"rememberance" poems
Out of frustration
I broke my phone screen
who cares?
nobody is going to call me anyway.
Rather your not going to call me anyway
Months have passed
Seasons have changed
And on this day of rememberance
I took every picture of you from my broken phone
and placed it into my picture folder
As I peruse though the memories
and picture yesterday;
My phone screams out a sound i had not heard in quite awhile.
So loud my heart almost stopped and my brain ran wild
Your ringtone, on the very second i click ok to save,
alerted me that you sent a text message today.
a text message...of all things, a text message...
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:41 AM UTC
Willow herb floating
on silent certainty
ashes of sighs
not fleeting,
unvapoured on the
blossom of the rain,
I am too light to
pull or push
the swing of delight
through this land.
The rain left me for a
while
sun unshielding
-a thousand widows
more unyielding than the depths . .
Once shadowed whisperers
of delight,gossamer
sparkling , descending
their chains
of necromantic hope.
Lilith is no night owl
she is mother, eve
and my becoming:
sweet earth spun
at once ,
exhaling her .
The see saw
bumped gently
on my chin
it is a most gentle
form of awakening.
The silence bore no whispers
till sinking through the quicksand
-or was it quicksilver?
-in any case I could smell little
in my amniotic amnesia.
I made ten thousand friends,till their soap
made this place clean.
Is this a seed or a dying
hopefulness
-is my sallow sowing
beyond all shores of
reproduction;
a reflection of the child
they dared not bear?
Is my last breath like this
a forgotton yielding
will they catch me
as I fall ?
-(sweet earth)-
This moth of my ending,
a shallow recantation,
my fears-
their memories, mere
testubes of
stylish hope .
I breathe the elegant stare
you have forgotten .
Once more free
from such
rememberance
I need not ,
remained not ,
your imploded ,
wakefulness .
A thousand pardons
exhaled like silk
entwining
an unfinished race
spider of a thousand eyes .
One may say
I was
stared
to death
but surrogate air
mocks childish pity.
Taut refelexions
bear salt echoes
in silk convulsions
fresh water
a veneered hope .
Easier in death than life
is a child's sorrowed
partings ,
the illusion of
bouyancy
rippled tides
unfelt.
The oceans have not enough salt
for such shrunken sorrow.
if we could but once
have shared
unbreathed aspersion .
The room has come and gone
the pillow quite undry
unforgotten
unremembered.
A web untouched
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 7:46 AM UTC
The road is
Wet and cold
The rain falls down like
Dark tears
The scars of
Your beautiful face
Made me cry
You rest your
Tired head
In my arms
As your frame
Falls still
I lower my head
Close my eyes
I call out
In despair
I am forever
Trapped in this hell
Without you
So listen now
To my love
An undying truth
Fades away in
The rain
I was captive in the dark
Which held me from you
And tantalized my mind
You fell apart
As you saved me
But oh woe
The cost was
Too high
I dug you
A rememberance
Of our past and future
And I simply limp away
And I become engulfed
By the dark shadows
Once again
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
Snow White had a pain one day,
She called for the court physician.
He checked her pulse, he felt her head
Said she had a strange condition.
Told her to eat some apples wild
And come back the very next day.
Then found that she must be with child;
For how long, he couldn't say.
Snow White had no rememberance
Of ever laying down with a man;
But her child bore a slight resemblance
To a motley forest band.
Seven dwarves had lived in a place
Right at the edge of town;
Rumors flew it was a disgrace
Which Snow White would never live down.
But then someone remembered a chap
Name of Johnny Appleseed, came through
Said he put some seed right in Snow's lap-
Just before her belly grew.
Mar 15, 2010
Mar 15, 2010 at 8:54 PM UTC
I do not like the world around me,
The filth and ***** places,
The lying selfish faces,
The weakness satan preys on,
All beauty now is all gone,
And like the world, I now smell,
Of the tomb in which we dwell,
With no will to perservere,
Nor rememberance of a tear,
Walking 'round about in throng,
Singing all the same sad song,
Of all we've lost or never had,
And of the good that turned to bad.
Until this becomes our norm again.
Forgetting better days have been.
I do not like the world around me,
The filth and ***** places,
The lying selfish faces,
The weakness satan preys on,
All beauty now is all gone,
And like the world, I now smell,
Of the tomb in which we dwell,
With no will to perservere,
Nor rememberance of a tear,
Walking 'round about in throng,
Singing all the same sad song,
Of all we've lost or never had,
And of the good that turned to bad.
Until this becomes our norm again.
Forgetting better days have been.
I do not like the world around me,
The filth and ***** places,
The lying selfish faces,
The weakness satan preys on,
All beauty now is all gone,
And like the world, I now smell,
Of the tomb in which we dwell,
With no will to perservere,
Nor rememberance of a tear,
Walking 'round about in throng,
Singing all the same sad song,
Of all we've lost or never had,
And of the good that turned to bad.
Until this becomes our norm again.
Forgetting better days have been. You get the picture......
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 8:59 PM UTC
Cold,
Wet,
Rememberance,
Flowing,
Silence,
Deafaning.
Rain,
Everything we need and don't,
Good and bad,
Memories we want to remember but also ones we want to forget.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 7:52 AM UTC
There's no sophistication in the raw life of men
the ****** birthing pain of entering our den
enduring all emotions and ******* turbulence
there's no sophistication in War rememberance
There's no sophistication in being up the junction
innocently learning basic ****** function
the youthful years pretending none of it exists
the sophisticated people with whom we pit our wits
There's no sophistication in the finality of death
the worn out decrepit bodies of the elderly in debt
wasted starving africans and third world poverty
there's no sophistication in no liberty or money
Do why do we pretend that all is hunky dory
sophisticated society is a glory story?
can't we be honest, and support our neighbour
or are we too sophisticated for human behaviour
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
It’s New Years
And I walk the streets
Longing for my love
From another life
Like a ghost
To the world
It’s Valentine’s Day
And I walk the streets
Longing for my love
From another life
Like a ghost
To the world
It’s Easter
And I walk the streets
Longing for my love
From another life
Like a ghost
To the world
It’s Mother’s Day
And I walk the streets
Longing for my love
From another life
Like a ghost
To the world
It’s Canada day
And I walk the streets
Longing for my love
From another life
Like a ghost
To the world
It’s labour day
And I walk the streets
Longing for my love
From another life
Like a ghost
To the world
It’s thanksgiving
And I walk the streets
Longing for my love
From another life
Like a ghost
To the world
It’s Halloween
And I walk the streets
Longing for my love
From another life
Like a ghost
To the world
It’s rememberance day
And I walk the streets
Longing for my love
From another life
Like a ghost
To the world
It’s Christmas
And I walk the streets
Longing for my love
From another life
Like a ghost
To the world
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC
~Christi Michaels~
**Dark Shadows of My Soul
Memories finally revealed,
Yet always known.
Arches set deep within stone
Labored creake of hinges
Massive wooden doors
My breath, heavy just moments before,
quiets upon the entering.
Dark Shadows of My Soul
Three steps down,
Entering the majestic room.
Domed ceilings. Stucco stained
with colors from long, long ago.
I walk towards windows.
Tall, deep n' narrow overlooking My Realm below.
A knowing. A deep seated
rememberance of a life once lived.
Dark Shadows of My Soul
Secrets, locked away in gilded boxes..
Vessels holding unspoken truths
Trap doors leading to dungeons
concealed beneath intricately woven rugs.
Taste of the air. ****** breads,
roasting meat.
Acrid smoke wafting from Soddy hearths
Dark Shadows of My Soul
Raven ringlets cascading.
A waterfall down my open back.
Pearl woven braids
adorn the crown of my head.
My ******* constrained.
Rising...cresting
With each breath.
Brocade and lace lay gently
across my hands, kissing my fingers
My neck long, regal. I hold posture of a Princess.
My full skirts sweep and polish
these stone floors from time till eternity
Will begin the journey.
Delve into this sordid past.
Facing, long at last
Deamons. Lies of Old
Embracing now
Dark Shadows of One's Soul**
Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
My many chores in summer's heat,
By this noon all complete.
Sitting neath my shaded porch,
A cooling, gentle breeze
Whispers and envelops me.
A welcome sensation,
Reminiscent of your
Loving hands,
Sensually touching,
And embracing me.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
It was a truth I had stated before
No one in this world is unique enough to not be replaceable
When no thought has been original for 50 years
History repeats itself on a daily basis
And life has the same rhythm every single day
How could you think, for even one second, that you’re special?
Friends come and go.
Loves burn out one after another
Trust wilts and faith slowly extinguishes
Your touch suddenly feels cold.
And her eyes suddenly look empty
When they used to be warm.
Your hands burn for her, and I?
I turn to ice next to you
The rock on my chest freezes
Grows heavier too
Icicles form that prevent the next person
to come even half as close as you
As you _could_ have
As _you_ would have
As you _should_ have
I hope you keep my gift as a rememberance of me
Of what you used to have
And maybe even could have had.
That you’ll one day look upon it and think
****
That was special
I could have had it
But you won’t. You won’t even care
You will have replaced me with someone else
Someone better
Someone smarter and prettier and easier to see through
And you’ll never look back
Cause after all
Which one of us is not replaceable?
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 4:15 AM UTC
Whispers of the wind
Were drawn on the sky
Of the bitter mind you left.
Words of the swing
Were drawn on the lie
Of the sinner and his theft.
Poems of the lost
Were encrypted on the smiles
Of the blackest mind,
The inconsolable, misguided ghost.
Lyrics of the raws
Were sung in an old, crumbled swing
Forgotten in a pencil's graphite,
The Creator of the whispery wind.
A whole story was scattered
Like sand's little grains.
Each word was shattered
Until whispers have lost their shadow
A rememberance of us in a fabled meadow,
A pencil on plain paper,
It's all that remains.
Apr 16, 2011
Apr 16, 2011 at 1:50 PM UTC
a poppy is a flower for rememberance day
to remember those who died who gave there lives away
remembering there courage they gave to make us free
giving us a future that they would never see.
now we have the poppy that we wear with pride
to remember all the soldiers and the reason why they died
just a little flower that we all adorn
remembering the brave as we gently mourne
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
---
the Man
sat crosslegged
on a mat of
green reeds
the woman
gulped and
wept as she
broke the
beautiful bottle
and poured out the
oil of spikenard
(worth a year's wages)
onto the head
of the Man
grumbling from
the thief as he
saw the chance
for his fortune
running
down
the
beard
of
the
Man
he
valued
less
than
dust
but i set
these words
down in
rememberance
of this deed
for her
she valued Him
more than
her most prized
possession
more than her
own temple of flesh
she had perfumed
and so
she
prepared
the
Man
for
leaving
His
own.
in DEATH
soulsurvivor
(C) 8/17/2015
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC
Thunder swept the sea,
The sky rained a nation's fate,
Great ships found their graves.
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 12:22 AM UTC
Arcassin B:
*Flooding through simple needs,
Like the stem and the seeds,
Its never what it seems,
I just can't put my finger on it,*
vague rememberance:
*the feeling of a soft breeze,
the crunching sounds of fallen leaves,
its such a vague memory,
i just cant put my finger on it*
Arcassin B:
*concrete surface not near the liquid,
Being inside you very vivid,
And even when the leaves get timid,
I just can't put my finger on it,*
vague rememberance:
*the water flows like life with sins,
the cool air brushes my skin,
but when the lights grow dim,
i just cant put my finger on it*
Arcassin B:
*sunlight through the branches,
Knowing what are the economical chances,
Watching the tree as it dances,
I just can't put my finger on it,*
vague rememberance:
*the smell of oak and dew on grass,
answers to questions i never asked,
my old sweet memories i cannot grasp,
i just cant put my finger on it*
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 3:30 AM UTC
Once in my Universe
All the things were
Missed
I was Created
By God's Will
Forth intact
Fulfiled with an innocent fleur
I Created Playful
Bountiful Place
All the joys and sorrows
Were Missed
There was The
Abundance
There was a light laughter
Of ignorance
Of hardly recognizible indifference
Of not knowing Poles are Axed
Of vague rememberance
Of
Which is Arctica
Which is Antarctica
And how to go there Magic W. . . .
Yet I had a technicue to reach a central core of Divinity
Yet I've heard about Shangrila and
Yeti
&
Yaks portruding with knited chimes
With wide reasonable heads watching
Extremly enchanting Dragons floating
Effortelessly alluring to the beholder's
Navigation
By The Cloud
By The Thunder
By Resonance
By Imagination
Coming True
The Child
Butterflies were landing on my arms
And I was a Mighty Director
Of my Dreamland Dying
With every second
Not knowing
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
This the inspiration from the same old songs
Painting memories as the sunrise sways to moonlight
Writing out immaculate fantasies in which I long
To see vividly in reality as an endearing sight
Seducing fixated thoughts into a surrealist abstract
A senseless halucination seperated from common fact
Spilling out vague accounts of thoughts days before
Monotonous literal interpretations of living dreams
Dwindling epiphanies leaking from persepections pore
Forgotten pieces of satisfaction that we can't redeem
Except on these tattered memoires I've come to resent
Piles upon piles of dying highs rotting on parchment
Despondent attempts to reanimate decaying emotion
Through a larger than life sincerity hidden in rhyme
Showcasing empty facades and uncertainties devotion
In vain of the first conception that changed as time
Makes a mockering of the beauty lost in every moment
Restless sensations trapped within all the verses spent
Broken words of rememberance that a poem leaves behind
Untimely rhythms growing more useless as days pass by
From the deliverance of meaning in our star-lit minds
To the desperate hour where we can't find a reason to try
We're searching for an excuse to have our names defined
A theme on a story that will mean something once we die
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC
I do not write about the joys of life
Or the calm and gentle quiet of nature.
There is too much faked joy in the world.
I do not write about love and loss.
I dare not tug at the fragile threads
That bind old wounds in rememberance.
I do not write about worldly truths
And the fallacies that we are often told.
I have forgotten them ― outgrown.
I do not write about my thoughts
For fear that I cannot find the words to fit
And that my mind will soon consume me.
I do not write ― I bleed.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
oh forget me nots in my shaded woodland garden,
hibiscus of rememberance,
violet of the lavendars of my faithfullness,
iris of his wisdom and valour,
daisys of my white imagination,
heathers of my heart,
roses of his desire,
sweet pea of delicasies,
ivy of my eternal fidelity,
posies I desire,
he loves me, he loves me not.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
These lost years of loneliness and social depravity
Have left me with nothing except this written tragedy
I sat and watched as the walls of my life crumbled away
Into this contorted sensation twisting through dismay
These ceaseless rememberance sessions screaming inside
A dead fixed stare on old friends taking cyanide
These bonds have come together in such a swift motion
And, just as fast they've came to their abrubt destruction
Dispersing any tint of mutual belonging from view
Molding a sad landscape of sighs and failing virtue
Watching as the remnants of my relationships loiter
The catacombs of these stockpiled confession letters
If only I could say anything my empathy had to tell me
My skeletal pose might have perched upright in a higher degree
And I would of have grown to a more formidable size
A clear cut aspiration that I never came to realize
Until all that I held grew too big for me to carry
and left me to stumble and sleep at the cemetary
Scratching dead love songs on century old gravestones
Where the forgotten have slept for generations alone
Hoping the crude penmanship might grace a weary heart
Or help a looming ghost feel a taste of love and depart
From the fog filled graveyard parade that it dwells
A final ringing from the synapsis of the greif bells
Sparking the ruin of a memory that doesn't seem real
A fading echo of a brotherhood I wish I could still feel
Detached from a reality that lurks in a decrepit imagery
Reshaping my empty cognition through a fake neuro surgery
I've reached the point where I have no reason to find
A replacement for all these buried pictures astray in my mind
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
When you're down and feeling scared
You can talk to Me
Of this life you weren't prepared
You can talk to Me
You feel your pain cannot be shared
You can talk to Me
You cried out and no one cared
You can talk to Me
A husband who has lost his wife
You can talk to Me
The searing pain cuts like a knife
You can talk to Me
There is naught but pain and strife
You can talk to Me
No owners manual for this life
You can talk to Me
You don't know what you can do
You can talk to Me
Your body beaten black and blue
You can talk to Me
Of real friends you've only few
You can talk to Me
Of rememberance only rue
You can talk to Me
If you're tired of your rut
You can talk to Me
All the doors are locked and shut
You can talk to Me
When life has literally *kicked your ****
You can talk to Me*
Talk to Me
'Bout anything
Talk to Me
Comfort I bring
Talk to Me
I'll always be
Talk to Me
I'll set you free
*You can LIVE ETERNALLY!
You can talk to Me
You can talk to Me
You can talk to Me*
SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/29/2016
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
A Day that became set in stone
etched with souls of sacrifice and victim
A City of tears and pain witnessed by Lady Liberty
Our Capitol and a Town marked by suffering
A Nation gripped in silence and primal scream
great tragedy befallen before the people.
A time we rose against adversity and tribulation
embracing one another in comfort and love
A country bonded in Human spirit and to persevere
memories of those passed, carried by light of our hearts
A moment of history that echoes into the future
to remember always and to forever sound
A Day to take rememberance, to stand always
brothers and sisters, in Love and as One.
** We need to truly never forget, but live on as we did then. United, Caring of Others, of Strength and Faith. If we are to forever hear the voices of that day, and carry the souls of then till now in continual light, then do so by staying in unconditional sacrifice of heart to others.**
Copyright © J.L.Gonzalez 2015
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
They condemn death only when it suits them.
They judge those who speak their minds
While embracing a nation of child-killers.
I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
Sleep must be hard to come by when you
Endorse the murders of millions of children
With no more thought than a gardener pruning a pesky ****
I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
They extinguish the fragile flames of would-be daughters and sons
And explain that this heinous crime is
Not only acceptable, but essential.
I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
It must be nearly impossible to stand up straight
When the burden of innocent lives swings from your shoulders.
Death is so heavy, even if the souls are small.
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC