Why And When
Sadness rustle my soul per leave falling, in Autumn, structured behind my sorrow by dead trees -
No, that is not who I chose to be, I wish you could see -
With my pain i rake, alone in the forest, edged by infinity, of Nothing -
The sale is on, i gather far too many, death barks the cold which cover my soul as steal -
Too the 2, to want to, is the fall of my stars, broken by a darkness it was my wishes too -
Similiar to the power in weird, when i write my words, she seems queer -
So go ahead, axe my day, you may be the bullet, the one which
denies me one last piece of peace, by the say of the gun -
Controlled by the aura of silver, salt tastes sweet next to bitter -
I am no more, I am more in no -
Who am I and where did I go -
What -
Why -
When -
End -
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Related quotes
The Poet Tree
Rustle, little leaves above, rustle in the breeze...
Rustle, little leaves of love, rustle mid God's peace!
Rustle, every night and day, rustle every hour...
Rustle, rustle, come what may, rustle mid God's power!
Rustle, for then wise words are formed,
Great expectations made!
Through such as these, men's hearts are warmed
And children's prayers are prayed!
Rustle upon the Poet Tree,
Above the poets' ears,
So they may learn each melody,
These God-picked volunteers...
Rustle sweetly, and gently on,
Persist from age to age -
Let all God's poets write upon
Their separate nearby page...
Rustle until all humans die
And no more poets live!
Until no soul would question, 'Why? '
And there's no cause to give!
Rustle until God tells you stop,
'Dear friends, at last, be free...
'Tis time for you to fall, to drop...
Beneath the Poet Tree...
I've loved each poem, every one...
And Jesus loved them, too!
You've blessed the world! Your task is done!
Your rustle days are through...'
poem by Denis Martindale
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Dear Sorrow, Death Awaits Your Acquaintance
The rain keeps Falling
And the Pain goes on
Your name I try calling
But the words just pass on by
The air
Bitter and cold
The shivers now suddenly unfold
I start to lose my breath
And once again see death
Face to Face we see
That life for me, isn't supposed to be
'She is Not important,
Shes lost in the shadows..
Drowning in grief and pain
There will be no tomorrow,
For she is all Sorrow'
'She is all sorrow'
There shall be no Tomorrow for Dear Sweet Sorrow.
Sorrow, Sorrow In the air
Death Has come so stay prepared.
poem by Sorrow Lynn
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0018 Man Raking Leaves (re Jim Morrison lyric)
The sound of wooden rake scratching concrete.
walk nearer - rustle of dry leaves.
This, the beginning of a Japanese haiku
or maybe a Japanese film -
dry sound first, then rake, then leaves, then man -
that evokes autumn
too near the heart
to need a title
the sound stops. silence. man leans on rake.
then match strikes, there's almost yes an echo
from the dry leaves not yet fallen from the trees
in the forest all around.
then the first tickle in the nostrils
of burning leaves which
the two-year old scrunching through the trees
hand in hand with older sister
will remember all his life
like the silence between
two lines of a haiku or
the silence of the moment when the seasons turn.
and who can say
what the golden-orange-yellow-brown trees
slowly stripping in a rustle as of silken nightgown
to the tune of, more a whisper than a breeze -
what the trees feel
as the incense of their, their, burning leaves
steals like a last caress
for each such faithful
lover?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Lament Of The Winds
We in sorrow coldly witting,
In the bleak world sitting, sitting,
By the forest, near the mould,
Heard the summer calling, calling,
Through the dead leaves falling, falling,
That her life grew faint and old.
And we took her up, and bore her,
With the leaves that moaned before her,
To the holy forest bowers,
Where the trees were dense and serried,
And her corpse we buried, buried,
In the graveyard of the flowers.
Now the leaves, as death grows vaster,
Yellowing deeper, dropping faster,
All the grave wherein she lies
With their bodies cover, cover,
With their hearts that love her, love her,
For they live not when she dies:
And we left her so, but stay not
Of our tears, and yet we may not,
Though they coldly thickly fall,
Give the dead leaves any, any,
For they lie so many, many,
That we cannot weep for all.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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It was an autumn day
It was an autumn day
And it was cold.
