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Maddie Mar 2016
Depression is hard to understand. The dictionary naively refers to it as, "feelings of severe despondency and dejection." But what does the dictionary know about depression? I think depression is more complicated than that. But I don't quite know what that consists of. I've been trying to figure it out for months now, and I just can't seem to understand. I don't know what depression is, but I can tell you what it's not.

Depression is not polite. Depression doesn't knock before he barges in. He just lets himself in, unannounced and unexpected, and leaves me gasping for what little air is left in the room.
Depression isn't clean. He doesn't tidy up after he makes a mess. He comes into my life like a hurricane, and leaves me to pick up the crumbled pieces of my rubbled life.
Depression isn't moral. He steals my happiness and kills my spirit. He doesn't abide by any common rules or laws, he makes his own rules and I have to play by them.
Depression isn't popular. The only "friends" he has are his victims. He drags me away from everyone who used to love me, and leaves me isolated in a cold, dark place.
Depression isn't respectful. He claws his way into the lives of so many genuine people and drives them to the brink of insanity. He has no regard for my thoughts or my feelings, stomping all over me until there's nothing decent left to salvage.
Depression isn't creative. He tells you everything as it is and makes you see all of the terrible things poisoning the world. He doesn't sugarcoat the truth, no matter how much it hurts, and he helped me clearly see even my smallest of flaws.
Depression isn't nice. He calls me ugly and tells me I'm worthless. The words he whispers ring in my ears: "**** yourself, **** yourself, **** yourself."

It's hard to define depression. It doesn't fit into a small box. I've practically driven myself crazy trying to figure out what it is and why this is happening to me. I don't understand depression, and no matter how hard I try to define it, I always fall short. I don't know if depression can ever be defined. While I try aimlessly to define the undefinable, depression ruthlessly takes advantage of me. I can try as much as I'd like, but I don't define depression, depression defines me.
fearfulpoet Sep 2018
objects in the distance may be closer than they appear  

how many thousands of times
these words mirrored blankly upon my eyes

only today did I-read them accurate

from the nowhere    from a great void
someone stepped and lifted me from a
rubbled prone
where there were no options
asking for nothing
over and over I beseeching

now I see
in the mirror
those words

I see only them
in the heart human
the object so close
it writ upon my face
proudly
Aye in time we hear yer callin',
Yer mucket words o' the mairn fallin'.
Ah see yer schemes, laid gipet an cal,
Yer feverish plots ah see em ahl.

So Aff ma hinkin an aff my ma back min,
Av geet yer bags ye sees av packed em.
Awa we ye poison flooer,
Tae rubbled ruin, yer cairn nae moor.


Yes in time we hear your calling,
Your soiled words of morning falling.
All your schemes, laid childish and cold,
Your feverish plots i see them all.

So leave my thoughts and leave my back man,
I have your bags, you see ive packed them.
Away with you you poison flower,
To rubbled ruin, your mountain no more.
Zoe Irvine Nov 2012
Get it, India head
This is no bed of roses
Poses in prime positions
Are sublime repetitions
Of what has gone
Before

Karma comes knocking
Knowing
Falling flat on your face
Bindis race
First fast then erased
From your forehead
Forever more

Rickshaws run a mockery
Round rubbled ruins
Of modern mishapes
Monarchy's mistakes, perhaps
Perfect pictures of
Predictable
Misadventures

What everyone tells you
Pre plane departure
Setting one belief in front of another
One foot behind
Is what it does
To your stomach
Shaking heads full of
Heavy sighs

Cares to be taken
Clothes to be carried in case
For climactic changes
Of course
What to withstand
Understand
Undertake
When to be undeterred

When to stand your ground
Back down, barter
Bask
Busk your way through town
What to battle over
Where to bathe and how
When to show the colour
Of your mother's money

How to save a dollar
Raise a rupee
Meditate on more that
You could Be
Do the deed
Be caught in times of need
Phone home and find
No-one waiting for your call

All of this and more
You carry on your back
A rucksack full of love and
Missed kisses
But - the greatest part of this is
What no-one tells you -
What it does
To your heart

What you find
When your mind adjusts
And your eyes unwind
And great gusts of understanding blow you free
When you hand over the key
To your list of demands
And give in
To the easy unplanned

Exploring
Imploring looks
Hook your sympathy
Bait you easily at first
The worst
Are always
The kids
Thing is, how could you deny them?

Soon enough
Is enough
“Sister!”
“Look mister, I ain't no fool
And I ain't a millionaire either -
Leave her alone and go home.”
Thing is, how could you feed them all?

You triumph on trains
Blaspheme the buses
The driver's on drugs
Or a suicide trip
You skip rice-based breakfasts
For weeks
Seek out cereals then
Suddenly...you don't

Chinking chai glasses
Chomping on chocolate
A lot
More than most
Coasting roads
Filled with cows
On a scooter scuffed with sand
And stuffed to bursting point

Dogs with holes in
Infecting imaginations
Over masala dosa
Noses signalling distaste
This taste?
Hmm, tamarind - trees?
Try over there
Between the neem and the new banana circle...

Too many memories to mention
There's always one question
When you return to the beginning
Grinning, they ask
How was it?
But how can you say
It was everything
You've never seen
?

India
Get it?
INDIA!!
Get it India
But be warned...
You may never
Get her
Out-ia
Head
Del Maximo Apr 2010
icecaps come undone
crushing into the ocean
as she sheds her frozen tears
penguins and p0lar bears shudder
as their habitats recede
like the snows of Kilimanjaro

volcanoes explode
spewing smoke and ash like billowing pillows
into the stratosphere
diffusing sunshine's heat
like a cold compress
floes of lava melt glaciers
rivers of mud cause flooded folks to flee

fissures crack and snap from her pressure
towns and countrysides split
floors rumble and roll like the ocean
walls tumble, crumble and roar
bells toll an all too familiar melody
families cry out, wailing and ranting
chanting dirges of great loss
an inconsolable cacophony
rubbled lives lying in ruin

but she is not to blame
the earth is a no fault state
this is our doing
ecology's consequence
greenhouse gasses and other pollutants
have given her a fever
her pores are opening to vent the warming
she is not angry or vindictive
punishment is not her goal
and evil has not played its hand
the planet is just cooling herself
it's how Gaia gets her groove back
© April 16, 2010
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
Twisted support beams, reached into the rubbled streets, from the heat of 1000 paint jobs, bubbling in a breeze of noxious dust, gushing from the fallen cages, sealed into caves of vacant ships, where they smoldered with the older ways, long forgotten, and gone, one day.
Annette, she was a Worthingham
And Karen, she was a Lee,
But both of them were adopted
In the war, in ’43.
They pulled them out of a rubbled house
But their folks, they couldn’t save,
And so they grew as the sisters two
With the common name, Palgrave.

As sisters, they were like chalk and cheese
Though the neighbours didn’t know,
They said that one was the milkman’s
And the other, Lord Mulrow’s.
For Annette, she was a saucy ****,
Was the wilder of the two,
While Karen, she had a stately mien
With a haughty, grand purview.

They fought like cats through their teenage years
Would curse and swear, conspire,
Annette destroyed Karen’s underwear
While Karen burned hers in the fire.
The mother was pale, and frail and ill
When she asked them both to go,
‘I don’t have to keep you anymore,
I adopted you both, you know!’

The news hit home like a thunderbolt,
They looked in each other’s eyes,
‘You mean, we’re not really sisters, Hell!’
It came as a great surprise.
Karen went to her room to brood
Annette was flooded with tears,
‘Why weren’t we told, it seems so cold,
We should have known that for years.’

So Annette got a cold water flat
While Karen lived on the Square,
Then Annette got herself pregnant, but
Nobody seemed to care.
The boyfriend didn’t appear one day
And she knew that he was gone,
She drifted into a deep despair
As time went travelling on.

She got so big that she couldn’t cope
And she thought to take her life,
And then there came a knock at the door
Just as she raised the knife.
She groaned and whispered to go away
As she lay flat out on the cot,
‘It’s Karen here, it’s your sister, dear,
I’m the only one you’ve got!’

She’d brought a parcel of food with her
And a daffodil layette,
‘I couldn’t choose between pink or blue,
Not knowing it’s gender yet.’
They hugged each other and burst in tears
For a love they hadn’t shown,
While caught in an unknown falsehood, but
Their sisterhood had grown.

David Lewis Paget
Salmabanu Hatim Nov 2023
Bombarded,
Rubbled,
About to die.
I, Ahmed and my friends yet dream,
To eat a shawarma,
A chicken sandwich,
Not to have the roads closed,
Waiting for a brother,
To hear his mother calling him,
Hopefully to see another morning.
5/11/2023
PJ Poesy Mar 2016
Scabby fixes on brick trinities
Nouveau riche social climbers
empty holes
rubbled interims' morning glories
rats jovial
Someone's been killing the cats

Three half squares broken open
Shorn wallpaper on each
Large machinery
downing old world's new world
Kickball is
only legend to internet urchins

Sitting on stoops
punching thumbs on cellular
apparatus for the ages
Doohickey haves
Doohickey have-nots

If there must be urban renewal
leave me cherry Italian water ice
at a buck a pop
I don't much care for
Cold Stone Creameries'
Green Tea and Lychee Martinis
Pluck Aug 2015
"Can't fly unless you let yourself fall"
Meaning God's blessings can't get to you if you imprison yourself behind a regretful wall

If you want to a see a view, a peak, you have to be willing to run uphill & stumble sometimes.
I'm inspired every time me and you speak, & even though I can't tell what will, I know no one can get to you if you hide behind those rubbled love lines.
Kelly Jan 2019
I said I wouldn't write about you
                                                            b­ut who am I
           to strip myself of what makes me live
in art I've surfaced my own sins

                                                           ­                      and some of yours.
                                                          ­                                         I suppose

I've taken space you've asked of me
                                                     needing to blockmyface
                                                     ­                    whenyouonceplaced
           my name into your skin

in a quiet champagne trip and
                                                    Gold
indente­d ribs

                                          Take a sip.

If it's "poison" that touches your lips

                                  THEN you could've skipped
                                                         ­              dipped
                                                          ­             flipped   me onto the piles of rubbled                   glass
torn from your walls
placed carelessly cornered or left simply to fall
                                                            ­                                       switched in
flip

some contorted reverse
                                            though my heart refuses to pin you as
                                      Perverse
     when these colors emerged


Two Years of swells i Chose to forget
                                                  each time that i stayed when I knew

i should've left.
When Everybody told me                      Better was Mine
                                       I wouldn't give in to believe that your heart was
                     Unkind.

From the moment I knew I'd clutched your stairway-ed arms
to
                 Ease My Ailing,
sweaty palms in driver-ed cars
Kermit Ruffins and philly beer bars
roller coasters, Christmas lights
                           endless pen-streamed journaled binds
An unopened book
                         pages still blank
                  more than a stitch to ease the pain of your name

   though i mustn't Complain
                                                        ­             ...and I still can't Rejoice

But I'll watch the sunrise through Uncommon windows
              trace folds of your fingers -- sweet struggled wake on your pillow
                            and dance foreign waltz in clipped black-wig nights
           plated sweet nourriture to watch your delight

Watch you dance decorated as I set in Pride
                                hold me to standards --yet bend when I'm Right

Speak to me softly in quiet teared nights
         tell me I'm beautiful when femininity cannot find
                                                            ­                                                 me
Drape me in curtains of love and Security
        Fit so Securely in the curves of my body

Smile in shyness--like absence of tongue
                as your cheeks lift to hide your eyes
                                                            ­                                  in thin rungs

Gold plates of your stomach and skin over hips
           saying my name through pleasurepursed lips
Pounding the pavement in carouseled times
  
not only Read, but Returned all my rhymes

The fortress is daunting
                     I'm brooding and swift
Sometimes the brick slips but the flips never Switch

So if russe folk dances and stealing lost tea
                     causes your coldness, just slightly, to bleed
                                       Remember what I did
                                                             ­                     --to, your troubles, ease
                               Don't say for this new year I didn't
Prioritize your Needs
                                       MARRY THEM, by all of all means
i never pushed you to choose, instead, me

I've learned my doors close,
       i woke to realize
                                             when those i thought open I faced and
                                                                ­  denied

because nothing matches the pulses and start
                  --the warmth in my chest when your palms
                                                                ­                                 press my heart

that's why with your Run i cannot understand
           feelings and highs
                                                           ­            unsustainable lands
I never demand     -       I never imply

                        but im also neverwrong
   and i can't shake  

                                                        ­                                         You and I.
ifiampoison
The sodden sky was ominous gray
Halted wheels on fruitless span
I knew I had lost my way
When from earth shot up one old man!

There he was by the broken bridge
With soiled hands face smiling
His long white beard hid agelong crease
And bar him the road had no one thing!

I asked him the way to the old fort
For rolled the wheels in vain too far
He caught me up in quick rapport
As flew in the winds his monkly hair!

He told the story when the English came
And how they struggled in the hostile clime
Built the bridge got the river dammed
Now broken pillars of ravaged time!

Twenty miles he said need to go
Till you reach the fort now a rubbled pile
On the left with you would be river’s flow
That’s half an hour with a forty mile!

I have so much to tell about this place
The English bridge and all the story
But I know he said with time you race
If only you could spend an hour with me!
epictails Nov 2015
It's as if I,
I
Am born with a void
The silence is an invitation
A banquet
Filled with unlit chandeliers
That only I can dance with

Nothing is around except
The grand hall of 'I'
Laid bare like a naked body
Unarmed and yet lethal

Melancholy
Is my infection and sensibility
I rubbled in a cave
When the rest stood on empires

It is a cat and mouse chase
Fooling one that
No one gets eaten
But I,
I will be

It would only take a blink
Before every sadness seeps
In my glass skin
And I am done as a crystal jar

It would only take a fickle sun
Before every wicked order
Rhymeless or not
Claims me with a Judas kiss.
Cam Stoker Dec 2016
King of the house hosts a royal crowd, a ring surrounds his post, all loyal to the crown bounds a herd of proud mammals from all around the world.

Chameleons in the jungle locked changing colors hide
As the lions on the rubbled rocks hanging out and sigh
A passing fly mumbles talk both meat & leaf eaters sufferin this life
Feeling the struggle at the top parrot says free your mind with words it's worth it share life with those at rock bottom and those in cloud nine.

As chirps of birds protesting the parrots' wise lines
A chameleon disappointed us all wasting all our time
Heard from the rest of the herd he tried to join us then sighed,
That white water rapids entered the river to the red sea after one year of rivers clean.

Whenever we leave and life ends:
We never forget family and friends.
I’d driven along the cobbled street
And along to the village square,
When something had caught my attention, and
It was then I became aware,
I’d had vague thoughts of another life
That I’d lived in the distant past,
Was there something locked in my memory
That would tell me the truth, at last?

I didn’t remember who I was
My name, or even my face,
For five long years I’d hunted and searched
For a clue, a familiar place,
My life ‘til then was a total blank
I’d found myself by the sea,
Crawling up out of the water there
Was the first that I knew of me.

The war was just about over, and
Confusion had reigned supreme,
So much rubble and people dead
I couldn’t remember a thing,
The place I’d lived may well have been bombed,
I wandered the empty streets,
Of buildings, shattered to empty shells
Of craters, seven feet deep.

I found some clothes in a rubbled shop
For my own had been torn from my back,
There were burns all over my body,
Had I been caught in an air attack?
I went to the local hospital
Where the staff had treated my burns,
But they said they didn’t know who I was
So I left, and never returned.

I did odd jobs and I found a room
And I bought the News each day,
I checked the names on the missing lists
In the hopes I’d be found one day,
But I never saw a familiar face
Nor read a familiar name,
I’d given up when I drove on through
The village called Hamlin Dane.

I parked the car, next to the square
Where a cottage had caught my eye,
My heart was beating, loud in my chest
Though I stood and I wondered why,
Then a woman walked on out to the street
There was something familiar there,
She looked across and she caught my eye,
Then stopped and began to stare.

She walked, then ran right up to my side,
And then she began to cry,
‘My God, it’s you, just where have you been,’
Then stopped, and let out a sigh.
‘For five long years we thought you were dead,
So why have you come back now?’
I shook my head with a sense of dread,
I wanted to tell, but how?

Then fleeting visions came into my mind
Of a warm and a cosy hearth,
A loving woman beside me there
And a child that we’d christened Garth.
I tried to tell her I’d lost my mind,
My memories stirred just then,
She shook her head, ‘I’d like to be kind,
But I’ve just got married again.’

Then I was aboard a Lancaster
Heading on home from a raid,
We’d bombed the city of Frankfurt, and
The turret was shot away,
We limped back over the channel, then
Were hit with a burst of flack,
The plane went down in a burst of flame,
And I thought we’d never get back.

I was the only survivor, that
I knew, as we hit the sea,
The others went down with the crippled plane,
They wouldn’t be looking for me,
I stared at Joan and began to cry,
The tears were wet on my cheek,
‘I’m sorry, darling, I don’t know why
But the future is looking bleak!’

There was a time when I’d lived a life
That I’d lost and I don’t know how,
A wife, a son, and they’d turned their backs
And I can’t really blame them now.
She said it was best if I left that place,
She was married again, for sure,
So I stayed a week then I drove away,
I can’t even blame the war.

It’s sixty years, I stare at the hearth,
I never got married again,
My life flew by in a stream of tears
Of what I had lost, back then,
My son found out and he looked me up,
He said he was sorry, and how,
I hugged him close and I bit my lip,
And said, ‘I’m living for now!’

David Lewis Paget
Robert Guerrero Mar 2013
With a kiss unlike any other
You stole my heart
With a glance that lingered
You stole my breath
How is this possible
Everything was under lock and key
Chained and bolted deep within walls
Left in ruins from your touch
I am afraid of this yes
Because I cannot comprehend this
This is impossible
I loved you once
I never wanted to get this close again
Not with you
I was afraid you would do it all over again
Because I have nothing to offer you

Your weak
You should of been stronger
Your **** is controlling you heart
Wake up
She doesnt love you
You are a nobody
Nobody can love you
Hell nobody knows who you are
She left you in ashes
You finally rebuilt our empire
You took control of the world
Mastered the way of life
You could end a life
If it wasnt a crime

You are so beautiful
Matured in a way
Perfect like fine wine
How is this possible
That with a simple kiss
A simple glance in my direction
A simple touch on my arm
Has me falling once more
My mind tangled
My walls ruined and rubbled
Not even a pebble stands
Is it you my heart, soul, body, and mind
Wishes to endulge in
Over and over till the world stops moving
Even after that
Our bodies laying together
Feeling the passion of a reborn love

You are a fool
Can you not see
This is all due to your hormones
You heart has nothing to do with it
You are so willing to lay it out there
To be executed by any woman
Then curl up in a ball
And depress yourself even further
With the constant thought of her
You want what you cant have
Hate what you have
And abandon the things that want you
This is you
This is the way you are
Are you even listening to me
Dont try
Dont **** yourself
Using her as the blade
The bottle and pills
The bullet to the 45
Listen you **** fool
She is going to hurt you
Or you are going to hurt her

I love you

Dont say that

I want you

That is your hormones

I need you

Wake up

You have my heart
My soul
And whatever else it takes
For us to stay together this time

Too late
Go **** yourself
Dont look in the mirror
I dont wish to see the rebreaking
To the cracks
I dont want to see the missing pieces
That somehow disappeared
You are such a *******
I hope you know that
You are on your own this time
This is the weirdest poem I have written I think. It is a conversation with a girl while a voice in my head talks to me.
The castle was smaller than I’d thought
In the Scottish countryside,
It sat in a hollow called Claymore Court
Where all the defenders died,
The signs of cannon, pounding the towers
Were there in the crumbled walls,
And shrubs grew out of the rubbled bowers
While trees took root in the halls.

