"boarded" poems
There will be gloomy days when
you will look back at your old self
and think about this one choice you made that
changed your life in many ways
You will think about the day you decided to leave
You left family and friends behind
hoping to find a better future on the other side
You were young and naïve
you were that quiet kid that
no one thought could ever leave
yet, on that September 6th 2013
holding hands with Fear and Hope
you boarded a plane that took you miles away
There will be gloomy days when
you will wonder why
on that day Fear didn’t pull you aside
and tell you that life
wasn’t going to be as bright on the other side
You will wonder why that quiet kid
had this strong need to leave
You will look back in sadness
and grieve the loss of those happy times you took for granted
You will be drinking the same coffee
mum used to make you on a Saturday morning
and you will be listening to those songs
dad used to play in the car on a Sunday afternoon
You will grieve what it feels like a loss
of those you have always loved
It’s on these days that you will feel alone the most
Inside your head it will be as dark as the sky
on a rainy winter afternoon
and your eyes will be as heavy as grey clouds
ready to let the rain pour down
It’s on these days that you will grieve the most
Though, they say there is always calm after a storm
and no matter how brief it can be
you will eventually find some peace
and it’s within this peace that
you will find the strength to remember that
not everything is as gloomy as it seems
It’s within this peace that
you will honour that quiet kid
who is no longer as quiet as they used to be
and it’s within this peace that
you will celebrate their new life as a fearless kid
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 4:54 AM UTC
Hurt me
Whips and blindfolds
Submission
Boarded up bedrooms
Leather
Fetishes
Being satisfied
Hard bulbous *** toys
Using flavored lubricants
Deep scratches
Red marks
Bruises
Rope burn
Pulling
Smacking
Biting
Smothering
Sitting
Licking
Pleasure
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
Tool of desperate confrontation
Object of pride for a grateful nation
In Baton Rouge on the mighty river
Kidd rests proudly
376' length overall, Fletcher Class destroyer
Like every ship, of oil she does smell
When I boarded her, she had something to tell
I was with a scoutmaster, my son and the boys
Concerned with their fun, and the making of noise
But late in the night, as quiet set in
Kidd started whispering, to my within
She spoke of the men who gave up their lives
Their children, their girls, the tears of their wives
Thirty-eight men, in fiery fuel
Hell's agony touched, a death so cruel
Fifty-five more, burned badly that day
Defending our country, our homage we pay
Visiting sailors will stand at attention
… and for a young Kamikaze, scarcely a mention
The big war was over, Kidd passed her test
Now to San Diego, for a permanent rest
But as men will prescribe, it didn’t last long
Kidd went back into action, near Korea’s Kaesong
When in Baton Rouge, you can visit the Kidd
If you’re bold, listen carefully, just as I did
You'll get half of the story, the rest we don't know
The men who have fallen, to Kidd's mighty blow
Let's set a new tone and have us some fun
The Kidd's crew were pirates but they didn't run ***
Those flat-tops were fancy, their flyers elite
In the galley was ice-cream, their reward and their treat
When a pilot was downed, Kidd quickly steamed
Then radioed the skipper, "your man for ice-cream"
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 5:46 PM UTC
.
**the future is...a tornado of uncertain-
ty• a swirling vortex, in its centre is
me•such power and speed, can ne-
ver see•can never foretell, it's hid-
den debris•like clockwork, it will
make contact•by the second, bra-
cing for next impact•the past is...
yet another•wild winds that echo
my mistakes as reminder•this twis-
ter within...tearing with no remo-
rse•destroying confident strong-
holds, breaking feebly boarded
doors•can't ease the rage...eat-
en from the inside•won't stop
until...my beating heart had
died•the present is...only this
frail little body•fighting huge
battles that come incessantly
•fending off the future, con-
taining the past•not know-
ing how long.......this disas-
ter would last•but I'm still
here.....still holding integ-
rity......•still fighting this
war waged in history's
folly•will i be settl-
ed? will the winds
ever abate?•
will i ever
come to
terms...?
will i
ever
acc-
ept
fa
t
e
?
•**
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
i left your wine glass
on my bedside table
for seven days
it settled in the very place
that your hands had aimlessly
chosen
staining a ring around a mostly empty bodice.
mostly empty?
barely full?
you see, for me,
the wine glass was
my way of having you
stay as long as I wanted.
I saw your delicate
fingerprints stamped upon
the stem and body
just as they were on mine, under a tin roof
amidst a blanket of summer rain.
......
i washed the glass tonight
as you boarded the plane to the rest of your life.
i wonder if you'll think of me as you sip on your complimentary glass.
rouge ou blanc, mon amour?
rouge comme mon amour?
ou blanc comme mon remise?
-Anna Blake
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 9:31 PM UTC
My body is frozen and my heart is filled with dread,
I see her shock with the shaking of her head,
I screamed out “NO” and offered to take Prim’s place,
Effie called his name to and we went up with haste,
They took us to a room where we said our goodbyes,
I promised to win as I started to cry,
The group was quiet as we boarded the train,
I meet out mentor Haymitch and he seemed far from sane,
We meet the other tributes all different in size,
Some seemed very foolish but other seemed wise,
We practice all day to make sure we were fit,
For the pain we will endure will be far worse than just a hit,
I know I should save Peeta as a repayment of my debt,
But I remember my promise to prim and I’m filled with regret,
After I say goodbye to Cinna I see the Arena and feel pain,
Why did Peeta and I both have to be in the Hunger games.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
I did not hesitate when I boarded the train,
caught between the salt and German time;
with fingernails yellowed with cigarette grime,
to come to Paris for it's tepid, sweet rain.
Nor I did tremble with with fear and strain,
flexing my pride in Prague with the prime
that only is granted to the young, at nighttime.
I left nothing back by or in home, but I feign--
for crookedly placed by the cold Danube,
I felt a finger of hurt despite my endeavors;
for as water pooled in those iron shoes,
I felt everything that I didn't wish to remember.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
Behind all of the glamour
Hidden by the glitz
Under all the spray on tans
And distracted by the ****
Lies a Vegas like no other
Not the one you wish to see
The other side of Vegas
Has a cost, it isn't free
A parade of homeless people
Far off strip are daily seen
Heading for a bed and meal
Away from where the grass is green
The locals all accept it
It's a darker part of town
Where there's fewer painted smiles
On this Las Vegas clown
Every other building
Is boarded up or framed
In steel bar covered windows
With no winners at the game
The goal of all the walkers
Is to get to the next day
They can't afford to leave here
They can't afford to stay
Each walkway full of hawkers
Selling water for a buck
Passed out drunks all sleeping
Hoping you will toss a buck
Some saints and many sinners
Came to find the life they lead
Is not the one they looked for
When they came here to fill their greed
Don't look behind the curtain
You will not like what you will find
The darker side of Vegas
Is not one that's in your mind
A parade of desperate people
Walk the streets each night alone
Past the empty buildings
Pass the bail bonds, guns and loans
To truly see Las Vegas
You have to venture off the strip
Into a world of darkness
And in truth, it's a short trip
Behind the glitz and glamour
Away from where the tourists go
Is the dark side of Las Vegas
That only few will ever know
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 6:31 PM UTC
there was a little cheetah he had a dream one day
to run in the olympics in a land so far away
he boarded on a plane and flew across the sea
to a place in russia where the games would be
he went to the track a runner he would be
running in a marathon a sporty cat was he
then the time had come for the cheetahs race
he stood in a line and cheetah took his place
now the race was on cheetah took it slow
took it nice and easy with a steady flow
they ran for quite a while the race was very long
cheetah had a finish that was so very strong
as the finish neared he come to the front
then stepped us his speed like being on a hunt
he went like a train like the speed of light
and flew across the finish line with no one else in sight
his mission it was over and his race one won
he enjoyed his holiday that gave him so much fun
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 5:23 PM UTC
#*Penning down the thoughts
Am I not done with the words
Have I used them all?
