Fragilities (example 1)
A work weary father smiles
waiting for a train-
kicking away coldness
with warm thoughts of love.
Split second later
side searing pain
skin separated by the cool,
indifferent, reflecting blade.
Blood flows and spills-
filling the cold concrete cracks.
His eyes resisting silent dark
view becoming confusing.
His two children kiss mother goodnight.
poem by Not Long Left
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Call to Love
My blood spills for passion
And my skin longs for your touch
In this love never taken.
O, when will love long for me
For here I am waiting in vein yet, still
My blood flows for passion.
I feel so wretched and frail
Like a scare crow on the rice fields
In this love never taken.
How hopeless it may seem for me
Going through endeavors in this diversion of love, but still
My blood flows for passion.
When will the clock tick its hand for the heart of mine to love.
For I am tired of staying
In this love never taken.
I have seen no more days and lonely nights
Yet now I see the sun shining on
My blood flowing for passion
In this love never taken.
poem by Pathrese Lei Mari Abejuela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Meet Me At The Station
(brother williams memphis sanctified singers)
Well if I get to heaven before you do
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Ill be watching and waiting, mother dear, for you
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Father, when the train
Father, when the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
Father, when the train comes along
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Well if my eyes see the glory, before yours do
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Ill be watching and waiting, father, for you
I will meet you at the station whe your train comes along
Father, when the train
Father, when the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Father, when the train
Father, when the train comes along
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Now if my feet touch the homeline before yours do
I will meet you at the station when the train comes along
Ill be watching and waiting, my brother, for you
I will meet you at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Now if you see gods country before I do
Will you meet me at the station when my train comes along
Will you be there watching, sister, for me
Will you meet me at the station when my train comes along
When my train
When my train
Meet me at the station when my train comes along
When my train
Sister, when my train comes along
Will you meet me at the station when my train comes along
When the train
When the train
Meet me at the station when my train comes along
When the train
Oh, when the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goodnight Kisses
All day long I waited for this
The way you say goodnight with a passionate kiss
A kiss that drives away any thoughts of sleep
And tells me your love is mine to keep
Goodnight kisses passionate or mild
Any one of yours can drive me wild
My fatigue is replaced by wakefulness
When your lips touch mine in a goodnight kiss
Arms around each other
Lying in bed
The children are sleeping
The cat's been fed
Kissing and caressing like every other night
Your goodnight kisses just feel so right
In my sleep I dream of your kiss
How our lips together brings such bliss
And I know that there's no better way
Than a goodnight kiss to end the day
poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On His Father's Side
On his mother’s side
Born in Bethlehem
On his Father’s side
No one before him
On his mother’s side
Growing and learning
On his Father’s side
All knowledge showing
On his mother’s side
Stuck in one location
On his Father’s side
Present in every nation
On his mother’s side
He was hungry
On his Father’s side
The multitudes he did feed
On his mother’s side
At Calvary he died
On his Father’s side
He was the essence of life
On his mother’s side
Buried like other men
On his Father’s side
He rose again
On his mother’s side
Human and weak
On his Father’s side
The God of eternity.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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She Brought Them All Kindly To Her Grave
of course i know what coldness is
apart from something that is cool
when mother died her hands were extremely cold
for my hold
i let them go
there was no sadness
there was that happiness of letting her rest
and giving myself a little space
for tomorrow
when coldness comes again in an empty room
with open windows
i know not what panic shall be
my hands are extremely cold these days
when i kiss them
my lips become frozen
they break like glasses
i cannot speak
there is no way that my tongue shall give in to
words
it cannot face coldness in the mirror
of my face
since you ask and you demand an explanation i open my hands
and i let your hands touch them
i cannot speak i am afraid i will be cruel
you must hold these extreme coldness for a long time
so you can all let them go
like white birds against a dark sky
so you can also experience what happiness
i had when i let go off
mama's fears
when mama closed her eyes
because what was important she knew
need not be said anymore
she brought them all kindly to her grave
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pain Flows
my pain flows with my blood
it flows to my heart
it flows to my mind
my pain floods my body with hurt
its traped in side, not way out
i grab my knife and open my skin
lettin out my pain
with every cut i feel my pain leavin me
i sigh with every slit
cuttin till all of my pain is gone
but with every day more pain i get
my pain floods my body with hurt
tryin to get out
waitin till that knife slides acorss my skin
56
he is in the middle of something
Painful
Choosing between slashing his wrist with a blade
Or firing a bullet in his head
In the middle ambiguities
he stopped
You called.
What if the blade slashed his wrist?
And blood squirted on the Floor like a basin of water
Like falling tears On his cheeks
What if the gun fired?
And his brain spills on his chest
What if you did not call?
It is the middle of pain It is the middle of confusing things
Sometimes, it is the middle That saves.
Luck.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Luck
he is in the middle of something
Painful
Choosing between slashing his wrist with a blade
Or firing a bullet in his head
In the middle ambiguities
he stopped
You called.
What if the blade slashed his wrist?
And blood squirted on the Floor like a basin of water
Like falling tears On his cheeks
What if the gun fired?
And his brain spills on his chest
What if you did not call?
It is the middle of pain It is the middle of confusing things
Sometimes, it is the middle That saves.
Luck.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Depicting Reflection
I gaze at the looking glass one final time
As I hope for some veritable truth to find
But the cracks run along my face in jagged lines
As the mirror cracks from side to side
Peering into the cold, dark faceted eyes
A broken poppet stares back from inside
And I catch a reflection of that I despise
As the mirror cracks from side to side
The scarred reflection is now forsaken
And many are the times my heart has died
But now it is my soul that is breakin'
As the mirror cracks from side to side
I gaze at the looking glass one final time
As the mirror cracks from side to side
poem by Sheri Hockman
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Grey Train
This Sunday she'll come
To see me again.
And we will kiss
Then talk about
That and this.
And laugh into each others eyes.
Embrace in lovers sighs.
I'll make her lunch.
I have a hunch
She will be the one.
As I hold her hand in the sun.
And on Monday
She takes the grey train.
And cries as she leaves me again.
Next Sunday she'll come to see me once more.
I'll carry her bags to my door.
And dance her across my floor.
But
My heart now trembles
In cold light of day.
The past now resembles
A romantic play.
It's been a while
Since a smile
When she came to stay.
I'm talking to an empty chair.
She'll grace my rhyme.
And toss her sunshine hair.
But
On Monday
I will watch the grey train.
And cry as she leaves me again.
I kiss her eyes
As I stand in the rain.
So searing
The endless pain.
Disappearing
My love
On grey train.
poem by Kevin East
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And We Bid You Goodnight
Lay down my dear brother, lay down and take your rest,
Wont you lay your head upon your saviors chest,
I love you all, but jesus loves you the best
And we bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
I would never ride, well, I would never ride (goodnight, goodnight)
But his rod and his staff, they comfort me (goodnight, goodnight)
Tell a for the ark, that wonderful boat (goodnight, goodnight)
Tell b for the beast at the ending of the wood (goodnight, goodnight)
You know it ate all the children when they wouldnt be good,
Walking in jerusalem just like john (goodnight, goodnight)
I go walking in the valley of the shadow of death,
And we bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting
The sun has slipped his tether
And galloped down the west.
(Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
The little bird is sleeping
In the softness of its nest.
Night follows day, day follows dawn,
And so the time has come and gone:
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
The cruel wind is rising
With a whistle and a wail.
(And it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are seaward straining
For the coming of a sail;
But void the sea, and void the beach
Far and beyond where gaze can reach!
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
I heard the bell-buoy ringing--
How long ago it seems!
(Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
And ever still, its knelling
Crashes in upon my dreams.
The banns were read, my frock was sewn;
Since then two seasons' winds have blown--
And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
The stretches of the ocean
Are bare and bleak to-day.
(Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.)
My eyes are growing dimmer--
Is it tears, or age, or spray?
But I will stay till you come home.
Strange ships come in across the foam!
But it's weary, weary waiting, love.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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My New Best Friend The Blade
i love my new best friend the blade
It cuts the pain away out of my body
I love my new best friend The blade
As i cut into my skin a smile appears
I love my new best friend the blade
As the blood drip from my bestfriend
I love my best friend the blade
It takes the pain away for a short time
Cant Wait to see my best friend
poem by Ari Castillo
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Beautiful Flower
The most beautiful flower
filling my senses with passion
overflowing my being with plenty
pulling away my pain
filling my emptiness with cool water
joining my soul without reason
I can feel the sweet taste of love embracing my heart
to touch this most beautiful flower
filling my senses with warmth
pulling the harsh cold snow from my heart
overflowing my eyes with sunbeams of hope
between my mind and my dreams...
I caress this flower, this most beautiful flower
filling my thoughts with daydreams of reality
opening my eyes to the greatest truth
this most beautiful flower.
poem by John Earing
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Pain
Like the pain in my trick arm
the pain i feel is my heart beating
and my muffled breathing
i stand outside staring at the sun
having my morning cigarrette
smiling at the earth that lay so cool around me
people walk by but do they see that my smile
is just my cover
do they see the pain inside
im complicated and hard to read
like the scars on my wrists my smiles fade
like the fresh blood they bleed
a new thought comes into mind
the blood stains like the marked impresion
on my heart of all the things i love
and all the ppl i care for
when i look back now and see
all the pain i have caused others
and the pain they have caused me
it breakes my heart to remember how cold
i used to be
my pain flows every day and stuff happends
it hurts and sometimes i wish i could freeze
and heal my wounds and the wounds of others
but pain will never stop coming so its best
not to let it get you and take over
poem by Sandy Vanity
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You're The Stranger
Don't hang that sign on me
You're the stranger
Don't try to talk to me
You're the stranger
On the seas
They came from far away
From the skies
Their silver birds of prey
In one day
Ten thousand years could change
We are fools
To live your pilgrim ways
Don't hang that sign on me
You're the stranger
Don't try to talk to me
You're the stranger
And we drive
Five hundred miles this time
To the edge
Of crystal-cut blue sky
Silence breathes
South of the border line
Silent trees
Look back and wonder why
Did father and his holy son
Spread the word and point the gun?
And where the eagle used to fly
They carve their concrete in the sky
Tearing at our mother's skin
Taking all her blood within
Remember how it used to be?
Did father and his holy son
Spread the word and point the gun
And where the eagle used to fly
They carve their concrete in the sky
Tearing at our mother's skin
Taking all her blood within
Remember how it used to be?
Stand up again and say:
Don't hang that sign on me
You're the stranger
Don't try to talk to me
You're the stranger
Don't hang that sign on me
You're the stranger
Don't try to talk to me
You're the stranger
Music & lyrics by: geoff downes & john payne
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pain(it doesn't exactly rhyme but yea...)
Pain.
For it lies deep within the skin,
Pain,
Fear that it will never end,
Pain,
Love doesn't try to conquer this depression,
Pain,
For cutting is now an addiction,
Pain,
Self infliction put upon the skin, with a tiny blade that gleams as a treasure should,
Pain,
I have not failed to forget my fear of death,
Pain,
Thoughts of suicide now run through my head,
Pain.
poem by Kristin Loves You
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Half my father
Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?
poem by David E. Patton
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Sick And Tired
Depression, saddness
hopes, dreams
all things i have,
two things i want
i want to feel happy,
feel warmth.
im so cold.
i cant get warm. nothing helps.
blankets dont do any good.
im cold inside, not out.
my skin hurts
my hands hurt
they are sick.
sick and tired of cutting.
holding the blade
making the motion to slide the blade into my arm
tired of providing the presure, the pain, the blood.
tired.
sick.
sick and tired of it all.
poem by Xx. Emo Chick .xx Mrt.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down in the dark
Down in the dark, it’s all in my head,
The pain the sorrow, all of the dread,
I want it to leave, but it wants to stay,
I try and I try, but he won’t go away,
There by day, there at night,
Saying the things, that fills me with fright,
I’m down in the dark, it fills my head,
The pain the sorrow, all of the dread,
He’s always around, lurking inside,
Watching; waiting, my hands are tied,
In my head, always near,
In my thoughts, building the fear,
Down in the dark, filling my head,
The pain the sorrow, all of the dread,
The pain; it grows, bursting within,
The dark; he’s back, with his terror filled grin,
“I’ll help”; he says, talking to me,
“I know what to do, just come and see, ”
Down in the dark, it filled my head,
The pain the sorrow, all of the dread,
My thoughts are violent, with sorrow in my chest,
I just close my eyes, and hope for the best,
He tells me good job, I’ll find the light,
But my life is ending, with the chill of the night.,
Dead in the dark, lost in my head,
No more pain or sorrow, not even dread….,
poem by Jacob Hill
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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