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Johnny walker Nov 30
No more do I hide my feelings, that, lay now
within my past all
bought to the
The day I laid my lovely
Helen to permanent
rest, Is the day I began
to open up to my true feelings
No longer afraid to express my Inner thoughts never
again ever to be walked upon as I was before I met
my true love
For now I alone have to become my own man again, to stand my ground no matter comes my way
never give
A poem of how to lose changes one to learn again to live on
your own, stand your ground
whatever comes your way
Johnny walker Nov 25
I remember so well on returning home after my wife's burial a terrible feeling of betraying her leaving my beloved In that
cold ground having never been apart In the twenty years having always told her that I'd never leave her promised every day of the twenty years that we were together
Opening the front door of my now house for the first time without wheeling Helen In In through the door In her wheelchair so cold lifeless feeling, where once filled with the warming glow of Helen's love Completly empty house empty rooms silent where a pin droped would be heard
After the 23rd Dec 2017, I took the Christmas tree all
lights decorations with It and through them In the garden where nearly a year on they remain, but after doing that
returning back to my now empty rooms to sit and realises this was now to be a reality for the rest of the remaining days I might have left
In a house once that was filled with Helen warmth and her love, never to be
To return home after laying my loved one to rest with terrible feeling of betraying her leaving her In the cold ground having promised In life never to leave her
Glenn Currier Nov 13
Can't remember last time
I knelt down to dig in the dirt
but I do recall all us boys who'd climb
the sandy loam pile in the yard

to make castles, caves and highways
and let our fantasies reign -
oh what glorious days
when fun was simple and plain.

We cared not about smudges
holey pants or muddy feet
had not learned about grudges
nor become expert in deceit

hadn’t yet been betrayed
enough to live in hurt
and conjure all the ways
we could spite and spread dirt.

Maybe every now and again
I'd benefit from kneeling down
and digging deeper grain by grain
in earthy dirt - to find my being’s ground.
Izzy Aghahowa Nov 12
i'm travelling
to a further place
a hole in the ground
for those unreaching

i'm drifting
and slowly diving
into a deep space
of heavy rain

i'm walking
into consciousness
beyond the mountain
beyond the plain

into a lifeline
i cannot contain

i can't see
i can't breathe
the same way anymore
Silverflame Oct 31
The porcelain bird flew so very high
until its neck encountered with the ground.
From the windowsill to the edge of night
it died alone; with no one else around.
Shofi Ahmed Oct 25
Adam touches down
in heaven upon the high.
But his highwater mark
wasn’t solely one way.

He could hear the jingle
upon the high resonates
beneath the ground!

He could see the cloud
forms on the top
rains on the ground.

Bow down on the earth
and rise high.
The golden spiral
spiking on its way up
also curves down.
someguy Oct 21
Oh, fallen angel, why do you weep, why do you cry?
Have you lost your way, have you lost your eyes
Defined by others, you can never get back into skies
Now, being torn down you must forget how to fly
And learn how to walk among these rats in the hellish fires

And if they see you trying to take off the ground,
They’ll tear your wings off and gnaw you to death in an instant count
dedicated to my favourite poet - Charles Baudelaire
broken glass surrounds the realm of things that can't be found
lightning taps on mountain peaks in flames that kiss the ground
eyes that speak of worlds alive can never truly know
what secrets wait beyond the sea, lost so long ago

a daughter cries in light of day, a son goes off to fight
a mother tames the hounds of war, a father loses sight
shattered frames of captive past, nowhere to run or hide
tears collide with barren soil will soon exhume the light
Christian Oct 1
Please forgive me,

For being absent for so long
Then coming back with no excuse
Because this time I'm wrong
This time I lose.

For seducing you for my pleasure
While my head was on the ground
I've deprived you from your leisure
To the earth you were bound.

For playing *** with your pages
When this is no one's book
And it will be for the ages
Dear poetry, my nook.
I made this poem when I started writing obsessively about a very specific topic. I felt like I had betrayed poetry in a way, or at least the way that I used to write before. Looking back to it, it's about a year and a half old and I feel it has aged well as I re-read it.
Eve Sep 26
To be blessed ,
favored and protected by the environment,
selected and isolated from your social groupings,
To be blessed is to synthesize what truly has meaning in life and self-meditate with the sake of life’s pace.
Before falling asleep, resting, force the mental to remain awake,
processing and breaking apart the information given today,
despite the fact that time wasn’t kind, brief or even prolonged; make it the moral commitment to self-reflect.
Make a correction if your answer is wrong; the fabrication of a scripture,
Make sure, for certain, that all the totaled scores calculate to a certain percentage,
Affirmed, scolded or ruled by another to convey your defined truth as inaccurate, almost there or rarely ample.
Time is allotted, effortless and to be taught a lesson is a blessing,
Space is limited, given and to be bestowed the gift of building is the set up version of a lesson, a shell of a blessing.
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