In Selfish Vein
What was the idea of charity,
when you were hiding
yourself from you?
Was it a non-existence?
Or you were writing an
unseen anthology?
Was that your kin choice
for a reciprocal pain,
inflicted in dark?
Between right and wrong
I am laying my wreath
on my grave.
poem by Satish Verma
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Gone To Forget To Leave
There are those who may choose to die.
For whatever reason...
Eyes are wanting to feel,
A realness and not a friction to absorb.
When platters of gold filled deceit,
Offer nothing else to be fed....
With a side order of sincerity seen,
Or felt to mention.
'Gone to forget to leave'
And the feasting of this is encouraged.
Until dishonesty is all that one dreads.
With a wish to numb the head,
From the stirrings that occur from truths.
And although the eating of deceit weakens,
On a daily basis when that addiction eats...
A cry goes unheard.
A sickening overwhelms...
And,
A wish to be released from it increases.
'Gone to forget to leave'
An encouraged emotionally abandoned mind...
Feeds until the peace of eternal rest has come,
Of what is wished.
And with a consciousness,
Desperately wanting transistion now a mission...
But never accepted to come from one so...
Talented and gifted!
But hurting from a place...
No one took the time to touch to get to know,
And so much pain was inside hiding.
And what was known to God,
Has joined the stars awaiting.
Pain was inside hiding.
Pain was inside hiding.
And what was known to God,
Has joined...
With the others worthy.
Pain was inside hiding.
Pain was inside hiding.
And what was known,
To God...
Has joined,
Eternity!
Goodbye to pain inside there hiding.
Pain inside there hiding.
No more pain inside there hiding.
Pain inside there hiding.
Gone is pain inside there hiding.
Pain inside there hiding.
There's no pain inside there hiding.
Pain inside there hiding.
Gone...
Pain inside there hiding.
Pain inside there hiding.
Gone...
Pain inside there hiding.
Pain inside there hiding.
Gone...
Pain inside there hiding.
Pain inside there hiding.
There's no pain inside there hiding,
Gone.
Gone to forget to leave.
That pain inside there hiding!
Gone to forget to leave.
That pain inside there hiding!
Gone to forget to leave.
There's no pain inside there hiding.
Gone to forget to leave.
Gone to forget to leave.
There's no pain inside there hiding.
Gone.
Gone to forget to leave.
Gone.
Gone to forget to leave.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Be An Anthology Poet
To be an anthology poet whose work
Children hate to read in school
And re-discover in later life as meaningful and beautiful-
To be an anthology poet
And have generations know one’s poems
As part of the eternal canon-
To be an anthology poet
One of the few names
That has survived
When thousands of one’s contemporaries’ have not-
To be an anthology poet
To have written a few of the great and the memorable poems-
To be an anthology poet
To be what I am not
And most likely never will be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Guess
i guess
loneliness is a self-inflicted
catastrophe,
a choice of ruin,
sometimes, a place
of pain
where the mind is trained
for the greatness
of his spirit
loneliness is
sacrifice, a choice to
find a place for the
purification of the soul
this soul that is so strange
amid the market of confluences
of happiness and lust
and insensitivity
it chooses this
loneliness, silenced silence,
silent patience,
patiently coping with the meaning
of one's existence
gauging the limits of the
happy mind
penetrating the wall of
prohibition,
genuflecting on
nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When In Pain
when in pain
i prefer silence.
but i keep on writing.
and writing.
and writing.
and writing.
when in pain
i prefer always the silence
of the stars.
makes me feel like i am a star.
this silence, this pain.
when in silence, like the stars,
the pain gets too peaceful
like the stars
and then the pain subsides like
an ebbing tide
like an anger subsiding into
a still undisturbed mind
when i shine like a star
i remember the pain and it does not pain anymore.
silence kills the pain
like a distant star on a dark night like this one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pain and disater
This is the only thing I have known.
Pain choas and disaster.
Most of it inflicted by others.
But through what others did to me.
I lived my life in a dark lonely place.
It may be lonely.
But theres no risks there.
No one can ever hurt me again.
Pain and disaster is the only thing.
The only thing that I have ever known.
