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KarmaPolice Apr 2014
The world is such a tormented place,
Haunted by the insecurities of every race.
Obsessed with greed and absolute power,
The dictators rained on the weak,
With a gun filled shower.

Brave men were enlisted to bring peace to the land,
To help the weak be strong and to make a stand,
Women and children were left abandoned, alone,
While their men were out fighting protecting our home.

Families shattered by one single blast,
Congregating together in one single mass.
Weeping beside a freshly dug grave,
Lay a widow wishing that he had not been so brave.

We will remember him always for his courage and valour,
By honouring his name in silence upon the eleventh hour.
Rest in peace my friend we are forever in your debt,
We will pray for you all.... lest we forget.
Alison Apr 2014
People tell stories of phantom limbs
pieces of themselves that were lost
were severed
that they can still feel.
They are haunted by what they once had
an itch here
an ache there
ghost sensations as powerful as the real thing.
You are my phantom limb.
You fill the hole in the center of my chest
with a continuous presence
that radiates outwards
in soft gray waves.
I feel your fingers on my stomach
your lips on my cheek
your heat mingling with mine.
Always.
Pleasure mixed with pain.
Because there is pain, yes.
Pain of remembrance
pain of what I left behind
pain of what I must wait to regain.
But there is so much more than that.
A which sort of beauty,
my little ghost heart.
And while there are those
who reject the invisible part of themselves
I relish it.
My constant reminder
that you were once in my arms
that we truly have touched
that this love has an origin.
My little ghost heart.
AD Sifford Apr 2014
Remember us?
Remember then?
Those days you used to call me friend

Our hearts were close
Our bond was strong
Now it feels it's been so long

Once you felt
And once you cared
For all the moments that we shared

Now, as I try to get my head clear
I find myself wishing
That you were still here
|Written 2010}
from my *Emerge collection, being poem #3.

The original poem had a very much lighter color applied to it than the other poems in the collection, so that it looked faded.
I later revisited and altered/expanded this poem, under the title "Then".

© 2017 A.D. Sifford.
I'm okay with you sharing my poetry, I just ask that you show courtesy bey being honest and attributing it to my name. Thank you,
- Sifford
Harkaran Mar 2014
I've been to Heaven
and the Earth was right
Heaven is a broken lie
All things must wither and die

Fog and dew on grass
Stew left to boil
And night water mixed
With my homeland soil

His white flowing beard
And slight twinkle in eyes
Tanned arms and firm hands
And a deep, reaching voice

The faintest glow
Somewhat aquiline nose
His weather beaten face
And the strongest of brows

But I've been to heaven
And the Earth was right
Heaven is a broken lie
All things must wither and die

Choked morning with skies bent
With smoke and a sickly stench
And my grandfather's door
Which I didn't open anymore

I couldn't see him wilting
And catch his frame in decay
His cocoa eyes still beaming
As cancer took him away

And wouldn't it be biased
If I say it was untimely
And for such a pure soul
God and nature acted unkindly?

So what had to happen
Has happened and no change
Can be brought forth now
In God's ways so strange

And in the ashes beyond
The trees have taken root
On the windiest of days
Beside unripe fallen fruit

I've been to Heaven
and the Earth is right
Heaven is broken
All things must wither and die
Thanks for reading.
Carlos Molina Mar 2014
My soul becomes
conspicuously absent,
the day your ephemeral memories
sink into the deep waters of my solitude.

— The End —