Life stories - Hello Poetry

Jun 2017

Gidgette

I can't be
someone I'm not
But atleast the someone
I am,
Won't be soon
Forgot....

Jun 2017

Kelly Weaver

The worst day of your life could be spent in one of two ways:
1) with loved ones
2) alone.
However neither is as clear as it ought to be
You could walk home in the pouring rain
Or someone could lend you an umbrella,
But what the can't do is follow you home and make sure you don't drown in something else.
You could sit on the edge of a cliff and have your picture taken
But the photographer is simply being paid for the photos
Not to make sure you don't push yourself off of the edge.
Some people have a difficult time with differentiating between monsters under your bed and monsters in your head
So you're left with an exterior warmth but an interior frost.
And unfortunately, along with the death of the brain comes the death of the soul
So all that can remain is a memory of what you once were
Which can be shaped into different forms based on the people you've touched
There are no second chances.

So the next time you have the worst day of your life, choose to spend it with loved ones,
Even if you'd rather be alone.

#idk #depression #suicide #misery #stress

Jun 2017

Daniel Irwin Tucker

My Mama Died Today-- June 9, 2016

The Agèd Hands of Time have reached yet another
toll of the bell.

12 years have passed since I’ve last seen her in this life.
Distance and sickness in our being had robbed us both
of streams of time which passed like a long cold winter
into her death. These lost memories often create over-
exposed and superimposed photo negatives of imaginary
frames of time I desperately imprint to hold tightly in my
heart and mind.

But I still hold tightly in memory to her soft voice on the
phone and pictures of split second frames of physical
time my sister would send me. Many people don’t even
have that.

In this life she loved to mother her three grown children
and flower garden as near as
she could to the end. It was
in her nature to nurture us--
her perennial children--
and to help make the move easier for her literal annual foster children plants taken
from a confined existence to a deep soft warm bed of comfort.

Stamped on my mind is not the faded and worn, bruised
and torn image of her outward shell in the Trauma
Center at age 88, but the indelible inner and outward
image at age 38: a lovely young mama who tucked her
little boy in bed every night with a song and a prayer.
The little boy that is still alive in this man.

The Agèd Hands of Time have reached yet another
toll of the bell.

©2017 Daniel Irwin Tucker

My poem, The Agèd Hands of Time, posted two days ago, works in concert with this poem which I wrote one year ago today.

#death #life #parent #mother #loneliness #void #memories

Jun 2017

Jonesy

Firefly

It's amazing how much your smile makes my day,
You seem to bring out the best in me.
It's intriguing, you value my flaws and love them in every way,
The part of me i rarely see.
In my eyes,
Brightening up my night,
You're a firefly,
Intrigue me with your light.
I swear,
With you as my love,
I got it all my dear,
Our love as pure as the white on a dove.
As i treasure you and you treasure me,
I will always love thee.

Jonesy 2017©

My Shakespearean sonnet of love.

#love #lifestories #aconversationamongbrokenhearts #treasures #shakespeare

Jun 2017

Eric W

Succumbing

I remember racing down the streets,
intoxicated, drunk, hammered,
and out of my mind,
chasing party after party
and skirt after skirt trying
to drown the hole you left
in me.

I remember, not so long ago,
chasing down scheme after scheme,
saying mean things,
having no consideration for
anyone's feelings,
and completely denying the
existence of my own,
trying to justify
the holes we left in
each other.

It's hard to understand —
how I'm acting,
the damage I'm causing
in these situations —
until I've come out the other
side.

And even when I do, I still hear
the dark calling me.
It lies at the bottom of this bottle,
and at the top of my
mind,
waiting its turn.

It's about time for alcohol to see its way out of my life for good. I've been weak tonight, and I will be weak in the coming weeks, but I know it has to go eventually.

I don't drive drunk anymore. But it needs to go a step further, and I'm probably going to have to lose touch with a lot of friends over it.

I'll be stronger tomorrow and the next day until, finally, I'm successful.

Jun 2017

Jonesy

Jack in the Box

He sat there as still as a statue,
His spring rusty from being forgotten by his loved ones;
Oh, he knew this day would come when he was no longer of value,
For his old age has dimmed his light and he no longer shone.

His box was sealed away,
The rust on his spring will always stay,
For the children has outgrown him and never stop to play;
So, Jack was left alone in the attic for the rest of his days.

