Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
From the cliff's edge
you can watch the earth move.

Hover over the waters
and see how the Spirit blows

and broods.  The sea
and all its creatures still crash

and tumble and return
to their deep silences.  

The sun rises and sinks
below the waves.  The curved

ocean clings to earth’s edge,
obedient, except where

something urges it upward.
The voice that calls

forth the mountains and summons
pelicans and wild geese

says to all things, Rise.  
Consent to the upward urge

that calls you out of gravity
into the welter of heat and sound

and color that will not stay,
that you do not own, but may

have for a day, and then
for a night when it falls.
 Jun 2017 Lawrence Hall
Simple
My eyes are
blood shot.
My lips
are cracked.
I can
understand
that the fact
of me
being alone
is
really,
that bad.

I might fall asleep
tonight.
I'll dream
the time I was
in bed
with you beside me,

that

you were
there smiling,
as
I started,
crying,
knowing
I'll never get
to see you
if I stop trying,


to get
tired
and fall asleep
just to see
you beside
me.
sorry if this poem didn't make sense,
but
I'm going to bed now.
My dear world,
Your children's scream in pain,
But no one hearing,
In this ***** mans game,
The edge of the machine,
Cuts so deep,
An eye for an eye,
Makes the whole world blind,
Yet we think another bullet,
Will save us this time!

By; Nida Mahmoed
 Jun 2017 Lawrence Hall
Mary-Eliz
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.
We are the vapours in time,
proud, aloof and in our prime,
the transcendence of forgotten youth,
drifting through the parodies of truth,
we collect the black clouds of despair,
wear them as trophies in our hair,
souls amidst the tombs of hope,
woven together like coils of rope,
we dance to an unknown tune,
our redemption is upon us soon,
brother and sister you see it too,
that you are me and I am you.
Sure
It's easy to see broken clocks
aren't ticking
but I prefer broken people
Clocks get stuck
in their last instant
At least people keep on living
Next page