**Round and round
Thoughts and words
In the loop bound**
The thoughts have been naughty
Jump off the mind cliff, doughty
Don’t want to be worded
Flight to nowhere boarded
Off the radar crash land , all spotty*#
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC
I once rode the city bus in New Orleans
To rest my feet and see the town
A couple minutes in a young boy boarded
Took the seat across from me and sat down
**** Love" was tattooed across his knuckles
Our eyes met and he looked at me knowing
And I just smiled and looked away
Abruptly, he asked where I was going
I told him I wanted to explore the city
He told me to steer clear of certain places
And told me which roads were safe
That some areas are dangerous for girls with pretty pale faces
We chatted for a while longer
And when we reached his stop he bid me farewell
I smiled and told him goodbye
Little did he know he gave me a grand story to tell
And I tell it frequently
My brief meeting with **** love boy
He gave me a memory to look on
When I need some joy
I'll always remember
People aren't always what they seem
And think of **** love boy
That I met in New Orleans
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:47 AM UTC
I’d worked late the previous night,
programing applications.
When the alarm went off at four A.M.
I hit snooze- no hesitation.
Eventually my feet found floor,
I stumbled to the shower.
A routine usually done in ten
took me a half an hour.
I was running up the platform steps
but my train just left the station.
Great, I will be late for sure,
I thought, in consternation.
At least the day was perfect,
Warm and clear, no threat of rain.
I fished and found my ticket
and took the next westbound train.
The ”E” was fairly crowded
When I boarded it at Penn
I’d missed the first and I was glad
Another quickly came.
Beneath the streets of Gotham
The subway lurched downtown.
Above all hell was breaking loose
as two large planes were down.
I climbed the stairs up to the street
And entered the inferno
The sky now black from billowing smoke
Bright day turning nocturnal.
A Seven thirty Seven’s wheel-
I heard a woman screaming
I saw a body at my feet
Were we at war or was I dreaming?
I stared up at my window-
where I worked the night before.
Where flames and smoke leapt to the sky-
where my co workers were no more.
They’re jumping, someone shouted
I saw black specks launch from on high.
Better to die upon the street
Than to suffocate or fry.
I turn and ran, I am ashamed.
No Hero’s tale to tell.
I was a safe way away
when the first tower fell.
Had I not hit the button
or dawdled in the shower.
Had I caught my usual train
I’d be dead in the tower.
This is my shame and burden
To live when others died.
Preserved by fate and circumstance
From terror from the sky.
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 11:04 PM UTC
At birth, we boarded the train of life and met our parents, and we believed that they would always travel by our side. However, at some station, our parents would step down from the train, leaving us on life's journey alone.
As time goes by, some significant people will board the train: siblings, other children, friends, and even the love of our life.
Many will step down and leave a permanent vacuum. Others will go so unnoticed that we won't realize that they vacated their seats! This train ride has been a mixture of joy, sorrow, fantasy, expectations, hellos, goodbyes, and farewells.
A successful journey consists of having a good relationship with all passengers, requiring that we give the best of ourselves. The mystery that prevails is that we do not know at which station we ourselves will step down. Thus, we must try to travel along the track of life in the best possible way -- loving, forgiving, giving, and sharing.
When the time comes for us to step down and leave our seat empty -- we should leave behind beautiful memories for those who continue to travel on the train of life.
Let’s remember to thank our Creator for giving us life to participate in this journey.
I close by thanking you for being one of the passengers on my train!
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC
**^
/ \
I| \
I| /
I| . >
I| \
I| /
I| >
I| >
I| .\
I| .>**
•you found
a key that wasn't yours
•brazenly opening and entering
boarded doors•pardon this intrusion,
i do so unwillingly•although i only
have myself to blame for
not treading this path,
cautiously...•
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
Maybe you're the colosseum. The code to get through the glass doors is actually just '1954'. You could put up the painting of me at auction, or I could take a cruise from London to the Islands North of Siberia, a stop in a department store in Northern Greece. I stop and take a ride in the middle front-third seat of a older friend's younger brother's car, and force all of them to come outside and see the spider's eggs at Bob-o-Link. Massive cornucopias of cotton walls entwined with silk.
In the department store I ask to be introduced to someone who can take me by the hand and recognize me by my number, show me everything I'll need to shoot a full-length feature, even how I can get to Prague so I can do a little shopping. But the horror of seeing is so frightening, and the girl that I came with wants to do nothing.
I find a little shop selling Czech candies, music, and newspapers, so I try to buy everything but the horror is getting closer. I'm in a lazy Susan, how often does that happen? One more turn and I'll lose my stomach contents and then I won't need anything.
I take a climb up a street that says "Smrzlinu Ahead," but the houses on the street are all either empty or boarded up. I drift in the soccer field, watching my legs, looking over my shoulder. I fall for a pile of clothes that can hide me but are also very soft to lay in.
Another cruise- tropical, perhaps? Somewhere for coy adults, who shed their skin in Winter when their eyes start molting off. Someday I will place both hands into the ocean, I'll dream huge, and go swimming until I start to laugh. One day I'll sink to the floor of the bourn, maybe the same day I wake up and I'm not swimming alone.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:28 AM UTC
Someone said my monkey's dead,
But confusion hit their head,
Made them think that this is true,
I'm in a funk, what can I do?
Then they soon told my neighbors, yes,
Put my monkey to the test,
Called the papers just long enough to say,
Yes, my monkey ran away.
I searched high, and I searched low,
Dropped a rock upon my toe,
Hit my head on a doorway hard,
Couldn't find my monkey in the yard.
Traveled to the mountains nearby,
Looking for monkey made me cry,
Saw the clouds come floating by,
A speck of dirt flew in my eye.
Checked the traveling circus troup,
For details on missing monkey scoup,
Learned that he had traveled through,
What am I supposed to do?
Boarded a boat set for the Indian Ocean,
Got sea sick from the crazy motion,
Tried to eat, but it all came up,
Couldn't drink the swirl in my cup.
Once in Africa, deep in the jungle,
Searched for monkey and took a tumble,
Found a panther hiding in the bush,
Felt flat hard upon my ****
So, no monkey, not anywhere,
Does the world so truly care?
Waited patiently in a Star Bucks shop,
In came monkey and my coffee I dropped.
Called him by his first name, Charles,
Saw him stare and then he snarled,
Ran so fast for the door, he did,
What a silly and audacious kid.
Ran pursuit down a cobbled stone road,
Saw my monkey drop his precious load,
Screamed at him to stop and say,
Where he goes on this very day.
When my breath was heavily panting,
Stopped my call and my ranting,
Figured if he so desperately was going,
No more to care and no more knowing.
Monkey, monkey where are you?
Are you hiding in the zoo?
Will you ever be around?
You're a silly, slippery clown.
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 5:33 AM UTC
The footsteps echoed on cobblestones
When a chime rang ten of the clock,
As a sailor making his way back home
Was walking up from the dock,
It was cold and dark for the lights were out
And the street was wet with the rain,
When he came to an old red telephone box
At the side of a narrow lane.
The clouds were black and they opened up
So he stepped in out of the wet,
Dropped his swag as it turned to hail
And lit up a cigarette,
The box was ancient, was George the Fifth
And hadn’t been used for years,
But stood in a lane that time forgot
When the rot set in, and worse.
For most of the houses were boarded up
And the weeds had grown outside,
Some had embarked for a tree-lined park
And some of the others died,
It was lonely there in the dark of night
As the sailor waited, he sang,
But stubbed his cigarette out in fright
When the telephone next to him rang.