Its not my choice to live this way.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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~ The Party ~
* A poem i found on the internet it sends shivers down my spine *
I went to a party, mom,
and remembered what you said,
you told me not to drink and drive, mom,
so i had a sprite instead,
I felt proud of myself, mom,
the way you said i would,
that i didn't drink and drive, mom,
though some friends said i should,
I made a healthy choice, mom,
and your advice to me was right,
the party finally ended, mom,
and the kids drove out of sight,
I got into my car, mom,
sure to get home in one piece,
I never knew what was comming, mom,
something i expected least,
Now i'm laying on the pavement, mom,
and i hear the policeman say,
'the kid that caused this wreck was drunk'
Mom, his voice seems far away,
My own bloods all around me, mom,
as i try hard not to cry,
i can hear the paramedic say, mom,
'this kid is gonna die! '
I'm sure the guy had no idea, mom,
while he was flying high,
because he chose to drink and drive, mom,
now i would have to die,
So why do people do it, mom,
knowing that it ruins lives?
and now the pain is cutting me, mom,
like a hundred stabbing knives,
Tell sister not to be afraid, mom,
tell Daddy to be brave,
and when i go to heaven, mom,
put 'DADDY'S GIRL' on my grave,
Someone should have taught him, mom,
that it's wrong to drink and drive,
maybe if his parents had, mom,
i'd still be alive,
My breath is getting shorter, mom,
i'm getting really scared,
these are my final moments, mom,
and i'm so unprepared!
poem by Emma Jane Rae
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Writing (ii)
They look bright
As light falls upon them
They seem statesmen too
As they talk incessant
Let them use pen and paper
They will uncover their
Cleverness of hiding power
Writing is a fight between
The Powers of dark and light
The Difference between an elephant
And an ant.
Writing is the impressive enormity
Among the works of tiny trivialities
Writing is a question asked to realise
The blunt indifference
Writing is like putting the sun
At the centre of life.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Dark writing....
Dark shadows sneak under the door
As I keep writing these dark lyrics more
Of a nature that's not evil or unkind
Rather of disturbing thoughts in my mind.
They say for everything bad it's found
Something good it has to come around
The weather wouldn't be pleasant if wasn't for the rain
These feelings wouldn't exist if it wasn't for the pain.
I'm doing a storm in a cup of water to prepare
Meanwhile around people don't even care
I pray for my life to not end before these stanzas
But mindlessly I write and write looking for the answers.
My cold dark poems are everywhere
Floating around in the midnight air
Listen, closely you have no choice
These dark words, my deep voice.
Where the world is falling apart,
There lies a dark poem of the heart
Dark poems tell the darkest lines
They make you hear their shrieking cries.
Hold dearly onto your ravaged soul;
Don't find you've let life take its toll
Youll find my dark poems are everywhere
Read them, like them, if you dare….
I am the shadow hiding in the dark
The evil sounds that wake you in the night
I'm a shadow lurking in the dark
Because still it always feels so right
So I write my shadowy poems line by line
But I'm constantly over looked
My brain is fried down to the spine
And my broken heart is cooked
I'm left only with part of a heart
That will never again beat
I'm the one person
No one has to meet
I am a shadow lurking in the dark
Writing my poems so deep
Whispering my words so stark
Pray your soul to keep…
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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The Scars That U Leave
I don’t know how much more
How much more I can take
Of this crap you keep doing
Every night I go to bed
With the scars of the day
Scars that you inflicted
And the pain searing through my body
A pain that was caused by your hands
Inflicted by your hatred
A pain remembered the next morning
Only to be added to that night
A never ending pain
As the wounds are never left to heal
But are added to
Over and over again
Know I add a new pain
A pain I inflict on myself
A cut that you didn’t make
But was caused by you all the same
poem by Layla Joseph
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A maverick feels like he has no choice however difficult his choice of expression. In my case, it was going backwards into tonality. It seemed so wrong. The idea that progress is going into the past in a new way is very strange, even though there are precedents.
quote by David Del Tredici
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Readers who Are Sleeping Now
My imagination rode on
the wings of poesy--
My singing heart joined
it with songs cozy....
The sun on your part,
is brighter now-
Do you know, the poet
awaits you, stranger though,
but feels an urge,
to make you all to gain,
his creation, which came
from love, from hate, from pain?
Who am I without you all?
If my mind weeps and aches,
who will care to give it
balmy rest if it breaks?
