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junie 7d
your little bones could not outlast
the fevered fire that burned too fast
you died curled up against my thigh
for hours i didn’t know how to cry

you weren’t a god, you weren’t a guide
only fur, and warmth, and love inside
no words to give, no voice to lend
but still, you were my sweetest friend

i shared my wins in quiet light
you wagged your tail just right
you didn’t speak, but still you knew
my joy was yours, and yours was true

now some days pass without your name
and guilt arrives like quiet flame
but from above you lay upon my chest
a pitter-patter, small and blessed

you don’t stay long—you never do
you know to leave before i lose me too
like bubbles born in tender skies
you rise, you shine, then softly die

a bubble’s life is short and sweet
but still too long until we meet.

so when i cross that final line
i’ll bring you home one last time
you’ll squeal and jump into my lap
tucked in tight, ready for your nap

next time though, you’ll be here to stay
i know i’ll have bubble back some day
about my dog who died just 2 months before turning 4. i miss my sweet boy. so much.
Lance Remir Jun 21
I still mourn for you
Although you're alive
Living a normal life
I mourn for the future
That had you in it
I mourn for the death
Of the dreams we had
Crying every night
For a love lost once
I mourn for the version
Of us smiling together
I am pleading with anyone
Bring back what is gone
Because I am tired
Of mourning the loss
Of whom I loved
Come and weep,
Silently, tears will guide you to sleep,
As your lover comes to know,
The grave of water's undertow.
Another claimed,
In the name of explorer's fame,
A name, that once you pass on,
Will be all but gone.
Not a soul has ever carried it as close,
As you have for so long.

Don't be foolish,
Staring at the sea,
He is truly gone,

Even when the fleet comes rolling in,
You won't have that kiss at dawn,
He promised you as he left.
So hang your lonesome head,
The worst is yet to come,
Fill his grave with sea things,
It's all that's left of him anymore.
Your life together,
Now ancient lore,
Lock it up,
Before you wake up.
The black-sea boneyard
Meggi Jun 8
A man drops on the field
Falls like a rock to the dirt
Raises a shout from the enemy and a shout from his friends
Deadweight to the company
They will haul him back to camp
Bury him like a goat by the main road
The funeral will be quiet
Men gathered around a mound
They will smoke cigarettes and forget which way up they put his head
The man in the passing truck will tell the news they are praying to an anthill
Dear readers will scoff and throw their hands up and proclaim
We knew it all along! Lunatics the whole lot a’them!
The boys around the man-mound-anthill will not cry in public
Violence has toughened them into men
Violence has killed their friend
They will cry later
After dinner when the sun sets over the field and they think they won’t be seen
Is it man’s nature to turn boys into mounds
To hide tears from friends
To smoke cigarettes by the dead
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
The boy under the anthill
Under the raging sun
Under the cruel eye of god
Man’s nature to wonder
Ashes to ashes
Dust to deadweight
That morning when I’d first heard of your departure,
I cursed the sun—how dare it beam through my window,
how dare it attempt to warm my skin?

I was filled, for just a moment,
with a rage I couldn’t swallow,
as I picked mulberries
and their juice stained my quivering lips.

Birds sang at your funeral—
their songs couldn’t drown out your father’s grief.
The same birds I’d spend months shooing away
from the fresh soil where you were laid.

For weeks, as I’d drive to work,
I’d spew hatred at the stars—
scattered so carelessly in front of me.
They mocked my loneliness with their togetherness.

I hate that you’re gone.
I hate that I know
that the stars would go on shining without me, too.
maybe one day I'll run out of grief to write about, I kinda hope so.
A Dream Of You

What are we but memories passing
in the same stretch of life
following along our own paths
till once they intertwine

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A time we reminisce
drifting by your allure
a sip, to taste
to only want more


A string was cut
your time was no more
naught a tear that shall fall
when you left the pieces across the floor



……………………………………..
it’s just a dream, wake up
……………………………………..

________
But I wan’t to stay
But I don’t want to leave you behind
But I don’t want to wake up
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

……………………………………….
Quiet now, my dear
there’s no reason to hide
an excuse, naught hurt
till morning comes
……………………………………….

______
I’ll see you again
night after night
so there is no reason
to continue this fight
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

………………………………………………………………..
But i’m no longer here
i’m already gone
why waste your time here
instead of the world where you belong
…………………………………………………………………

While yes, it’s true
but there’s nothing for me there
for my answer is simple

A dream with your embrace is better than a life without your smile
wow i love this first line so much, and the last one too. I surprise myself sometimes
Simon Bridges May 20
A small room
                       Austere
A sepia image
Retains a slender figure
                     In Silver frame

It rests
Upon a circular table
Where within fallen petals
A single barbed rose
Lays beside a Gillows chair
                   There is no vase

A newspaper
               Outdated
Placed with intent
On a chaise longue
Awaits a reply from
         An underlined entry
         That’s buried
         Within the lost and found
Ellie May 12
When I die
No one will mourn
There will be a funeral
Many will attend
mourning someone
That died when I was 10
The gravestone will be mistaken
About who I am
The people will weep
And mourn for long
But not for me
For they have it wrong
They will mourn the girl in the casket
A shell of who I once was
No one will mourn me
That is no lie
When I die they will mourn the shell
of a girl i once was
But the little boy inside
who’s always wanted to come out
No one will mourn him
Ace will be forgotten
He will be erased.
Meant as slam poetry
TheLees May 1
Splinters from a dead tree, afloat at sea,
burrow into my neck,
jolting me awake at sunset,
reminding me that the thorns serve
to keep us looking to the horizon
for a softer place to lay.

Maybe life can drift. Maybe it can float by,
like wood that forgot it was part of a forest.
I too was torn from the forest,
adrift without the ones
who once held me steady.

But then,
in the blur of a mirage,
I’d land on pain’s shore.
And I’m sure
that life, out on that log,
was gentler than this:
fire ants, rocky beaches,
the carcass of a beached whale,
and creatures that never found their way
back to the sea.
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