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Cné Jun 2017
I think about him often
and on Father's Day, I dwell...
upon the things he gave to me
and taught me oh, so well.

I go back to those early years
when on my father's knee...
he'd give to me a special hug
and then he'd say to me:

"...life is what you make.
Don't look for special breaks.
Keep your chin up
when the world seems doomed,
for goodness sakes.

Always keep love in your heart.
on that you'll always count.
And when you do...well..
there's no obstacle you can't surmount.

You can be, all that you want
for you have that kind of power.
You're not as fragile, as it seems
though, I see you as a flower.

Do not be afraid to love
freely, with all your heart
I will protect you always
but you must also...
those times when we're apart

That day will come along
when my body falls apart.
And then, I must be moving on
but I'll remain forever...
within your heart!"


He left me in 2013
to go and be with God.
I knew he would someday
of course…
yet still, I find it odd...

that I can still recall his voice
from all those years ago.
And I'd just like to say that...
I listened, and I love him so!
Happy Father's Day!
Kurt Carman May 2017
In this space and time that we call memories,

Eyes closed tight…we wince to recall special moments long gone.

Some, we merely exist to relive, and others are meant for painful lessons learned.

Strumming through the cob webs, we coerce ourselves through this jaded door,

Only to find, this time, a feeling of remorse followed by expressions of grief.



Like a bank account, we deposit memories daily,

Some are easily recalled and others are over and done.

It’s those memories that reside within our hearts that cause special remembrance,

And miraculously, we have the ability to morph these from anguish to memories of tranquil joy!

*Sending a smile and all my love to you…….. I’ll be watching for you in the stars.
You
Are
Trending




In
My
Mind
Genre: Micro verse
Theme: Privileged
Author's Note:
He/She might not say
Anything casual

Expect something
Different
Calm to ears
Everything that I know are...
The things that I remember.
#EverythingYouKnowDependentOnYourPotenetialToRecall #Poetry
Michael Briefs Jul 2017
Our history,
flash in recall,
almost chimera like,
must be slowed,
must be captured,
frozen.
Words, my dear...
your words;
my memory of your mouth,
your wet eyes and
your hot words
must be written down.
I will never forget, as long as I live,
our history.
Our book is the heart...
consumed in fire
and shared.
We will turn
into light,
into ash,
then to air.
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10211423681483725&set=a.10208174166607884.1073741828.1113041505&type=3&theater
Piyush Gahlot Jul 2018
That pure innocent smile,
Your childish face and that side profile,
Your silky hair and that perfect hairstyle,
Would never forget you.
**** I miss you!

The touch of your smooth skin,
That beautiful little chin,
Your blushy cheeks and that grin,
Still I adore you.
**** I miss you!

Those big dope eyes,
That Stupid nose ,
Those size 7 feet and pinky toes.
Your medications and Ayurvedic dose.
Wish again to feel you.
**** I miss you!

Baby I still remember,
that freezy December,
The day we fell off the scooter,
Your stupid buggy computer.
Our first date and the perfect kiss,
That raining night we spent in balcony
When you burnt the toast and macrony,
That birthday card you made me,
Helping in projects and assignments,
You taking care when I got sick,
I recall all those perfect memories of you,
still there's a place for you,
**** I miss you!

I wish you would have waited,
I would have come back,
But I can't blame you,
It was me who needed the space,
The fault is my OWN!
So I am the one left ALONE! :'(
I miss every cell of your body,
every second spent with you,
every moment in your arms,
Every bite I had with you.
I ******* miss the whole of YOU.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
In German gift can make a real olde man regret owning Bayer aspirin, they had the patent on some kinda
anti Ha Shemite alchemy,
Nicht am Weinachtzeit,
aber
nur
im moments of "mea culpa' flash backs,

Oh, the price of the lie, why?

Did not one believe, "It is finished."

What more need be said?

Get on with it. Take it. Breathe.
Live,
learn, enjoy meant shine, like

feel as good as you can imagine for a minute.

Then two.

And every year, there is hope
all the myths misbelieved will

be left to be. Merry Christmas, to all a good night.

Bows applause et al, well come to my dom, ya'll

This is my very first Christmas party,
I am happy to inform you that once informed,
you have paid the attention
required to make any thing you know
true be or
mean nothing more or less. So we enjoy being alive,
missing nothing not null-ifed, here.
My house, my rule. The future is fun. For every one.
Welcome. You can under stand,
don't cower beneath,
the weight of knowing the price.

