friend, my friend, the clever ruse
Persuasion through his thoughts peruse
A hidden relic from his past
That wasnt there when he looked last
He feels it ticking like a bomb
Feeding fear, assaulting calm
Takes the object, starts the game
Moves closer to the flame
My friend, my friend, the clever ruse
My friend, my friend, he lights the fuse
My friend, my friend, hes got a knife
My friend, my friend, hes got a knife
My friend, my friend, hes got a knife
Myf
[maniacal giggles]
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Self
Hidden in the wilderness
Beneath a broken self
Chosen by the light
Only there do I grow and move on
Love has a mercy of forgiveness
She is just another diversion
I am on my own
All the illusions shatter
All the romance becomes winter
All renewal is in the light
Outside of man out side of time
Another naked day where I am stripped
A fortress of stone tumbles into night
Humility takes away the red cloak
Twisted nature amidst the thorns
I seek healing outside of myself
The ground shakes
Shattered idols and masks
Pride in a hurricane
All that’s left is the soul made quieter
Looking at the eternal stars
Traveling into the naked light
Leaving behind the broken self
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Never Can Forget That Memory
Deep in the darkest
Part of my head
There is a memory
Of how I saw you dead
It sits there
Alone
In the shadows of depth
A memory of you
That I have kept
It wants to come out
Of this dark scary place
But it is a memory
I could never erase
It sits there
Alone through day and night
listening to everything
I hear
And say
I want it to leave
And never come back
To leave me alone
The feeling if sadness
To go away
So that I can
Once again
See
The light of day
poem by Broken Hearts
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The New Life
Ive burned my bridges
And Im free at last
All my chains are
In the past
The new life starts here
(I was trying to get happy
I thought it was hard
Until I found that
In my own back yard
The new life starts here)
The day is wide open
The sky is blue
The world is a miracle
And so are you
The new life starts here
My papers arrived
Stamped and complete
All previous dispatches
Are obsolete
The new life starts here
I can see my way so clear
Rejoice for...
The new life starts here
Theres a war in the gulf
But it aint in my head
I just declared a state of
Peace instead
The new life starts here
(tempters and tricksters
Banging at my door
Im not fighting with them
Anymore
The new life starts here
/
Users, abusers,
Banging at my door
Im not fighting with them
Anymore
The new life starts here
Tempsters and tricksters
Wondering how
To seize my attention
They cannot touch me now
The new life starts here)
Generals, presidents
How do you do?
I can make it with or
Without you
The new life starts here
I can see my way so clear
Rejoice for...
The new life starts here
Are you under the mercy?
Are you under attack?
Are you going forward?
Are you going back?
The new life starts here
(are you coming to grips?
Are you coming apart?
Are you listening to fear?
Or to your heart?
The new life starts here
/
Are you building heaven
Or are you building hell?
When that great day comes
Will you be able to tell?
The new life starts here)
Citizen, criminal, child
Woman or man
The keys to the kingdom
Are in your own hands
The new life starts here
(God of our love
Who ignited the sun
Not my will
But thine be done
The new life starts here)
Mock the devil
Make him sweat!
He hasnt won
The battle yet
The new life starts here
(a whole new age in seven more years
A brave new age in ten more years)
Rejoice for...
The new life starts here
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Bird
The father sits in his lonely room,
Outside sings a little bird.
But the shadows are laden with death and gloom,
And the song is all unheard.
The father's heart is the home of sorrow;
His breast is the seat of grief!
Who will hunt the paper for him on the morrow -
Who will bring him sweet relief
From wearing his thoughts with innocent chat?
Who will find his slippers and bring his hat?
Still the little bird sings
And flutters her wings;
The refrain of her song is, 'Gos knows best!
He giveth His little children rest.'
What can she know of these sorrowful things?
The mother sits by the desolate hearth,
And weeps o'er a vacant chair.
Sorrow has taken the place of mirth -
Joy has resigned to despair.
Bitter the cup the mother is drinking,
So bitter the tear-drops start.
Sad are the thoughts the mother is thinking -
Oh, they will break her heart.
Who will on errands, and romp and play,
And mimic the robins the livelong day?
Still the little bird sings
And flutters her wings;
'God reigns in heaven, and He will keep
The dear little children that fall asleep.'
What can she know of these sorrowful things?
Grandmother sits by the open door,
And her tears fall down like rain.
