Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
it was a Sunday afternoon
when I walked across the park
there were already a dozen people
gathered at the house across

                                                         ­                         throughout the years, this park has seen my many roles

a lover, at age 16
                 gently caressing the hair of the boy I adored
a wife, at age 26
                 exchanging vows with the man I loved
a mother, at age 36
                 kissing the spot where my son had scratched himself

                                                        ­                                                                 ­           it was a Sunday afternoon
                                                       ­                                                   when Death took away the love of my life
                                                            ­                                           with his fleeting cloak and gleaming scythe

he was the love of my life
   when he was putting on my wedding ring
        or when he was cradling Jim
            and even when he walked out on our suburban dream

he had always been the love of my life
   and here I was
at age 46
in the park
the first time of my life when our roles had differed
     I, the widow
     and he, the dead man

                                                            ­                                                                 ­       it was a Sunday afternoon
                                                       ­                                      and it was one of the quietest Sundays I ever had.
i have been silent
words do not flow out of me
i am a steady stream of silence

              words spoken out of turn
              used to incite great reactive storms
              in the mind and body of my father
  
                             sometimes i am silent because of fear
                             but lately i am silent, because i speak
                             with my body and actions

                                         i no longer speak hollow words that **** life out
                                         words that lead to further disconnection
                                         today, when i speak  i choose words of connection

                                                                   little by little
                                                     peace
                                                                   grows in me
 Jul 2013 PoetWhoKnowIt
charmaine
You have no idea how it feels to
pour your heart out and think they’re doing the same
when truth is they've been laughing at you.

You have no idea how it feels to
be good to the one who you think is
lonely and sad just like you.
when truth is they take more
than they should receive.

You have no idea how it feels to
lie awake at night
crying at the man in the moon
wishing he’s doing the same.
when truth is he’s sleeping
like a baby.

You have no idea how many
scenarios play out
and if he’s playing them too
when truth is he’s studying
the school.

believe those sweet smelling lies
while the truth rots in your brain.
You have no idea how it feels
when the person you love
stops loving you back.

You have no idea.
What dreaded curse has engulfed us all?
Surrounded by those who need us the most.
Their eyes are hollow and their words are empty,
As they call to their neighbors for a helping hand.

A man who is trapped by the vice of addiction,
Cursed to perish from this horrid affliction.
A pregnant young girl who is eating for two,
Abandoned by love she believed had come true.

They still bear smiles from time to time,
But we put them down for who they have become.
We judge them and scorn them for what they have done.
But we are the ones that did this to them.

Our way of life has destroyed many dreams.
Competive nature in its very seams.
Selfish in nature, no problems equate.
On the words I held back, I will suffocate.

So many times I've reached out a hand,
But changed my own mind in exchange for my pride.
I've held my chin high to ignore those below,
And I have become a part of the norm.
 Jul 2013 PoetWhoKnowIt
Dawn
The water calls to her
like a sailor to the sea
The water calls to her like a seal who swims free

The waves crash upon her
and she releases all her worries and fears
to the deep blue sea

As she pushes on the ocean floor
She rises above and looks at the starlit sky
Smiling and breathing in the salty air
Bowing her head to the full moon

Laughing, knowing she is not alone
Splashing and playing like a child
Hearing soft whispers
Telling her she is a Goddess of the Sea

She sinks deeper, letting the water cleanse her
For her soul was made of sea foam
Here her heart will always lie
Knowing she was born a mermaid long ago
Next page