I sensed a touch of hostility
The moment I reached the gate,
For Angus’s friendability
Came on just a little late,
We’d both attended the Priory School
But that had been way back then,
And I, in parting, called him a fool,
He wouldn’t remember when.

But he did us proud with a suckling pig
And a quart of ‘**** o’ the North’,
Marie, who knew him, was ever so big
And sat with me, holding forth.
I had no mind that he felt so strong,
I’d have left the woman at home,
He had this feeling I’d done him wrong
When I coaxed Marie to roam.

And there she sat with a month to go
Way out in front with our bairn,
I didn’t know it would crease him so
But there, you live and you learn.
He coaxed her drink, with a dreadful leer
Pressed on her **** o’ the North,
It wasn’t as if she was drinking beer
Or water, for all that it’s worth.

We went to bed in a tower room
When the moon rose over the glen,
It felt to me like a Highland tomb
As it was to my clan back then,
Marie began to moan in the night
That the bairn was coming forth,
It had a skinful, thanks to Marie
Of that liquor, **** o’ the North.

And Angus heard and he came to gloat
When he heard that she couldn’t hold,
I dropped him there, head first in the moat
To a grave both wet and cold.
Marie and I, we sit in the barn
And the blame swings back and forth,
What price my friend, and a helpless bairn
To a jar of **** o’ the North?

David Lewis Paget
we slept all
bundled up in
beds too tiny
meant for
one


limbed and
twiny under
breathy blanket
quilted by
your mom


in pokey dorm rooms
loud and
clambersome


we slept all
upside down
in princess bed
of brass ornate
and painted
ceramic of
flowers pink
and dainty


pulled and
rubbled out
from rummage
sale in
somebody's
front yard


enclosed by walls
of wood
a-seep with
rugged deep
grotesque koala
gnarl


we slept all
pulled out long
on foamy
futon


slats a-stick
in ribs and
jutting out


to wailing
whooping
siren sounds
and tv screams
and chopper
chops
and others'
midnight
lovers' fights


a-pound and
hot and grimy


we slept all
lofted up
and alcoved
cozy
high in castle
attic


nunnery
monastic


circled round
by clouds
and crows and
osprey


wings a-soar
wings a-flap
dizzying up our
weathered dreams


with
cat a-curled and
purring at
our tender feet


and farback
memories
swirling sweet


of bygone nights


of bygone plights


of sleeps
slept other
places


© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield
The bed on which you sleep is full of memories. The sounds that swirl around, the light that filters in, the lumpiness or firmness of its cradling round your body, and the scent of the person with whom you share it becomes inextricably linked to that bed itself.

A couple in love graduates from bed to bed as they progress through ever-changing life circumstances. And the memories of those beds contain the memories of all the happy, miserable, beautiful, and strugglesome times that befell them in between all those sleeps.
Joanna Oz Sep 2014
cold sweat startled wake,
to blinding grey light
cutting through torn curtains,
splaying skeletal silhouettes on the floor.
squinting crusted-shut eyes,
trying to determine the ghostly hour
lost between fragmented fever dreams.
head twisting inside-out to wrap itself
around old virtues, stand true
true blue friend, I'll surely desert you in the end.
hand on my burnt Bible to swear
my oath of destruction,
on a war path to eradicate
everything i resurrected
as an effigy to home, love, and identity.
structural anarchy - from imposed symmetry,
to the empty abyss surrounding me
where a single whimper can bounce
off itself, into crescendoing agony.
gather all the rubbled remains
of the once sanctified temple,
but piling stones straight to the sky
won't build a shelter for the aftershock.
Looking like white cotton ***** pulled and stretched
Til they are thin as gauze and wispySpread across the morning sky
With other clouds that ripple like enormous corduroy.
I see them as I step out on my daily sunrise walk.
Up sloping streets, down slanted lanes,
I revel in this twilight of the night time.

Knowing there will be a show to take my breath away,
I climb the rubbled hill that separates our steeets
From those across the access road. It’s very steep
And I place my feet with caution on the narrow path.
It would’t do to slip and tumble down the rocky *****.
I walk the ridge-line - half a mile - avoiding
All the off-road tracks that scar the tumbled surface,
Making daring runs across and up and down the steepness

First the bottom of the clouds turn Cotton Candy pink,
Just at the horizon line of jagged, distant mountains.
Then as I watch, the color seeps across the other clouds
Until the morning sky resembles bubble gum.
As quickly as it comes, it fades and takes a golden hue
That gradually turns pink to gold, as the clouds
All change their dresses.
The indigo of the pre-dawn sky plugs in to nature’s power
And the sky begins to glow a neon azure blue.

A flash on the horizon line announces the
First shimmer-glimmer of the sun
As it wakes up and stretches arms across the sky,
And all the pink and gold goes home until tomorrow.
At which point I do the same.
         ljm
Never seen dawns like these before.
Fay Slimm Nov 2016
Clamped down firmly
time is a stifler.

No win-win situation
for minds
here existing

yet living elsewhere.

To allay pining,
moments
keep to their turning.

Secure, love's binding
of hearts

when rutted
in time's unpliable
yearning.

Bitter-sweet the state
where existence
depends

on ticking of clocks
but

blest the find of sated
persistence.

Rubbled, a shore wet
with stony regret,
yet

lived greenly
hope still offers,
to love

intent on patience,

her best gift-listing
dear friend,
for those who have
waited.

Simply inestimable
joy

in the end.
Jonny Angel Sep 2014
Why weep,
who promised us anything
& at the very least
a rose garden.
And when one thinks
of all the shattering,
those smashed heads
& toys
lying in rubbled-streets,
it's just enough
to crack a smile.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                     ­     A Non-Religious Jew

                  “Well, he may be a good man but he’s certainly not
                    Christian. Zelensky is the first Jewish president of
                    Ukraine, even if he is non-religious...”

                                    -The Remnant, 2 March 2022

He stands in rubbled streets during bomb attacks
And takes a selfie to show us he’s alive
Our tee-shirted leader of the free world
He stands among the wreckage and reassures us

He stands in rubbled streets; he needs a shave
He needs some sleep; he does not need a ride
But The Remnant - O infallible Remnant! –
Dismisses him as just a Jew

If only we were all that Jewish
If only we were all that non-religious
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2022
Labile

la·bile
/ˈlāˌbīl,ˈlābəl/


1. liable to change; easily altered.  “Persons whose blood pressure is more labile will carry an enhanced risk of heart attack"


2. of or characterized by emotions that are easily aroused or freely expressed, and that tend to alter quickly and spontaneously; emotionally unstable."mood seemed generally appropriate, but the patient was often labile!

       !~~~!

oceans have boundaries,
a shaping, fluid, fluctuating definition.
words have dictionaries,
a permeable listing, unsettled,
offering oscillating
meanings like our lives.


these building blocks,  fluid,flexing,
wooden watery vowels areshape shifters,
including the hard constant consonants,
lay upon the minds rubbled streets, begging for us
to trip and fall, in order to ******* an ‘ah ha!.’


words are liabilities, even if unknown,
responsibilities, carried upon our ledgers,
even if nuances pass patiently unrecognized,
even if unuttered
.

the woman wakes, bad startled by a concluding dreaming,
speaks ‘what time is it?’ and reassured by words,
promptly falls back to rem the darling earlies again.

her labile is my liability,
incumbent then upon me,
to be alert whenever she so stumbles, alarmed,
prepped with reassuring tools to soothe, coax.

stored this word for how long, till it became a responsibility,
incumbent to explore its precision tooled vagaries,
saved unknowingly for this precise moment of


Sturm und Drang.
7:05am the Fifth of May, Two Thousand and Twenty Two
Firebuns9 Feb 2018
9/11
By Daniel Lantigua

Up above watched, by the five thousand plus souls,
Came a voice that punctured in them some holes.
A tall man in a straw hat stood and said, "don't be sad, look at your
country don't you see, you died for freedom just like me."
Then before them all, appeared a scene of rubbled streets and twisted
beams.
Death, destruction, smoke and dust
And people working just cause they must.
Hauling ash, and lifting stones,
Knee deep in hell,
But not alone.

Beams bent and melted like your knees do when you knelt.
How could it be, my friend beside me in anguish is what she felt.
All the heat that is seen from the fire, pushing humans to melt.
All caused by the thunderous and horrific attacks that was dealt.

One man puts in perspective just like he did back when he uttered, "I
have a dream.." This is what I've seen,
Look closer newcomers, yes there is suffering, there is pain, and there
are tears,
But what I don't see is fear".

All of those people, even the ones that have never met you,
All of their lives, they will never forget you.
Don't you see what you have done?
You have brought them together, together as one.

A man bearded and in a stove pipe hat told them to "take my hand" for I
will lead you to heaven,
Your young ones like Michael, Louis, Dimitri and Devin
Shall remember you on this date of September 11.
Klausyuer Oct 3
"
Rowing through dishevelled bones,
Drifting toward the Undying Halls,
Where the ****** poet reigns,
Composing odysseys of muted souls.

Tombs of heroes line the bleeding stone,
Each crypt houses ballads unsung.
From kings who soared to touch the sky,
To peasants whose hands tilled the earth’s damp soil,
Chiselled on each grave, a forgotten name,
A parable of life, a courage for a story.

Walking through the rubbled road,
Where monarchs and peons once carved their fate.
As angels and demons danced in delight,
Celebrating the fleeting joys of life,
Their smiles once illuminated the gloomy skies,
Now cast shadows in the creeping dread.

Creaking trees bow in the eerie breeze,
Stray ghouls and ghosts drift through the air,
Wounded and lost, still searching,
For the poet whose ink grants peace.
Among the crumbling stone, his hands unyielding,
They come to voice their regretful pleas.

In the garden of silence, they listen,
Bathed in awe as they linger,
Where the ****** poet grieves for each soul.
His quill sways, memories behold,
Etched in every word he writes,
A soul’s forgotten pain—
Every stanza, a homage to their strain.

With each stroke of ink, a life reminisced,
Unshaken, the poet will write until the final tale is told.
Alas, they rise in bliss as the poet weeps,
For a soul, at last, shall find its peace.
"
-Klausyuer
A lore for my self created title :3
Lawrence Hall Apr 22
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                               The Golden Gate of Jerusalem

The Gate of Repentance

The Golden Gate captures the evening moon
Which shines upon the road a convict walked
At the rubbled base a snake pursues a rat
                                       a very troubled rat
While Roman squaddies stand the middle watch

The Gate of Mercy

The Golden Gate captures the morning sun
Whence the Messiah comes, or comes again
He is the Gate Himself, the Golden Gate
He comes from the Mount of Olives in golden light

The Golden Gate has been blocked for centuries -
This will not always be so
Leila The Kiwi Jan 2022
Bringing me back
To a time long ago

Before rubbled remnants
Of destruction scattered my mind

Childlike and carefree
Without a thought about what awaits me

A gift I couldn't
Have imagined to receive.

l.v.s
After realizing I'd shared the childlike wonder of affection I started to cry. It's been years since I let my guard down to this point and just let things flow so naturally. Getting lost in the moment and another person. Past relationships made me think it wasn't possible anymore... But it is.
Qualyxian Quest Jul 2019
not just not perfect
but genuinely tried and troubled

Fate in the old paintings
bursts the beauty bubble

I live in a late Empire
the culture now quite rubbled

despite my whitening beard
time to grow as does my stubble
Sam Lawrence Sep 2021
all sounds are muted
as the muzzled wave
shakes the street-stood
to their rubbled graves

an act as black
as snow is white
paints a greyness
in its blinding light

every single
pane of glass
once drum taut now
scattered by the blast

and on it rips
sad dandelion
blow the hours
from the rising sun

I know this fear
I've swallowed threads
I'm nothing if not
shaken by the dead

— The End —