Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
how do I write about the beauty of the world
when barefoot people pass before my window
in search of shelter

how do I share my pleasure of the birds' sweet song at dawn
when I see faces etched with panic
from the deafening blast of bombs

how to rejoice in love and friendship
when meeting people who could barely save their lives
after burying their loved ones

how can I write with passion of the kindness of the human heart
when I see thousands fleeing from the ruins of their homes
only to face police   walls   barbed wire

true words are hard to find
as said a poet of an older war

    when it is a lie to speak
    a lie to keep silent

not easy
The poet from which my last two lines come: John Balaban, Vietnam War veteran:
“A poet had better keep his mouth shut,” he writes in “Saying Good-by to Mr. and Mrs. My, Saigon, 1972”:
unless he’s found words to comfort and teach.
Today, comfort and teaching themselves deceive
and it takes cruelty to make any friends
when it is a lie to speak, a lie to keep silent.
 Mar 2016 Dani Simpson
Elemenohp
Starlight, quite bright,
Shining in the dark, tonight,
Give a light 'til darkness, fright,
And hide away, from me.
 Mar 2016 Dani Simpson
Torin
I fell asleep
Beneath a cherry blossom
Because the spring had made it bloom
And it reminded me of you

I fell asleep
Beneath a cherry blossom
Because your lost to me and gone foervever
But it was like sleeping next to you

Again

I fell asleep
Beneath the cherry blossom
Because I had no other choice
My heart told me to

I fell asleep
Beneath the cherry blossom
Because I had no place I should be
And it felt like home to me
I hope people recognize how profound and beautiful this poem is, but I've learned not to expect as much. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy
"You are twisted
and your tongue permanently tastes of cherries." -
you say,
but I just tie cherry knots
with my fruit-infused tongue,
and laugh at your complaints.
Red neon numbers remind me
of your lips on mine.
Gripping at the empty side of the bed,
wishing I were somehow still in your head.
You and I were similiar and collided
in coexisting lives.
I can see a jaw drop
the hand moving south
as if to slip into the knife drawer
of a total solar eclipse.
Six shots deep so I could forget your name,
and all of the reason I love you.
Instead I sat there
with him,
(not you)
crying over cherry stems.
I want to creep inside of you,
your ribcage enclosed around me
let's take a look at what your third eye can see.
Wrapping my mind around the galaxies,
that are currently expanding away
intertwining your stars in my fingertips,
caressing your moons in the palms of my hands.
Don't mind me while I sip your knowledge like a cup of tea;
pouring down my throat,
scalding information like it was supposed to scar.
I can feel you waking,
the nebula behind your eye lids,
fades as the sun claims its spot in the sky.
Resonanting inside of me, like a sizzling
black kettle boiling over.
I watch the hot red glowing spirals
on the stove subside to a rustic brown,
just like that I knew I were lost -
wandering around in someone else's
head that had no intention
of ever stepping into another's.
Colliding,
spinning upside down
only to be right side up.
Seeping,
weeping,
forever sleeping
The roots
twist underneath
like veins;
how they grow,
into this space,
fused with time,
confessing what
I already know.
The meaning of this,
pure
utter bliss
how it sparkles
Before me lightly,
tiny fragments
magnetic fire
Breathing
in and out
or is it reverse?
I cast away my narrow waist
Whale bone my rib cage
You open me up to demolition
My voice is silent

As you split the seams
Of a world I was far too fragile for
Living, the flash of liquid light
Turns the horizon on it's end.

The lies you fabricate, a master
Storyteller by design
A lowlife criminal
With overwhelming needs
You walk into a life
Presenting yourself as the saviour
And no one is the wiser, except you
And you make the deception
Palpable as wedding cake
Sweeter than cyanide
Undetectable to all
But her.

Does the coffin ever fit the soul?
Next page