The autumn in the yard.
The thunderstorm was arguing with rain.
The leaves were falling down to the ground.
Someone's soul sat quietly under the bench.
It shivered with cold and it was wet.
The words of its owner it remembered
It could not do anything but regret.
'My soul, you prevent me from living,
You can't stand any deceiving,
You pain so hard, you better stay here in the yard
As I can't stand those pains any more.What for?
I can't live anymore like this,
I think without you I can exist.
My eyes are tired to cry,
May be it's better for you to live in the sky?
Please, leave me alone!
I want to live on my own.'
And the soul went away in a hard rainy day.
It rambled about the wet yard
Without finding any regard
Looking at windows and eyes
But nobody heard its cries.
The autumn in the yard.
The thunderstorm was arguing with rain.
The leaves were falling down to the ground
And rustled under someones feet.
The soul had no one to meet.
No one heard when it cried,
So, it has slowly died.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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The One With A Silver Thorn (By Mimi C Mata)
With insubordinate step;
You go looking onward
across your pastures...
Where restless roses
lay their heads.
You see that she is no other
than the rose
with a silver thorn.
You know the one
that frightens you,
when you wish to gather
her magnificence
in your hands...
velvet petals; trembling
rolling off to shiver
in other distances...
Submerging her fragrant fragments
in one of the cold lakes
that drown her merciless dreams
for a voice.
You ponder:
and have lost the peripheral
vision in dire quest
for another soul to touch...
And you ask,
Have I fallen in love
with the one with a silver thorn?
And suddenly your darkness pauses
As all the stars shut their eyes...
Every so often blinking
in thoughtful precaution
for the blinded steps that you make,
Towards the one with a silver thorn...
They are silent
they have no answer
they do not know
they do not understand...
Forget their gestures
of leaving you...
For a single thought
twilights a profound desire
for the drowning muddled fate
that beckons...
She awaits;
the one with the silver thorn...
'Forget about the blood sacrificed
for her soul has already died'...
The stars say...
So you jump with unsteady feet
into the mysterious cold lake
to save the one whose stem
your heart wishes to clench...
The one with the silver thorn
Suddenly your darkness pauses
and all the stars shut their eyes
no longer blinking...
They have left you,
They are silent
they have no answer
they do not know
they do not understand...
How your heart wishes to clench
with desire with love
the stem of the one...
With the silver thorn.
I have fallen out of love with man
I have fallen out of love with man
We can not think together
He wishes to war his stay away
I wish to piece together peace.
Each battle for the soul of man
Is a battle fought on the wings
And the song that I sing toward peace
Each soul must be schooled to know
That the heat of war must grow cold
And we shall no more kill the life of our brothers
It’s a simple thing to let love ring
Its bell to tell that war is
A murder field
Man when will you seek to
End your murder, to call home
The boys that will ware a bullet hole in his chest.
poem by David E. Patton
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Untitled Unfinished (The Flame That Lights Your Soul)
Take a look to the horizon
the moon is rising fast
through silhouettes and shadows
the hills and trees have cast.
Their empty branches rustle;
the autumn wind blows cold
and the stars begin to flicker
like the flame that lights your soul
poem by Jason Cline
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No More and Forever
My heart wishes to beat no more.
My lungs refuse to take in air anymore.
My kidneys, why should they keep on serving me?
Let them find a new master!
What is the point of living when my life is fraught with shame?
I have wrought the hollowness in me; I have become the son of death.
O! Hypaethral Temple of mine, how I wish you were domed.
At least then the Tears of the Stars would not fall on my face.
I am beset with sadness though my world is full of Light.
The River of Tears flows through my heart, where the scarred battleground shall be used once again.
There are no Trees, though, for the River is dead.