Was there ever a household so sad before,
Will it ever be glad agaiin?
Many unwelcome thoughts come flitting
Into the granddame's mind.
Who will take up the stitches she drops in knitting?
Who will her snuff-box find?
Who'll bring her glasses, and wheel her chair,
And tie her kerchief, and comb her hair?
Still the little bird sings
And flutters her wings;
'God above doeth all things well,
I sang it the same when my nestlings fell.'
Ah! this knows the bird of these sorrowful things.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken
fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control
empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man
broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights
fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...
fallen, empty, and broken...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Men With Broken Hearts
You'll meet many just like me upon life's busy street
With shoulders stooped and heads bowed low and eyes that stare in defeat
Or souls that live within the past where sorrow plays all parts
Where a living death is all that's left for men with broken hearts
You have no right to be the judge to criticize and condemn
Just think but for the grace of God it would be you instead of him
One careless step a thoughtless deed and then the misery starts
And to those who weep death comes cheap these men with broken hearts
Oh so humble you should be when they come passing by
For it's written that the greatest men never get too big to cry
Some lose faith in love and life when sorrow shoots her darts
And with hope all gone they walk alone these men with broken hearts
You've never walked in that man's shoes or saw things through his eyes
Or stood and watched with helpless hands while the heart inside you dies
Some were propers some were kings and some were masters of the arts
But in their shame they're all the same these men with broken hearts
Life sometimes can be so cruel that a heart will pray for death
God why must these living dead know pain with every breath
So help your brother along the road no matter where he starts
For the God that made you made them too these men with broken hearts
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ceiling of Life
I want so many years, fifty, sixty;
More than death, more than life;
When we have an unexpected ceiling
Tumble down on us.
I want to see your hair after so many years,
In the glow after lands have passed
My forever journey has kept a sin
So well until half-light turns to darkness.
I want to learn like a trance,
An exit to heaven is the desirability,
The only dear journey,
The one flight I have hair for.
poem by Naveed Akram
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When There Is No Help Coming...
(are you looking for the miracles that the
skies could possibly give?
do not gaze too much to the stars
they can make you cross-eyed
for that is what fantasy does to its
follower
do you consult the zodiac animals?
what can a lion do but bite its prey
where is the sun?
it is not there anymore
it is not an all time giver
it gets fed up to when afternoon comes
it will stop comforting you
not even a streak of light
to guide you through the night
and what about this darkness that sits beside you?
is there help coming?
the moon is not there yet
it is still mourning for the recent death
of its lover of
light....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Innocent Child
I was just a child, an innocent child
I didn't know when, I didn't know how.
I was just a child, an innocent child.
She couldn't save me from what happened,
even though she tried. She always tried.
she was my guardian angel.
I was just a child, an innocent child.
I couldn't be saved then, and I cant be saved now.
The dark angel came over, knocked on my door.
sucked the life out of my family, I was only 5.
I was just a child, and innocent child.
I didn't understand, Where did they go? What happened to mommy and daddy? What happened to sissy? Why didn't they come home last night?
They brought the car to my house, thought someone else would be home, but it was just me, just a little 5 year old..I looked at it... I saw the twists and the turns... the dents and the broken glass.. the scars will always be there.. I see it slamming into a ditch..rolling, rolling, and when it stops.
Silence...
I was just a child, an innocent child.
I didn't understand. how could that happen.. what happened?
I was just an innocent child, the innocent child.
She went away that night.. and she never came back.
poem by Forever Gone
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Cannot Open The Loop
When I am completely denuded
Of my tremors,
I come at peace with my skin.
Burnt by raw blaze of reality
The brilliant confusion of today.
Promising night
selects the partners of grief.
Vacantly I fix my eyes on stars.
The words will never convey the silence
the mystery of eternal search
amongst the ruins of dreams.
Tongue falters on recitation of factuality
Over coming the rage.
Fatal dichotomy of life and death
starts sleepwalking.
Gulf widens the shores
seeking in metaphysical depth.
Speech does not bring solace
mathematics cannot open the loop.
poem by Satish Verma
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Death Is Death, Dissolution Of All
All over this mammoth Earth,
There is nothing like death;
All over this mammoth Earth,
Nothing escapes death
Except that strange death itself.
What is this death,
Perchance, death itself knows not;
Whence it springs,
Where are its wings,
Fancied none in these million years.
It’s the live black hole
In dance along the time’s scale;
Nothing escapes its rapacious field
And nothing ever breaks out of its shield,
Death is death, dissolution of all.
Is death a beginning, none ever ever knows,
No mysteries as mysterious as death ever is;
No light or shade nor talent prised it,
No voyages ever came back out of its womb,
Nor light-years ever scaled the depth of death.
Death brings down all to the Nature’s womb,
To the Natures pristine pure form;
No rise or fall nor glory or shame,
‘Neath the mysterious death, all are same;
Indeed, the supreme equalizer is death.
Death is true peace, death is ultimate pain,
Death is finding peace in the folds of pain;
Death robs light and spreads dark night
And numbs soul to the inevitable truth, that
Born out of night, but we are part of that night.
poem by Praveen Kumar
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His Artistic Brush
A model sits motionless with diaphanous drape,
The paint in tubes, lies waiting for an escape,
An easel's standing, so central to the room,
On it a canvas. And nearby in the gloom,
An Artist leans casually against an open door,
Been thinking long, but now crosses the floor,
Pulls back the blinds to let the light rush in,
Adjusts his spectacles and prepares to begin,
Then with a flourish of his artistic brush,
Starts slowly to create a picture that's so plush,
A Work of Art maybe, perhaps an important one,
Which might see his name in lights, when it is done.
Needing to observe, he lifts his eyes to peep,
And finds that his model has fallen fast asleep.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Love, Grief, Death, Peace and Life Make War
Love, grief, death, peace, and life make war.
Within the grasps of victory, here lies grief.
Striving to keep a soul alive, thriving for life
whispers of sanity fade from the sight of death.
An outstretched limb pleading for a touch of peace
as a memory of happiness fills the heart with love.
Controlling senses fester upon a long lost love,
breathing in deep, it’s the smell of a war.
Muffled cries creep into your soul, pleading for peace.
You lick your blood stained lips, tasting the bitter grief.
piercing voices thunder upon the ground, accepting death
as a memory of loneliness fills their heart with an absence of life.
Tears of blood come forth into a dimension of twisted life.
The air, heavy and hot, hover over you ridding the land of any former love.
A chorus of saints and sinners sing to you, singing the song of death,
”O come ye child, come into my arms and rid yourself of this war.
Gather your mind and venture to the morrow, leaving behind this haunting grief,
for it is not your fault that this world does not know peace.”
You close your eyes, feeling the sensation of eternal peace.
You can not move any aching limb, within an inch of life
you follow the scent of reigning mud, caking itself to the world’s own grief.
Wandering past the forgotten lives to seek the one true love
that carries upon it’s shoulders, a burden of war.
This land can no longer hold itself with peace as all the peace has turned to death.
Forging itself upon your spirit, the lies no longer live, now it is only death
that caresses your body like a mother so tender, illuminating the one and only peace.
Taunting you to go and be afraid no more, taunting and taunting, this is war.
With one last plea, you beg and cry for the voices to take your life
as you know that the searching prisms of hope will find your love
and they will abolish the need of any misery and any grief.
Once more do the saints and sinners sing of your grief
only this time, there is no mourning of war and death.
They’ve come to pour into your heart, a sound so divine. It is love.
”Dear child, dear child, no more shall you weep, we are here, we’re your peace.
Come with us to a land so pure, where love is eternal and death is not near. We will give you life.
With a trust so deep, take our hands and no more, no more, shall this be your burden of war.”
In times of sorrow and fear, lost is the value of love and peace.
All is forgotten while caged by grief and watching the slaughter of life.
You watch your fallen brothers, reaching for help, you hear the despair in all their voices.
You’re the saint and sinner, giving them hope.
You cease your thoughts, you must fight on.
You aim your gun, praying for death. This is war.
poem by Mason Letoto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Journey Into The Stars
Going to a day is like the very journey of Time,
One sits and waits, adores the other person, and fidgets;
A day may arise when that night with it is a flight,
Into the heavens and the universe.
It is a journey, it is a journey, of gravity,
When stars are seen, and planets are visited.
The cosmos is blended with infamous substances,
Full of canes and rods, delightful elements.
The flight to the infinite space is by night,
A day has lengthened on this quest of brilliance.
May this adventure never cease,
Just as death is the beholder of the next life.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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