"burdened" poems
#*Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life?
Can it connect you to eternal beauty? Can it save you? Can it redeem you?
Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable?
Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart? Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name?
Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself?
Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind?
Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things?
Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights?
Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself?
Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe?
Can it know you through and through and still desire you?
Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing? Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles? Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters?
Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you? Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened?
Can it escort you to heaven’s banqueting table
and spread its banner of love over you?
Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing?
Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself?
Can it clothe you in robes of righteousness and garments of salvation?
Can it give to you praise in exchange for mourning?
Can it bestow on you a crown of beauty for ashes?
Can it turn your wailing into dancing?
Can it flood you with peace like a river?
Can it fill your heart with joy in the worst of afflictions?
Can it know the way to lead you home?
Can it refine you in its fire and bring you forth as gold?
Can it capture you fully even as it sets you fully free?
Can it ever truly be your Everything?*#
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 12:47 PM UTC
Mountains on mountains erupt from the earth's chambers of burdened lava and collapse back into their hellish landscape just as quickly
Waves assault the beach in frenzied randomness, striking their mark upon the sand and washing it away in the same breath
Birds flail about, learning to sail the clouds while dolphins soar their vast expanse of golden sea
People in suits war with each other for ****** glory, sign a strip of paper agreeing to stop, then ignorantly carry on their violent pastiche
Far away, tucked behind his world of scattered phrases and pretentious works of art, the writer observes all this
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Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 5:22 AM UTC
Rich People are pouring brandy in their glasses
as the winter freezes the ones from the lower classes
The lazy riches who do nothing are eating a lot
and the hardworking labourers are left to rot
The Greedy Sons of Man fight and die for money
collecting even a coin,like bees collect nectar for honey
Rich People are commiting crimes and moving free
as the poor are treated like dogs of low degree
Swanking their richness is their biggest pleasure
and the miseries of the poor are out any measure
The Money Hungry just want more of it all around
just like mud laden pigs roll in muddy ground
Rich People believe they are not bound to any rule
and the low classes are the ones who get fooled
Even the government listens to the Riches the most
and the others are burdened with rising costs
The Lettuce Frenzied are hoarding money in bank
just like dogs bury the bones in the lands
Rich People believe that they are of a superior race
and the low classes are the ones thrown into disgrace
Exploiting the poor is Rich People's favourite habit
and the others just watch,waiting for the same of it
The Money loving people can make the system bend
and why does this vicious beast of humanity has NO END ?
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 4:25 AM UTC
What a city I murmur to myself looking at its map.
We approached the city known as Dis,
with its vast army and its burdened citizens.
At last we reached the moats
dug deep around the dismal city.
What destroys the poetry of a city?
Automobiles destroy it,
and they destroy more than the poetry.
Dante and Virgil chased by 7 or 8 dangerous devils
Grumpy, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, ***** . . .
Our heroes reduced from metaphysical philosophers
interested in god and what man has done to man
to improvising primitive tools for survival.
Hope abandoned, we rate our chances of expiring
in the nuclear fire – excellent –
during the decline of western civilization.
On the other hand, I hope
our current problems are only temporary
and it’s just a matter of time before
the public ignores the 24-hour news cycle.
Bad news sells but the good life’s all around us.
One feels love and devotion
even for the 60 million who voted for our opponent.
Vaclav Havel said with a wisdom well beyond brilliance:
“Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
It is a dimension of the soul, and it’s not dependent
on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation.
It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart
that transcends the world as it’s immediately experienced.
It is not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense
no matter how it turns out.”
It resembles grief. But it's not quite grief. I'll give you grief.
Certain days planned to be eventful I look forward to for weeks.
Let the peaceful transfer of power proceed. The sorrow and the pity.
Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth.
When the laws are kept, how proudly the city stands!
When the laws are broken, what of the city then?
We are moving through some allegory between a City of Hope,
where history has been abolished, and a City of History,
where hope can be slipped in only as contraband.
Failing to achieve understanding, we're searching
outer space for an entity to unite us as humanity.
That person, or city, is consciousness.
Two ancient female poets are a revelation,
the clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
Our enemy eventually becomes our brother,
his misery lifted by coming to her city.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 9:23 AM UTC
Do you want a slice of cake,
might keep you going just for now.
But as you are not used to eating,
you have the hooves we'll keep the cow.
The modern world is dying younger,
unlike those in the poorer east.
Who die through lack of food and water,
we're dying because we're obese.
In this modern city arena,
it seems our portion is the more
free health and overwhelming safety
but we save that small slice for the poor.
The waste is massive, over burdened,
tons of food are chucked away.
As we stick to our sell by clearance
just think for what so many pray.
Do we need such a massive slice,
even half would fill our needs.
The west gets fat the east is wanting
scrubbing around for scraps and seeds.
So next time when feasting in McDonalds,
and washing down with large milkshake.
Try and see your own reflexion
and you'll see whom eats all the cake.
Before you leave that busy food-hall,
just have a quick look in the bin
and you will see the unholy waste,
perhaps you'll also see the sin.
The slicing of this planets cake
seems to be divided wrong.
So cut it into a fairer slices
and send it to where it belongs.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
As the violet of day
draws to a close...
Witnessed the dwindling
vermillion sun,
being swallowed
by the horizon.
Ever so slowly,
seconds stretched...
This moment here...
Captured...
and
froze.
Brushing off
the indigos
and
blues.
of the past,
Whilst I shed these
scarlet tears.
Burdened with
unfounded speculation
and fears.
Gifted the
lease of bravery
but I know...
it wouldn't last.
A final skirmish
between
night and light.
My crimson wings
spread to greet the.
green evening air.
Feather and wind.
spoke to each other;
quivered as if
the same story
they shared.
A conversation
that ended quickly before
both took
flight.
To the
highest heavens,
leaving a
trail of leaves
from days of
yellow...
Flying past the
blushing orange cheeks
of
sleeping clouds.
Evading the beckoning
of
night's curtains
and
shrouds.
Into the sun,
I would go.
Beyond world's end,
I would follow...
To find you
where the universe
would run its course.
I'd gladly soar through
spectrum's grain,
Through
unfamiliar realms
and
warped new planes.
Why?
Because
blood red
rubies
pump
through mine
and
garnets
flow
through yours...
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
What reason do we have to be angry.
What reason do we have to curse the stars
and all the threads that bind them.
Who's fault apart from ours is it,
that this is the hell that we have placed ourselves amidst.
Every point in our lives,
lying like a checkpoint,
glowing like a streetlamp in the dead of night.
At the feet of these golden warm, welcoming lights there lay a crossroad.
And we foolish children feeble in heart and mind fumble without a further thought.
We follow our hearts and we follow them into deep into the disguising dark.
-
Adventure was the death of us, antagonizing.
Adventure was heartache,
agony as evil wizards warped our worlds until we were weaning.
It wasn't too late before the brazen beasts had burdened our lives with ever more brutality.
Wolves hungry for the hearts of men, walking on hind legs to better hinder us with horrors.
This world is beautiful with wonder,
but it's wonders are like lights
upon the Lophiiformes head.
Bright, beautiful and inviting
But lead with haste into the jaws of oblivion,
well hidden amongst the dark.
N.H.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
I asked you
If you thought
You were capable of hurting me
You said you weighed 115lb
But a sliver of glass
Cannot weigh more than a few grams
Look what that can do
You are a shattered pane
That is all I feel
Your little slivers under my skin
You are not my mother
But I hear her in your voice
You have a mother's touch
It stings all to familiar
You broke the skin on my face
Open like a ripe peach
I suppose we are all capable of terrible things
But you burdened yours as love
Pressed it into my skin
And let me rot in silence
Apr 24, 2022
Apr 24, 2022 at 10:25 AM UTC
Madness stricken they left me here
to rot in my own sanity
a lost soul
burdened to dwell within the halls
of my broken mind
this is my cross to bare
and none shall ever know
on the outside I'm just myself
but inside I died long ago.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
He's her sickness, with him she's unwell
She's his drug, without her life's hell
He's her nightmare, with him she's frightened
She's his sweetest dreams, without her he's burdened
He's her despair, with him she's grieved
She's his hope, with her he's fulfilled
He's her failure
She's his success
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
Recovery is a long and painful process.
Its a lengthy, twisting, one way road.
It is not fair, life never is.
You need to accept that that is just the way it goes.
Broken hearts, they will never shatter even.
We were so close until the day she said she was leaving.
It was so easy for her to let us go.
She left me here alone and why I still don't know.
She thought I would be broken, as soon as she was gone.
Now it's time for me to prove that she had thought wrong.
Yes I cared about her; she had said she cared about me.
Those were empty words, burdened with all the lies that I now see.
It was far too perfect that I should have known it could never be true.
It hurts even after so much time; my recovery is beyond overdue.
I was blindsided; she always knew exactly the right words to say.
She made my heart race and I had never considered the chance that she would just walk away.
