Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jodie Davies Sep 24
There's a grey sky
over our magic garden,
the one I slept in as a child.
I remember when your voice
would bring my room to life
like the way we made
a pink butterfly in a book
when we coloured
between the lines.
My white pillow
sprouted red roses.
The shadows of the branches
on the wall swayed to
'you are my sunshine'
like the silhouettes of fairies
in the books we read
before we came here.
You said what blooms here never dies.
We coloured this world in so well
that there's no room
between the lines for worries.
There's a grey sky
over our magic garden.
When you left,
it took my sunshine away.  

Now I lay alone  
in a storm.
I try to sleep
to the sound of rain
that I made up
to mask the sound of silence.
Dead flowers balance on the edge
of your unmarked grave,
like time worrying about
all the bad things that haven't happened yet.  
Our garden is a dead land.
I grab hold of its only sturdy root
to stop me being
swept away by the storm.
Wrinkles form
where your hands should be and
my only friends are birds. They too,
silent as they wait
for you to come home
and colour them in once again.
Reminiscing on my childhood and those who got me here.
three or four conversations a year
the tv goes off
and We confront each other
for who We really are
underneath the pleasantries of Love

You tell me what You went through
when I was too young
to understand
You tell me of passionate youth
and now I get it.

I discover what drove You
the insight of Your desires
the things that felled You
what lit the fires
and now I get it.

You tell me how You struggled
how You fought the inanity
how loneliness claimed You
took You face to face with insanity
and now I get it.

We uncover all my lies
I'm finally honest
I let You in
to how I felt so far from You
when You wanted me close

We learn of a strange bond
that makes Us less deserving
of others help
coming from the best parts of Us
at the bottom

three or four conversations
that bring Us closer each year
relationship seasoning
enriching our shared soul
as life takes toll

- Love You..
We took each other through a lot.. everything changes, even mother and son.
Michael Hole Aug 27
Sorry, there is no poem this time.
I couldn't think of things that rhyme.
Whaddaya know, I found a way!
Happy Fifty-Eighth Birthday!!

Do something that makes you laugh.
Get drunk and try not to ****.
Dance until your feet get sore.
Then sleep and know that you're adored.
Simon Soane Aug 17
You unforcefully cram
your particles
into every time
of loveliness,
seldom rocked
by
the
tick
tock;
minutes are just moments
that bring
all
your
joy.
AestheticAbi Aug 16
Mother I love you
But I cannot be you
Mother I hear you
But I cannot understand you
Mother I see you
But I cannot find you
Mother I care for you
But I cannot always take care of you
Mother you’re dead to me
But I cannot bury you
: (
Damian Murphy Jul 30
Much harder than your own pain to bear
Is the pain of one for whom you care,
Their pain for yourself you would welcome
If it would ease their suffering some.
Nigdaw Jul 24
I have seen them,
lost among the rows of Marble and Granite
quietly whispering conversations
left too late in life

tears flooding from ducts
that spontaneously leak with sorrow
emotion they have no control of
bursting from deep within

they lay flowers
and sometimes trinkets, imagining
somewhere
the person they are talking to
is watching over them

last weekend it was my turn
for the first time, laying my offering of roses
though I didn't know what to say
except,
"Happy birthday Mum"
wc Jun 21
my mom is lovely
we argue and fight, but she
will always be there
Next page