"grievers" poems
I can't say that I know what it's like
To lose someone
And it's not because I have never experienced death
My Great Aunt died of lung cancer
Though she never smoked
And was the nicest lady
With what I assumed
Was a New York accent
To ever be convinced that I loved
Her Spinach Frittata
And who indirectly
Made jokes about my insatiable desire
To consume the apple pie
She died on the tenth of october in the year two-thousand ten
(10/10/10)
And I remember my father calling me to the kitchen
To tell me the news
I cried a little
And went back to my room to write angry poetry
But ultimately I was just tired
And went to sleep
Without really adressing anything
At her funeral, I remember my cousin telling me
The story of how her (then) long-term boyfriend
Used wire cutters to remove his braces
A week before they were due to come off
They called me over to put a shovelful of dirt
Into the grave
And I did
Then ran back, jumping as I did (jumping as I did),
To my cousin
Because her candid attitude let me know that it was ok
Not to be somber
My dad's friend had a stroke which dislodged blood clots and sent him
Into a coma for a long time
And while we posed with him for Christmas pictures
(I hated posing, I hated the picture-taking, I hated smiling, it all felt wrong)
And my father promised that hypnosis was going to work
My dad's friend died
In a hospital bed
In his home
In a historical region of uptown Whittier
My dad lost his friend
My mom lost hers as well
When she stopped talking to his wife
Who had been her friend first
The cousin who was talking to me at the funeral
Lost her (then) boyfriend
When she woke up one morning
To find him dead with her
In bed
So I can't say that I know what it's like
Because I have lost people
I've seen death
And I dislike it
I dislike the thought that all my
Teachers will die before me
And I am sad thinking about those days
That I will be in the crowd
One of the Touched
I dislike that I don't know what it's like
Because I don't see it like the others
I try to remember beauty in their life
Beauty that they shared with me
Beauty that I will keep alive
Like the energy cell
The Doctor blew life into
To power the TARDIS
But if I can't find it
If there was nothing we shared
If there is nothing to tie me to them
I feel bad that someone else feels bad
I dislike their pain and
I wish I could give them a hug
And that the hug would fix everything
But it won't
And all I can do is think about
How much I ****
At comforting grievers
And how much I wish
I could be a better comforter
But I'm not
Because I don't do well with death
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
A different kind of cold settled
in them as they poured through the door
into the bleak grandiosity of the lobby.
A group of grievers:
Her ashen husband and their two daughters, 12 and 20,
Her two sisters dressed in black fleece
and Her mother with freshly bruised knees.
The night was agonizingly short once they arrived.
Prayer and hope for rehabilitation
between questions about resuscitation.
Her mother clung to the cruel Almighty
While Her husband clenched his fists at the chaplain.
A Stroke of an instant induced a transformation of lives
as Hers ended beneath the blinding fluorescence.
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 4:03 AM UTC
I make a point of wearing silver instead of gold when I can
Because gold is first place
Everyone wants to be golden
So many poets agree sunset and dawn
Are the most beautiful times of day
Both of which are golden
But I disagree
Nighttime has its own peculiar but enchanting charm
With its crowning jewel, the silver moon.
To me, it is agony like no other that surpasses not placing at all
To be placed second
To have come so close
Yet fall just one place short
And watch as the Golden one
Outshines you, the Silver.
As a tribute to the unspoken grievers
The Silvers with their quiet beauty like the darkness
Just before dawn, yet unloved for they fell short
I wear silver.
For the Silver Seconds.
Please repost if you are a Silver too
Comment please! I love to read interpretations of my work.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
Grey Sky,
Grey Walls,
Big Hole,
Creepers and Grievers.
Bloodbath,
Death,
Telepathy,
A code.
Friend,
Enemy,
WICKED,
Love.
Maze,
Pain,
Lost Yet Found.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
You
You are every bouquet left on graves.
You are the prayers of grievers. You are
the naïve spectators pretending, the tears
of those who haven’t lost. You are eyes
forcing yourself to look away. You’re the addiction
of a mother sitting on a trunk that hides medications.
You are the choice to overdose.
You’re the fear of two orphaned children,
wondering where they will be forced to go next. You
are the tragedy. You’re a simple combination of pills.
At the funeral they pray your death is like a novel, memorable yet learned from. You are like a novel. Events that end in a planned conclusion.
You are that second before the last pill, the medication,
an array of medication, a combination of medication, the last breath. You are the ***** of your husband’s soaking
into the carpet. You are a cry of a child
caused by the scare of a naïve nightmare.
The entire graveyard grieves with you.
...
I read at the University of Kansas during their Undergraduate Reading Series. Read more about this event here:
http://shannonathompson.com/2013/02/11/my-undergraduate-reading/
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
gallery of
the grievers
ween afar
in plane
to propel
the dance
yet triple
in wings
that triage
Mekong dry-cleaner
those drastic
maitres'd the
guns of
Queen Village
noise plays
guitar in
Market Square
Jul 20, 2020
Jul 20, 2020 at 12:06 PM UTC
Home?
Sometimes I wonder
If my home is just four walls,
And three broken hearts. a
Just like glass breaks into shards b
So easily, it falls apart. a
Like the empty spaces between a house of cards, b
Between the walls lays void. a
Takes one breath from the words you speak b
As if it were an asteroid a
That leaves it all bleak. b
The cards fall over and over a
Yet we build it again b
Although we know all of it is over a
Why do we build it again? b
the house of cards falls silently, a
Like the deafening silence on the dining table of grievers. b
But a house of screams and anxiety, a
Doesn’t feel good either. b
So worn out they’d tear apart, a
The cards of hearts fall.
We played a little too much with the hearts. a
Fall has arrived, a
The cards of spades fall, b
The leaves are dried. a
The wealth has perished a
The cards of clubs fall, b
These memories are all I have, to cherish. a
we’re breaking, it has begun to ache a
The cards of diamonds fall b
Although diamonds don’t break a
The cards are falling a
I am sick of picking them up b
The cards are sprawling a
Yet again we are building it up. b
It has fallen again a
Yet we pick up the cards b
because we like playing these games. a
Our house of cards a
Slit our skin with paper cuts, tearing it apart b
Leaving us scarred a
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 11:28 AM UTC
Here sits the widow silent and pale,
from the heart of darkness her sorrows hail.
Mournful eyes,
shattered thoughts,
bloodless veins and soundless calls.
With her broken heart her mind would plea,
her eyes are open but unable to see.
A saddened look,
and a tired heart,
an endless journey that tore her apart.
Entrapped within avoid of time,
where the moaners sing,
and misery rhymes.
In the kingdom of grief,
the widow resides,
where the temples are haunted,
and pain abides.
In the halls of hope the grievers meet,
in search of comfort and a blissful seat.
In total humility their hearts would pray,
for peace of mind and a happier day.
Aug 16, 2024
Aug 16, 2024 at 6:48 AM UTC
Psalmist of refuge and timelapse,
Can thou stop the ticking tumultuous hand?
Insidious to dietie's
You've come short of hypothetical stand!!
Provisions make space for new coming shouters,
For lovers and doubters of Napoleon like complex!!!
Wherein grievers grieve,
Where gravestones are scene,
Thy gowned mate gets half their respect!!!!
A selah for every area skipped young founding Father!!!
Can thou brand thine own?
No more broken homes to match beautiful daughters to their monsters!!!
Polaroid imagery seiging the bathing rooms of suited men's palaces,
All chalices tipped,
Finalized,
None more chapping to cocoa tasting lips!!!
Engine made supreme star beings,
Control the blood and flesh,
So what good's left ?
Thou faithful of sighted pics!!!
Art thou choked to thy hold?
Simmered to thy own ***** stated bliss!!!
Hath thou blossomed continually?
Perennially you topple towers of watchers view!!!
Release thy stamen among the grass,
For love is renewed!!!!
Times not through,
Thy hedging was meant to last!!!
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
Lost, yet losing another battle
Amongst many mannequins
But the agony doesn't settle
Coz the desire ignites more sins
We fight ourselves and give a way
For others to take over the place
Yet mind and heart beg to stay
To compete in the popularly race
Love is such a challenge, for
Mankind to keep it flourished
Most seen and saw many hearts tore
As flushed eyes stare astonished
Slitting wrist and overdosing mayhem
Serve as a culture to those grievers
Sadist rhythm and sour anthem
Twist their minds, forget retrievers
Like a new epidemic leashed out
And the entire planet, a test ground
Goons, gruff and celebrate about
At the new prototype that roams around
Pointing fingers at others in blame
Raising conflicts, to more lethal levels
To brainwash everyone, their only aim
And these are the real devils
Controlled by trotting wealthiers
We're shot with some ridiculous vaccine
Spilled lies, of life based on certain healthiers
Change the channels, in news it's all seen
Yet, believing the media is another slot
They only show the entertainment bit
The reality is edited and maybe reshot
And the channel becomes a hit
Dummies are we, to unknown users
Our daily lives residue normality
How great are these leading looters
Who shake hands to fulfill, formality!
©sim
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 6:07 AM UTC
Viewers came to see if my Death was really true
It was more than a funeral and more of a slew
The clouds have opened wide and became my cloth curtain
Yet one that is certain
Heaven called and I answered
Remember me on my humor and writing style
Speaking one on one in making you think while
My captivation being about me
The multitudes for all to see
My spirit has left my body
I am only meaty flesh
This is all I have left
My clock has become a stopwatch
My life that accelerated in 22 catch
However time moved on
It was time destined in where I belong
I leave you only for a short while
Not my making but Heaven’s style
Remember me for me
Any misunderstandings please let be
This is my moment to be with thee
Think on how my writings inspired you
Remember is the determination for you to pursue
I leave you now
My spirit will continue to guide you in how
Goodbye for now and my assurance in the creation of wow
Live on and be strong with my legacy in communicating in getting along.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
Love I died long ago in my Head,
And grievers came and went,
Were laying flowers softly,
For Heart dead before spent,
They shed their tears for aeons,
Held funerals, sang a dirge,
Carried my soul in little box,
To rest on Heaven's heath,
But they rejoiced to see me,
Sent up to bells of God,
And to come one, under the sun,
With the Angel squad.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 6:23 AM UTC
I don’t know what to take seriously
It seems it is only how I feel anymore
Anymore
How I feel anymore
I’ve passed the world by
Watching for the smiling grievers
Just like me
Trapped by choices made long ago
The way a sad man can laugh
Is just another miracle of life
Hopping, stone to stone
The distance widening each time
The place to stand ever smaller
As long as my feet are dry
I will be held together by these small joys
I think I have been blinded somehow
It seems I’ve lost my way
My way
I’ve lost my way
I don’t have to make myself write something
That is where I live now
Not in a closet
Not in the jungle
I don’t have to prove that to you
I wonder about someone who takes life literally
With a sword in their hand, dividing life before them
I’ve felt the blade, ****** deeply
And they told me it was God saving me
Still, I continue on
I am subdued not by sadness but by outrage
I am subdued not by outrage but by sadness
Hopping, stone to stone
Carefully placed before me
An old man cannot survive without his dignity
I think I’ve not prepared myself for this
The greatest challenge of a life
My life
The greatest challenge of my life
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC