Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
A woman, old and poor,
               has a cabin by the shore.
Here she lives everyday.
Here she is content to stay.

The village people know her well
                from all the stories she will tell
about a warrior long ago.
A man she claims herself to know.

All the children gather 'round,
                  listening to her every sound.
As she speaks she looks about.
She speaks the truth there is no doubt.

"He was strong and brave" she'll say,
                   "and at the times he went away"
"his youthful wife would always cry."
"She knew not where he went, or why."

"All she knew was when he went
                     to all these places he was sent,
that he come back, just as he left,
and wipe the tears that she had wept."

"As he returned from every war,
                      he would come gently to the door.
He'd hold her close, and told her so,
he wished he'd never have to go."

"But, then one day of later years"
                        she says with eyes abound with tears,
"He left again, to not return,
and of his fate she'd never learn."

"She'd wait and wait to have him back,
                         but, he's one thing she'd always lack."
"And, so she waited everyday,"
and here she waits for him today.
#death #loss #grief #war #sad #depression
My first real job
was trying to glue
blown up teenagers
back together.
I was twenty, old.
I held them in my arms
and told them lies
while they cried and died.
Told them it was ok,
they were fine, going home.
Their spirits lodged in
the secret chambers
of my broken heart.
I can never forget.
Their faces stick
in in my brain
like photos in a wallet.
I will never forgive
those who sent us to die
and then treated us
like mad, pariah dogs
if we made it back.
But we knew what we knew.
He today who sheds
his blood with me
shall be my brother.

Brothers in arms.
Brothers forever.
 May 2016 Brother Jimmy
ryn
.

How do we mend wavering pedestals...
When the ground beneath is parched dry.
Stemming off loose foundations that time had weathered wry.

How do we mend broken gazes...
When watchful eyes which were meant to see,
are blinded by the onslaught of half-truths and fallacy.

How do we mend burnt bridges...
When we never look back to trace heavy missteps.
We fail to admit to consciously springing obvious traps.

How do I mend ailing hearts...
When familiar corridors seem warped to a bend.
When my own is struggling and perpetually on the mend.
 May 2016 Brother Jimmy
CynicMonk
Someday,Sometime
when I will go down the line
back to a past , a part of mine
I may see your face
still sparkling with an eternal grace
standing apart in that crowded memory lane
I will find you
I will find you!!
#afterlife #you #love
 May 2016 Brother Jimmy
Sarah
Doubt. My old enemy. You're with me all the time.
Some days, you're quiet. Some days I can only hear you.
Doubt. My old enemy. You're with me all the time.
Sometimes you're just a whisper. Sometimes noise.
Doubt. My old enemy.
 May 2016 Brother Jimmy
Slur pee
A stagnant pond
Surrounded by death,
Withered reeds rooted
To promises I've never kept.
The fishes of thought have flipped,
Baring their bellies to sunlight's kiss.
My duckling of happiness has left,
Migrating away from this forest.
No ripples persist on the water's surface,
I skip rocks and always miss
The depths of my bliss.

I try to stir these thoughts
To give me what I lost. Instead,
Loneliness bursts forth like
Swans growing from my head.

-SLuR
 May 2016 Brother Jimmy
Slur pee
Drain me like a mosquito,
As your words bumble in my ear.

"I was never here, never here, never here..."

Disappear like a mosquito,
As I peel away itching skin.

Your buzzing I never hear, never hear, never hear...

-SLuR
Next page