How I miss the sweet rains of moonlight, so refreshing to my soul.
But now, Golden Narcissus drenches me with Unlight.
Who can rescue me from this body undergoing such death?
I have found my answer.
poem by Soren Valentine
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I Wish You: Peace!
You will ever need your peace
It's what will give your life ease
Then a life with it gets a good treat
It has value nothing dares to beat
To me, He whispers sweet peace
It brings my soul a great ease
Many people are seeking for riches
As it can put food in those dishes
It can settle some of your wishes
It can put clothes on your back
It can bring you fame in a big stock
But this it seemed to have lacked
Since it made some people blocked
The beauty of having sweet peace
To me, He whispers sweet peace
And my soul finds a great ease
There is peace in Christ for all
He will give to those that'll call....
It's better than silver and gold
So, whether you are young or old
Your soul will need to be at ease
Then seek the PRINCE of PEACE
To me, He whispers sweet peace
And my soul finds immense peace
I wish you: Peace!
poem by Clarence Prince
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Broken Glasses (2)
It's all broken glasses falling on the floor
Piece by piece breaking even more
One becoming two with each and every blow
A tree of glasses will never grow
Broken glasses on the floor
A million pieces becoming more
Each piece alone starts to shine
As though each one were becoming alive
A million pieces lie on the floor
Broken glasses broken to the core
They make me cry with their silence alone
As though they believe that all hope is gone
And the light that shines on the edge of a piece
Is like an un-witnessed tear of the pain unseen
As though when the pieces stop falling
All the glasses stop fighting
And chose to shine no more
Broken glasses falling on the floor
What can I say what have I more
Broken glasses I adore
Like a silent heart beat being ignored
Broken glasses are alive
Broken glasses are the life
Of a character broken deep inside
poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
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Quick And Bitter
The end was quick and bitter.
Slow and sweet was the time between us,
slow and sweet were the nights
when my hands did not touch one another in despair but in the love
of your body which came
between them.
And when I entered into you
it seemed then that great happiness
could be measured with precision
of sharp pain. Quick and bitter.
Slow and sweet were the nights.
Now is bitter and grinding as sand—
'Let's be sensible' and similiar curses.
And as we stray further from love
we multiply the words,
words and sentences so long and orderly.
Had we remained together
we could have become a silence.
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Inherent Evil
Tears falling like rain
tears of happiness mingled with pain
heart and soul both weighted with sin
unspoken, not acknowledged, yet ne’er to be done again
bloodstains on heart, hands, and soul
evil of a kind most hope to never have to know
negativity worms its way inside
ever growing until it takes over my life
uncontrollable urges, until power is released
wishes wished – yet – still the urges never cease
so much power on which to draw
my heart is frozen never to thaw
darkness seeks me out – evil desires to regain me
with a drive to damn my soul for all eternity
only my will to do good stands in the way
how long could it last – I could give in any day
the evil causes unnecessary pain, unwanted suffering
how could I be so – it is no longer in me
still the evil searches – I can hear its call
I pray to the Great One, I will not fall.
poem by Jennifer ParksNolan as LeJenD'Poet
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Tell Me That Love Returns
Tell me that love returns
to break the silent waves of pain;
those large imperious waves of pain
in the vast ocean of sorrow.
Tell me that love returns
to catch the falling stars;
those bright imperious sparks of stars
withing the vast sky of sorrow.
Tell me that love returns
to mend this broken heart;
this shattered, broken, wounded heart
in the vast soul of sorrow.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Dead Lights' Lies
Something, anything, anywhere
I’m scared, shut off, closed in
In a darkness to heavy to bear
That is where I will sing
It is a song of sadness
Loneliness but also braveness
In this dead light my fear I must suppress
I’ve my life, my hope and soon I shall impress
A star I see so far away
Is it my hope, my lights first sign?
Will it keep this darkness at bay
Will it show the way, will it shine?
Eyes that show a soul
Voice that melts this cold
A life to fill this black hole
A presence that cannot be sold
All songs must end
The sun will always rise
Even if pain is what darkness will send
Never fall for the dead lights lies
poem by Rebecca Pepper
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An Ode to Autunm
Death becomes beauty when autumn
Kisses the forest trees
Creating a sea of brilliant colours
As far as the eye can see
Summer dies that fall may live
A death be not all in vain, for we
Welcome fall with its harvest bounty
Knowing summer will once more shortly reign
For autumn is the time trees they weep
Their treasure of red and yellow golden leaves
Whilst Jack Frost paints his icy portraits nightly
Upon any window canvas he can see
Autumn is a magical time
T'which we are truly blessed
Of all the seasons that come and go
Tis fall I like the best
poem by John A. Hancock
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Suicide/pain/ Darkness/sadness
suicide/pain/darkness/sadness this is a person whos soul is stuck in a body and is screaming to get out cause all I see is darkness all i fell is pain and sadness and the only way i know to get out of it is suicide the pain darkness and sadness will never go away so why stay around. suicid is all ifeel there is left.
poem by Sarah Downwater
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In Prison
I cried out for the pain of man,
I cried out for my bitter wrath
Against the hopeless life that ran
For ever in a circling path
From death to death since all began;
Till on a summer night
I lost my way in the pale starlight
And saw our planet, far and small,
Through endless depths of nothing fall
A lonely pin-prick spark of light,
Upon the wide, enfolding night,
With leagues on leagues of stars above it,
And powdered dust of stars below—
Dead things that neither hate nor love it
Not even their own loveliness can know,
Being but cosmic dust and dead.
And if some tears be shed,
Some evil God have power,
Some crown of sorrow sit
Upon a little world for a little hour—
Who shall remember? Who shall care for it?
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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The Autumn Sing
Here’s the autumn sing…
A symphony from its falling leaf…
Catching the wind from a future winter…
Rolling through a shy light…
Oh autumn shall not die in winter…
As a promise summer will surely come….
Ah autumn is a second spring…
Not all could see, all leaf is flower….
Autumn warn a terrible winter phase….
No one listen, No one will hear it…
As it is only the sound of silence….
Who can hold an indefinite sound...?
No one embrace the autumn….
As it is only a sad phase…
It gives nothing but an autumn chill….
Spring always comes with a better glory…
Oh autumn with its broken feather…
Could other season patch it up again?
No other season will devote their being….
Autumn suffers alone….
Autumns leaf keep on falling…
Spring comes cheerfully…
Summer comes strongly….
Winter always comes coldly…..
But autumn changes its face every time….
No one knows the differences….
Just the secret of the nature…
Why can’t it’d be a spring?
Why can’t it’d be summer?
Why can’t it’d be winter?
Ah autumn dance again between all the falling leaf…
It enjoys its sadness…
It embraces its pain….
As only from autumn all painter learn…
How to capture a true hidden beauty…
All speaks the same in every season….
But autumn remain different…..
For autumn is an alone singer…
Only a genuinely soul painter could witness its beauty….
That’s all the autumn need….
A silence audience....
Who can make other being see….
A glance of its beauty...
poem by Eva Clara Harahap
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Salvation Sought
Alone in the dark my soul does weep,
My will to live is growing weak,
The sins of my heart clog my veins,
My blood runs slow I feel no pain,
Like death does prowl from in the dark,
To halt my pain with moves so stark.
To steal my essence and rob my eyes,
Of this dreamers melancholy disguise.
But wait! If the answers are so clear,
Why is my soul still wailing here?
My silent screams pearce the night,
Won't someone lead me to the light.
And then a sound from way on high,
True love I hear my soul does sigh.
An angel swoops with gentle grace
She carries me to a higher place.
I reach for her in my time of need,
My broken heart it starts to bleed.
For something new and oh so grand,
I crave the touch of her soft hand.
Tears once bitter now so sweet,
For her alone my heart does beat.
I cried alone into the night,
And fate sent you to be my light...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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