There's a man who will not talk today
He's afraid to show his weakness.
He thinks no-one will understand
That his life is pain and bleakness.
All his life he's displayed strength
And he will not stop that now,
So he researched the noose's length
And the when, and where, and how.
He will not know the pain he's caused,
But it's what he feels himself;
The feeling of sheer helplessness
That destroys our mental health.
He thinks, in time, our wounds will heal
Or that, perhaps, we will not care
And that we'd all be better off
Without his presence there.
But in the last message he ever wrote,
Which caused us all to worry,
He acknowledged our own weakness with
The tender words; "I'm sorry".
You are not alone, the world won't be better off without you, and you are incredibly ******* important.
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
A sea of foliage girds our garden round,
But not a sea of dull unvaried green,
Sharp contrasts of all colors here are seen;
The light-green graceful tamarinds abound
Amid the mango clumps of green profound,
And palms arise, like pillars gray, between;
And o'er the quiet pools the seemuls lean,
Red—red, and startling like a trumpet's sound.
But nothing can be lovelier than the ranges
Of bamboos to the eastward, when the moon
Looks through their gaps, and the white lotus changes
Into a cup of silver. One might swoon
Drunken with beauty then, or gaze and gaze
On a primeval Eden, in amaze.
the love becomes
weary the mind
out of fear.
and the world
in a thick
to be found
you’d try but
the heart is loud
hear my heart
so far away
I can’t hear
I cupped my hands
behind my ears
makes the heart
I think of ways and roads oh my!
And paths to take and travel by
And ways both false and sometimes true
But none of them leads me to you
Am chased by ghouls and wraiths of yours
The thought of you is now my curse
You never said we'd chart this course
Now am pursued by ghosts of you
Why? I'd ask. And my reply
Would be that love does multiply
And hearts are eager to comply
Am chased myself but not like you
I was captured and my captors taunt
They let me leave then set to hunt
They give me all the things i want
But deny me sweet old thoughts of you
The faces here are sweet and fair
The leaves are green and flowers here
Here's fragrance more than I can bear
But all is not that's not of you
All the land that has you not
All the games that played you not
All the tales you hadn't taught
Are false and so cannot be true.
I see your pain and feel it too
You swore as I and daily do
This depth that aches with woes and rue
Cannot be whole except with you
I know, but know thee I am naught
Then what? Pray tell becomes my lot
Am gone and life is what you've got
But life alone is life with you
I've broken turns and brokered terms
I've come to great tormenting harms
I've waited, prayed and done the psalms
Just to be again with you
Been years since your teeth were beams
And since my tears had streaked in streams
And since the earth had claimed your hymns
Since I'd been lost in dreams of you
The tales of loss are oh so common and they never grow old.