I wish I had known what she had planned to do.
Because she only proved why trusting people is not what I should do.
Now there are no more lies and I’m no longer waiting.
No more time of mine is she taking.
I am so done; I wasted so much of my time.
All on a girl who couldn’t even consider mine.
My heart still stands, as if it was never broken.
It is as strong as her lies, so easily spoken.
But the time I had with her I will never regret.
She taught me a few lessons that I will not soon forget.
The first thing I learned is to not trust someone with your heart,
Because in the end, it will likely end up ripped apart.
Then there’s lesson two, and this comes from a different part;
Do not be with someone if you already know you’re going to break their heart.
I’m done lying to myself and not completely accepting me.
It only took a broken heart and then the recovery.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 9:52 AM UTC
Shadows.
They are everywhere. In the corners, behind things, in front of things but the one that scares me the most is the one behind ME. He follows me where ever I go, dragging my past and secrets with him. I wish he would go away but then again, I don't. Because then I would be all alone. Only to watch the other shadows and think, "How many secrets is that one burdened with?"
My shadow has my past in a death grip and he won't let go of it. He holds on so tightly that I can't breathe. Strangling me so slowly that no one, not even their shadows, can see what is happening before it becomes to late and I am gone; along with my shadow,
so he never has to drag around my past and secrets again.
He will finally be free of me.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
The voices in my head, brought me to this place
A gloomy surrounding, everything looking lifeless and sad
I question myself, “Why am I here?”
But as I look ahead, I see a beautiful mountain; covered in fluffy snow,
Almost looking like the clouds.
Now, I am yearning to see the mountain up close,
But how do I get to see the best view?
With no one around, not even animals
Who do I go for, for advice?
I continue to look and walk around,
Still clueless, not sure what has drawn me to go on this journey
“It’s only a mountain,”
I tell myself.
Trying to figure out where the voices in my head came from
My mind is blocked
Can’t think straight or
See clearly
Everything is a blur.
Could this possibly be a dream?
I continue on with this journey
Trying my best to find a way to get to the snowy mountains
Tired and lifeless,
I pass out in the middle of nowhere
Flashbacks start to come
You were the voice in my head
Your harsh words,
Harsh words that brought me into this dark place
Left me feeling helpless and burdened
I get up and try to find a way out
Here I am standing, standing where I began
Looking at the mountain,
From where I’m standing, I question myself:
“Which way do I go?”
There’s the stream
A stream that’s aligned with the mountain
And the mountains with a path cleared out
Directing me to the snowy mountain.
The voices in my head
Preventing me from moving forward,
Drowning me with sadness.
The longer I’m here,
The more it overwhelms me
I’ve got to get out of here.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
When letters wait
to pounce on a blank page
when thoughts crowd the mind
like frothing **** in a pond
I keep wondering
what poetry is to me
what poetry is to many
Is it not the language of the heart
with no intervention of gray matter
the unlocking of closed vaults
stirring the embers of love, hurt or pain
or giving a free rein to fancy
and flying on magic carpets
to lands forlorn
Sometimes it is
a glide into a sea of tranquillity
an escape from
the humdrum of the world
a flash of liberation
from assaults of pain
a sedative
to numb the turmoil
a sanctuary
for a burdened heart
a window
to look at the world through
a companion
when one is inconsolably alone
a candle flame
in a darkening world
a cloth line
to hang the ***** laundry
a water lily blooming
in the pool of tears
a shelter
in homelessness
sometimes it is a ladder
to climb up to Heavens
an angel on wings
with tidings of hope
peace in a world
braced for war
Poetry, if you are all these
let us fall at your feet
bless us in our art
may we splurge in fancy
and conjure up worlds from words!
our poems may not be light houses
but could be fireflies
on a starless night!
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 11:56 AM UTC
The madness, the darkness has come seeping in,
once again I am burdened with my sin,
The thoughts, they swirl in a crazed tempo,
beating against my skull with the desperate fury of a dying heart.
I am drowning under a tide of pensive dispair,
Struggling to even gasp for air,
Oh! I lament my own awareness,
my jealousy is reserved for the blind.
Surely, I must be mad!
How could I not be with such anguish I am clad,
One true question remains.
Will I fade, implode, or explode with such force as to devastate my own?
Run! My darkness is no longer a flame lazing,
but an inferno blazing,
We all have our afflictions, mine is thought.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
When I discern a goal I want to meet,
I must fully commit to the process.
3 steps forward, 1 step back.
While it may not be perfect,
I am moving forward with resolve.
A slip is not a fall
Unless I put my hands down
And a fall is not a failure
Unless I accept defeat.
Because I was born with the power and strength
To stand up against gravity
And anything else that tries
To bring me to my knees.
But it is determination that gives me
The courage to keep going
When burdened by fear of failure
And the unknown.
When a tornado picks me up
And violently plops me down
In the land of insanity,
It is determination that returns me home,
Even when I thought it impossible
Because crazy had become my new norm.
And it is my determination to discover
My place in this world, my value
That keeps me present in my body
When all I want to do is run away.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC
LIGHTBULB.
Lightbulb; the moths flutter
and beat themselves to death against an idea.
A thought, vivid like glass, bright like tungsten-
glows.
I am reaching out to my mind again,
my wings burned and burdened...Wait.
I have lost track of my metaphors again...
But then again, like the moths,
I have lost track of many things-
except for the unknown light in front of me.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
Thing's that make me uncomfortable:
That feeling when you get mad at me,
because I didn't do the thing, you didn't ask me to do, cause I can't read minds; I'm not your parent.
That tone in your voice when you go off about how unfair the world is, triggered by the slightest setback.
The feeling when I sacrifice all that I am for the sake of your mood and happiness, in vain.
That sound of the exacerbated sigh when I ask you to run an errand, as if I am not also tired.
The pressure of carrying us both on broken legs.
The pit in my chest when I ask your opinion and you say "I don't care," but you actually do care, because whatever choice I make is laced in ridicule.
When you say you're doing something for me but you're just trying to make yourself feel better about doing it for yourself.
When you use my disorder as a justification or excuse, but when I actually need your help you seem burdened and annoyed.
That "okay then" moment when I give you everything you ask for and you take it as if you never wanted it.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 7:10 AM UTC
It's been ten years.
Ten years that I've been allowed to exist here.
Things here are beautiful
magnificent
fascinating and extremely exhausting.
There is so much to take in.
The rivers, crystal clear and endless.
The forests, lush and deeply green.
People are far and few between
and everything is amazing.
It's been one hundred years.
One hundred years and I still can't get enough.
Every night is filled with wonder.
Stars cover a velvety black night sky
and a softly glowing moon's rays caress the rolling hills and valleys.
Every day is full of adventure.
I feel like a small child, humbled at the bottom of a waterfall
sprayed down by cool mist
and I see her on the other side.
Grin, raise a hand in greeting, and wait for a response.
It's been only another ten years.
Now one hundred and ten years that I've been trapped here.
She is not like myself.
She can die, and unfortunately, I cannot follow.
Death would be a blessing.
Life is now a curse.
Great cities of stone and wood have risen up around me.
But I feel hollow
empty
burdened by the loss of her.
It's been one thousand years.
One thousand years that I have been exiled here.
The cities have grown and become still more populated.
Yet I am alone.
It is hopeless, pointless;
making friends, beginning even the most harmless of relationships
holds no appeal for me.
They all will die, for they are mortal.
And I shall be left, once again, with nothing but memories.
Life is now a chore, no longer a gift.
It's been ten thousand years.
Ten thousand years, and all hope is not lost.
Though the world is now entirely too full.
and city has turned to metropolis, so great are the numbers among me.
But I tell you my tale because you are like me.
No longer will my eternity be empty.
From master to servant you have turned me.
And I do not mind being vulnerable; opening up to you is
wonderful.
Things here are once more magnificent
now that I may see them through your eyes
by your side
my beautiful immortal.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 9:53 PM UTC
As I gaze upon the vast expanse of the night sky
As I look upon the greatness of the seas
As I ponder on the things I cannot know
As I dive into the deepest parts of me
It is there that I see and I come to believe
In the presence of one who at times reminds
The heart and soul of peace love truth there are signs
I am blind to my mistakes keep playing in my mind
There is chaos and sadness but sometimes I find
A love quiet and strong sadness and pain but hope in the rain
A stronghold a shelter when I am burdened and weak
It is here the presence resides that I seek
There is a longing an ache a burning I feel
So great that I am caused to kneel
But it is here somehow that something begins
In tears and in pain the great weight of my sins
Seems a little lighter and I know that God wins
He paid the greatest price on one fateful Friday
And He is faithful good and true in my day
Sadly it seems sometimes this world is forgetting
The kind of example that Jesus was setting
To show us the true meaning of life and love
What it is to be human and divine
A single candle in the dark can brightly shine
Illuminate my deepest darkest corners of me
Clear away the cobwebs, sweep away the dust
Clean this old house of pride, jealousy, and lust
Help me once again to see
Just how much you must love me
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
Prologue
casual glance at my notifications while driving even though
I’m all ready a bad bad boy, cruising at a sedate,
cruise-controlled 70 mph vs. the bureaucrat bifocals 55,
a remnant regulation of the Eighties,
all the while humming with Gilligan
“a 3 hour tour,
2 passengers set sail that day”
then execute a four lane 180,
gotta get highway sideway grassed ,
cause i’m gassed...
by a Poem Breach
of the poems promised by me,
to write of thee,
you, my best inspiration,
the list grows longer, faster
than the hours provided
pull over fast emergency for my composure breached,
my vision wetted, my eyes hit by an unplanned unexpected,
sudden summer thunderstorm
<•>
The Poem Breach
***once more into the breach thy words breeze through my chest,
like on a flamed stick, night roasting, toasting beach summer marshmallows,
that cut direct to the ineffable sadness that resides resists within,
that sticky, white mess,
a human heart melting
a thank you message that I’ve read before,
many times more than once,
how my unasked poem, a sun unique,
arrived at the
precise time and place,
to lift and even save,
how could I’ve know?
I did not know
but these messages collect on my chest,
unsought words of purple ribbon metal that make a
less burdened cowardly lion,
grown man cry,
do crazy things for it is a possible solution to his
age old quest
Why do I exist, is this my purposed plan, don’t understand, all
but the answer peaked and peaceful accepted in the breach unreasoned,
my port of entry, a gateway to the scales, a bridge it is, over a time-life river styx and unstuck, yet certainly always confused...***
“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”
thank you so insufficient
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the difference makes no difference:>
under the rain love me
above the clouds love me not
think the days flowery and notes of C
think the blame is on the sugary plot
ever since I painted accidents with red
violets turned blue swoon
my demeanor shaded a women with a stubborn head
the kind of color that you moon
the most of the most
all no sequence separated
is what my season is up to raise that toast
and them breezes lay chills for the never faded
sweet
stay on my mind rule my mercury
the feel of love is neat
the curious incident that manifested this artery
a crumble of pieces to get back all a dawn
a primary color
painted on my nails tickling a green lawn
can't be traded with no other odor
the sparkles danced roses over my heart
I knew the first page
would be the death of me from the start
wouldn't trade it with any other stage
how did we get there?
the possession of double happiness
the dry blood scattered in the air
moments printed in hopeful swift angriness
delusional dimensions
out of the norm
things my soul would grant a suspension
this time to welcome the storm
I don't think so
the blur of the night on a stairs
a stumble in once upon ago
brought pretty smiles in crying strands of hair
because I don't want to wake up
the dressing of sunrise capital
the unwanted, a guitar playing after my tea cup
even if the burdened wrists all heavy calculated radicals
kisses infected mere means
the days of thoughtful ventures
of doubtful summers and no sleep
something an old vanilla scent betrays a different texture
-------ravenfeels
Oct 31, 2021
Oct 31, 2021 at 5:26 PM UTC
Corruption and Seduction, twins living in discordant harmony.
Firstly, Corruption lives in a crowded home, in the lamplit living rooms and in the starched collars and sore legged dining halls.
Seduction lives in the attic, and ghosts from room to room, leaning on others as it passes, like an injured soldier.
Guiding into places seldom spoken of and rarely trod.
She asked him how he could change his mind so quickly.
I think his mind was never made in the first place.
Be it Corruption or Seduction, they live as synonyms and antonyms.
A promise broken, words thrown aside or forgotten, a trust crumbling to dust.
Credit this, not to one or the other, but to both, working for each other to accomplish the objectives laid at their feet by the gods.
Moments of weakness, burdened with fear and doubt, belong to this indecent pair.
Scoffed by most, yet intimately known to all, Corruption and Seduction manipulate and corrugate.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC
As though their roles are irreversible,
As only comforters to bread winners,
And thought as weak oft perceived as sinners,
The men rules, women seems incapable.
Dear fathers why burdened your daughters so?
Of women's jobs but forced the girls to fill
The pails with water, wood from distant hills,
Instead of school to learn what they should know.
Herded at tender age to married life;
Heaven's rewards engraved on simple minds;
To tidy, cook and wash, no cuddly toys,
Be ever present, good, obedient wife.
They need your love, affections so be kind,
They strive in onerous world with men and boys.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 5:25 AM UTC