"notify" poems
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Remember that today, the most successful people are known to take advantage of the social media.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC
Arrange communication, over.
Roger, Out.
Inform the Chain of Command
Contact the Chaplain
Execute a satellite uplink
Notify the next of kin
Start the phone tree
Make the arrangements
Honor the deceased
Comfort the family
Pray for the soul
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 2:00 AM UTC
ᗩIᑎᕼᗩᖇᗩ
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Ainhara is standing in her Queen's room,
staring at the door that leads to
her chamber
'My Lady...' she thinks worried before
looking at her reflection. Her mistress had
surprised her a gift of a finely made dress
of rose-silk, making her a flowing vision
in blue.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
The dress is suitable for the bright and
hot morning, light, airy and delicate
with one shoulder that is heavily beaded
with peacock feathers; the slit reveals
her slender legs, the hip appliqued with
the white lilies of her Queen's Kingdom,
and simple flat shoes.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Her fiery locks are pinned into her usual
bun. It is then that she hears a gentle
knock on the door which she approaches
and opens.
"Did you not hear the command of the
Queen Mother?" Ainhara gently hisses,
"Queen Lyn is not to be disturbe-"
"I know, Lady Ainhara, I apologise,"
a guard whispers as Ainhara stands in
the hallway.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"How is Queen Lyn?"
*'Drained and exhausted. She has not slept
well in three days...* "The Queen is very busy.
She is determined to complete the tasks set to
her." Ainhara sighs. "Esshi is overseeing her
meals currently. Did her mother not say all
matters of state should be brought to her?"
"Yes she did, but the shipments are set
to arrive today. And she said that once
they arrive, I am to notify you.
They have made way to the Western
Entrance."
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"I see. Well, let us see to it."
"Yes," The guard bows and leads the
way with Ainhara at his heels.
As she passes the open stain-glassed
windows, the cool breeze hit her,
making her dress flutter behind her
and the beadery shine and glitter.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
The kite gets high, stays aloft-
quite some time displaying
enviable dexterity, for fun
do spectacular somersaults as much times
as it could, climbs up in air with a loud swoosh
then look! how the wind gets *****
with her, if she has something
of a skirt, it goes up, up to an
indecent height, she doesn't have
that balance a player at such
heights should have kept always.
Its absurd, all these acrobatics silly kite
displays before the world at high altitudes
with a unholy interest
to show herself more accomplished
than what she really is, could you
pardon that frivolity, because she
has many more colors than clouds.
He admits abashedly that he too was
once in love with her frivolous attractiveness,
but he never could understand a kite;
in spite of the lightness, that makes
it easier to travel heights, has kite a significance?
After all what is a kite? her merit?
a strange arrangement that defies
common sense, all it can do is aimless flying.
Isn't it a charge serious enough?
even a dry leaf, or a falling feather
can do these acrobatics for a while.
What is the meaning of a kite,
kindly someone notify , if it has any,
meaningless flying is not for anything
of substance, what kind of play
is it, if it is perceived as one, by any one
why the folly of someone take us
for a ride all these years, without
a second thought, he wonders
who might have promoted it, had some
ulterior motive, some point to prove;
wind, mightiest of forces is made to look weak
in everyday life .
He would suspect, in the bargain many
generations too spent their time
in this vein pursuit without any thought.
Any kite display a greed to go up and
stay there, till the time it is possible to float
don't want to be back, when wind is on her side
unless force is applied, what does it signify?
Kite has a hunger to touch wonder with its fingers
he knows, and he can't but appreciate it
and when the occasion arises she fly up to the cloud,
play with him as if he is her secret lover, that hurts
could such a liaisons are to be be tolerated
she knows how a cloud tastes at different times
Yes, sky certainly intoxicates her,
she want to move closer, doesn't it spell danger?
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
Evidently it was meant to be.
Long before I was born my DNA
sat on a shelf in God's laboratory,
a sticky note attached,
name, date of birth, perhaps
a tiny alarm to notify the lab
of inception.
God doesn't lose things
and God doesn’t forget.
It must be for a reason and
it must be meant to be.
A critical piece of who I am.
I should show a little pride because
as they say God don't make no ******
But I’m a little late to the party..
*The party that celebrates those who choose to be identified
by a gender other than the one they were born with,
but shames anyone who struggles with substance abuse.*
I'm having trouble understanding the difference.
If I were to gather my drug addled friends
and march down the street with banners and signs
demanding the right to openly inject mind altering
substances into my veins I would be seen as
a criminal and a derelict even though my constant struggle
came right off the shelf of God’s laboratory where
my sticky noted DNA sat right next to yours.
I guess I shouldn't care what people think..
I know my rights, and I demand to be accepted,
NO, praised for coming out so bravely,
carrying a new flag, flaunting in the streets,
paving the way for future generations of addicts.
I will take my God given DNA out of the dark
and go out into light,
light so bright you'll be forced to accept it.
accept my sickness!
embrace it!
this is in my DNA,
God made me this way
so it must be ok.
I feel better now.
I no longer feel guilty,
or depressed,
or weak,
or wrong,
or immoral,
No longer do I need to contain it.
no longer do I need to be shamed.
I am an addict and I am beautiful.
Just like you.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC
In a world of laughter
I was apart of at a time
Now glides with sadness
As the refugees shine
And there in the darkness
I can see someone's face
Wholesome with fear
In deliberate disgrace
Find the world's end
And summon the flees
Through the fires and cries
Lies this appealing disease
Of rotten flesh
And from human, to be born
Crucified, embodied, concealed
And still so adorn
Notify the states
Address them assured
To be swept with the scars
In a world unsecured
With the memories of a beast
White flesh and teeth
In written disconcert
And so, whom would I bequeath?
Of decayed discontent
In a black path of a rose filled garden
Hides the wishes of a ******
Broken by the pervading Janardhan
And where the blood may spill
I may not be for real
And in this nightmare I place myself
But where I stand my eyes congeal
Broken faces, smiles depart
So much love, ruled by lust
So much hate, driven by anger
Asphyxiate my disgust
My repel of this utter evil
Where a ****** proclaims
The absence of virtues
And the murderer of William James
For the only unseen
And the utterly disturbed
Comes a vision alive
And they're truly perturbed
Where their own flesh dilapidate
With their minds running amuck
And at everyone they will berate
And in my cage of silent betrayal
I will commence to cleanse my soul
My solid trust, broken, forever damaged
I can only hope for extol
And yet my own deceit
Will lead me to my fall
I still await this day
And truly bury my appall
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 5:19 PM UTC
Long ago I was young and naive and hopeful and believed
My heart was a flame with the belief of love
Its plumage magnificent and terrifying
It lived in the belief that even if it were broken it would rise again
But this was not quite so long ago
The time of the heart is different than the time of the mind
When that great phoenix
In its youth
In its greatest power
Burns in its own fire, its fire that had been cared for and admired by hope
Cared for by blood and bone,
By faith and innocence,
The mind laments its loss and shares its pain
It lovingly scoops its ashes into the ornate urn the mind thought it always deserved
A sight to behold
The love that the mind bore for the heart, a love that could never protect it
And hides it within the folds of its grey domain
The phoenix does rise again,
Small and fragile,
Afraid at the loss of its power, of its grand wings, of its fire divine
The mind takes it and places it in a golden cage meant to mend and protect its flames
But a phoenix cannot grow in such a place
It cannot fly
It cannot sing its terrifying song of beauty and power,
Terrifying in resonance and in truth
But in the mind it feeds only on dry seed, not the sweet nectar that it is worthy of,
The mind knows that the heart needs this freedom,
But it also knows that this freedom will lead to another supernova in the intercostals,
It is out of love that the mind does this for the heart,
For the heart is not the only one to know pain and beauty and power
The mind suffers silently, with an unyielding patience as the pain reverberates through every capillary,
This interaction goes unnoticed,
It is assumed that the mind must be evil for denying the heart such wonders and freedoms,
But only the pain can be seen,
Never noticing the healing, not until its finished does it become evident.
I had not noticed this,
I had forgotten the value of my heart,
I had forgotten to give it the fire of hope and the winds of innocence and waters of faith
And the purity of trust.
But one of impulse came my way
So short and intense was this strange affair
His chance and command of chaos came to notify me of my folly
And then
After he came and went,
After he shocked me into consciousness
My heart awoke,
Because of him it awoke.
The pain of caring, the same thing that caged my phoenix, gave it power again.
Its fire ignited, its plumes aglow, its song again pure in tone, full and rich in sound
I had forgotten,
Forgotten the power and beauty and value of this gift
Forgotten that it is not a right, but a privilege to own a heart
Only those who care for it, who tremble in the phoenix’s presence, those who trust it,
Will know love,
Will see its beauty
Will be rewarded by it
It does not know ownership,
It is living,
It is alive and depends upon its carrier for nurturing
It does not need protection from pain.
But this man,
Who chaos and coincidence sent to me,
Does not even know that he saved my heart,
That he awoke not only my heart but also my mind
He woke me from a lie I had knit and had called my skin,
He reminded me that my heart was still within me,
He reminded me of where my heart belonged
He saved me from a life where I would not trust or nurture my heart,
Saved it from a life without trust or belief in love.
Thank you.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 11:31 PM UTC
Church bells ring of voices silenced
a darkened Moon is hanging low
crickets stop to hear the empty
as loving waters overflow
As angels call in voices singing
notify my heart goodbye
as deafened ears are opened up
no more tears are left to cry
Dying leaves, a crimson carpet
indigo ink at levied banks
waters flood my aching heartbeat
raising hands to you in thanks
Cloaking eyes, I'm in the shadows
petitioning you another dance
whispering the coming reaper
if only I could have a chance
Softly come draped in darkness
ebony casts a ghostly glow
lovely bones in alabaster
putting on a secret show
Taking off the heavy waiting
holding down my paper heart
a poets voice cannot be silenced
by ticking hands you pushed apart
Silver tears they fall in quiet
in rivers taken right or wrong
releasing me & painful weighting
and sing me as I come along
Violins they speak so mellow
calling me as I go home
morning comes a glowing ember
left for you an Earthly loam
As the leaves outside are falling
and thickened air bids me farewell
whispering of my departure
& secrets I may never tell
although in this...
you mustn't dwell
Waving you off
in slow motion
blinking lashes bid adieu
darkened cloakroom,
veiling... hiding
memories of loving you
the only love
I really wanted
the one I never... really knew.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
You: it is 2:10 am
Me: Eastern Standard Mystical Time, yup...
You: why are you up, writing?
Me: the drugs wore off
You: *** the drugs?
Say it ain't so, kiddo?*
Me: yup, I did engage
with some strong stuff
ce soir, the woman too,
and she is drowning in her dreams.
Easy and cheap,
scored some us some................
Asian Fusion
Thai Food, Indonesian small plates...
You: idiot!
Me: just answering your question
You: so where is this poem, shaman?
Me: You!
You: Me?
Me: yup.
You are my early morning poem,
which I have entitled Notification: You!
Notification
I am deeply unsure.
Am I notifying you,
or am I notifying myself?
Lost command of my
native language,
the emotions too strong,
Blue Java
the color of my word blood,
strong swirling,
uncontaminated by cow's milk,
but by cows jumping over the moon,
who have come to give me gifts of
Notifications.
*Hey ****** ******
The Cat and the fiddle,
The Cow jumped over the moon.
The little Dog laughed,
To see such sport,
And the Dish ran away with the Spoon*
Perfectly clear to me.
I am the Spoon,
You are the Dish.
(Shaman, Shaman, hey man,
you still sound drugged,
we urgent need some clarifications!)
When I wake up,
uncertain about a slew,
a portmanteau
of important life~things,
*(Example: when should I
Capitalize a word,
a life, a me, a You?)*
there are strangers,
Strangers still,
yet strangers no more,
sending me uncoded messages
intended to decode me,
Notifications,
they are called,
and they
Explode me.
capsules of comments
that encapsulate me,
emasculate my speaking abilities,
reduced to rolling in the gutter,
guttural cries to emit and utter,
man, I got friends I never met,
and that's ok
we just notify each other
thinking of you
and no more words necessary
life is groovy...
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 2:16 AM UTC
With eyes open it's all black. Surrounding
Encased by dark and heavy emotions:
Thinking if I am alone, just heightens
The walls as I grip preparing to swing
To surpass the thoughts of no good doing;
By believing in true self with no harm;
Where words are judged to notify alarms
That brings tunes where sorrow melodies ring.
The frustration moves to show the sky blue,
Knowing my strength is never far away,
Unclear: Why is being together *******
Thwarted, trying to keep my sea at bay
Fearful to escape this prison I grew
To truly be true to my chimes in prayer.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
He called to straighten her out,
To announce his disappointment.
In no uncertain terms, he rammed it home,
Her failure to notify him was inexcusable.
He blasted her, recounted his disappointment,
“You were supposed to visit, you said you’d stop by.”
He shrieked, “Our friendship is a ruse, a joke to you,
You fooled me, I thought you cared.”
Overwhelmed, wordless, she, lost in his pain,
Was defenseless, knew no proof would suffice,
Understood the meaning, guilty as charged.
She listened silently, finally, felt a shift,
His rage discharged, breathless, indignant,
He awaited her pathetic excuse.
With a shallow breath she illuminated him.
A single, empty, cabin,
On a distant island,
Barren, cold, alone,
Marooned.
***** you!” down he slammed the phone.
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 9:14 AM UTC
Laying alone in a tent,
breathing's heavier, sweat is dripping.
I think I've had too much.
Too many festival treats obtained off
friendly vendors, in it as much as you are,
looking for a good time, at a small cost.
The sun begins to rise, heart races faster,
Emotions both empathetic and sympathetic.
I think I've had too much.
Laying in this tent amongst the other sheep in the same boat around me.
I have accepted my faith
This is my fault, will I notify anyone?
No **** it, I don't want to cause a scene,
I'll let them find out
Too many thoughts rushing through my
head,
too many apologies that will be owed, that I won't around for,
I'm filled with self disgust but maybe,
its for the best.
I think I've had too much
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
For someone who grew up loving the idea of growing up,
I came to the point of hating it; I hated goodbye's.
I hated confrontations.
I hated how good things must come to an end.
I hate how I just met someone whom;
Let's say is somewhat a complete stranger
The type wherein you instantly connect
With this being but failed to notify yourself
That this ''stranger'' is about to leave the country.
I hate how as you enjoy a perfectly good bottle of beer,
There goes all these people who once left you feeling
All these emotions you never even signed up for.
Do you still remember the day you felt
The weight of the world upon your shoulder?
And as much as you want to vividly capture
That moment you won't do that.
I hate how you meet people who are driven;
The type that makes you want to feel alive.
Whose passions are engraved in their skin.
But then, you noticed how these people progress
And are off to venture in a different path without
Even having you in the picture.
I hate how I discovered a place to free,
This chaotic mind;
To dig through every parts of myself
And leave it all behind in this place
I'd like to call ''home.''
I hate how this place felt like home to us
That we are safe from our misery;
We've built friendships.
And maybe, met the person you
Fall for every single day.
Whether it'd be good or bad,
Keep it.
Let's keep the love alive.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
Hell will be a waiting room
You’re sitting in an uncomfortable chair
With dingy magazines five months old
The couples on the covers have split
Someone has already torn out the coupons, filled in the quizzes and crosswords
Twelve letters across another word for your damnation?
The answer scrawled out in red ink
Anticipation
Waiting for the news that is never going to come
Waiting
That anticipation is worse than the diagnoses
You could have five months to live this afterlife
Five weeks
Five hours
You could drop undead in the middle of that waiting room
Where no one would do a ******* thing
Because God doesn’t dwell down here
Here the devil is king
And then it begins again
A different waiting room
The same dingy magazines
Except this one smells like a dentist’s office
You’ll just sit
Wait
The walls read
If you have been waiting more than fifteen minutes please notify the receptionist
Alert staff if you are experiencing flu-like symptoms
HAIL SATAN
Thank you for not smoking
No smoking
No talking
No texting tweeting or reading
Waiting
Just Waiting
In this ***** dusty hell of a room
Please take a seat
A nurse will call you to the back shortly
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
startup…
logon… password “Hello Friend”
K: Windows/system32> whoami
Description= reminder to update system
Exec start= bash(repeatedly) sleep-10; notify send “This Is Gonna Hurt”
K: Memories/ cd
Couldn’t load library “K: Memories/Hopeful/GoodTimes/v1997/launcher”
no such file or library
Invoked from within
Library path could not be found while executing
newtype.sendkeys {DELETE}
integrity check has failed
package requires ansinfo
(package ifneeded script)
def listen= {dummy}
ip config_release
User interface "you’re_not_losing_your_mind!” not found
NOT ENOUGH PARAMETERS OR PARAMETER ERROR!
User daemon reload - update script
Are you sure you want to delete? Y/N
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 7:47 PM UTC
Those words that were coined as a cliche mean more than we shall ever guess.
We need not understand them until the adrenaline wears off like the lipstick of a pale moon's night.
Change becomes so inert, it feels as though we are watching Neptune orbit the sun.
We tie a knot and leap.
Days and nights pass in a tangle
Such as a tumbleweed hitting our tire on a warm desert car ride.
The peaks and valleys we ride create a rhythm that plays to the metronome of the heart.
They can make us sick some times,
While other times we can't help but stare in amazement at such imperfectly beautiful things.
I wish I could take it all with me:
The land, the sky, the scent
I never want to face myself again because of where I ventured to before it all.
I find myself high up on a mountain, hearing the memories of the earth as well as the memories my own spherical entities have held and let go, all at the same time.
As I make my way down from the peak to another valley, I realise I do not have enough room to hold such masterpieces..within my frontal lobe or my backseat window.
For I am not alone. I began this journey as a we.
However what I took from it all was specifically mine.
We are united in our separateness.
With each scene passing us by, we notify ourselves change has set in. Maybe not all together outwardly but intermittently internally.
The first cut is the deepest and although we are attuned to what's going on in our outside world, our inner world has already began rebuilding itself without us even acknowledging it.
It may take reading a list of cliches on a mountain for us to the recognize the small change, but it is there, like an unforeseen star in the night
sky.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
first:
My name doesn't matter. I don't know anyone else who has the same name as me, nor why it's so significant. Any comparisons to other people's works will result in a block.
second:
Comment without liking my poems will result in me just removing your comment. Disliking doesn't really do anything and doesn't notify me. However, a comment with constructive criticism can be addressed through private messages.
third:
If you like or love or both any of my poems, I will try to get back to your poems with equally proportional likes and so ons. Sometimes the site doesn't work and I miss a few. Sorry. However, using suns to light my poems up and make them trend again will not result in reciprocation. I am broke. I also do not repost, so choose to if you want knowing this.
fourth:
Do not put my poems in lists like Worthy to trend or a notch above the daily fluff. I find those lists too pretentious even by my own pretentious standard.
fifth:
I post thank you's a lot because I am genuinely surprised people like my "art" and I can't make it anymore simple. Thank you friends, I had a rough time when I found this site and loved it ever since.
:)
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 7:56 AM UTC
Count your friends instead.
the one who notify you that
your existence enhances them!
so for those special few,
I will say what ere I promised
Never to Say,
I like you too.
so count me instead,
read me like I read you,
In and Out,
Front and Back,
gotcha coming and going.
I'm notifying you,
You-we, are the best,
of Us,
and count me in
you.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
Explosions & gunshots
(Simulated)
says an urgent text
from Notify NYC
on my cell,
well recv'd
reported to be
in Central Park,
my heart now skipping beats,
not comprehending the detensing
the declensing cleansing of...
s i m u l a t i o n
thinking only
my park, my park,
my country, my country,
a ****** battlefield!
a second glance, it's just
a heads up to keep my
head down,
from my bud, my boy,
Free *****
having a bit of fun
with us Ameddicans
Shakespeare in the Park presents:
Troilus and Cressida
which contains the use of smoke, haze,
cigarettes,
explosions, loud sounds,
blank gunshots & strobe effects.
***cigarettes? cigarettes? ***
there is no smoking in the park,
not even for poets and
Playrights of renown,
no exceptions made
in this hard-nosed town
and that ladies and gents
is how
one distinguishes a
genuine New Yorkah
neither smoke nor haze,
explosions and gunshots,
an apple-cheeked citizenry faze
these hardy city folk,
from their pursuit of
the golden yolk,
the reward of the
dog-eat-dog yoke,
worn in the pursuit of
Life, Happiness & Liberte
don't even thinking about
smoking in our park,
or near my face,
then the loud noises
may be more than merely
stimulating
than blankly,
s i m u l a t i n g....
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 2:07 PM UTC
They always comes first
everything comes first
the meds, the doctors, the hospitals
the bleeding, the bruising, the fracturing
the screaming, the despersonalization
the doping, the doping, the doping,
and then me.
why me after all this
why not me before the first medication?
i wonder
and wonder
and wonder
and i've come to a conclusion
that i'm way too ******* selfish
you've got a life &
you need to care take of it
before you try to
call me & notify me
about your
doping
and
your life
and your
pain,
but through all
of this
all i feel
is the pain of waiting
too,
don't you see?
it's me, waiting for you
here.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
The Man in the Moon will be leavin’ soon
Officially, he retired.
But Polaris and some other stars
Are saying he got fired
The Man in the Moon would never leave
Of his own volition.
Management, cutting back on costs,
Is phasing out his position.
His quarterly reviews have not been going very well,
They say he isn’t any good with change.
When he gives his full attention, he seems to do ok,
But lately he’s been acting kind of strange,
His bosses claim he sleeps all day.
And on cloudy nights, he stays away,
(It’d be age discrimination if they said he’s getting old)
So they say that he won’t listen and won’t do as he is told.
They say because he has seniority,
That he resents authority,
Won’t show his new boss how the job is done,
And in their final summary, out of ten, they gave him three,
Said that he doesn’t hold a candle to the sun.
But those of us who know his work
Know he would never, ever shirk
Responsibility, or jobs that must be done -
At night when he works overtime,
Countless souls look up to him, but
At night they’ll never, ever, see the sun.
If The Man in the Moon is told to leave
Our lives will be amiss,
So I took a poet’s initiative
To make management a list:
Reasons Not to Fire the Man in the Moon
Who will watch young lovers kiss?
Who will push and pull the tides?
Who will occupy the space
Where The Man in the Moon resides?
Who will tell the farmer when it’s time to plant his field?
Who will lead the eclipse when the sun needs lunar shield?
Who will be the subject of songs and nursery rhymes?
Who will notify the werewolf when it’s his changin’ time?
Who will calm the sailors after stormy nights at sea?
Who will make a silhouette of an owl in the tree?
Who will light the children’s path each All Hallows’ Eve?
Who would raise vampires from their coffins
Were The Man in the Moon to leave?
I ask these questions with a plea
Knowing that, if it were up to me
And I had the power to blunt the cutter’s knife,
We’d leave the Earth and Heavens as they’ve been for all these years,
And The Man in the Moon would have his job for life.
PwL 5/24/15w
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
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Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 12:34 PM UTC
She takes notice, she takes focus,
She takes more than me back home,
We're flipping up and upside down,
Twisting out loud our frowns are turned around
and I'm falling,
I'm Face to face with her after
such a long stalling,
But I hear you wonder till there's thunder
with our knot-be-noose in said tangled lies,
Let me notify you that your hot and cold lenses
are making this fight,
That far away I'm noticing your ear's are just
cotton shut tight,
See,
you push the prone as I need her by my side,
Resenting to let go of possessive love
Though you know that I'm right,
Know this,
That I'll pull tight what you've towed until you detach,
You'll fall back into night without a single flash,
But like child you cut till you craft blood,
A big red stain that will wash out in rain and separate mud,
I still hear your pathetic voice
in it's low and screeching highs,
I tell you,
don't take it to my home, it's horrid,
Alone you should sing or cry
or just get over it,
But here again you're needing a loan
Though you never owed or owned,
Nevertheless I'll leave a last help
And pray it should lay like a stone,
Hear that what you needed was a backbone
Every time you hunched and never tried,
Every time you plunged blind
With no stable step in your life,
So I say good riddance and bare well,
A last goodbye and farewell,
You've poisoned your own time and mine,
Now finally let it be good,
I'll finally let it be right.
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 9:16 AM UTC
~
when your final day approached
did we know it when it came?
were we given time enough,
to trace the lines of your face,
before you faded fast as dusk?
will the final words we spoke,
the familiar sounds of your voice,
echo ever in our hearts as the
fading whispers of your sweet goodbye,
becoming etched indelibly,
in the pages of our memory?
yes...
your final day arrived,
but no...
we didn’t know it when it came
no trumpet blew, no drum was beat
no final hug, no goodbye kiss
just empty silence, only this
makes us ponder all we missed
we pray the hint of the forest,
that always lingered on your clothes,
will ever be reminders of your
yearning heart for nature’s wonder
and as we walk among the swaying pines,
beside the waters still you sought
we hope you’ll linger in the sunlight,
in lengthening shadows of the hills,
where you laid your weary head,
as we scramble to the heights you loved,
we’ll listen for your voice of bravery,
in the thunder of the waterfall.
we’ll see the outline of your footsteps,
imprinted always on the carpet,
of the room you’ve left behind,
all of these we’ll look for, reach for
in the home we’ve built for you inside.
~
*post script.
verse 1 looks back, as we must do for instruction on how best to look forward.
verse 2 takes its instruction from the pages of his life,
considers how he lived, his motto, his life creed...
“travel light, enjoy the journey!”
how we must choose to continue, chose to live.
we only wish we had understood his suffering better. the deep losses of others hammers home our own, losses from which we think we are recovering... and then this.
inspired by this note from my beautiful wife several weeks ago:
“I have this daily Bible verse app on my phone, it has not been turned on to notify me for months, but today, march 25- i woke up to this one. Last day i saw my sweet Daniel’s face. :'-( “
Isaiah 26:4 Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.*
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC