Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
George Krokos May 24
Over the past year or so I've become a little bit more extroverted
as I'm not meditating as much these days like I used to be
and this may not be such a bad thing if my mind isn't perverted
or led astray on the wrong path most of the world is we see.
But here again this could be just an admission of weakness
trying to justify the position that I now find myself to be in
along with the rest of the world experiencing a global sickness
in the form of the Covid-19 pandemic the result of man's sin.
The madness of this world has brought on this pandemic
and the underlying cause of it is systemic.
Written in March 2021.
Do you ever get deathly afraid
of your heart exploding?
Maybe you haven't felt like yourself
and you worry maybe you're nearing your end.
You sit up at night thinking about
this phantom illness that chills you.
You crank the heat, but you shiver in fear
at the thought of leaving this world.
In times of sadness, you thought
it might be okay to be dead.
That in comparison to the suffering
darkness would make it all okay.
But as you think this sudden change
could by some percentile mean your death.
You long for all the years ahead of you
and shed tears for your children you'll never meet.
You cry in terror until finally spared by sleep,
and maybe feel better when you awake.
You may even get some long-term relief
by way of some doctor assuring you that you're fine.
But it will only be a matter of time
before your anxiety convinces you yet again
that you are not long for this world.
And you feel stupid
for essentially worrying over nothing.
But you do hope with all of your being
in spite of past suicidal thoughts
in spite of the heartache you've experienced...

You hope with all of your being
that you might just manage to live a long, happy life.
We are all just ticking time bombs. All we can do is hope our timer is a long one.
this once sound vessel
succumbing to agony,
as if scuttled by
a siren at sea,

and in her heart
flutters and sunbeams,
she's not alone
in her dreams,

there's a torch light
with wings, dancing
about her wounds,

it burns of empathy,
but too numb to feel the pain
of her dying rooms,

hereabouts goodbye,
under the silk of anesthesia,
she whispers,
"blade of grass, then away we fly..."

M Vogel Feb 28
D Vanlandingham

..turn on,
and faucets.. they turn off
but the fear of the lord
remains forever.

  The reality-shifts within
your ever-controlling  need
to define,  change nothing

  or maybe it does--

  "Hot, into cold;
and now white, into black
what was once good, now
becomes  'bad'" --

   Life..  into that,  of  (non.)
Your need for me to now be
those things,  has caused

      that very end,  indeed.

.. and now I am become, death
the destroyer of worlds--

have a nice day xo
Death is within sight
Time to go into the light
Return to where all are from
Time to see our fathers son
I leave this world of sickness and pain
No longer a reason to remain
Today death is within sight
Not long before I go into the light

Written by
Michael Matthews
Elioinai Jan 28
Something good is coming
Something good is coming
Hope whispers to me
Though my strength lies down to sleep
It has not been plundered
My bright future Love keeps
Safe for me
Though my strength lays down to sleep
It will rise up in Joy
my eyes upon the East
as the sun braves the sky
Andy Chunn Jan 25
She came from nowhere, mouse-like quiet
At first we thought it’s just a trick
But soon her powers were dark like night
We saw her strength cut to the quick.

Covidia came from foreign lands
But traveled fast with power and speed
And she was subtle with sneaky hands
She quickly knew our wants and needs.

Some ignored her presence here
And chose to be aloof and brave
They would never express their fear
Freedom was their cry to save.

Others feared with cautious worry
And wanted to precautions take
At first we thought there is no hurry
But soon we rippled in her wake.

Covidia forced a change in life
Restrictions limit what we do
Isolation and the daily strife
Removed the things we thought we knew.

She swept away our social life
She caused our isolation
She propagated grief and strife
A plague upon our nation.

Many chose to ignore her power
And haughty would proclaim beliefs
But on the deathbed they did cower
And beg for peace and just relief.

Respect her and her powers now
She’s ruled us for some time
But slowly we will find out how
To stop her on a dime.

A normal life returns someday
Covidia will be lost
Never forget the price we’ve paid
The death and all the cost.
Sarah Flynn Dec 2020
when I was a child,
my mother was never there.

I believe that her absence
was a factor in my fate,
part of the reason that
I went searching for love
in all of the wrong places.

I believe that her absence
is one of the reasons why
I became a mother so young.

it wasn't her fault, not entirely.
it wasn't fully my fault either,
nor the fault of the man
who had fathered my child.
it was no one's fault.

I was pregnant, and placing blame
couldn't change that fact.

I was still a child
when I learned that
my own child was
growing inside of me.

I was scared
and sad and lost.
I wasn't ready.

when they put that
cold goo on my belly,
and my son's little body
formed on that screen,

I already knew that I would
do anything for my child.
my son was my world
before he even entered it.

but before my son's eyes
opened on this planet,
tragedy struck.

I woke up in a hospital bed.
I was told that I was alive
and that my son was alive too.
an emergency C-section
was able to save him.

the first time that I saw him,
I wasn't allowed to hold him.
he had tubes coming from
every part of his tiny body,
and a ventilator was
breathing air into his lungs.
he looked so fragile, almost
like a porcelain doll.
it almost looked like
none of it was even real.

the NICU doctors
read me an entire book
of my son's diagnoses,
medical terms with words
too long for me to understand.

the only part that I heard was,
"you might want to start
saying your goodbyes."

I refused to say goodbye,
and my son refused to give up.

my baby was a fighter.
he beat the odds over
and over and over again.

he grew stronger and
healthier every day.

eventually, I was told
that I could take him home.
I was also told that his time
with me would be limited.

my son's father
read one page from
that long book of diagnoses,
and he was overwhelmed.
he walked out on us.
I wasn't angry at him.
I was overwhelmed too

but I wouldn't leave.
I would be there for
every moment of his life
and every breath that he took.

it was me and my son
against the world.
we were inseparable.

I read him books
every night before
I tucked him into bed,
even when he was
too young to understand me.

I kissed him on his forehead
and I told him that
I would never leave him.

I promised my baby
that I would be the mother
that I never got to have.

my son fought
harder than anyone
who I have ever known.

despite the hospitals
and the medicine
and the surgeries,
he was a happy baby.
he had no idea that he
wasn't like every other kid.

he laughed and he cried
and he smiled that big smile
when I held him close to me.

and then the day came
when I had to say goodbye.

I had that same
heartbreaking feeling
that I did when I first
learned of his existence.
I wasn't ready.
I would never be ready.

all that I have left of
my baby are photographs
and memories and a
small, pale green urn
sitting on my dresser.

my son is gone.
my baby left this earth
not even a few years
after he had entered it.
my only child
was taken from me.

I still have these strong
maternal instincts.
I feel a need to protect
someone who no longer
needs my protection.

I am missing a child
who will never come back to me.
I am broken.
I am so broken.

this gaping hole
in my life will
never be filled.

I was a child
with no mother,

and now
I am a mother
with no child.
Next page