Wow...just wow poems - Hello Poetry

Nov 2014

Poetic T

I spied with my little eyes
Something beginning with
S
Sight
Soul
Seductive
I looked into your eyes
To late,
Awoken in a bed of metal
&
Your instinct is to scream
"SSSSCCCRREAM"
I join in, exhale all that terror out,
I whisper, lightly words come forth
"I LOVE YOUR EYES"
You read my lips as if from a book
A verse spoken,
The eyes they show me the key,
"I see between the lines"
A key to the peace of mind I wish to hold,
"To consume"
I tell you not to worry,
Your tears expel from the stream of white,
I use the instrument as if a surgeon
I tell you
"Don't worry I have done this"
"Many Times"
She struggles
Your Not my
First,
No where near my
Last,
I pluck then as if a flower
Gently the stem cut
You are with out voice
As I need silence
I wish not to harm you
"I Spy With Your Little Eye"
"The key to the soul,"
I consume the key
Then as the fear shows openly
The last thing you see,
Is the room from a view not meant
And with that final snip
"I Spy With Your Little Eye"
"The path way to your soul"
I have tasted a soul not for the first time
But many more keys,
"I will unlock"
And souls consumed,
"So I may feel mine"
I keep a promise
I let you go,
Tears of red flow from vacant eyes,
Then screaming as if a howl of terror
You expel it in a desert of night,
The moon shines upon you,
The screams of an empty vessel
Wishing to be whole,
"Eye Spy With My little eyes"
"Some thing beginning with"
**S

All my new and old serial killers can be found under
serial-killer

#eyes #moon #soul #cold #key #terror #twisted #consume #serial-killer

Nov 2014

Sjr1000

Veterans Day in the USA

"Soldiers Heart"
Two brothers on their way
one wore blue
and
one wore gray
one came home
one stayed behind
one mother mourns
on a November's day.
212,938
bled and died
on
American soil.

"Irritable Heart"
14 years in the Philippines
far too many days
4200 died
so many miles away.

"Shell Shock"
Johnny got his gun
alive in the tomb
of his mind
no eyes
no ears
no arms
no legs
a beating heart
an active mind
alive
with memories and sensations
Paths of Glory
leads
the way
and 53,402 stay
while one came home.

"Battle Fatigue"
291,557
perished.
Nagasaki got its bomb
six million died
before our fathers and grandfathers
liberated them.

To the 38th Parallel
we did go
where old soldiers
never die
they just fade away
with
time.
33,746 died.

"Stress Response Syndrome"
Apocalypse Now
Jacob had his ladder
in
the jungles of Vietnam
Full Metal Jacket
Born in the USA
homeless veterans
now aged still pay today
while 47,424
lay in their graves.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder"
My daughter
my son-in-law
bring it all
back home to me
Navy Medics
seven years
they traveled with the Marines
picking up the pieces
as they went their way
many too many trips
for all those young
troops
now we are
seeing
their heroism
proceeding
despite being afraid
a price
dearly
we all pay.
5,282 and still counting.

For all those who have walked in the horrors of war
and the grief too countless to tell.
Let us all pray in our way,
work in our days
for the end of war.

"Soldiers Heart" etc, the evolving terms for what is now known as PTSD.
Two Brothers on their way is a beautiful, beautiful Civil War song. "Two sisters stood by the railroad tracks, one wore blue and one wore black. "
Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo the ultimate anti-war novel, he was later black listed during the McCarthy Hearings.
Paths of Glory, Stanley Kubrick, about WWI.
Apocalypse Now, Francis Ford Coppola (on my top five movie list.)
Jacobs Ladder, Tim Robbins, haunting Vietnam war movie.
Full Metal Jacket, Kubrick again.
Born in the USA, the Boss, Bruce Springsteen.

My daughter, Katie, defines courage proceeding
despite being scared.
Doug's sense of humor and loving heart
he proceeds despite what he has seen.

Nov 2014

Just Melz

When A Poet Doesn't Know

When a poet doesn't know the answer
To the simplest questions
It's because their mind is so filled
With abnormal poetic revisions

When a poet doesn't know
The way to say how they feel
It's because they need to write it out
So they know the feelings are real

When a poet doesn't know
How to say I love you
It's because they haven't found a rhyme
That brings out the best in you

When a poet doesn't know what to say
Or simply how to make you feel better
They just type up some lines and rhymes
Like... "We'll get through this together"

When a poets doesn't know the answer
Or how to say what they feel
Or that they're in love with you
Or how to make you feel better still

And they don't have the words to write it all down....
That poet's world is sure to crumble to the ground

As a known poet among friends, they find it odd that I don't always have the right words to express myself in normal conversations sometimes. Maybe this will shed some light on that.

#love #feelings #poet #life #real #you #say #answer #doesntknow

Nov 2014

r

No Sonnet for Wilfred Owen

Here, and over here -
The fortunate sons

Those who made it home
To fields and hills of native tongue
In the soil their people toiled
- They listen quietly when we come

There, and over there -
Beneath crossed lines too many

Still - they man the trenches
Along the Marne and Somme
Below the woods of Belleau
And the forest of Argonne

No sonnets in a foreign language
Rendered where they languish -
The distant rest far and away
In a cold November grave

We should remember
Here and there
The old lie -

And the young.

r ~ 11/11/14

In memory of poet
Wilfred Owen (1893 - 1918)
and all who gave.

The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month

#remembranceday #veteransday #armisticeday

Nov 2014

Aaron Mullin

Obsidian Nights (a)

In pursuit of an elusive harmony
     summer nights rolled away from us
     reverberating into a numinous bass line
     while reconciling our dreams
     with a burgeoning truth

Flustered with desire
     and walking in a non-ordinary reality. Lost within the Source
    of all there is and ever was. We re-animated
    navigating through portals unexplained
     to retrieve this love

We plied our differences into commonality
     and re-aligned our fractured selves using the agency
     of synchronicity - having found
     an immutable archetypal truth
     and having found from where our self-portraits flow

Much more than soul mates, Plato
     offers stories of Zeus splitting souls in half
     as punishment for pride.
     In this incarnation, have we found humility?
     Will this be enough to carry us back to nobility?

It is challenging to find your way back
     into a lover's arms. Mistakes haunt us eternally (if we allow for that)
     but every morning if we awake
     and let go, using the suns setting and rising as a reminder that
     with experience, guidance, and repetition ... it gets easier

My half soul
     awoke as my mortality decomposed
     when half becomes one, then the real turmoil begins
     from the shores of St. Mary, Raven calls
     and I follow my destiny into an Obsidian Night

'If I cannot deflect the will of Heaven, I shall move Hell.' ~~ Virgil

#soul #virgil #jung #plato #raven #indigenous #synchronicity #agency #numinous

Nov 2014

Traveler

THE LEARNING

I LEARNED TO RUN WHEN I WAS YOUNG
FROM A WORLD OF EVIL, AND THEN SOME
THROUGH WICKED SKIES THAT STAINED THE NIGHT'S
I TORE THE FABRIC TO PEEP THE SIGHT

GATHERING SHADOWS WATCHING ME BLEED
FLASHES OF PHANTOMS WHO LONG TO FEED
WITHIN THOSE NIGHTS MY SIGHT WAS FORMED
WITHIN THOSE NIGHTS MY HEART WAS TORN

Traveler Tim
re to 02-17

Nov 2014

Carl Joseph Roberts

Pour Me One More Round

Pour Me One More Round*

Each night I go from bar to bar
Instead of going home
To drink away the pain I have
Now living life alone

Inside I feel this emptyness
Thats deep down within
I try to drink away the pain
Still knowing it won't end

All these bars they look alike
And I drink more every day
Wanting just to the fill the void
Make the memories go away

The lights go down and the bars they close
So I walk around this town
The memory of you fills my heart
An empty lonesome sound

These drinks I know will never end
This pain I feel inside
It only helps me to forget
But only for the night

So please one more
Pour me one more round
Help me push these memories down
Just pour me one more round

*Carl Joseph Roberts

Okay, guys its a poem about how I thought my father handled life. He drank himself to death many years ago. This is not a poem advocating drinking. I drink very little and can count on one hand the times I've been drunk in my life and they were all in my 20s. So If you like this poem, please add it to a collection.

Nov 2014

wordvango

dangle

a knot
a catch
a thread around
you
dangling
floundering
breathe halting
did
I ever
tell you
I
loved you,
so,
how did
it ever get
so bad?
Fell
from the chair
to never
say again,
I love you, too.
Oh God,
why?

Nov 2014

Traveler

UNABLE TO MOURN

I touched her sadness, I felt to cry
A mere spark of empathy remains
If only tears would fill these dim eyes
Yet short is my emotional pain

I dreamt a dream that broke my heart
And cried like the pouring rain
But when I awoke my pillow was dry
In darkness my sorrow remains...

Nov 2014

r

immigration reform

i still straddle the fence on this
immigration reform manifesto

i see both sides of the story

it's good to have the grandfather clause
for the immigrants in my bloodstream

- the scrappy scots-irish-ingles-welsh
in me - but too late for the cherokee

behind the old fences of history.

r ~ 11/9/14

Nov 2014

Helen

Who Cares? (We all get there)

Who cares
What path was taken?
What words were spoken?
What hearts were broken?
Who cares
What lies were told?
What truths were bold?
What beliefs were shaken?
Who cares
What road was chosen?
What mode of transport?
Or even what prize was sort?
We all end up in the same place
with the same certainty
and even the same face.
We all arrive at different times,
we go down with no sound,
into a ground,
so recently
*broken