Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Achick Apr 30
I tried to save a kitten today.
I think he was hit by a car.
He was running in the intersection
Poor thing didn’t know where to go
As drivers barely swerve out of the way to save him
I put my car in park and ran to you.
I fought the birds off him
Then he laid down in the road
I picked him up cradled him in my hands
He was so tiny
I felt his rib cage
I don’t know if he gave up
Or sighed a breathe of relief that he was at least out of the road.
I wanted to save him
But there was so much blood from his head
I left him in the grass
Under the over pass
I wish I didn’t though
No one should ever have to die alone
I just hope for a second in his short life
I gave him all the love I could
And mourn for him
Kayvon Mar 22
Death of a brother can burn the coldest of hearts.
Love from a friend can cause it to heal
Her sadness was loud
she would cry herself out
bang her hands against the walls

she would scream asking why
to the heavens
asking why
to the glass of water still full

Her grief was like a storm
encompassing everything else
it was wet
there was no escape from it

I could just
at her
at the photo
at the candles

my sadness was quiet
I couldn't cry
the tears would dry in my eyelashes
I would just lay there

asking why
to the shadows in the altar
asking why
to my memory
asking why
I couldn't remember

                 his voice
                 his hands
the last time I saw him
the last time I heard
                 his voice

The lights are the only thing I can offer
to help him
to help her

even if it's just now
I only have the guilt
because death did us part
and all the love I didn't know I had
doesn't have anywhere to go
Death is a strange thing, isn't it?
M Tamura Mar 3
I see you so often in my dreams,
working magic by being close it seems. It's hard to believe you've gone away, that I'll never get to see you, with my hair all grey. But I'll never have to decide for you which treatment you may need or have to put you in a home because your mind had seized. I always worried that someday I'd explain that I need to take away your keys, and that you'd look at me in pain. Those are the only positives I can muster with your loss, I can list those with a half smile because I'd feel uncomfortable being boss. Love for me in this world, went down dramatically when you left, for who loves unconditionally and who knows best? I can only weep and mourn you just like I had with mom and hope to god I'll see you both, in the ever after beyond. I am so very thankful, been lucky enough to have had such a loving and awesome dad.
How do you measure the once-was?  The invisible?  The void?  

                                 The ache in my heart is not physiological,
                                   although it may feel like it sometimes is.

I can measure the words I write,
                       the words that get stuck in my throat.  
The boxes of belongings left over.  (You can narrow down a person’s
                                                               physical life by how many trips it
                                                                ­                          takes to Goodwill.)
How many songs can I now not stand?  
How many scents are now trigger trapdoors?  

Shall I count the number of times I’ve thought of you today?  
No ******* thank you.  
                                          Measuring is for the birds.  
                                                        ­                                    The doctors and
                                                                ­                                the scientists.  

I keep reaching inside and pulling out my still beating,
                                          but rotting and decaying heart
                                        only to be told it’s perfectly fine.  
I refuse to be gaslit on my grief anymore.
write your grief prompt 28: how do we see the gesture, the mass, the gravity, of the one you love, now that we cannot look at them directly? how do we know the shape, the weight, the being, of the one you love, by what we see in you?
We all know that life can thrive in the most inhospitable of places.
                                             Plants grow from volcanic soil.
                                             Bioluminescence crawls beneath
                                               immense pressure on the ocean floor.
                                             Microbes most likely thrive below the icy,
                                                        radioact­ive surface of Europa.
We all know that life—love—perseveres.  
                                         ­                                 It’s nothing new.

But we don’t talk about
                                            how ******* hard that actually is.  
That’s what the strengths perspective is for.  
What resilience gives name to.  

But what if I don't want to?  What if,
                                                                ­  for today,
                                                                ­                     I’d rather the **** not?  
Is that okay?                           Is that allowed?  
That today I'm the vinca vine dying on the ledge?  
Withered up and not drinking any more water.  

Today, I am every succulent that I’ve ever accidentally killed.  
Today, I am excess formaldehyde.  I am a brain floating in a bell jar,
                        undulating in an existence that is an ethical quagmire.
Today, I am in limbo.  Purgatory.  Stasis and static.  
Suspended upside down in a frozen wasteland, Dante style.  

Tomorrow, I will thaw.  
                                Rise from the soil fist first.
write your grief prompt #25: Read this poem, and as quickly as possible, write.
"Happiness grows back / Like saplings after a forest fire / Barren grief / No longer your primary / residence / That old hollowness / Carved out / Washed/ With holy tears / An old topography of loss / You will follow / Back to life"
My Dear Poet Jan 27
All along while you were sleeping
beneath the gaze of a missing moon
a light was lost, left us questioning
a sunrise too late? or a sunset soon?
There came tears, downward streaming
it’s disappearance remained unknown
only howling wolves remembering
the night the moon, left the night alone
They blamed dawn and dusk for stealing
none dared to dream another dream
all through the night of restless sleeping,  
weeping was heard across the stream
The night lamenting in search of light
The wind blew lanterns flaming high
the day was to be spent to make it bright
by flicking fire to burn the sky
till silver ripples appearing on the bay
there a moon settles from a journey far
returning home and on its way
from the funeral of a falling star
Alex Jan 12
it's raining, it's pouring
it's four in the morning
the thunder rings as the man is snoring
it wakes him up and out of bed
till he slips and hits his head
there was no real warning
when he falls and the sheets turn red
it won't be long and he'll soon be dead
his family will be in mourning
but for now, they won't see
that he has gone missing
how long will his body wait
will it begin to dissipate
all we know is it's too late
to say those final goodbyes
no matter how hard they try
they can not turn back time
It’s much easier not caring
About anything really
I wish I didn’t
I cared too much unfortunately
I’d be more free than I am
More upbeat, more happy
Living is easy with eyes closed
So leave me alone
I’m only sleeping
I’m putting up walls
I prefer to hide away
Cuz I took a risk a few times
Like a fool
All alone on a hill
Where I can see everything
But they don’t see me
No contact
I don’t want to look
Sometimes I want to disappear
Leave people with the memories
Of me in this moment
Or moments past
Go to the wilderness
Free as a bird
But I’ve learned once
It’s the next best thing to be
I wish I never experienced
The best feeling in the world
Wipe my memory of you
A clean slate
Leaving smudges
Take me away sweet song
I’ll cry anyways
I still feel the void
Cold and familiar
And through the absence
Leaving behind a sense
Of something warm and calm
It creates the most pain
Slowly decaying, withering away
Eroding the walls and revealing
My emotions of you

The Misconstrued Dec 2021
And in my head, when I'm gone,
I'm the only one to mourn
update Dec 2021 - Did not realise this was in my drafts for a few months -
June/July 2021 - Had these lines with me for a while.... Thinking they would be involved in something much bigger... But I thought I'd leave them here for a while
Next page