"dries" poems
Silently I cry hoping no one hears
Secretly caring for another in love's affairs
Experiencing love's worst of weapons
Heartbreak ominously beckons
Silently tears fall as I lie alone
On the bathroom floor unbeknown
For there are no more words, no more lies
Only a silent tear that never dries
Silently I cry with images of his face
Dimpled cheeks, his kiss and warm embrace
Hopelessness ensues for the way he held me tight
Remembering he's with her tonight
I lay in bed at night beside the one I'm bound
Holding my breath as tears compound
Feeling the love I once gave and then knew
All the while he's with someone new
Silently shedding tears as my life takes its toll
Killing my very essence, my mind, body and soul
Hearing the words, feeling the crippling pain
A lover's secret inevitably ends in vain
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
Try not to think about it
Shove it down ....way down
Don't show it
Its bubbling up, it wants to escape
I don't know how long I can hold it
I'm not that strong
I want control over it
But it consumes me
I am it
And it is me
I wasn't always this way with it
I never would shove it down
Until one day I was mocked for showing it
I was told I was weak
Because everyone has it ... and they can control it
Its all in your head , your a cry baby
I believed it
Why couldn't I control it ?
Next time I'll try my best
But I feel it again....its about to escape
I can't let it
I try shoving it down ....way down
But that doesn't stop it
Now its flowing out of me like water
I need to stop it
I run to my room , lock the door,shut off my phone
So no one can see it
I look in the mirror
Puffy face and bloodshot eyes are the result of it
I sit in front of my fan
The cool air dries it
I sit until all the evidence is gone
Until I can walk out of my room and deny it
I have to ... I'm not a cry baby
I can do this
I am it
And it is me
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
The moment for us to say our goodbyes has come
Our eyes will flood then we’ll be on our way
A final farewell to what once belonged to both of us
Times run out but we have plenty of regrets
My brown eyed November
You’ll never know what you were worth to me
Even after the fights, the excruciating frustration
I would walk on broken glass barefoot just to get to you
To be honest there isn’t much I’d do for you
But now I can’t do anything
I gave you everything and you walked away
I know, but you don’t
Have a clue how much damage you’ve done to me
I never told you my secrets
I never told you everything
My brown eyed November
You don’t know how much you meant to me
The moon fall and the sun rise
Shine on our lies
I knew you were treacherous
Yet I still clinged to you hoping maybe it would all change
Let’s end this, I want it
I need to calm down
My brown eyed November
You are truly invaluable
The ocean bathes us the sand dries
Cleansing our lives
You couldn’t care less
My appreciation goes unappreciated
If it isn’t and I am wrong
Please, now is the time to tell me
The karma
Bad karma
The cause of all of this
The memories of you will stay even when you are gone
Mistrust will linger but hope resonates
We’re like summer in the fall, we’re leaving
Mistreating, believing
After all this I don’t want to be your one and only victim
What do you care? You never believed in soul mates or in true love
I can’t stay, even though I want to
You gave false hope and empty promises
Injected me with a tranquilizer and put me in a state of gullibility
Was I dramatic or miserable?
I know you can’t be replaced, why would I want another one like you?
So good bye my brown eyed November
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
The mind of that girl is a pain sanctuary
whose aching decreases due to a world that's imaginary.
From home she goes out to get away,
and all those nights in stranges she relies.
The soft morning breeze
tenderly dries the tears in her cheeks,
and childishly it peeks
through her bloodshot eyes looking for a trace of peace.
Nobody could really tell
if she, bones and flesh, is still alive
or if she's just a wanderer ghost.
Probably the only one of her kind.
The dark circles under her eyes
are a proof of the restless crying nights.
The tangled auburn messed up hair
tells she didn't sleep at home, but no one cares.
Picking up flowers on the way back home,
humming songs that once made her feel whole.
She rests for a few hours and once awake she grabs a pen,
she writes down a poem before she gets drunk again.
Somehow she finds calm
in the simple things of life,
and she tries not to think
about the coldness in her eyes.
Barely getting through, day by day,
trying not to be absorbed by all the grey.
Amassing countless heartbeats
to the final point where life she quits.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
teacher sent me to the doctor's office
teacher sent me home
teacher sent me to the place
where all the foul things roam
teacher gave me tic-tacs
to swallow when i'm sad
teacher said the chemicals
will make me sorta mad
teacher dries my eyes up
with platitudes enough
to even console all the kids who
are made of smarter stuff
teacher says confusion
is not a cause for shame
i'm not quite sure what teacher means
but i listen all the same
teacher treading tip-toed
lowering the tone:
"i'll help you with the theory here
but you'll practice on your own."
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 6:29 AM UTC
Death, sweet Death, beckons to me.
He is a lighthouse, warning most to avoid his realm
But He calls me by my name
He tells me to be dead is the greatest gift Life has to offer
And whispers of the secret joys of His hazy oblivion.
"Come my child and partake of my treasures," and
"Your troubles shall cease even as your spirit roams," are His entreaties.
At first His voice is as soft as the waves lapping at the shore
But as I ignore him his call becomes
louder
Louder
LOUDER
Than the squall of a maelstrom
Until He is all I hear
His voice dries up the Happiness fed by
Hope, who is a frightened dove.
And when Hope ceases to feed you in the morning and in the the evening, then
"Elijah, you are alone."
So
End Life to escape from Death.
Cast off your body and dwell with Him.
Death is the light in the lighthouse.
Choose that light
Choose darkness.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
gurgle, gurgle,
groundcurrent unsettled,
moon unseen like stars
fever dreamed,
dissonance for the melody maker,
dissonance for the retired risk-taker,
dissonance for the hips of homewreckers.
civil, civil,
no minutes can afford the divide,
aside, to the crystal buildings and
the sky's sputtering cries,
compliments to your forehead's ****
compliments to your forefather's rash,
compliments to your aforementioned crash.
the current, the current
rides hot and merciless along thigh,
dribbles down chins and nightgowns,
dries--a permanent badge of scattered life,
electroshock seeps from self-made holes,
electroshock seeps from smoldering bowls,
electroshock seeps from typecast roles.
volcano, volcano,
grumble and moan.
volcano, volcano,
clear cord and stroke.
volcano, volcano,
grieve me in ash.
volcano, volcano,
I've been awful bad. I've been awful bad. I've been awful bad.
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 11:19 AM UTC
The storms are pounding
Destruction is rampant
No end seems in sight.
The day is endless
The night never ending
Will it ever, ever be right?
Lightning crashes
Winds are swirling
Torrents of water fall down.
The earth is shaking
The shelter is breaking
Thunderous sound resound.
Above the storm
the Calm prevails
Overlooking the turmoil below.
Awaiting the return
of order again
That Peace and Calm bestow.
Then it is over...
No more pounding
Silence, beautiful silence
Comes whispering in the ears.
The Earth becomes firm
The Sun is still shining
It dries up all the tears.
Through the debris
New hopes arise
Covering the scars below.
Growing stronger, stronger
As strength rebounds
Renewed by the seeds we sow.
Repairing the damage
Replacing the lost
Moving forward with or without.
Finding Hope in the future
as Faith reaches upward
Redeeming Love without a doubt.
--------------------------------
When the storms of life
Cause turmoil and strife,
The Son dries all my tears.
When all seemed lost
I counted the cost
Turned over all my fears.
I am surviving.
I am stronger still.
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 6:17 PM UTC
EPILOGUE:
When wisdom fills the old calabash,
It overflows and seeps in
The sun dries it to be stronger
That way it lasts with experience
So was the calabash of Atanga’s Granpa
On his very dying bed
He called Atanga to his bed
And had his last stream flow to him
GRANDPA:
My dear Atanga,
Please in the name all great Atangas
This is my last advice to you
If you wish to take a wife
Never choose either of these:
The woman with light skin
The woman with dark skin
The woman who is short
And the woman who is tall
ATANGA:
Ei! Grandpa!
Then tell me not to marry
Who then do you want me to marry?
Not the fair
Nor the dark
Not the short
Nor the tall?
GRANDPA:
Listen my boy
To words of old
The light skinned woman
Is the fantasy of all
If you choose her
None will help you prosper
Every man wants you to fail
So they can quickly take your place
So never dream of the fair woman
No matter how much you crave for her
ATANGA:
Oh! I see
I think I do understand
Grandpa what about the rest?
GRANDPA:
Never go in for dark skinned woman
She is the one that all your people loathe
She is the one whose people hate you
The only people interested are you and her
When disaster strikes, none will hear
So never go in for the dark skinned woman
ATANGA:
Oh! I see
Now I know
It is not the colour
Nor the character
A woman like that
Would do me harm
Now let us go on
Explain the rest
GRANDPA:
Never go in for the short woman
A short woman is the neighbour’s daughter
Her house is so close to your house
You can never have a moment of peace
Whatever you do
Her people poke their noses
You can never have your lives to live
ATANGA:
Grandpa is wise
So what about the last?
GRANPA:
The tall woman
Is the woman who comes from afar
Her home-town is far
So you can’t have peace
Any time there is trouble in her home
You need to pay
To get your people to go with you
Amidst the feeding
And transportation
How can you proper?
