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Cindra Carr Jun 2011
Eighteen misses and three survivors
Two broken marriages with one spiteful lost love
Two warring sisters and too many brothers
Numbers don’t always make the lives of another
Crocheted angels and heartfelt hugs
Gone are the days of each of those
Responsible, avoidant, and spoiled
Resentment, confusion, and miscommunication
Ghosts of the past
Harried, busy, and distant
Buy back the time
Patience, hope, and acceptance
Crowding the cast
Three lives play out creating six more
One life still here caught in time
One life locked in with ghosts of the past

cc062611
I have been in the moon
In search of love all noon
Searched through deserts
Even through garden of Eden.
I have Searched beneath the sea
Travelled wide even to overseas
Still could not find love.
I went to Vatican
Even to Mecca
Driven through the romantic sites of Paris
Bath in the Brazilian beaches
Flown across the Atlantic
Pitched my tenth for few days on the Antarctic
Spend some more on the arctic
Still I saw no love.

All I saw was lust
Angels with broken hearts,
Rotten roses,
Withered lilies,
Death faiths and monsters on beautiful faces.
I saw bullets in church offering boxes
Just wedded on number plates of ambulances.
I saw wars in diversity
Pain and mourning crowding all cities
The devil celebrating the dead of peace.

I saw three wise men
Where went love, I asked them
They said love has been nailed on the cross
Buried with trust
They are heading to Galilee
To await his return.
I followed with dreams
I met many returning with smiles of frustration
From where I was going with pregnancy of expectations.

We arrived to the scene
Like a nightmare, I witnessed higher sins
I saw men taking pleasures with men
Some with animals, some women with women.
Gun everybody walking sticks
People feeding on people flesh
With human blood the thirsting ones quench their thirst.

Is this where love is expected to return?
The wise men retorted,
Yes, the saints have been raptured
And his seven years  reign has just began.
Then in a flash, I remembered that I have been taught
Taught about this dreadful end
I had also taught kids
Under trees at nights
Just to threaten them to live right.
What I thought was a mare threat or a fallacy
Has been awaken against my fate in reality.
Oh! We are among the leftovers
Left to reprove ourselves or be doomed forever.
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Accidents and misfortunes crowding my life
choking out pleasures reserved for a lucky few.
Not realizing that they were there for me too, just to look for
passed by as I chose to look back, blinded to what could have been.

Running in circles skirting the truth
looking for lost moments, ticking into eternity.
My hope is in this new life that I’ve found
awakening the child I’d lost, now born again in you.

You’ve taught me to live, to look now for the simple and pure;
a glass of ***** Cana or a flock of cranes grazing on a hill.
Moving together in the rhythm of jazz
in the early morning sounds and light reflecting on you.

Your beautiful face, angelic in the morning light.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
B Sonia K Dec 2018
They line the streets
And on every  corner
One "ailment" or the other
A family,  sometimes brother and sister.

Crying in a song
Singing with one voice
All covered up in fake injuries
Lamenting about past glories

They line the streets
Crowding every corner
Always a bother
Clinging to our knees
In their torn dresses

Keep them away from us
Stop them from touching us
With their deceptive illusions
Appealing to our emotions
With empathetic persuasions
And now our money is gone.
Rhiannon Sep 2017
You don't dig up the dead.
That's just one of lives main rules.

So why are you crowding round my heart?,
Looking for old feelings to use.
Butch Decatoria Apr 2017
Overcrowded a hollow sound

In the circumference of birdsong

Rising with the Sun

As roosters crow morning

Wake-up calls

There in Cebu / House

Full of family

Pieces of my other me

Feeding many mouths

That overcrowded feeling / not again

A nest that homes

A clutch of poor

Cuckoos

Consuming, so many babies

Paradise islands

Third world poverty

Not so far away

White man and money

A supposed land of milk & honey

Beyond the tundra snow

Bleak / must speak English

The beautiful broken

The overgrowth of crowding

it's called city life

Unlike Manila

Although artifice and hollow

Full of the fragrances

Colored by Birdsong

Oh beautiful life / I am drowning

In the thicknesses of pollutant

Mouths speaking

ill

Humanity misbegotten / Understood

We connect with nuttin'

“nothing is the cure

When nothing was wrong

With you”

Birdsong in twilight

Xylophone-stars across the ocean blue

Teeth of night

The cold chime

Befallen

In the infinite / magic of you

Oh love I let me

Overcrowd

Still this loneliness

Feels so very loud...

Then I hear / halcyon Birdsong

The soft feelings of truth

Oh love!

Oh god!

Oh my!

*Goodness you.
Revised still work in progress
Natalie Mar 2018
Words, words, worms! My mind is swarmed
With them. Ants file in through the sticky
Canals, chattering, stamping their little black feet.
They use me. I am their harboring medium,
A visitor in my own head.
Black, empty mouths flutter and dance and signal
Amongst themselves, crowding my skull,
A murmuration of phrases and guttural sounds.

I mustn't tell fully what they say.

They draw forth black and bubbling swamps,
Wicked crows, the yawping millions, pecking,
Pecking, gouging with yammering beaks
At every smooth, young innocent.

There is death in this tumult of words.

Let it not take me.
Please tell me something,
and do not lie.
Is something fading
between you and I ?

I've noticed changes
in the recent past
and waited patiently,
hoping it wouldn't last.

I give everything
I can give you,
but what's given back
seems long overdue.

You say nothing is wrong
and you are just fine,
acting as if
the problem is mine.

Something is different,
not like it was before.
I'm doing my best,
trying to restore

The way we showed love
to one another
without crowding you
or trying to smother.

I just need to know
if one thing is true.
Do you still love me
as much as you used to?
© Timbo318
Dealing with all sorts of problems, I know many of you here love poetry, to find comfort in poetry, to express the thoughts you can't seem to say it out because you find it cheesy or foolish? Maybe you just want to leave your thoughts here, out of your mind, staying anonymous hoping no one you know will find out your thoughts? Or are the inner side of yourselves, totally a world apart from your exterior selves? Regardless of all these, I hope you can find that hope in life, hope in God, hope in yourselves. Maybe you can relate to these, I sincerely hope these can make you guys feel better :)
SilentAce Mar 2015
The sun is shining beautifully onto the gold dome.
It shines so bright I can hardly look up.
I am dressed in black head to toe, sweat beading down my back making the cloth stick to my neck.
They make me take off my shoes before I enter.
The bare tile exposed to the sun scald the soles of my feet.
I don't know why I am here.
Mother says I have to pay my respects to some little girl in a tomb.
But I still don't understand why, she never said.
Her name was Zanib, the little girl.
and she was the daughter of someone important I suppose. A prophet I think. I didn’t really pay attention.
Figures though.
No one would build a mosque for a girl. Only because she belonged to an important man.
I want to leave.
It really is quite pretty though.

We finally crossed the scalding courtyard and enter the ornately decorated Mosque.
I find myself looking at some kind of shrine.
People are crowding it. I don’t even want to try to go but mother grabs my hand. “Yullah Samantha.” I don’t want to yullah.
They are all placing their palms flat against the shrine and leaving delicate mesbahas or prayer beads as an offering.
And bowing their heads. All whispering prayers to this little girl.
As though somehow she is their connection to God.

I try to look inside
but I don't see a little girl.
Just a pretty coffin
In an ornate cage.

I weave my baby blue mesbaha into the barrjer surrounding the coffin the for the little girl. Zanib.
It’s my favorite mesbaha
But she is the daughter of someone important, so she deserves it I suppose.
I press my palm onto the shrine
daring to feel something, anything. Maybe she will be my connection to God.
Only to feel nothing except foolish.
I leave the mesbaha, whisper a goodbye
and leave just as untouched and hungry as before.

Mother takes me to the prayer mats and I know I will be here for a while.
Mother always has a lot to pray for.
I say I want to get closer to the Shrine and leave her with other ladies to pray.
I take my blue prayer mat with me and a prayer rock.
only mother's side of the family uses the prayer rocks, she says she’ll tell me why one day but honestly, I don’t care.
I just think its a nice place to rest my forehead.

I kneel in front of the emerald cage
the sun shining through it is making a beautiful rainbow onto the floor by my knees.
I bow, still hoping to feel something.
Anything.
But I feel nothing still.
Truth is I never actually pray
I never felt God talk to me the way mother says he does.
I feel more alone than ever listening to my own thoughts.
But I bow my head and slightly part my knees so no one take notice while I spy on others instead of praying.
I like to see how they pray.
They all look like they are in a trance.
I don't understand it.
I don’t think I ever will.

I hear someone shuffle beside me.
they sound small like me
I dare not to look because I am supposed to be praying, and good Muslims aren't supposed to notice their surrounding when they pray before God.
So I keep my bearing and look only straight in front of me or down at my mat.
I am still bowing when I feel something touch my back. So lightly I almost don't feel it at first.
I hear the ping of beads hitting the tile beside me.
and I peer up just enough to see a pair of little girls feet walking away from me.
I rise and try to see who it is but they are gone already. But they were just there...
I ask the woman next to me if she had seen a little girl just then.
"Lah. Habibti, mafi ****.”
She said no. But looks like she has a secret. Whatever.
I look down at my mat and sure enough I see the prayer beads.
Emerald with a dark red tassel.
How did they know I was missing mine?
I glare at the shrine.
Surely not. No.

It was a little girl. Or at least the feet. I had seen them, I knew I did.
I look at the woman
she smiles, with a secret in her eyes.
I look back at the shrine
back at her cage and I get it now.
Something had heard my thoughts. But definitely not God.

I remember the imam at Sunday prayer had taught us about jinn.
He said they tend to gather in places they are thought about. And that they somtimes grow attached to people. He said if they felt strongly enough, they allow us to see them. For good or for bad. They like to play with our vision.

And I had thought about her.
She was a daughter of an important man so if there was a Jinn attached to her it must adore her as much as these people.

Mother is bragging about all the things she prayed for again as we leave the mosque.
I am quiet.
listening to her and trying to relate but cannot focus
all I can think about is the little girl I saw.
"Mama"
"Yes Habibti?"
"Can I see jinn in the daytime? Good ones?”
"No habibti. They don’t like to be seen.”
I shuffle the emerald beads.
I don't think she is right.
The inner growl Jul 2018
Look I know you bound me
Set a veil all around me

And it’s quite astounding
How I’ve been sounding

My heart starts pounding
Can’t breathe like I’m drowning

I need Solid grounding
If only time was allowing

In this rebirth I’m crowning
Smiling while she’s still frowning

I need to run from her hounding
I’m so tired of jousting

The straight line I was following is rounding
I keep running no matter what the sidelines are shouting


I can almost hear the crumbles of the walls around me crowding
jas 1d
this narrative has had its wear and tear
down to the last page that slips effortlessly off the book
pulling back strings to fit the ending
live action marionette

indulging in countless ways to flee
how could I ever?
eyes like a hawk vigourously watching over me
planning to escape is mind altering

hearts injecting blood a million miles per second
hold my breath as the goosebumps trickle under my spine
fingers twitching with rage
it's time to break out of this cage

sweat seeps off my face
leaving a line of dirt
momentarily, battle scars

I knew this day would come
just sooner than expected
but what did I expect?

existing, just barely
imprisoned in this jest of reality
caught between the societies realm of a fantasy
or breaking the barriers and taking a leap

numerous routes that divide into alternating states
yet the predominant remains
intimidation haunts me
crowding my thoughts

I always thought hell existed deep in my mentality
these dark memories combating to come to the surface
until one day I blinked and realized
hell is neighboring me

hell is lesions from the past that overstay their welcome
hell is energy deteriorating in souls you've attached to
hell is being starved of communication
hell is the strings penetrating your every move

left for dead
in dire need of an escape
this is me sending the signal



...sos
Bre Apr 11
I was a dandelion, growing in a flowerbed.
I thought I was a beautiful flower, but the world saw me as a ****
You were a gardener. You came through with every intent of pulling me out, Ending my infestation
of the roses and tulips. The ones that belonged.
The ones that fit in the perfect pretty picture. But you saw a beauty in me the world didn’t see.
You watered me
Kept me
Let me flourish
I started to multiply. I grew larger and stronger. I started to encompass the garden
that was your heart,
Choke out the roses
Choke out the tulips
And then you saw
I was just a ****
I was choking you
Crowding you
Suffocating you
You told me I had to go
But I needed the soil
The sunlight
The water that you provided
I couldn’t survive without you
And you couldn’t survive with me
I’m selfish
I don’t want to go
But I have no choice
I’ve been uprooted.
s.s.
Hope you all are doing well!
Char Blackmon Jan 24
This time again
Once a year
Raising prices of
Giant teddy bears
Rose peddles on the pillow
Memories of you
Soft sweet kisses
Chemistry increasing
Everyday
Not once a year
Never had a valentine on this day
The day you came into my life
You became my one
My one and only
True valentine
Lonely so far away
Images of your face
As I dream
One day
Everyday
I will gain to be
Yours forever
Waiting
Im in love with your eyes
When you pout sometimes
Shut me out
Because I’m crowding your space
Day after day
Watching as the moon finds you
Connection of truth
Spooked with black butterflies
Palms sweaty again
Nervous when I’m around you
My one and only
True valentine
(SharChar)
(SharChar)
Sophie 5d
In and out
In and out

Collapsing,
Relapsing.
Mind's Frozen in time
Yet filling with so many overlapping thoughts.
Overwhelming,
Overcoming.

In and out
In and out

The voices
Of so many,
But it seems to all be one
Whispering.

Do it.

In and out
In and out

Pulling at my every
Tendan of thought.

Memories surfacing.

In and out
In an-

the room gets smaller
the people closer
Back away
Back away!

Get me out..
They are trying to hurt me.

In and out

Laying frozen
On the cold, hard office floor.
Feeling as if just awoken...

from a nightmare.

Can't move.
The world spins uncontrollably .
I see people crowding towards,
Fast.
Too fast.

In and out

my consciousness sways,
Like a tightrope
A tightrope with too much slack.
Swaying,
Drifting.

In and out

I can't breathe
Someone grabs me

I can't see
Someone pulls me

I can't hear
Muffled honey voices

And then...



It's all gone.

— The End —