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Jul 2019 · 221
the wait
Anne Webb Jul 2019
In a cottage near Tibet
an old man in his bed
  lies expecting that
   which all of us will face

    there's nothing on his mind
     he's old and nearly blind
      he leaves no one behind

       a little more ahead
        two figures lightly tread
         then suddenly stop dead
          and turn towards the shed


            one walks towards the place
             where the old man rests his face
              on his old and washed out pillow case
               the figure step by step
                gets closer to the shed
                 and then to the man's bed

                  the old man turned his head
                   to face the figure at his bed
                                      "Finally..." he said.
Anne Webb Dec 2018
You stretched your arm forward
and held out your hand
I tore out my heart
gave it over and waited
for you to tear it apart

._   ._   ._  

But you took it
and placed it on your sleeve
although I hoped that maybe
you could hide it in a safe
and take care of it for me

._   ._   ._  

And so there it stays
my exposed, beating heart
you wear it on your sleeve
vulnerable  ._   ._   ._  
and you take it with you whenever you leave.
I fell in love... And it made me feel vulnerable. More vulnerable than I ever felt in my entire life. It makes me scared. But in a good way, I think. Or at least I hope.
Anne Webb Nov 2018
I need him to accept me with silence

I need him to hold me close
To shelter me, embrace me, hide me
Because only then I feel safe

I need him to touch me
But not because he wants to touch my body
But because he wants to touch my soul

He made me love him
And open up the scars on my now bleeding heart
Even though it was hard for me

And now there is no I without HIM
(we are one)
So I need him to accept me with silence
And build me back up

Because I can no longer do it by myself
This was a very spontaneous poem, I only though about each line once and didn't read it after myself. I don't know if you can even say I thought about them... They just came out.
Sep 2018 · 778
Imaginary friend
Anne Webb Sep 2018
His name was Jamie Lee
and in all my humble life
he and only he
always stuck by my side

Whenever I felt alone
I looked up at the sky
a shiver ran through me, skin and bone
when his ghostly hand held mine

Only because of him
I know the word love
whenever my day was a little grim
I could count on his tender smile

to make me feel
to make me feel more
to make me feel more alive
In order to keep my ghostly friend anonymous I used a different name.
May 2018 · 289
I realised I feel nothing
Anne Webb May 2018
I came to the psychiatrist
cause I though she might see
what has gone wrong inside of me
and she said I've got PTSD.

And I remembered you saying
how "okay" everything's going to be
so I'm asking how can you help me
when I've got PTSD.

I decided to get rid of those non-feelings
and now I'm coming to therapy
where they try to cure my insanity
when they know it's just a hopeless plea

trying to battle my PTSD.
PTSD diagnosed
Apr 2018 · 281
So what, am I sexy now?
Anne Webb Apr 2018
It took me by surprise
but it seems that I'm desired
I was never confident
it's not the way I'm wired

It took me by surprise
but I guess I'm someone now
when I walk down the street
people watch me with a wow
when people start to notice you, it changes you
Anne Webb Mar 2018
i hurt him so much
i think i can't stand it
i found out he loved me
guess he thought I didn't hear it

i don't know if I love him
help me please
it's hurting him
so much
dear god
i need to know
show me a sign
i'd rather hurt myself


me not him
me not him
me not him

Anne Webb Mar 2018
He was a poor boy from an orphanage nearby.
The only thing he had left from his parents was a nasty scar.
Strangely, he did not hate them for it,
he wore it with pride,
though the other kids laughed when he did.
Compared to the others from this orphanage,
even though the scar covered half of his face,
he wasn’t the monster in this monstrous place.
He had a pure heart, for inside there was hope,
that once he will find his parents.
Only this helped him cope
with the torture his beloved scar
has brought upon him so far.

The years went by,
as they always do,
and from the boy was a man
(and a handsome man, too.)
The scar remained the same, though,
as if untouched by time
but the man didn’t mind
“staying the same, well, that’s not a crime”.
You might even say he was thankful for it;
if the scar was the same as when he was a kid,
his parents would know that it’s really him, their baby, their son.