ATANGA:
Granpa is wise
Grandpa has lived
Who would have thought
Of these wise sayings
To an infant where thoughts are concerned?
Thank you Grandpa
So which type of woman
Must I marry?
Grandpa?
Grandpa?
I am asking you a question!
Grandpa!!!!
Grandpa please answer!!!!
MMA:
Grandpa is gone
To the land of beyond
Where sorrow is nil
And thinking is unreal
Just be glad you sipped from his calabash
Of wisdom before he left
PROLOGUE:
And that ended
Grandpa’s advice
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
Nigeria, a Dying country,
Her kinsmen will gather in war to share her sweat
More troubles for the unborn and her growing heirs,
The unfolding dread non-soldiers at heart like me.
Nigeria, she spring forth from the dark soil
Her past never stop to echoe, her Iroko turned void
Blessed with milk, honey and seeds with hearts fixed to the creator,
The sword bearer of coal war-ful gladiators.
A vineyard in the days of her reckoning
A different story after her great hair home coming.
Tale of a true black race
And the down laying of her good moral ways.
Just like how a river side tree dries,
So does her firewood also cries.
Her genuine red caps are nowhere to be found
Her wind, her seed will have to make do with the feeble dust in character around.
Shaking is her government seat on the rock
Still steady is her opposition in their secret walls.
They keep killing her vision in disguise of trying to unlock
While they battle to pluck away all her roses.
The voiceless murmur and watch,
Her pocket papers fly and run
While a once great country keep dying on.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
True friends can help us seek inside our souls
For that which is true
Retrace our steps looking into burning coals
Of blazing fires, we left a smoldering
When life went all-askew
They help us see beyond our looking glass
Under places where we hide
Deep scars and wounds of days gone past
From all those bitter tears
That never dried
A true friend can help us see a side of us
We may not wish to see
While holding our hand in gentle trust
Even when
We don’t agree
The truest friend is the one who appears
To help put those fires out cold
Binds your wounds and dries your tears
While holding the hand
Of your soul
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 5:33 PM UTC
Each word is a
******
On
White,
Only when the
Ink dries have the
Words
Penetrated
Deep,
& innocence is lost with
Each drip of ink.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
Be careful when you fall in love with a poet
Poets
We kinda don't really think in the same way as everybody else
If everybody's thinking outside the box, were probably the ones thinking on the box
Or with the box, or in another box
Yeah see that was kinda weird
We think in metaphors
We write with our own blood
We write about anything and everything that makes us feel
Which means we will probably write about you
And will continue to write about you even after we've broken up and you moved on and youve forgotten about us
We will still write about you
Because you engraved feelings in us which we have immortalized into words
Think of it like this
You come into our lives
You spill wet cement on the walls of our hearts
We write all the feelings we get on the wet cement and when you're gone it dries up
Be careful when you fall in love
With the girl who can compare you to the sun
One minute she can tell you that the sun is the source of life in this world and brightens up her day
And the next, she can tell you that the sun's UV rays are actually harmful and the sun sets too
While you are talking
She is thinking about how your eyes crease at the corners when you laugh
And how your smile is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen
And how your hair is the perfect mix of messy and hot
She will try to put all these feelings into words
And despite her vast vocabulary and experience in writing
She will never find the right words to describe you
Searching for words will be like using internet explorer as your browser
Or riding a snail
Or looking through a dictionary when all the words are crossed out
Be careful when you fall in love
With a girl who writes
Because you just might be the reason for her writer's block
And she will probably hate you for it
But at the same time love you for it
Yet you can also be the reason she can never stop writing
Because you are more than enough inspiration she needs
You will be the driving force of the pen in her hand against the paper
And that's pretty **** amazing if you ask me
She can turn your world into words
Turn your thoughts into lines
Turn your feelings into poetry
She will say the things you never knew how to say
Be careful when you fall in love with a poet
Because you just might be turned into intangible literature
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
I sleep on white bed sheets
with the windows open
so the breeze can brush my face
and the rain can fall on my lips.
I sleep in the gray half-light that
washes the color from my walls.
My skin is bare, fingers tangled in
the blankets, hair drying in the
same air that dries the dew
off of the leaves.
Get drunk on dreams
crumple the sheets
ice packs and underwear
poetry, bracelets, books.
I sleep with tearstained cheeks
swollen eyes and a runny nose
and bite marks in my mouth.
I sleep with a heavy heart
and fingertips on fire.
Dizzy, fuzzy eyesight
and fantastic scenarios
played out like film in my head.
I sleep in the warmest
and coldest room of my house.
I sleep under quilts and blankets
curled up against the cold,
and I sleep naked
with the air warm against my skin.
I always sleep with a book
at my bedside
and the drapes opened
so I can see the stars.
I sleep through sunsets and sunrises
and lightning that cracks open the sky.
I sleep through delicate snowstorms
and hazy summer smoke.
I sleep by myself
and I seize the quiet
as a moment of my own,
not shared
not secret.
I sleep for life and rebirth
and tranquility,
for peace and second chances.
I sleep for mornings.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
Stuffed,
Grains of sugar fall to the ground.
Mutilated flesh covered in corn syrup
Wait till it dries, scrumptious.
Blood, red as cherry liquourice
Seeps from open wounds.
Body perforated at the
Arms
Legs
Head
Ready for dis-assemblage.
Save for later
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Selene.
By the sea, I have been staring,
at your bright colours change.
Erythematous, murderous intentions of
a disease disseminating
on your surface.
The slow, penetrating anguish
tearing the guts,
a one-sided, disdained,
newborn sadness,
I am welcoming in my arms.
On the operating theatre of life
white and now dead moths,
stillborn butterflies
inside the flesh removed,
drowned themselves in a pool of blood.
They, an absurd joy
that never stood a chance
inside this cyanide prison.
Portals of loaned,
disillusioned happiness closed.
The liquid that raced turbulently
through my vessels, drained on a half-filled
with tears palette.
With menacing, impasto knife-like strokes
on the body
Morpheus painted the shadow-covered moon
with memories that refuse to be forgotten
from purulent, open wounds.
'Those worlds you will (never) see.
The people you will (never) meet' he said.
Soul chemicals eroding
the behemoth sky,
as the paint dries out.
Ashes of my Dreams (Not) Achieved,
astral remains;
everything I silently kept inside.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 11:31 PM UTC
To live life in its fullest
To taste the grapes of joy
To drink their wine in glasses
To feel the sweet drops,
And enjoy.
To be enchanted,
Drunken with delight,
To see the brightness of the stars,
During the dark, mysterious, cold night…
I dream of happiness and laughter,
Of rainbows shining in the sky
I dream my tears are turning into roses.
They're dropping on my pillow as I cry.
I dream of green fields, and I'm running
I feel the wind stroking my cheeks.
It dries my tears and softly whispers:
"You must break free of all your fears".
I close my eyes and I am swallowed.
Consumed,
By a gigantic salty wave
And I am floating, not resisting,
I'm only trying to be brave…
Inside the sea, deep in the darkness
I see my past, my present and my dreams,
And there's a voice, floating beside me,
It tells me: "nothing's as it seems".
At times I'm chocking, and I'm drowning
I'm praying for the coziness of death,
But when it doesn't come, I realize that
All I need,
Is a deep breath.
Mar 6, 2011
Mar 6, 2011 at 4:48 AM UTC
I am a girl and I am unique
I am full of silence and mystique
I am humble, mild and meek
I know from my heart I am not weak;
At times I may fall down
And cry myself until I meltdown
But I'll always try my best to not drown
In this life cycle of up and down
Even if life will stain my pride
Or **** me slowly inside
And sway me to the wrong side;
The me I know will hold her head high
The me I know is unique and strong in her own ways
Even if the world turns grey;
Either inspiration or motivation dries;
She will and always strives to survive everyday.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 10:32 PM UTC
I’m not good at being forward
I have this habit of becoming disordered
I let my emotions change the color of my sleeve
In my aspirations I hope to find belief
I walk through jungles and rainforests
Once in a while I see through the canopy
Into the skies of my memories
And request that stars dance to the rhythm of us
I keep them alive to avoid the gathering of dust
My memories, caught in the Pensieve of your eyes
Have ignored all the times I told myself lies
I may not be your ideal Superman
But I’d accept Peter Pan if you’ll go with me to Neverland
I’ve rarely been so captivated by a girl
Sure, Zooey Deschanel is quirky in New Girl
And Emma Watson bewitched me from the start
Anna Kendrick was perfect in Pitch Perfect
Alex Morgan is the luckiest 13 I’ve ever seen
But I choose you! To fill my canteen
You quench my thirst when the loneliness dries me
I was not made to walk in a desert
My heart is an amphibian
Living like a Floridian in the ice-cold tundra we call Rexburg
You still need the sun, no matter how much it snows
I’ll trudge on in the jungle; dormant in the night
I’ll carry on with you in mind, until the time is right
Once I’ve faced death, or even a spider
Then, I think I’ll top the greats; George of the Jungle, Aslan, Mogly, Tarzan, Batman, Peter Pan, Harry Potter, Genghis Kahn, Michael… Jackson or Jordan
They’re all kings and I’ll be in their league
As I shake off the fatigue and find courage in you
To make it through the awkward moment of simply saying
“You’re a real kind of gorgeous”
In that chorus, played on my rhythm of heartbeats
I found my way out of the back streets
From deep in the jungle I’ve come to know as Fear
A jungle that disappears when your presence is near
Sometimes I have to stop walking, stop thinking
I feel like I’m on the verge of something spectacular
Anything normal might ruin that
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
everything dries up this time of year
driving into the wind I cried for four hours
but the desert air drank the water from my face, from my lips:
brittle sacks, experiments in evaporation
candy bar wrappers blow around the backseat
courtesy of these broken windows-- impractically high speeds
I don't know whose trash this is
I've been driving with a ghost
shouting at it, in the vacant passenger seat
all the things I'd never spoken
(for I swore you could read eyes)
but illiterate you saw only reflected stars
trying to find yourself in the Pleiades
all you knew of love was mythology
all I knew-- diesel gas, freon, points on maps
you read nothing in my vacant looks
I saw nothing in your ancient texts
a translation problem. little less.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
i admit to 'male' --
'female' strikes me low
curving
concupiscent hips (of Venus swaying so)
the one who places,
caught bathing in her morph
to mar
her goddess innocence (Peleus grasps her so)
her evergreen paradise-
apple spraying scruples,
while the sun
dries forgiveness **** (on Eve's fragrant *******
in other Edens
Lilith simply leaves him blind
to lust
for unknown Didos (craving **** or suicide)
the limping god
nets love and war, olympicly
to smith
a mortal death (from Vulcan jealousy)
foresight's fire-gift
leaps obedience
to lie
far falls the divine (in ******* he defied)
potent swan of sky,
what judgement?
for a girl
you laid in that white rush, (virginity unfurled)
immortal ****
fates sails of progeny,
raging
poet-birthing strife (for temple priestess' cries)
fated nation-death swoons,
shares beauty's scale,
and Aphrodite's foam (caresses history's thighs)
Trojan tensions mix
the modern mind to heights of doubt
of mythopoets' truth ( -yielding blindnesses)
lonely walk the earth
with guiding wisdom lacking
all the pawns of fate (forget love's darknesses)
sphinxine hunger asks
the soul of destiny
of hubris, tragic sight (and orgiastic nights)
of unknown woman
man struck down
sickly city safe
and burning, yearning (nymph and satyr sating Bacchic rites)
Jun 26, 2012
Jun 26, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
alone .
strong, wise, driven, loyal.
He has lived and loved,
and chosen to be alone until something better comes along.
something more than physical love.
He found what he was looking for.
Her soul was vibrant and beautiful;
a goddess muse.
She kissed him and knew it not;
her naked words and firm young flesh excited him ...
his wealth of wisdom and experience mocked him for falling in love with a soul ... a forbidden one at that.
The old man had a need to feed,
she was a hungry young goddess needing to be fed.
Where is her champion? Who cares for this young sprite? Who dries her tears and comforts her throughout the night?
He reminded himself again that it was only her soul,
but still, he touched himself... saying her name to make it a little more real, "Candace," he whispered.
Then he listened ... just in case.
Just in case she whispered back.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
Red paint dries on a tissue
Slowly
The same rush hue
Glazes imperceptibly
Gently losing shine
And carefully dulls without change
And softly hardens until dry,
When you can touch it without fear
of red fingers, red clothes, red smears
But still, wasted paint on a tissue
Will be thrown away without notice
And still dry red.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 2:08 AM UTC
the chase is the start of Cora's dream
in which she is a woman, Persephone
Persephone does not run nor hide
as she is seized by the dragon below the tide
she disguises her sorrow with beauty and grace
as she soars to live in the Other Place
the dragon is a man of whom craves her love
but she flies away, a mystical dove
the man wants Persephone by his side
but he is alone when spring arrives
no one at all can hold her back
she holds your life close in her eyes of black
as the flowers bloom in Cora's dream, all see the wings of Persephone
Persephone does not call or cry
she ends her captivity above the sky
Cora, Persephone, artful and strong
she has owned her life all along
Cora's dream
she is queen
the myth became her memory
mysteries revealed, secrets uncovered
ruler of seasons, angel like no other
Majestic One, she has no home
in Cora's dream, she was born to roam
she creates the storms and dries up the rain
she is a woman you cannot obtain
Cora's dream
she is queen
the myth became her memory
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC