Birdy 2d

Don’t be scared
that 
I’ll ever forget you
.
Believe me:

I remember every

touch

and every

breath

as if it happened

yesterday.

Believe me, I wouldn't forget you if I wanted to.

Just in case this all falls through
And one of us can or cannot be
Exactly who we wish to be
Would you remember me as I am right now?
And I'll remember you like this
As the girl of dreams
Mixed with the memory of what could've been

Sometimes... These things just crop up. No clue where they come from.
allie Apr 3

a swarm of thoughts
as i read
as i write

1. sitting at a desk. i'm not alright.
2. seven birds hover.
3. can i escape the past?
4. is my life all that bad... i'm alright now.
5. bats that circle and block the sun
6. the ruler whipping down on my hands, my feet, my everything
7. souls gather and gather
8. oh the abuse i have suffered from you
9. lists and lists and lists and lists
10. my death. painful or peace?
11. shutupshutupshutup
12. unnecessary dreams and cliches
13. the wooden stick sits by you as i stare
14. the angry yelling words
15. tomanytomany
16. the end.

If you don't understand, look closer at my list. It's not as it seems; some are memories, some are just thoughts.
Brent Fisher Mar 24

Oh wise worry, weep not for me,
keeper of my words and memory,
when you think of me, my works,
the phantom of I that still resides,
my shadow that falls, cast on walls,

oh wise, wonderful worry, weep not,
I would not need your wanton tears,
instead, think upon the years I was,
my smiles, those silly, willful laughs,
times filled with wiles, wise worry;

Do not miss me, or mourn me, love me;
Bring back those blessed days of before,
kiss me tenderly, hug me, even if bitterly,
time is bent, you see, so return to me,
embrace me, oh wise worry, weep not,

we have nothing but eternity.

elle Mar 6

Where did all the children go?
The wails of parents resonate
Homes stripped of joy and cheer
What do you mean, Christmas spirit?

The wails of parents resonate
But there's nothing they can do
What do you mean, Christmas spirit?
Here's a red poppy, please feel better

There's nothing they can do
but try their hardest not to cry
Here's a red poppy, please feel better
but nothing will ever be the same

While they tried their hardest not to cry,
the cold marble wall filled with the names of their children
reminded them that nothing would ever be the same
And all they could think of was, where did all the children go?

visited pearl harbor, may have cried a little (or a lot)
The Lonely Bard Feb 16

It had been a moonlit night then,
Watching the towed flaccid raft,
I thought that I had seen her resting,
Exhausted there on the wooden craft.

I called her out unbeknownst her name,
"Hey young lady," to which she responded not,
She had looked up once in anguish & collapsed,
I had thought that I had seen despair in her amber eyes & must help her.

The crewmen had then been doing the padles after resting,
I had called my captain and asked him if he could see a girl in the raft,
The captain had just smiled and said, "You should get married commodore,"
I must have looked apprehensive so he had said, "There's no girl."

True he had been as she had just disappeared,
I had then started thinking of my sleep needs that day,
I had again looked around hoping to find the girl,
I had surely compromised my routine as the commodore.

Then I had immediately realized it to be my wild phantasm,
Surely that had just been a tired sailor's mind's illusion,
For no mermaids ever existed in the real world and were fake,
I had then turned back towards the deck to go back to my bunk for sleeping.

As I had climbed down the stairs to enter my room amazed and confused,
I had seen her standing as she had been waiting for me by the side of my bunk,
I had accepted the my mind's delusion & started to lie down,
She had said, "I'm as real as your thoughts, don't fear me."

She & I-me & her, had the best time that night,
In the morning she had been gone & simply gone,
Disappeared into thin air while I was asleep,
Each day I so dearly longed for her to return.

My HP Poem #1442
©Atul Kaushal

Oh, Abernathy
How long has it been
Since we left school
And went our separate ways?

Oh, Abernathy
I still think of you
And I wonder how you are
To this day

All the things we used to make
All the rules we tried to break
And they say that kids will still be kids

But, oh, Abernathy
The teachers are doing fine
They were smiling
When I visited them one day

And, oh, Abernathy
I hope you're doing well
Wherever you are
Whatever may come your way

Oh, the memories I hold dear
They have all but disappeared
It's both a blessing and a curse

Oh, Abernathy
My Lawrence, Abernathy
I wonder what you're doing
To this day

There's no need to be upset
Please don't sweat this stuff or fret
I only want to let you know

Abernathy, you're still on my mind
I remember your golden hair and your pearly eyes
Our friendship will never fade away, I swear

Oh, Abernathy
Dear Lawrence, Abernathy
I just pray to God
That you are still okay

Oh, Abernathy
I always think of you
And I wonder how you are
To this day

For my primary school crush, Abbie, at Shepherd's Down School...

Heavily inspired by "Angie" by The Rolling Stones.

Sorry I missed Valentine's Day for this.
Neville Johnson Jan 30

Memories of you linger and flicker
Over the sands of the time
In wonder I treasure those times together
When the feeling was sublime
You may be gone but not the thought
Of the love that once we knew
So when I pause to remember
In all candor, the thought of you renews
Good wishes I send — that’s all I can do
To the one in the end who loved me so true
For which I shall ever give thanks
Dearest one, I’ll think of you
At the setting of my sun
For once a upon a time
Love was all we knew
The glory of me and you
In the time when we were one

Carl Halling Jan 24

I feel a deep, deep sorrow,
As life nears its final page,
The hardship that comes with age,
I simply can’t help but rage,

But somehow, there’s a special sorrow,
In tears cried for love long gone,
In remembrance, suffuséd with pain
Of my lost angel.

I feel a deep, deep sorrow,
In promise that’s unfulfilled,
In youth that has been misspent,
In a life with so much regret,

But somehow, there’s a special sorrow,
In tears cried for love long gone,
In remembrance, suffuséd with pain
Of my lost angel.

Angel, I remember you,
I’ve missed you for so long,
Angel, you belong
To memories,

Angel, when I think of you,
I hear sad romantic songs,
Songs that make me long
For yesterday.

I feel a deep, deep sorrow,
As life nears its final page,
The hardship that comes with age,
I simply can’t help but rage,

But somehow, there’s a special sorrow,
In tears cried for love long gone,
In remembrance, suffuséd with pain
Of my lost angel.

'In Remembrance of My Lost Angel' was written ca. 2016 as a lyric to a song, originally featuring different lyrics, and dating from towards the end of the millennium.
harlon rivers Jan 18

... a diary of the falling dominoes chapter

invisibly dying from the inside out
no one is looking into unseen eyes
no one can hear a muted voice fading
no one is close enough to be near

the deafening thrums echo
anxieties’ racing heartbeat
within morphing flesh shell ,
gasping for new breath
in a hovering stale silence

from a distance
the broken mirror ricochets a subdued light ;
much closer the reflection reveals
someone I once knew by heart

now an unrecognizable mask
enshrouds a terminal emptiness
inconspicuous at a fleeting glance ,
impossible to discern what storms rage
from the inside out ,... unnoticed  

an uncontained wildfire
smoldering within,  lies in wait
for the imminent winds of change
to fan the flames into the final
eternal silent ashes

a poet reaches out demurely
offering a candid look
into the window
of the imperfect human soul

there is no poetry
met by indifference
just gathered unread words scribbled,

squandered time
dripped slowly on an empty page ;
moments turn into days
days turned into years

invisibly dying from the inside out
an unfinished life trickles out
like seeping blood evanescing
from a bottomless puncture
wounding ... penetrating the heart,
leaching out the slow death of a poet

for poetry is only words unless they touch someone ...

befallen to indifference is poetic death
by salted paper cuts ...

a muting suffocation
that hiddenly erodes away,
silencing the passion
of a musing soul
one unread word at a time ...


© harlon rivers ... all rights reserved

it is an enigma how poetry evolves in meaning over time ―
like a self-fulfilled prophecy, some become transformational,
some become new beginnings or some become a finality
of a metamorphosis of peaceful endings or deleted attempts at understanding the misunderstood...

... all to be determined and allowed to let be
Next page