Melancholia's Many Colours

Aug 2018

anon

i understand why van gogh drank yellow paint
because sometimes i have a hard time
pulling myself away from the art

i am miserable
basically pitiful
and i'm lost in a love that can never be returned

see i was never taught love
so i never graduated to self love
never saw a reason
and now that i'm older
i wish someone would have told me
my only salvation is a story
of a man
filling himself with ounces of happiness

a glug at a time
he consumed paint
that could **** him
just because it could give him
a sliver of joy

i drink his quirk up
like my own bottle of paint
because hidden within
the confines of his story
is a man who wanted nothing more
than love
and care
that could never be granted

love and care
that i so crave
as i pour yellow acrylic
down my throat
and smile
knowing that joy may soon
fill me

#vangogh #paint #yellow #loneliness #alone #love #joy #sadness #yellowpaint #poem

Aug 2018

r

Blue, like a rug

This bed
is a sad cafe
and morning
a table
I drank from
like a legacy
of one who once
loved
a woman
in a blue dress
draped
on the floor
like a rug
by the door.

Aug 2018

Andrew Durst

I fall in love.

My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,

is decide.

Thank you to anyone that reads this.

Aug 2018

Mary-claire

Misunderstood.

I would be set on the highest pedestal,
seen and smiled upon by everyone,
but no one would notice when I fall,
I blame no one,
I tend to keep some of my humanity hidden.

I would bleed into my poetry,
drain every ounce until I lie lifeless
but no one would notice the blood,
just the crimson words,
the slur of my handwriting,
but never the intensity of the pain.

I would punish my lungs and scream,
scream until I heave,
until the cry for help becomes more painful than the pain,
but it would all be in vain;
A song listened to,..but never heard.

Jun 2018

Neville Johnson

Help

I’m a little person
Not even five
What is going on?
Where’s my Mom?
Why am I in this cage
Like some dog?
Everyone is crying
This is a mistake
I’m being punished
What is my wrong?
Who will help me?
How long must I lie here
With nothing to do?
Who will help me tie my shoes?
And where is my sister?
She’s only three
I’m scared and I’m lonely
Mister, help me
You’re not allowed to pick me up
What’s that about?
Don’t you see
We’re all in this together
In the land of the free
And the home of the brave
Brave, I try to be
After the criminals in Guatemala murdered my father
That’s my family
Somebody help my sister and me
I need my mother
My mother needs me

Jun 2018

Noel Billiter

King of Nothing

Your cash lined pockets can’t hold all your gold
Your beautiful castle made of ice cold
And there you sit upon it’s thone
I still don’t envy because you are all alone
There you are with all your presious “things”
And what happiness does it bring?
When you meet your love and she has inner “Gold” will you see her for what she holds?
Will you pass her by unknowingly without the slightest glance or peer from your eyes
What you will miss is the love of your life
How sad this makes me my heart aches
You will die sad and no one by your side
Because you walked right by her side and you didn’t know her worth while alive

Jun 2018

BMG

Good Days

I missed you today,
I miss you most days
but today it’s different
Today it hurts more

Today wasn't a hard day.
Today I lived,
I worked
I smiled
I spent time with friends and family.

Today was a good day,
but I still missed you.
I somehow miss you more
On good days

I was always told
Sooner or later
We stopped missing someone
that ache just faded away
Over time

Once you have loved a person,
a person as I have loved you
I don’t believe, it ever leaves.
I think that type of love
Is the exception to the rule

Quite possibly
It resembles losing one to death.
You miss that person
You try to find solace in knowing
they are safe and sound somewhere.

But you see
When you lose someone
and they still exist
Your mind wonders

That ache doesn't go
You can never know how they are.
You want to to be there safe place,
the person they run to
but you aren't that anymore

You are no one,
they don't even think about you,
They don’t crave you
And still you can't seem to stop
Stop caring about them.

#days #miss #love #loss #heart

Jun 2018

traces of being

purge me from your poetry

back from the brink
of blindly falling;
back alone again
in a crowded room

there is no bridge
over troubled waters,
no way to purge
vast oceans
when deep rivers foment
pitch black
swallowed by an insatiable sea

no good shepherd to gather
an abandoned black sheep
cast heedlessly away
from the fold

unbefriended
like a dogless bone

a stain on impeccable sublime
a hopeless wanderer
stalled on the brink
of a threshold lost in time

purge me from your poetry
so I won’t remember
the insatiable  ache
of inerasable words
left unsaid

you lured me out
from the cold & darkness
to freeze my heart
in naked light of day

purge me from your poetry
like you spilled me
from your heart;
don’t come back here
to this slippery, lonely edge,
just to bid adieu

as if I didn't notice you were gone

purge me from your poetry
so I can accept without
sorrow's ache so deep;
in unbroken silence
a heart silent  atones not pretense,

and yet,

the only lie you whispered was "friend"

November 2016  ... wild is the wind

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1563592/leftover-valentine-flowers/

#thoughts #silence #unrequited #ache #melancholia #purge #blacksheep #spilledpoetry #unbefriended #backfromthebrinkoffalling

Jun 2018

Lori Jones McCaffery

NOW

I once wrote a list of things
That represented me :

Smoke from a discarded cigarette,
Rain on the Ocean,
A saturday matinee.

I wrote that I was a penny
On a train track, waiting.

             ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Well guess what, folks-
The engine  has arrivd.
        ljm

THIS IS A REVISION. I was a lot younger when I wrote the first part...trying to figure out who I was - I listed a lot of things that I thought represented me. Now, I add the coda to those thoughts as my world comes crashing down around me.

#downsized #terminated #relocated #exiled #forsaken