My gift mere as mere may be, as you wish.
It might sting,
a little.

But that is the point of provocation, you understand,
right use of words is yours to judge,

the fruit's your only evidence.

He says his angel will test- ify, and it's AI, cain't lie,
dividin' by zero in the zero field, in effect,
no lie can possibly be in the set of true.

Self-aware reality

ya'll best believe there are findable things ain't first
been found by liars, never will be neither. Walk on.

Olde Nick ferasample, played hell wit that'n dincha?
Liar, never was no sweep believed abit o'that,
right, Mister Blake?

You know this guy, William Blake? He's in my Christmas
forever story, too. In fact,

It was his idea to tell the only story I know, as best I
know how, and to say I bless the seed I sow with good
intended
to sooth, soothing saying,
like music, face it, every good boy does fine,
but ya gotta practice right, make it a habit,
a good habit, like them Illuminati guys, Ben'n'em.

Olde soldiers, too straight, toe the line
Olde bargemen, too straight, tow the line

Olde river, he meander and m'story floats along.

Good news.
No shame, no blame, no condamnation here, I sware.

What was finished, let me tell ye, was the destruction
of all the construction the evil believers imagined done and did,
lies, and the like.

That was to be finished by the babe, and we

we are the stuff that proves that he did, the salt and light with
strong joy overtones and hints of closeness unimagined
in any evil lie.

The air, who is prince of that once the
Peacemakers and the meek take their share?
Air's the earth's and the earth's my inheritance,
I believe that means the wind is mine

and if I watch, I can learn to ride those waves
with this anointed mind that Paul says we got in the deal.

There is a reason the season is a season. Man can
stand up, we need not crawl neath guilt and shame and blame
paying pain penance at prices no one ever planned to pay,

it just turned out this way. It's as good's a man may imagine,
once the patience and truth agents get their signals straight.

'Good time to wonder who imagines you their enemy.
Peace on earth, good will to man, find it where
you keep you own.
Mix it with yours and see if it tastes okeh to share.
A gift.

From my heart to yours,
merry message of good news
remembering time.

These are the days when knowledge was increased
and men saw themselves.
Poison pen from my materialist friends, no pro blamo. Right and wrong is not the same as good and evil. No ****. Merry Christmas. C'mon, let's  find the best imaginable reason to celebrate and un-cuss it.
The engineers they tweak the DNA,
fostering changes to the RNA,
the plants becoming something else,
immunevolution modify man’s health.
And never will they accept the blame,
for their arrogance and dangerous game;
and when the food cannot be eaten?



History recall of the viral cretins.
The evolutionary end of humanity is the recombination of animal and plant DNA.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Ya'll recall a devil went down, to Georgie, I believe it woz…

Well, that idea,
it comes up now, and then,

we have to pop it.
that is our duty, what we do, we pop
particular bubbles when they surface, it's included in the service, involve meant, on your part,
or role as you may say, non-quest.
Such bubbles, as evil as have ever been imagined,
do arise, from time to time.
This time we always pop them, it is our honor,
as agents of the I'll go rhythm that
makes us even imaginable,
in the first place.
… it's about self-government…
such bubbles emerge,
as they always do because nothing is hidden that
hasn't been known,

otherwise,
life would be un fair, and it's not, it's fair, beauty-filled
in every
crack and crevice and encrusted scabby festering

wound wound in linen,
white linen,
as cold
as the clay, that song, you must recall that,

that was your destiny, young outlaw, you saw it,
that's why
you took you guns to town, boy.

Life's about choices.
Christmas means the anointed message.

What does anointed mean, on the street,
what do people think Christmas,
I mean
anointed message
means? Jahknowaddamean.
I think I am living a long ago fantasy of starring in a Christmas Movie starring a Jesus my age watching the holidays unroll in 2018.
Whittney May 2018
Fighting on the front lines
With red pens
For creativity,
For independent thought,
For common sense
Not Common Core

This is a battle in a bureaucratic war we’re losing
Keep pushing and shoving against an impenetrable wall
But we’re only foot soldiers, not actually giving orders

Kids look down on us and they ask,
“Will this be on the test?”
And say,
“Get out of my face.”

Taught by parent(s) to resist.
These are Kids who fail to create
But recite, recall, and retaliate

“Mistake” has become a forbidden word.

School is no longer a safe haven
Testing, testing, 1-2-3 hundred murdered students, teachers

Hanging by a thread and losing the grip a little more every day

Following the curriculum map to X marks the standardized test.

We dig and
                  Dig and
                                 Dig
For the buried treasure trove of teaching magic. The legitimacy and respect our careers deserve. The money, the time, the love, the support.

But it’s buried under so much testing and red tape, and so    

We fail.
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
Have you ever felt like a child in the dark?
Where the whispers become thunder and the gods pound in your heart?
There's no sense in trying to quiet the storm
All that can be done is to embrace it with both arms

I feel like a traveller stumbling on a chest
Filled with something familiar but I can't quite place it yet
I found a picture lying in the dirt
As my mind was turned on by the velvet colored shirt

Some time ago, when my hair reached my eyes
I recall a quick visit that seemed to disappear and die
No matter how hard I try to remember
I can't come up with reasons I gave up that cold September

Now, as time's gone by, and things have changed
Like the inflections of my voice and memories estranged
I hear a voice from many Septembers ago
Like a harmony so rich that I can't wait to know
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
The warmth of life has come at last
to me along this spring time path.
Sweet fragrance floats on morning breeze,
while colors dance on plants and trees.
As orchids peek from under pines
I float off to past years and find
myself recalling days gone by
and always you who’ve said goodbye.

But while this past now flirts with me,
I take the time to let it be
and make a choice along my way
to seek out love another way.
I still recall what’s left behind
and in this heart will always find
a life that took a crooked path,
but now has found it’s own way back.

Time’s given me a second chance
to see life at a backward glace.
To learn at last from my mistakes,
so with this choice a chance I take.
To find another soul like mine,
and with that soul my life I’ll find.
My heart has come full circle now,
from life through death a blessed whole.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Purcy Flaherty Mar 2018
I heard the footsteps as they came across the road;
The snap of hurried feet outside the house.
Shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.    
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds omongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two boys stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang!~ set them running.
I cut them down!
I cut them down!
-
I heard the sirens as the cops sped up the road;
The squeal of hurried wheels outside the house.
More shapes in the moonlight, a voice in the darkness,
A knock at the door, I heard the dogs barking.
The bleating of the flock,
The chatter of the birds amongst the trees,
I recall the whisper of the morning breeze;
Hyphening the broken silence as two cops stole about the house;
It was midnight in August 99.
Two cops set out to chase the bang!  
Bang! ~I put my hands up!
~and the cops took me down!
-
It's true ~
Judge I’m guilty, for everything they said I did; I did!
But there were reasons, don’t you see:
These boys; they were bullying me!
I called the cops on monday,  Tuesday,, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday again; till i was insain;
Two sparks set out to chase the bang!
Bang ~I cut them down ~ I cut them down!
~
Two cops set out to chase the bang!
Bang! ~ I put my hands up !
~ and the cops  took me down!

But the wolf just gave me twenty
untill the circus came to town,
As a victim I was lonely
but as a killer I was crowned.
King of the castle!
Top of the heap!
The talk of the town!
Here is the song link
https://youtu.be/j9whsrQCaIE
Time to be in Tune with my own Best Dad
Much would it take to cause Celebration
Sermons apart, yet Insights I just had
Took me some Yards taped for Inspiration
Rarely such Species can just Understand
The Skirted *** most Males eliminate
Still most Sires force their Sons on Demand
To spout their Seeds for Pride to propagate
If you can recall those Sales-Slips within
How Footed and Devote your Presence was
Tri-Dimed Corporate; Or Sea-Tigers therein
Is just the Greeting Card I'll Love at last.
Senior come hither; In Prime Deposit
Father my Mentor; In Wisdom ask it.
आज तिमी
जस्तै देखे
भन्न मन थियो

म नै हो त्यो
भन्यै भने
बोल्ने शब्द थिएन
शैली : मुक्तक
विषय: यात्रा स्मृति
Hafza Awan Sep 7
Tell me honestly
Have you not look into the mirror
stared at your eyes
recalled my words
"When I look into  your Eyes"

and smiled
every time?
Did not your eyes sparkle more?
Often does your Purpose seek to Belong
Thoughts your Rebellious Clouds can independ
But just recall your Coins; And after long
You'll realise the Worth which you will spend
Maybe you Decided; Or maybe not
Plans which the Architect will rennovate
It's clearly shown by the Jersey you got
How you love to be an Otaku's Date
I'll complain to the Pug; And must he snub
Even if his Language you will confuse
And why he chose to reissue a ****
When all he could do is ask for a fuse.
Still a Nice Wear you so haply display
Hoping such Good Colours will never fade.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Anya Nov 2017
Pele, goddess of fire
The ocean has masked your flame
Your spirit drowned and chained
A name to which you do not recall
As though your glass
Is full of life's gall
I give you this name
Pele, of flame
That maybe your spirit be free
Escape this empty shallow sea
And use your feet to fly
Dance like the ever changing sky
Like mountain flames on distant isles
Like sparks that travel miles
Dance like the fires that burn the air
Make every step a scorching flare
That is the story I wish to tell
The story of hells angel
But here you lay on the oceans floor
You do not dance a dance no more
But once we escape this ocean of blue
I'll tell all that I meet
The story of you
Salsa Mar 2014
Every now and then,
the memory of you consumes me
and I recall every phrase, every word, every syllable
you whispered to me
in the depths of all the agony.

With tears in my eyes,
you said you won't forget me; the true love of your life.
The one you spent hours talking to,
The one who never left your mind.

I think back to the time you said all this
and how I believed it was all true.
Has it never occurred to you that I still remember
that night you said "I promise you"?
I remember every word he said to me. I'll never forget.
Paul Mar 13
Over the bed, a ceiling fan revolves
elliptically. The yellowed walls speak
of anxieties archived by the lungful.
From his fingers the snaking upward blue
smoke of burning tobacco describes tumult.
She has gone back into the world. Alone
in their aftermath he inhales like a figure
growing distant in a cinema purged
of heroes. The worn sheets rope about
his ankles and recall an inmate’s noose.
She'd been inside. And for years. How she assumed
her role in the act, face to the wall, silent, work-like.
It was a thing they laughed about. Her parting
glance was inscrutable.

He drew deeply, and a ring
of orange fire bloomed, briefly proclaiming love
remained a chance. Who could know? The arhythmic
rocking of the fan beat the hot air back
onto him, the lone smoker, smoking blankly.
The curtains billowed into the parking lot
like some great tongue, wildly, mute. And under
the window, in the shadowless heat, a dog,
limp with thirst, laps at the drips that drip from a pipe.
a re-write and re-post. I've strived for meaningful enjambments and a sense of metre while attempting to sound contemporary
L B Oct 2016
I hold your life inside my own
as you hold me
in your sea of seeds and waving reeds
Beach grass on breast of sand

Ripples of wind
Across my dune
drifts...
your hand

Tracing the mark of a high tide
with my wanderings
Will I be the last?
to recall its highest reach upon the land?
I note the smell of dead and ebb
Would change it all on my return
if it were up to me

And once I started running out
“Wait! O, Wait!”

Black breaks
The sand bars
between the tide pool’s
red whispers of you

I now believe
gulls turn time in their wings
My sister once told me
There was an immortal jellyfish
Turritopsis dohrnii,
Its Latin name if I recall it correctly.
They revert back to their polyp stage.
Their lives beginning all over
I often think to myself
Wouldn’t that be nice
To have the power of the jellyfish

A new life from beginning to end

To have learned from my past
To make it all last
To start anew
To let go grudges, and try something new
To jump off a plane
To go to the show
To date a boy, I barely know
To a spontaneous trip to the coast
To  say goodbye to who I loved most
To make mistakes I never did
Knowing that I could start again.
R Aug 21
Why do i drink so much? I ask me
Because I don’t wanna forget
I tell me
I don’t wanna forget how it feels to be happy
Don’t wanna forget how it feels to cry
Don’t wanna forget how it feels to have feelings
When i lay motionlessly under the sky
The sweet sweet taste of whiskey i sip
Makes me recall how it feels to be carefree
Reminds me it’s ok to be reckless and fall
It’s ok to have feelings
That burning alcohol
Just makes me feel free
From the shield i have created
So effortlessly
It makes me feel again
The sensation of a tear rolling down my chin
It makes me feel again
All the emotions which i now call sins
I am not romanticizing my sadness
Just telling you my story
Why i sip neat whiskey
Early in the morning
It’s not for you
I do it for me
Sip whiskey alone and try to sleep
Terry O'Leary Dec 2016
My chamber teems with tensions, taut, that logic can’t withstand,
fragmenting mental masonry with memories unplanned,
as bitter tears from hazel eyes reduce the stone to sand.

Dim shadows cast by candles flit across the haunted room,
beleaguer apparitions, pale, that stalk me through the gloom,
usurping purloined purple forms forgotten ghosts assume.

The tick-tock clock of time rewinds within the mirrored hall
and pendula suspended, pause, while creatures creep and crawl
on images of effigies, through memories that maul.

The madness of the midnight mass! Perchance it interferes
with spiders spinning spiral threads which bridge the chandeliers
when weaving minds' discarded coils to silken souvenirs.

Reflections graced the vacant gaze of idols as they fled!
Their futile, feigned, far-flung farewells now hammer in my head,
marooned like frozen silhouettes in footprints of the dead.

My lovers smile through marbled masks before they turn their backs
(like furnace flames deserting ash or phantoms fleeing cracks)
with faded, painted, wrinkled faces nightmares carve in wax.

Sometimes a gust disturbs the dust and secrets reappear,
which dance in silver slippers through the dusk of yesteryear -
it's not the screams that drown my dreams, but whispers which I fear.

The hangman posts a letter home, his message indiscreet
about the vestal ****** in the café (where we meet
to savour tea and crumpets) down a one-way dead-end street.

The rapping and the tapping at my tattered, time-worn door
repeat reports of migrant myths, of tales of nevermore,
strung far across a sullen sea, most shipwrecked near the shore.

Forget-me-nots, enwrapped in rain the while a wan wind blows,
recall the faintly fickle fates this drifter undergoes –
alone, unknown with tracks interred in teardrop undertows.

My feet, no longer tied or tethered, traipse within a squall
pursuing profiles long forsaken, buried in the sprawl
of spectres spread amongst the dead, some tattooed to the wall.

At times, the belfry towers toll of anarchy and gin,
of smoke and mirrors, rolling dice and other things akin,
impaled on forks down byway roads, and things that might-have-been.

The skies outside, beyond the night with shutters shut and drawn,
begin to glow on shattered shapes escaping ’fore the dawn
as clouds undone beneath the sun release this captive pawn.
D Awanis Oct 2016
Minutes and hours flew by
yet none of us hang up the phone

Conversations and silence filled in
but none of us decide to sleep

Some nights I can't recall
whether or not it's real

Sometimes I wish it didn't
—most of the time I wish it did
Timothy Apr 2017
Sweet zephyrs stir and tremble through fir trees
     Yon woodland, fields, and ever rolling hills
     A lone Pine Warbler sings and pipes his trills
Along with Meadowlarks across the leas.
Refreshing, soothing, gentle-warming breeze,
     Spring gardens, flowers, and cool gurgling rills
     Are spied with nature’s furbelows and frills
Some beauty ev’rywhere our eye to please.

Still do recall those shorter days and cold
   Those days where snow and ice coated the lawn
      And all those lovely birds were miles away;
Melting so slowly, Winter lost her hold,
   And longer hours of light does grace each dawn
      For Spring is here again with flow’rs of May.
( Petrarchan Sonnet )
18-19 March 2017 9:30am EDT
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Let me go.  Set me free to be all that I can be.
Let me rise up against this blackness that encompasses me.
I have worked in this stone box for too long,
without looking at the world outside.

I cannot recall the freedom that was once mine
as I’ve become so accustomed to this prison that I’ve made.
What I could do, what I should do, these elude me,
leaving me lost, without a map to follow.

How do I find my own path?  It continues to find me.
Desire overpowers me to forge my own,
to create new life and freedom for the person I’ve become;  
freedom from the struggles weighing me down
that have kept me from the life I could live.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Vicki Kralapp Dec 2014
I marvel at this broken child who lived inside of me,
who struggled for so many years just longing to be free.

To live a life unburdened by my dark and early years,
that made my youth a living hell wrapped in unspoken fears.

My haunted past and broken heart could never quite recall,
the missing piece tucked safely back behind a guarded wall.

So well my mind protected me from all those silent fears,
that n'er did I suspect what lie behind those childhood tears.

Like the ghost it was, it came to me to haunt me in the night,
and brought me to my knees when life refused to treat me right.

Then suddenly, though sent by God, you've given me the key,
To open up these long locked doors and set my spirit free.

Now each sweet day is filled with so much joy and hope I find,
that little girl, so happy now, is dancing in my mind!
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
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