In the dark part of earth,
I'm writing poem with
strain and pain, with hope,
rising you welcome this wreath!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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No Charity Too Is Good
Acts of attrition promote charity.
The guilt built might demand charity.
Seeking God’s bliss might cause charity.
From the surplus one might do charity.
Beneficiary being the needy,
Charity is a benevolent act.
Doing no charity is excellent
By not earning more than the bare need.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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An Idea
An Idea can change the world, how many
things can be done from an idea, every piece
of object was an idea, sense the beginning of
time idea was the first thought created in the
mind, an idea is what surround’s every being.
But an idea is still only an idea and it can't be
felt, you cannot touch an idea or kiss it, or hold it,
ideas do not bleed or feel pain or love, an idea
cannot be seen or heard, its created in our thoughts,
but then again an idea can become real. An idea
can be what ever you which it to be, an idea can
be destructive, an idea can be brilliant, I've seen
people get killed in the name of ideas, ideas,
we walk around with a little
light bulb blinking in our thoughts, ideas.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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The Skies Above
The skies are upon the snow and land of innocence,
Offering one choice and no option, there is absence.
The sky may singly describe the mountainous lane
As a monument does its stand, like water and ice.
Pleasure and pain destroyed the life, offered a solution
To the containment of light evil, possible wrong.
Pain will suffering be, and your hands are empty,
The sign above reads the whole story of wrong:
Wrong, wrong and wrong!
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hiding Buys Time
been hiding
been hiding while writing
hiding is write vanishing
discovery is pending
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You've Given New Meaning Even to Pain
You've given new meaning even to pain:
Pain now comes in colors and hues
And the only pain now worth disdain
Is the pain didn't come from you...
Pain that has another source
Than you; your words and deeds
Is the minor pain than yours, of course
For upon all others, your pain feeds...
If given a choice of which to choose
The choice would be quite clear:
The best pain will craft the deeper bruise-
And that must needs be yours dear...
poem by Patti Masterman
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One Choice
Theres only one reason left for me to stay
But you wont like the reason why
Tried so many times to get through the two of you
But you dont even want to try
Times are hard and people need all they have got
Look around and see whats left today
Aint so easy making it on your own
What more do I need to say
Theres only one choice to be made
And I cant help it
If you take the wrong way
Never knew a good thing
Till it moved away
Now its too late to turn it back
Youd buy the world if it would make me stay
Listen now to what I have to say
Theres only one choice to be made
And I cant help it
If you take the wrong way
Theres only one choice to be made
And I cant help it
If you take the wrong way
Sitting here thinking
But nothing seems to change
And I cant stand it anymore
Theres always someone trying to pull you down
Do you really want this constant war
Theres only one choice to be made
And I cant help it
If you take the wrong way
Theres only one choice to be made
And I cant help it
If you take the wrong way
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Choice
Theres only one reason left for me to stay
But you wont like the reason why
Tried so many times to get through the two of you
But you dont even want to try
Times are hard and people need all they have got
Look around and see whats left today
Aint so easy making it on your own
What more do I need to say
Theres only one choice to be made
And I cant help it
If you take the wrong way
Never knew a good thing
Till it moved away
Now its too late to turn it back
Youd buy the world if it would make me stay
Listen now to what I have to say
Theres only one choice to be made
And I cant help it
If you take the wrong way
Theres only one choice to be made
And I cant help it
If you take the wrong way
Sitting here thinking
But nothing seems to change
And I cant stand it anymore
Theres always someone trying to pull you down
Do you really want this constant war
Theres only one choice to be made
And I cant help it
If you take the wrong way
Theres only one choice to be made
And I cant help it
If you take the wrong way
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Easter Hymn (in answer to A.E. Housman)
Where on that hill of Calvary ages ago you were slain
You died there to quench man’s pain,
although still your bright light
shines down in every day and every dark night
some men still walk in sin
as they did by choice from the very begin.
Although the grave is empty and the stone rolled by
and You are the creator God, sitting in glory up high,
there You remember the savagery of man
the tears, agony and blood of your salvation plan,
the way you were crucified, the way you gave your life
and in sincerity still gives man a choice in this almost endless strive.
[Reference: Easter Hymn by A.E. Housman.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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My idea of what's good and bad and right and wrong is maybe greyer than most, and I like writing about that.
quote by Shaun Cassidy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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