Now that we need him for our children's children,
To show them how fun he was to us as a child;
We did not know his value then,
His heart rusted away, now he can never be beguiled (again).

Jonesy 2017 ©

You never miss the water until the well runs dry.

#conversationamongbrokenhearts #grateful #truth #hope #growingup

Jun 2017

The Dedpoet

For Those Who Know MEread this: The Stillborn Daughter and The Miracle

Ive written about my experience
With a daughter i lost in my youth:
Amber waves in the still
Of my soul,
The story in my perception
Truth be spoken,
She wasnt really mine.

And my heart is stilled,
Born into my life
My love could not be seen
As fatherly,
A choice made
And years fade into the torture
That is my mind.

17 years after the four
Of loving her,
The love of my life,
The Ded inside the poet
Reaches into my reality
And once again all is
The chaos.
Ambers wave.....

I raised her for the first four years
Of her life knowing
She wasnt mine.
When my ex and i separated
I lost Amber too:

You reached into a well
Of souls and captured
My whole being,
Ambers waves like a beach
On Sunday morning's
Glory,
Life is in me to hear your voice,
And the truth comes
Like the last gasp.

Amber is my exs daughter,
She cheated on me and we assumed
Amber wasnt mine.
So four years i loved her.
She was born at 6 months old
And weighed only 2.7 pounds.
I reached out four months
Ago for some reason on facebook
After she friended me.
I asked her if she still talked to
The man we though was her dad:

Time is a hammer
Always pounding and memory
Is the tear we dont shed,
It all comes out at once
And the weight of regret
Can be lifted,
The soul cleansed,
The hope invigorating
And life is a dream within
A dream within....

She couldnt tell me anything
So her mother gets on messenger
And tells me she is going to call me.
She tells me Amber is mine.
That I was her father all along.
The stillness in my whole
Life lifted.

And the beauty of life is
That the unexpected
Is always the best anything,
Knowing is like a perpetual
Repetitive insanity,
Regret a broken record player,
Depression a choice within
Not to fight even when
You lose,
Ambers wave came like a
Dream awake.
The reality is,
If this is real, never wake me.......

My heart is open again.
Life is so beautiful.
Amber was born with cerebral
Palsy on the right side of her
Body, shes 21 and she found
She had a great big family
After feeling so alone.
She fights everyday and is in college
So when i met her she amazed
Me with her fight. Never
Giving up i awoke from
My stillness. I have a daughter
21 years old!!!!
My little girls have a big sister.
My still born was a metaphor
For my life being stopped after she wasnt in my life.
See my facebook for
The pictures of my long lost
Daughter. Life is a beautiful
Craziness.

Jun 2017

Mary-Eliz

Moments In Time

I see you there
suspended for a time
between the shadow
and the light.

You look pale
but peaceful,
in a dream state.

I rest awhile,
a shallow sleep,

then I awake

knowing…

without words
my mind whispers

it’s time

I gently wipe your lips,
brush a stray hair
from your forehead.
It’s all I know to do.

Then I sing
a cherished lullaby
hoping you hear me
hoping it wraps you in love
as my arms wrapped
around you
as a child.

I hold your hand,
kiss your forehead.
In that instant I see
and feel all you’ve been
all that is you

tiny wrinkled infant
delightful, smiling six-month old
curious toddler
proud school age
struggling teen
loving adult

realizing
we're losing all of these,
all that you've been
all that is you

then

I feel your spirit leave…

for that brief moment
I’m overcome with a calm
I can’t describe.

A gift rare and precious –

as I was there
when you entered the world
I was with you
when you left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The butterfly counts not months but moments and has time enough."
Rabinadrath Tagore

We lost our son to a brain tumor. He fought bravely and determinedly for seven years, enduring two surgeries, radiation, Gamma knife "surgery", chemotherapy and clinical trials. He never lost his sunny smile or determination. He only let go when he knew it was time, slipping into unconsciousness shortly after his two brothers (his best friends) arrived to say goodbye. He remained in that suspended state for two days. On the third day the four of us gathered for dinner and shared thoughts about him and our life with him. We cried, we laughed, we shared memories. Later that night he let go. I will always believe, being the caring and generous person he was, that he heard us talking and knew that, as hard as it would be, we would be okay.