Suddenly, his time at the orphanage was done.
But when tomorrow came and they had to let him go,
they surprised him, when they wanted to know;
whether he had a name.
And when he said no, they thought for a bit,
then decided to call him John Doe.
So with a new name and an old scar,
he left for the city he knew was far
and full of people afraid of such things as a scar,
for it makes others see how different they are.
But he felt bold, when he left for the station,
because he wasn’t scared of the population.

By the time he reached the city,
for the first time now, he met pity,
wondering glances that came his way,
but when he returned them they glanced away.
Yet nothing could stop him,
not the looks, not the shame,
he was looking for his parents
not for someone to blame.
The scar was his proof and his motivation,
so he headed for the town hall with no hesitation.
It took them a while there to find the right place
but giving up, well, that wasn’t his case.
So with an address in his hands and good luck, too,
he left the town hall and his eagerness grew.

…Excited but nervous, ready as well,
he reached out his hand and rang the bell.
But what a surprise when the door opened wide
and a little woman stood inside.
It wasn’t his mother,
that he could tell,
he felt it in his heart and in every cell.
He remained polite, though, and asked if she knew
of a couple, that should live here, too.
He introduced himself as an old friend,
for he wasn’t sure she would understand.
The woman shook her head
and told him with regret,
that the people who lived here were long long dead.
Killed by a fire which burnt down the flat.
No one survived but a baby, she said.
When he heard those words, he lost his breath,
he fell to his knees and prayed for death.

He lost his purpose, his only goal
and it broke his soul
and his heart as well,
he was a man no more,
just an empty shell.
With a hideous scar that spoiled his face,
he was an orphan who belonged no place…

Suddenly, a calm voice spoke,
it caressed his ears,
made his lips shake
and his eyes fill with tears.
It belonged to a girl with velvet black hair,
she made him feel better just standing there,
with her hand on his shoulder and her words filling the air.
And it was then and there he fell in love with her.
They left together and never looked back,
she showed him things no one’s life should lack.
And although their paths had parted one day,
the love she planted in his heart did stay.

In ten years’ time, life changed a great deal;
he had a son, whom he loved much
and a perfect life, if there is such.
He was happy now.
And more than that,
though it took a decade,
the scar on his face began to fade.
As well as the pain that possessed his heart
before he let go of his painful start.
The scar lost its colour but it was clear as day,
it will never completely fade away.
John Doe was more than fine with this,
“it isn’t just a scar, that scar of his,
it serves as a reminder of who he is.”

The poor boy from the orphanage nearby
was poor no more
and this was why.
I wasn't completely sure if I was writing a poem or a short story...but it rhymes so here it is
Mar 2018 · 1.3k
Anne Webb Mar 2018
On the first day he wrote her a song
but when she read it, she didn't smile
so he asked her what was wrong
she said "nothing" but couldn't look into his eye.

On the second day he gave her roses
red as the blood that runs in his veins
but even so he felt her heart slowly closes
and her love from his body drains.

On the third day he took her to the shore
and showed her the waves and the stars above
but from her face it was clear she wants more
and he can never be enough.

On the forth day she had moved on
but he could do no such thing
because just before the dawn
they found him hanging

by the shore, with the roses and the song.
Feb 2018 · 889
Goodbye letter
Anne Webb Feb 2018
It's time to say goodbye
to the girl I used to be
so look me in the eye
and promise you won't wait for me

I'm sorry to break your heart
but I just ain't coming back
I'm done playing my part
it's been turning my heart black

I'm sorry to break your heart
but I just can't force myself to stay
it's better when we're apart
so I will stay away

... somewhere I have no part to play.

P.S. we wouldn't work anyway
Feb 2018 · 369
Anne Webb Feb 2018
The only one who,
will never leave you alone,
is your own shadow.
Even when it's dark,
you know he's there
Jan 2018 · 282
we screwed up
Anne Webb Jan 2018
Do I love him? Do I not?
I can't tell the difference
every time I think of what
could have been
my heart aches and I cry
and I know I regret the fact
that we didn't even try
cause we were scared
of what might be
if I didn't love him
or he didn't love me
and now it's too late to go back
i hate myself for not being able to recognise emotions while it's still time...
Dec 2017 · 337
why being happy hurts
Anne Webb Dec 2017
I walked around the world today
and I couldn't help but smile
yet I paid for that smile with pain
but at least I know I was happy for a while
and my cheeks don't hurt in vain
Dec 2017 · 283
Anne Webb Dec 2017
I heard of the Great War in the east
the forests have been whispering
and I heard of the vicious, horrid beast
whose eyes left it's victims trembling
the war started with a single thrill,
as the beast appeared, so wickedly strong
as strong as a mountain, if you will
and that's when the birds started their song
the song spoke of years of blood and fear
the beast destroyed what got in it's path
but once when the sky was bright and clear
a Phoenix appeared to save them from it's wrath
it fought the beast with vigorous might
and when the beast fell and the land was safe
the Phoenix rose radiating light
which broke the darkness and life it gave
Nov 2017 · 728
God Have Mercy On Me
Anne Webb Nov 2017
God have mercy on me,
for I am falling in love.

My life up until now
has been nothing but bluff,
yet when he looks at me,
he's looking right through
and I feel the same
when I look at him, too.

What more could I ask for,
what more could I want,
then for him to be mine
and my heart for him to haunt.
For who am I to command
the heart's desire,
when someone like him
sets me on fire.

God have mercy on me,
for I hope it's no sin,
when I hope that someday,
his heart I may win.
He makes me smile...
Oct 2017 · 1.3k
Anne Webb Oct 2017
if I had to count all those who hurt me
I'd have to count 'till infinity
if I counted those who did me wrong
I wouldn't have the power to stay strong
if those who help and those who hurt
engaged in a war
even the darkness of my mind
could protect me no more

but I'll remain faithful

for sunsets, for love
for the broken stars above
for beauty, for peace
for the gracefulness of trees
for happiness, for my family
but most of all for me; yes, me
I'll always suffer faithfully
there's not many good things in this what other choice do we have then to hold on to what gives us hope and remain faithful that things might get better
Jul 2017 · 881
Anne Webb Jul 2017
I stole a heart today
so what
mine was stolen
a very long time ago
and no one cared
so what should I do
about that heart
which now lies
in the pocket
of my little shorts
gathering dust
maybe I could replace
the black hole
inside my chest
where my stolen heart
used to be
but then again
I thought
how now there was
someone just like me
with a hole in their chest
and they will have to
steal their own heart
to fill the void
just like I will now
that's the circle of life
I guess
Jul 2017 · 242
Anne Webb Jul 2017
they brought a stranger
to my home
and said he lived here
from now on
I stared at them for a while
then told them it was my home
as if it could change anything
laugh that sick laugh
made my bones tremble
with fear
I think
that's what you call it
so I packed my things
and left my home
to the stranger they brought
they smiled at me
then pinned a golden star
to my coat
so everyone could see
they said
what a good girl
you are
reminder of the second world war
Jul 2017 · 246
another world
Anne Webb Jul 2017
a bomb landed
and killed millions
and a boy went
to pick up his parents' bodies
and they gave him
a sack filled with ash and dust
and he asked
whether it was
his father
or his mother
and they said
and about 40 other people
I imagined this
as I read the newspaper
sitting in a comfy chair
sipping my hot cup of coffee
ever so slightly disturbed
by this picture of
another world
Jul 2017 · 264
Anne Webb Jul 2017
they wrote my name
on a piece of glass
and then shattered it
into million pieces
and there I was
broken and broken again
so I did
what I thought was right
and changed my name
and my identity with it
trying to forget
who I was
to stop the tears
gathering in my eyes
when I thought of
that broken piece of glass
that still lies there
on the ground
where they left it
where they left me
the past me
at least
as you might have noticed I started writing series of poems in which I try to spill my heart and reflect what is inside of my mind, I think you can tell which are these...well...get-it-together poems
Jul 2017 · 238
Anne Webb Jul 2017
we shape our sorrow
according to what we read
in the newspapers
saying what we think
thinking what we mean
lazy in the sunset
tired in the dark
flying in the streets
falling in the sky
upside down
dawn of light
caresses the face
it drew on the pallets
of the painters it threw
out into the streets
because now we want something else
something they can't give us
for nothing is the same
as it used to be
right or wrong
we don't know anymore
we can't
so stop the world
stop the planet spinning
let us go back
back to the beginning
when it all started
and it may start again
or it may not
who knows
Jul 2017 · 374
Anne Webb Jul 2017
in the morning
faces blurry faces
crossing my way
they sleep on the sidewalks
falling heavily from the skies
smiling at the ones they hate
flowers in their hair
and thorns in their hearts
will never let them go
but they try anyway
although they know it's hopeless
trying to be something they're not
even though it hurts
them and those around them
they keep on
because they have to
they have nothing else to do
nothing else to hope for
stories their stories
that will never be read
and songs of their lives
which we forgot as fast
as the wind blows
around the faces
the blurry faces
that cross my way
in the morning
after a hot cup of coffee
that we drink to stay awake
in the lives that bore us
because we don't know anything else
not that we didn't try to know
we did
Jul 2017 · 429
Anne Webb Jul 2017
One side, two sides
where should I go?
I ask my friends
but how can they know
where one side starts and the other ends

One side, two sides
where should I stand?
I ask my friends
but they fail to understand
the meaning that my message sends

One side, two sides
what should I do?
I ask my friends
but they have problems, too
so I'll pray until the problem mends
Recently I have found myself in the middle of a conflict between two people I deeply care for and I have no idea which side to join... Do I have to choose a side??
Jun 2017 · 362
Death has done this before
Anne Webb Jun 2017
I met Death today
she shook my hand in a polite manner
then allowed me to adjust to the new
overwhelming reality
as if she knew it would take a while
we bathed in silence;
the consternated and the experienced
little by little getting used to each other's
presence, now and forever

but Death has done this before
Jun 2017 · 183
Anne Webb Jun 2017
When people are gone
there is nothing left to fear
the nature is free
Are we hurting our planet?
May 2017 · 20.2k
Anne Webb May 2017
I saw a girl once
and she just gave me a smile
but that was enough
I was having a very bad day and I felt like crying. I got on a bus to go home and that's when I saw her. She was completely normal, there was nothing really special about her. Not the hair, clothes or makeup. But she was just so beautiful. I felt like I could see into her soul. She noticed I was looking at her and just smiled at me. And my day suddenly got a whole lot better. The power of a smile...
May 2017 · 258
a plea for individuality
Anne Webb May 2017
I have a request for you
or a favour if you will
I need an advice
from someone like you
but then I guess I could ask anyone
do you mind?
do you have a minute?
a minute to spare I mean
for someone like me
but then again a minute for anyone
I hope you do
but I guess you’re busy
who isn’t these days?
we rush to live
and keep running around in circles
did you hear?
they won again
and the others lost
curious huh?
and here I thought it’ll be different this time
excuse me
it seems I’m delirious
I felt different for a while
nevermind, though,
it’s all gone now, all back to normal
my question
I almost forgot
see, I’ve lost something
something important to me;
I seem to have lost myself in the crowd
I looked around
And I couldn’t find my shadow
between all the same people
I blended in with the crowd
and I think I wasn’t the only one
for your help
(help us, will you?)
we all need to find ourselves
but hurry up before we all
lose our shadows and become one
Mar 2017 · 823
In memoriam
Anne Webb Mar 2017
It's a person's Life,
which is never forgotten,
but it's a person's Death,
that makes us never forget.
Mar 2017 · 2.3k
It feels like a betrayal
Anne Webb Mar 2017
Love is strange, don't you think?
I though he loved me
but he loves her more
and it hurts, deep inside
so I put on his sweater he didn't notice I wore

he didn't

Yet once in a while
his love is so warm
now I cry on the floor
with time passing by
hoping he'll find me behind the closed door

he didn't

I know this all might
be just my own mind
simply fooling around
but it hit me so hard
and only he can help me get up off the ground

Because I cannot tell you how I feel...

This poem is not about romantic love, which might come as a surprise. It's about a friendship, that is very important to me. Yet I am not sure about *him*....
Mar 2017 · 654
Return to me
Anne Webb Mar 2017
I'm so sorry, I really am,
I failed you,
Guess that's all I ever did

And you loved me sincerely,
Now I wanna wake you,
But I can't, and I'm so sorry

I envy all of those that from now on
are with you
and those that see you smile

So when I look up at the stars
I pray for you
and for your soul, that's more to me then mine

Almost every single day
I think of you
that's not enough, though, I know

And once in a while
I cry for you
at night, until I fall asleep

with tears on my face and your name on my lips

and still I know that     I will never deserve you     as long as I'm alive
Anne Webb Feb 2017
How does it feel to be free?
Maybe unlike birds who fly high in the sky,
people can only feel free when they die.
I might write another poem on the topic of being free...
Feb 2017 · 678
Anne Webb Feb 2017
They say there isn't much to live for nowadays
but for love and for beauty of the trees
and for flowers which remind me of your face
and the colour of your mind which only my eye sees.

Your lips are the colour of a rose
and only when they smile the world feels whole
like the cupids with their arrows and their bows
they pierce my heart and overwhelm my soul.

Like the hummingbird's faithful song
your sweet voice can open all doors
you make me feel right, even though I'm wrong
so my heart and my body are for ever yours.

And never before have I loved someone more
and I would live for you, die for you or unleash a war.
I wrote this for a friend for her literature class. But when she read it, she said it was too "professional" and that her professor would never believe she wrote it. So instead I put it here.
Dec 2016 · 176
Too Late to Say Goodbye
Anne Webb Dec 2016
She's gone
and I wasn't there
by her side.
Continue: Don't go
Dec 2016 · 531
Anne Webb Dec 2016
So she has her ups and downs
But who can say they don’t sometimes
Resting under falling stars
Raindrops filling both her eyes
Maybe waiting to be found --

-- The broken words and broken worlds,
Nevermind they aren’t fair,
She still finds the strength to use
The power in her curly hair.
Forever, ever hidden there.
I wrote this for a ?friend?, she meant a lot to me. But now it's all different. You know how it goes; time flies, *friends they tend to come and go*.

P.S. * Where it all went wrong, RUBIO*
Nov 2016 · 541
Anne Webb Nov 2016
Colours spread across the sky,
in dream-like structures,
where only fearless creatures fly.

They wonder on the edge of day,
watching the Earth below,
wishing, hoping they could stay.

Red and orange - orange, red,
dancing like a flame,
they don't burn, but caress instead.

So to prepare the path for Sun,
they gleam and they glow,
then melt away 'til there are none.

Cause everything must end sometime.
Nov 2016 · 558
Anne Webb Nov 2016
I bought a mirror from a strange boy,
his smile was truly honest, so I didn't hesitate,
but when I looked into that mirror,
I didn't see what I  was expecting.

No matter what angle I tried,
my face was nowhere to be seen,
the only thing staring back at me,
was the boy who sold me this peculiar piece.

I went home, all full of wonders,
and hung the mirror on the wall,
and with every day I grew more fond of,
the beautiful face looking out for me.

*And just slowly I realised I was falling in love.
Nov 2016 · 589
Anne Webb Nov 2016
Did you ever wonder why,
everyone keeps thinking of Death,
but Life gets so little credit?
Really, try to google Death and you'll find hundreds of different pictures of how people imagine death, but when you google Life? Well... it just doesn't seem right, does it?
Nov 2016 · 315
Anne Webb Nov 2016
Spreading over trees and hills
a wildfire unleashed,
what crosses its path it kills,
no mercy yet no thrill.

Its flames reaching to the sky,
the biggest fear of most,
not hearing its victims cry,
it won't stop on its own.

Always hungry, never full,
feeding on other's pain,
biting all that comes around,
what's left behind is plain.

Yet why is it that we fear,
what never comes alone,
though it's the fire causing harm,
blame the people on the throne.

The arsonist watching,
nearby the fire he has grown.
And so they say, Lord, for everything a reason.
Nov 2016 · 628
Anne Webb Nov 2016
We used to have a tree in the garden ouside,
when I was small,
and I remember watching it slowly grow tall.

So tall that I could barely see,
the leaves on top
of the crown of that tall, tall tree.

And maybe it was trying to reach,
the stars up in the sky,
but how can I be sure if I cannot see that high.

Its branches reaching to the clouds above,
how can I forget,
when its attempts were never enough.

I fell in love with climbing up its branches,
once I grew older,
and right on the top, I watched the stars.
Even if it got any colder,
I still sat there staring at the distant blue sky.
But when we moved out,
of that house with the garden and the tree,
they cut it down,
watching the fall of every last leaf.
Nov 2016 · 603
Judging by
Anne Webb Nov 2016
Warning: This poem might not make sense to you.

Judging by the way you stand,
I'd say you had three cats,
but I know you wouldn't understand,
the way you stand, it showed me that.

Judging by the way you walk,
I'd say you don't like ginger-bread
and you do not own a classic clock,
the way you walk, it showed me that.

Judging by the way you laugh,
I'd say you slept well last night,
and your house is painted blue and black,
the way you laugh, it showed me that.

Judging by your curly hair,
I'd say you are in love
and we both now that that isn't fair,
your curly hair, they showed me that...

It is ridiculous isn't it?
But we all judge a book by its cover sometimes.
This poem might not be a great piece of writing but the behavior it talks about is weird, so why would the poem be any different?
Nov 2016 · 1.7k
Don't go
Anne Webb Nov 2016
I dressed all in black today
but for an actual reason this time,
I though she was about to die.

And all I could do was cry,
so much that my eyes turned red
hurting as though I was going blind.

And she was so strong,
and it made me feel proud,
more than anything ever before.

We looked at each other
and she didn't shed any tears,
yet I could see the pain in her eyes.

And in that moment
I begged her, please don't go,
don't leave me in this world all alone.

My prayers were answered.

*She's still alive.
Thank you, I love you very much. Yours forever, Anne.
Oct 2016 · 511
Pursuing me
Anne Webb Oct 2016
I have little burns on my body,
like from a cigarette,
but they hurt much more,
although they haven't bled.

But those little burns, really,
aren't from a cigarette,
they are from people's looks,
looks so firm that they make me sweat.

Those looks tend to differ, though,
some feel like a cigarette,
and some feel like bullets,
that might even shoot me dead.
This poem has to be read as thoughts, because that's exactly how I wrote it. The words were just thoughts running through my head.
Oct 2016 · 1.2k
Strange world
Anne Webb Oct 2016
What a strange world it is we're living in,
some types of love, thoughts and looks
are considered sin.

People here
they hurt each other,
until they all feel paper thin
and no matter how hard we try,
we let all the hatred get under our skin.

Oh what a strange world it is we're living in.

I wonder if the one
who created this world
and made the planet spin
is watching us now
with a cruel or sorrowful grin,
when the war we unleashed
may begin,
whether he smiles only at those
who win.
Oct 2016 · 323
Detachment attempt
Anne Webb Oct 2016
There's no way in hell
I'm coming back to you.

You think I broke your heart,
when in fact mine split in two.
Because no matter how hard I try
I just keep falling for you.

You think I broke your heart
but there never was one to break,
'cause you only build your walls sky high
when your own feelings are at stake.

So there's no way in hell
I'm coming back to you...

Please, please don't make me to,

unless your love is true.
Oct 2016 · 234
The End
Anne Webb Oct 2016
The sky began to fall
with the weight of the storm,
it was cold and it was warm,
the clouds, the stars, the Sun
they all began to run.

And the harm and the pain was never their aim.

But no one could have heard
what the smallest star asked
"When they were gone,
who was gonna stay?
To laugh, to cry, to play?"

The Sun replied
with a gentle smile
"When they are gone,
the rest will die."
Oct 2016 · 537
Anne Webb Oct 2016
I over-heard people talking,
I didn't mean to, really,
I was just walking by
and those fragile faces
caught my eye.

But anyways,
I didn't catch it all,
so I can only guess,
why those two fragile faces
seemed so out of their place.

From what I did hear, though,
I can assure you, those faces needed help
but what to say, huh, I wouldn't know,
truth be told,
"Ehmm? Excuse me? Hi? Hello?"

I can't tell you what they talked about,
I hope you understand,
so please don't be mad at me,
it's not that I don't trust you,
I'm just being careful, see?

Lets cut to the point, though,
I have a favour to ask.

If you see these two,
and I promise you'll know when you do,
offer them help,
if you have the power to
for what they're going through,
everyone will go through, too.

— The End —