Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kapil Dutta Jun 2016
...

Two years ago in time
Seventeen of age, twenty seven of mind
On this blue planet sewn with heart breaks,
Blood pouring like it’s red wine
Took birth a love story
Another one of cupid’s crimes.

Ten days to meet
Twenty to plant the seed
Forty, and they had their first fight
This is not a story of love at first sight.

Oh Romeo, do you remember
The day when you pulled her closer
To comfort your lonely heart
Signed an agreement with the devil that night
Which would tear your life apart

And now here we stand, reading your memorial.
Contemplating everything that went bleak.
You knew the outcome of this journey
Even before your feelings learned to speak.

It’s a dangerous equation,
When LHS does not equal RHS
The mathematics of life starts to collapse
Like an imbalanced swing abandoned by the kids

All you need is to be cared
To be a priority in someone’s life
I understand, little brother
But you cannot demand love as you like

Oh Romeo, I do empathize
You suffered from PTSD, I do realize
From when depression molested your feelings
And left you naked on the streets, bleeding

But you were the captain of your sail
You drove the Titanic to the bottom
With the ocean so deep,
It made her love for you rotten.

Her emotions were like
the wings of a butterfly.
They would flutter restlessly
from dawn to dusk.

Our conversations felt like
a trip to some remote hill station.
The view was pretty,
with a few crests
and countless troughs,
but I fell sick of the constant motion.

Oh Romeo, she did love you
After all, you felt like returning home
But love fades over time,
just like the memory of this poem.



-KD
Just another sad love poem acknowledging the day we started talking.
Austin Bauer May 2016
I stepped away 
From the busyness
To have a moment alone:

Gentle waves 
Caress the shore
As I stand watching.

Dunes of sand
Lay their heads
Upon the lake's horizon.

Light reflects so 
Carefully upon  
The wake of speedboats

And I thought, "how tasteless;"
But they are enjoying 
Nature just as much 

As I - yet differently.
And that is fine.
I suppose that some

Enjoy standing 
On the shore,
While some enjoy

Riding the waves.
Which is better?
I won't know.
Spenser Bennett May 2016
Pardon me, I miss you dear
Dearly departed

All is lost, no life worth the cost
Rest undisturbed, sweet Brothers and Sisters

Pardon me, I miss you dear
Dearly departed

And they still stand, though in death fallen
And that green grass, shadows life or what they called it

Those white crosses,
All that remains of our best losses

'Til Valhalla or Heaven's view
I'll be waiting, waiting for you

Please pardon me, I miss you dear
Dearly departed
Robert C Howard Apr 2016
in memoriam Woodrow (Woody) Rifenburgh*      

The soft purr of a Piper Cub
drifted over Italy's southern hills.
Soul stirred by the landscape’s song,  
the young army pilot gently spoke.

“It’s mighty peaceful up here.”

Touching wheels to the tarmac,
Woody shed his flight suit
for an engineer’s desk
and placed a viola beneath his chin.

For three score years
Woody molded horsehair and wire into string song
steadying the orchestra’s midriff
with the vibrations of his spirit.

On Christmas Eve he played for the coming child,
fell stricken and flew his last flight
on instruments at Memorial.  

Early New Year’s morn one could almost hear
the faint soft purr of a Piper Cub
as it banked to the right around the moon
and merged with the waiting heavens.
This poem was written for a dear friend who played viola in the Belleville Philharmonic and other orchestra.  In WW2, Woody flew reconnaissance missions in Italy.  He graduated from Purdue University in engineering and worked for decades designing pipe line systems for Laclede Gas.
Our humanity does not lie in our goodness,
but rather it exists within our flaws,
for it's our flaws that make us interesting,
and it was because of this that I found
my aunt to be the most interesting person in the world;
for she was flawed in the most exquisite ways.

She was nothing short of a legend in my family.
Her deeds were not spoken of in day-light,
but whispered about late evenings
amidst closely clustered kitchen tables.

I remember hearing lurid tales:
she's been married twenty times -
she's been arrested before -
she's knocked out a boy's front teeth.

I never knew if these tales were true or not,
and I hope to never find out either.

I'll believe them; I'll believe in HER -
as she believed in me before:
as she believed in love and excess.
We talked shortly before her death,
What good is a life without regrets?
Patricia Berkshire let the wings of angels bear thee to thy rest 3/29/2016
Randy Johnson Mar 2016
I was devastated when I learned that you wouldn't make it.
When it came  to my heart, your demise sure did break it.
You died 1096 days ago in 2013.
It was the worst year that I've seen.
When I saw you on life support, it was rough but facing your death was rougher.
My brother and I had you taken off the respirator so you wouldn't continue to suffer.
When you were dying, I felt helpless because there was nothing I could do.
When I found you dead on March the 6th, I had to say goodbye to you.
It took me about two years to get to feeling better about your death.
For two years I suffered tremendously after you became ill and left.
You were such a great mother that you made my brother and I better men.
Your death isn't permanent, when Jesus returns, we will see each other again.
I felt overbearing pain which made my life a mess.
Rest In Peace Mom, you were truly the greatest.
Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away three years ago today on March 6, 2013.
LovelyBones Feb 2016
Bye
I'm sorry I couldn't save you
I'm sorry I wasn't there
I had to watch you struggle, but how would I show my care
I thought you had gotten better
I saw you start to fade
But in denial, pushed it aside and for you I tried to persuade
I knew things would improve, you didn't see the light
So that fateful time a year ago, you disappeared into the night
From that day on I promised, to remember why I live
Not always for myself, but so there's something for me to give
People will sometimes love, but as humans we also hate
Will you continue to fight? You're the one to choose your fate.
A year ago today, we lost one of our own members. I'm just sorry I couldn't do more.
Brent Kincaid Jan 2016
What was it like
To be who I was
Before I became
Who I am now?
You want to know
The old, old story
All about the tale
Of when and how?

You know I was not
A member of nobility.
That is not a part
Of my ignoble history.
You know I was not rich
Because I have no gold.
So, what was I after all
In my days of old?

As I was no hero
Heralded in legend songs.
I was but a normal person.
Any praise would be wrong.
There are no carvings,
Friezes on marble walls.
No horde of loyal soldiers
Rally at my urgent call.

But I can leave life
Proud to say what is true.
I died without a penny
To any other person due.
I achieved most of my dreams.
I will say that with my last breath
Between my humble life
And my inglorious death.
Kayli Marie Oct 2015
The family dog is dying.
On Saturday,
they press her ****** paws
in cement,
and the eldest daughter swallows
some accidentally.

The middle son is in the backyard
raking leaves
when he tells the neighbor.
The words snag along
the electric plot line
and crumble to bits beneath his teeth,
brushed back and forth into
the leaf pile.

On Sunday,
the mother unfolds the quilt
that the kids use to make forts
onto the kitchen floor.
Her muffled pats on fabric
a motion to the coffin,
the dog spins in a single circle,
then lays down to die.
“This way she will be warm
while she is still with us—”
The eldest daughter vomits
the cement up in the nearby sink.

On Monday,
the father slides his hands
against his dog’s ribs like a xylophone,
then pulls back,
afraid to sound like
the morning alarm.
The family dog is dead.

The youngest daughter takes on the role
of licking her paws,
dried prints on the tile floor
where she lays down to die.
Next page