Anne Webb: Favorites

Nov 2016 Anne Webb

november 9, 2016

Nov 2016 Anne Webb

Walter W Hoelbling

november 9, 2016

the day
when even the not so faithful
were tempted to pray
for the health of the nation

#president #elected #trump

Nov 2016 Anne Webb

before and after

Nov 2016 Anne Webb

SE Reimer

before and after

~

“i’m loosing my before,”
she says as she peers
o’er her morning cup,
she struggles to recall,
to separate before and aft,
it's a place where blurring lines,
become blurred memories.
where BC and AD intersect;
that place within her mind,
where she drew a line
’cross sands of time,
’til the winds of living
blew her line away.
of life before this Cancer,
living before this Cost;
of silence 'fore the Call,
that told her all was lost.
his voice no longer lingers,
in her dreams he used to come;
now he's just a vapor,
but a ghost of what he was.
for now it's only after
Dreariness, Decay and Death;
now it’s sleepless nights,
while in picture books he rests.
his footsteps all but gone,
and only cards and photographs
to remind of seasons once upon,
a time of laughter and rejoicing,
replaced by cup of bitter tears.
the after-date of endings,
of after-hearts were pierced;
after-leaves have all decayed,
the after-disappearance,
of joy that he defined.
these the after-leavings,
the dregs from life distilled;
left to wonder, life to ponder,
the “why” a heart stood still.
of a BC and an AD,
a BC time, Before the Call;
when life was torn in two,
leaving shredded remnants;
and now the AD, After Daniel,
a time to pick up tattered pieces,
to find the peace in what remains;
this the place where legends born,
when all that’s left is but a name.

~

*post script.

there are few events in one’s lifetime that mark time, a before and after, like loss. whether death, divorce, or deep disappointment... each a BC/AD moment that our human condition can so easily let define what remains; our after. yet too, if we do not rush it, there can come a time when we are able to redefine our losses into legend... an AD that is an after-definition of sorts; where a crown of beauty replaces ashes and the oil of joy is exchanged for the bitter wine of mourning. (Isaiah 61:3)

to my sweet wife and to each of you, my friends who grieve, whatever your “AD”, know this... while the heart beats, there is yet hope! hugs, hope and health to each, to all!!
your poet friend and lover of your posts,
(: Steve

Nov 2016 Anne Webb

I have this book

Nov 2016 Anne Webb

Thepoemscreatedlife

I have this book

I have this book
I write down all my thoughts
Unfinished or not
They finish me
The parts of my heart
My life together
Paper is my life
It connects me to other poets
And other writers
And other artists
Of every different kind.

Nov 2016 Anne Webb

Dead Poet's Society

Nov 2016 Anne Webb

Polar

Dead Poet's Society

Where do all dead poets go?
If you find out then let me know.
Does all language die with them?
Words float in air, then end. Amen.

Or are their words preserved in time?
Scorched on paper, then held in shrine.
There to be seen, read, devoured,
Ancient wisdom from those empowered.

There to make a serious point
Using words to soothe, anoint.
Recording times, events and places.
Cataloguing history, people, faces.

Sometimes harsh in what they say,
Determined to speak come what may.
Not all poets speak in rhyme;
Using rhythm to keep in time.

But all good poems should touch the heart,
Evoke emotions from the start,
Make the reader see and feel,
Hear what's said, know it's real.

Remind us where we all connect,
Be you non- religious or from a sect.
Touch our senses, hearts and memories.
What one man does another sees.

Not all men use knowledge for good;
Follow morals and do what we should.
Think before we act and speak.
Find courage, be strong, protect the meek.

If you find time to help out others,
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers,
Take your life and start anew.
That's when you'll find the poet in you.

Oct 2016 Anne Webb

there must be a place where broken words go

Oct 2016 Anne Webb

mk

there must be a place where broken words go

there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.

#poetry #broken #words #home #silence #speech #stutter

Oct 2016 Anne Webb

smile

Oct 2016 Anne Webb

Pax

smile

just a quote
https://www.instagram.com/p/BFodvZRLpRE/

Thank you everyone. It was a tough year for me. As you have known, i lost a parent a few months ago. Coming back here and writing is like starting all over again. Smile was inspired on how i wear it on my daily routine in the office, even in tough times. This shows that i still have strengh and will to move forward. So i greatly appreciate everyone's support.

#life #smile #person #quote #ball #friction #bounce #pax

Oct 2016 Anne Webb

the page wanderers

Oct 2016 Anne Webb

Rapunzoll

the page wanderers

my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.

© copyright

NOTE: i've noticed people sharing this to other sites without having spoken to me about it beforehand, I do not give permission for this and all poems are copyright, keep this in mind.

------------------------------------------------
my mother never actually said this to me, but i figure i'll probably end up saying it one day if i have children.

it's pessimistic yes, but i know there are exceptions. please don't take to heart. it's more a criticism of myself than all poets. :)

#love #heartbreak #poetry #sad #depression #heart #pain #lost #thoughts #you