Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 May 2017 Chris Vans
James Court
Steadfast sunflower,
all alone yet you face west,
saluting the sky
 May 2017 Chris Vans
J C
Dimensions
 May 2017 Chris Vans
J C
We're stardust, you and I.
The iron and calcium and magnesium
in the [stars], collide
within and beneath skin and bones;
and I've never felt—saw—myself alone
when I see the galaxy in your eyes.

We're electric, you and I.
The protons and neutrons and electrons
dance and [fade] into a trance
when our lips first sealed;
the first kiss—electric—wrecked on
the idea of bad good-byes.

We're thunderstorms, you and I.
The heat and the pressure and the cold
form tornadoes [slowly], thrashing
the home we built in our hearts;
and I've never felt—myself—more alone,
more paralyzed watching you cry.

We're supernovae, you and I.
The explosions and light and blackness
consume all matter [away], leaving
nothing in our souls—left—nothing
but the stardust in you and I.
The simple life

It is cold;
sea spray paint the ship white,
light green
is the Nordic water,
a mighty cocktail
of clinking ice cubes.
I scratch a happy face
on the thick glass of
the porthole.
We will dock in a town
that have warm rooms
people sit around a fire  
give a **** about sailor’s
miserable life.
Seascape paintings hangs
on gilded walls;
look at that sea,
so verdant,
delicate brush strokes;
the artist died at a mad house.
I was

Keeled over
Screaming
In the garage.

I laid in there

I wished that
There was some way
You could feel
My pain,
My sorrow.

I remember thinking that

Every second
That goes by
Is another reminder
Of what I lost.

I had to

Be quiet
Because they were
Sleeping
In the other room.

I could feel my

Heart breaking
As I studied
Your face
Like I would never
See it again.

Because I knew,

Yes I knew,

That I wouldn't.
 May 2017 Chris Vans
Q
If you've been here before you know the tone
That I took four years ago when I began posting poems
It's a tone and topic I'd thought I'd finally grown past
I am dishearted and disappointed when I once again ask:

Why am I alive?
I see no purpose, no joy, no fun in life.
What am I doing here?
Why didn't I end it long before this year?

I am tired. I am impossibly tired and I will be tired impossibly longer
I am done. I want it to end. I am ready to end. I have grown no stronger.
I am still as weak as the child with a knife and far too much strife to stay
I am little more than I was, with the addition of love that wears on me every day.

Why am I alive?
I am no longer despondent when I ponder this.
Why do I exist?
I can't be bothered to breathe with this emptiness.

This will be my last poem for some time, I can't bear to read through my own thoughts.
This will be my existence for more time, I can't make happiness from what is not.
Thank you for reading and commenting and being the sweet people of a poetry site.
I will be here, in a day or a year, to regale you with more of my thoughts of life.
Goodbye for awhile.
 May 2017 Chris Vans
Anon C
I ripped my love for you from my heart
With a hoodoo doll
I couldn’t take no more of this
Waiting for a fall
And so I let you go
And so I bid you farewell

You see I can’t trust you
Cause I can’t trust me
Not to fall in love with you
Completely
And so I cut you out of my heart
And set you to the side to view from afar

Now you’re safe and sound inside my guitar
So I can hear your love echo through the stars
And now I will be free
Now your love doesn’t live in me

I ripped my love for you from my heart
With a hoodoo doll
I couldn’t take no more of this
Waiting for a fall
As it is sung

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U6Kk3rPBqKg
 May 2017 Chris Vans
Joaniep
They are brave young men, those, who have gone off to war,
“They’ll all be back soon, ” on the posters they saw.
But they aren’t back so soon, and they’ve fought and the’ve fought,
And some feel they’ve fought for a cause that was nought.

Years have passed by but the battles wear on,
And the news comes back home that more young men are gone.
Never to come home to the land of their birth,
As the fall to their deaths on some strange foreign earth.

As the wars carry on in some guise or another,
We are told of a death, and its somebodies brother.
Its some bodies son, or its somebodies dad,
And we all feel the same, this is all so so sad.

But where will it end, When will it stop?
When can solutions be found at the top.
When can world leaders, see some common sense,
And stay out of these wars, just sit on the fence.

We cannot allow for our men to keep dying,
For people abroad who continue defying.
They don’t want our help, they don’t share our views,
The death of our soldiers doesn’t appear on their news.

We need to accept, that their lives are quite that,
Their traditions are based on historical fact,
To them we have no right to be interfering,
In those countries away where the heat is so searing.

So lets bring them home, all those boys far away,
In the countries out east holding evil at bay,
The powers that be need to find the world peace,
But by talking together & making wars cease.
Is it worth sketching
An alluring portrait,
That will catch the eye of many,
Except for the person portrayed?

Is it worth making
a steaming cup of tea,
On a cold rainy day
for a guest who is
more eager to stay outside?

And tell me,
Is it worth it if I
were to light a candle,
For a dead man's birthday cake?
Next page