He stared at it for a while before
He raised it, stopping the bell,
It had an echoing, ghostly sound
Like you hear in a deep sea shell,
The sound of sobbing came to his ear
And he cried, ‘Who’s there, what’s wrong?’
‘Oh God, I’ve waited forever my dear,
I’m locked in the basement, Tom!’
The sailor said that he wasn’t Tom
But she didn’t appear to hear,
‘He’s got an axe, attacking the door,
Be quick or he’ll **** me, dear!’
The sailor didn’t know what to say
But a chill ran up his spine,
‘Tell me, what’s your address,’ he said
‘Before you run out of time!’
‘I’m straight across from the telephone box,
You usually meet me here,
He’s found us out, and he screams and shouts
That he’ll **** you as well, my dear!
He just came home from a spell at sea
And called me a cheating *****
If you don’t come over and rescue me
He’ll have smashed his way through the door.’
The sailor wanted to say, ‘Enough!
It’s nothing to do with me,’
But flew on out of the telephone box,
Leapt over a fallen tree,
He raced right in through the open door
And he called, ‘I’m here, just wait!’
Then made his way to the cellar door
But all he could feel was hate.
The door was shattered, he walked right in
It was dark, there wasn’t a light,
He felt around for a candle, lit
And stared at the terrible sight.
A man lay dead on the basement floor
Where an axe had taken his life,
And there with her throat like an open sore
Was the body of his dear wife.
He staggered, stopped, and fell to his knees
And sobbed like a man insane,
‘Oh God, it’s true, I did this to you,
But my mind’s been playing games.
I thought if I went away to sea
I’d return to find they were dreams…’
As he sliced a razor across his throat
He thought, ‘Life’s not what it seems!’
David Lewis Paget
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 5:35 AM UTC
I boarded her heart.
Careful to follow the politics of comfort.
Too much weight on either side & We'll surely panic.
Tumbling down.
Spiraling out of control.
I packed light.
Finding everything I need on board.
I enjoyed my window seat.
Being her passenger.
The pleasantries of flying first class.
The view of a different country.
The tedious flutters of anticipation.
Constantly aroused by the exploration of beating hearts.
Continuing to see ourselves in reflection.
Flying destination after destination.
Going here, going there
Non stop.
If ever we should crash.
I'll live knowing this was the best flight I've known.
Light in heart.
Parachute untouched
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
We are just ghosts
Aimlessly passing the time,
Forgotten places
Left behind,
Boarded up doorways
Stained by decay,
Restlessly looming
In the deepening gray,
Disappearing beneath
The undergrowth
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
harry was a hedgehog he loved the rodeo
a visit to america decided he would go
he boarded on a plane to the U.S.A
way across the ocean so very faraway.
he headed for the venue to see the the rodeo
then he put his name down so he could have ago
harry was excited as happy as can be
now he could ride the rodeo for everyone to see
harrys name was called and mounted on his horse
now his time had come to ride around the course
he new all the tricks and new what to do
chasing after steer with his big lasso
people they all loved him shouted out for more
an hedgehog ride a rodeo they never saw before
hedgehog he was happy his dream it had come true
riding in a rodeo is all he longed to do
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
I'm a riddle in nine syllables,
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf's big with its ****** rising.
Money's new-minted in this fat purse.
I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I've eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there's no getting off.
4.6k
there was a little duck a clever duck was he
he just love the snow and he just loved to ski
he took a little trip for a skiing holiday
in the land of austria so very far away
packing up a bag he boarded on plane
sitting by the window to look out of the pane
he was very happy as happy as can be
and all along the mountain tops he could plainly see
he reached his destination and headed for the snow
with his little skis so he could have ago
he climbed up a mountain high up in the sky
then he could ski down again and watch the world go by
swerving in and out with his speed so fast
racing to the bottom till the finish line was passed
going over bumps flying through the air
jumping over everything he really didnt care
he got to the bottom is skiing it was done
it gave him such a thrill and he enjoyed the fun
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
Bottom feeders flourish
When the economy's a bust
When bad times are the norm
And good times turn to dust
When neighborhoods go south it's sad
But a sign of their demise
Is when a bunch of pawn shops open up
Before your very eyes
When stores close down or move on out
After years in the same place
Their memory is a radar blip
They leave without a trace
But as fast as they lock up their doors
Another shop moves in
It's the local pawn shop dealer
He's a shark without a fin
Like dollar stores and boarded doors
The pawn shop shows the way
That business has moved on out
Or closed or moved away
They prey on peoples hardship
They broker deals without a care
They don't need to know your history
They just know that you're there
The street has three new pawn shops
Palaces of buy back stuff
It's bad when there is one around
But, three...well that's enough
One opened by the Jeweller
Two doors down across the street
Now he's buying up possessions
Of everyone he meets
Folks who purchased jewellery
From Old Cy at his old store
For each twenty of it's value
The pawn shop gives you four
Cy can't afford to buy back
He doesn't have much money left
And besides his store insurance
Doesn't cover much for theft
The people at the Pawn shops
Took jobs and live in town
They trained two counties over
They succeed when times are down
It's a sign of the recession
Downtown dies and fades away
And then the bottom feeders surface
Their the ones who're gonna stay
You can look in the shop windows
Know who bought what and from where
You know the candlesticks were bought at Cy's
And you know who bought them there
The guitar that hangs beside them
That was pawned by Emma Rose
She needed money for the bills
When the fresh fish plant had closed
There's a snapshot of the township
Sitting inside on their walls
They pawn shop is successful
While the economy still falls
You can see a piece and start to cry
For you know just why it's there
There's no one here to help them
There's no jobs and it's not fair
They open up each morning
While the nights dregs still sleep outside
They have done two hours business
Before lights on at Cy's
It's a sad and constant story
Of just what a town's become
But when asked if they've been in there
The inhabitants go "mumb"
They never seem to close up
The town's never make it back
While most places lose money
Pawn shops make it by the sack
The bluesman has some stuff there
The bartender has some too
Even though her bar's still going
She did what she had to do
The street, it is it's own world
Jewelly shops, banks and bars
But inside the local pawn shops
Are hidden all the scars.
May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 7:54 PM UTC
there was a little hamster he boarded on a ship
took his little suit case for his little trip
he sailed across the sea on a great big boat
standing on the deck as it began to float
he was heading for america in the usa
to visit san francisco and its great big bay
he landed in america then headed for the shore
sat down by the bay then headed home once more
May 5, 2010
May 5, 2010 at 6:45 AM UTC
people drank and swayed as you stood up there
and oscillated your hands over the surface of the synthesizer
Ambience
all I heard was the thereminEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
I heard that as I boarded the subwayEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
and I thought about an orchidEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
You resembled an orchid.
An orchid, save my soul.
And so was I.
I went and saw you again playing the back alley
and you did it a cappella while people shrieked from their acid trips
Sad
and all I heard was your voiceEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
and I heard them as I fell onto the pavementAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
and I thought I saw an orchidEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAA
You still resembled an orchid.
An orchid, save my soul.
And so was I.
I bought the paper because it was routine
I read you had vanished, but your face was on the page
Smile
and all I heard was my voiceAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
and then I pictured the fireworksOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAOOOO
they looked like orchidsAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
You didn't resemble an orchid.
An orchid, save my soul.
And so was I.
I pulled over on the highway, I saw a ghost
He got in the car and it was so cold, I thought about my disbelief
Disappointment.
I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw a ghost
Its hand were big and nimble, its head a large inflorescence
Pretty
and I heard the thereminEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
the fireworks in my headOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOO
and our voices.
You resembled an orchid.
An orchid, save my soul.
An orchid, save my soul.
An orchid, save my soul.
And so was I.
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC