Emily-norton - Hello Poetry

Pain like none other darkness around every corner heartache to make devils weep I could never have imagined what I feel now the agony of her loss is so strong it drowns out everything else. Hope is dead and there is nothing to comfort me I’ll never hear her voice and worse I’ll never escape the image of her laying there surrounded by blankets resting on a cardboard box burning The sound the furnace made my sister sobbing puking her gray hair streak that wasn’t there when I saw her the first time or maybe in my agony I missed it the lack of scent aren’t the dead supposed to smell? her face. not hers and hers all the same in my mind is a building white stone and stark in its beauty stairs in the front leading up a dim cool spartan room carved from snow white rock is it granite? or marble? in the center of the room is a dais but before we get to that…. roses. 20,955 roses. One for each day of her life all of them red. Red for passion and blood. each bunch in a clear vase now back to that dais…. a flat white dais raised to waist height. on it, there she is as i last saw her. shirt raised to cover her trach. She’d appreciate that hands loose gray hair streak and a white sheet draped from mid torso down, covering her legs. dead….but not in my memory Why did my mind want so badly for her to wake. why can’t it all be not real Why can’t I make it more than a week without a late night breakdown Why can’t I make it more than a few hours without visiting that room How do I move on from an unspeakable loss How do I continue? worse is the realization that all humans die and my daughter will one day hurt as does my mother’s daughter now.

0

Nov 3, 2016

Nov 3, 2016 at 9:46 PM UTC

Emily-norton

Incoherant ramblings of grief

Pain like none other darkness around every corner heartache to make devils weep I could never have imagined what I feel now the agony of her loss is so strong it drowns out everything else. Hope is dead and there is nothing to comfort me I’ll never hear her voice and worse I’ll never escape the image of her laying there surrounded by blankets resting on a cardboard box burning The sound the furnace made my sister sobbing puking her gray hair streak that wasn’t there when I saw her the first time or maybe in my agony I missed it the lack of scent aren’t the dead supposed to smell? her face. not hers and hers all the same in my mind is a building white stone and stark in its beauty stairs in the front leading up a dim cool spartan room carved from snow white rock is it granite? or marble? in the center of the room is a dais but before we get to that…. roses. 20,955 roses. One for each day of her life all of them red. Red for passion and blood. each bunch in a clear vase now back to that dais…. a flat white dais raised to waist height. on it, there she is as i last saw her. shirt raised to cover her trach. She’d appreciate that hands loose gray hair streak and a white sheet draped from mid torso down, covering her legs. dead….but not in my memory Why did my mind want so badly for her to wake. why can’t it all be not real Why can’t I make it more than a week without a late night breakdown Why can’t I make it more than a few hours without visiting that room How do I move on from an unspeakable loss How do I continue? worse is the realization that all humans die and my daughter will one day hurt as does my mother’s daughter now.

49

Grief is....... Crying in the bathroom

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Oct 8, 2016

Oct 8, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC

Emily-norton

Losing You

Grief is....... Crying in the bathroom

2

I wish I could write things To make young lovers sigh I wish I could write things To make old lovers cry I wish I could write things That spoke right to the heart I wish I could write things To tear a soul apart I wish I could write things To introduce pain I wish I could write things To show love's dark stain I wish I could write things To be read again and again I wish I could write things Steeped in passion's sin

0

Jul 14, 2016

Jul 14, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC

Emily-norton

Untitled

I wish I could write things To make young lovers sigh I wish I could write things To make old lovers cry I wish I could write things That spoke right to the heart I wish I could write things To tear a soul apart I wish I could write things To introduce pain I wish I could write things To show love's dark stain I wish I could write things To be read again and again I wish I could write things Steeped in passion's sin

16

And this giant wave hit her The epiphany she avoided For so long She wasn't happy She was numb She can't remember The last time she felt loved Can't recall the feeling of being held Can't remember the last time She still had a dream to pursue It hit her like a Tsunami Washing her away She was the broken She has been for a long time.

0

Emily-norton

Mar 15, 2016

Mar 15, 2016 at 8:15 PM UTC

oddhonesty

I only feel kisses now

And this giant wave hit her The epiphany she avoided For so long She wasn't happy She was numb She can't remember The last time she felt loved Can't recall the feeling of being held Can't remember the last time She still had a dream to pursue It hit her like a Tsunami Washing her away She was the broken She has been for a long time.

14

One word saved my life: Enough

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Emily-norton

Mar 15, 2016

Mar 15, 2016 at 8:13 PM UTC

ms-lim

FRAGMENTS FROM MY DIARY (2)

One word saved my life: Enough

3

"I have no idea where I'm going or if I want to be where I am right now. I am restless; you know this; I have wanderlust in my lungs and poetry in my veins."

0

Emily-norton

Mar 7, 2016

Mar 7, 2016 at 9:19 PM UTC

elysiancypher

Where do you want to go?

"I have no idea where I'm going or if I want to be where I am right now. I am restless; you know this; I have wanderlust in my lungs and poetry in my veins."

1

Now it's over, and now it's done; Why does everything look the same? Just as bright, the unheeding sun, -- Can't it see that the parting came? People hurry and work and swear, Laugh and grumble and die and wed, Ponder what they will eat and wear, -- Don't they know that our love is dead? Just as busy, the crowded street; Cars and wagons go rolling on, Children chuckle, and lovers meet, -- Don't they know that our love is gone? No one pauses to pay a tear; None walks slow, for the love that's through, -- I might mention, my recent dear, I've reverted to normal, too.

0

Emily-norton

Mar 6, 2016

Mar 6, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC

Dorothy Parker

Finis

Now it's over, and now it's done; Why does everything look the same? Just as bright, the unheeding sun, -- Can't it see that the parting came? People hurry and work and swear, Laugh and grumble and die and wed, Ponder what they will eat and wear, -- Don't they know that our love is dead? Just as busy, the crowded street; Cars and wagons go rolling on, Children chuckle, and lovers meet, -- Don't they know that our love is gone? No one pauses to pay a tear; None walks slow, for the love that's through, -- I might mention, my recent dear, I've reverted to normal, too.

16

(She Speaks.) I MEANT to be so strong and true! The world may smile and question, When? But what I might have been to you I cannot be to other men. Just one in twenty to the rest, And all in all to you alone, - This was my dream; perchance 'tis best That this, like other dreams, is flown. For you I should have been so kind, So prompt my spirit to control, To win fresh vigor for my mind, And purer beauties for my soul; Beneath your eye I might have grown To that divine, ideal height, Which, mating wholly with your own, Our equal spirits should unite.

0

Emily-norton

Mar 6, 2016

Mar 6, 2016 at 9:58 PM UTC

Edith Wharton

A Failure

(She Speaks.) I MEANT to be so strong and true! The world may smile and question, When? But what I might have been to you I cannot be to other men. Just one in twenty to the rest, And all in all to you alone, - This was my dream; perchance 'tis best That this, like other dreams, is flown. For you I should have been so kind, So prompt my spirit to control, To win fresh vigor for my mind, And purer beauties for my soul; Beneath your eye I might have grown To that divine, ideal height, Which, mating wholly with your own, Our equal spirits should unite.

17

Waking Here Is Failure beyond Hope. Loving You Is Destroying my soul Changing This Is Pain personified.

0

Mar 6, 2016