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Miss Fit May 2023
Unheard

She screams as she struggles
The sound of her cries muffled
Her assailant's eyes look baffled
Her red eyes cry, her sobs stiffled

She tries to run but she is stopped
To the ground she is tackled
Her effort to run is attacked
And to the floor she is dropped

She tried to fight, she did, she tried!
She cried too much, she did, she cried!
She aimed to bite, oh yes, she did!
But the result she got was not what she bid
She wanted to hide, but all that was hid
Was only just this evil deed

An evil deed, indeed it was
An evil deed that no one saw
Evil as it was, no one saw
If someone had seen, she would cry no more
But at present her pride was no more
It's a cruel world out there and cries for help often go unheard
Francie Lynch Jul 2015
If you'll allow me,
I'll be the booming voice,
Or the low murmur,
You stiffled,
Long ago,
In your head.
But I won't allow you
To muzzle me.
Philipp K J Nov 2018
Why do you repel death
As if you stepped on an uncouth reptile
That stupified your mirth with a sting
and stiffled your brearth with dark coils round your girth?

The sibling death was with you ever since your birth
As close and distanced  as the self-effacing unmouthed mammoth  earth.

Throughout your path
And  passage along childhood to Man or
Motherhood
You did not see the truth
That death was with you ever since your
Being to  becoming growth
As a naive and native
Star in the north.

When you giggled and smiled in sleep-shell
the death was smiling with you as well.
When you dreamed and deemed yourself immortal
The death was kind at your daring mettle.
When you forgot to know the worth
Of the Love Smith
Who carved you as the crown of creation
The death was with you, an emphatic narration, a gentle witness of your lavished wishes of yourself.

Death was around you
Embracing your kiths
With valour indepth
And a love of eternal strength!

Still you strolled  uncontrolled to count your mortal home and hearth,
Ephemeral wherewithal

Death was ever loving
And lent you a free living
Even when you were  ailing.


Still you failed in your mirth
To listen and learn
From  what its worth
Still he is mute and modest as earth
And a caring and guiding  north star.

Then why do you loathe
And  show dearth of love to the one who
Loves all in equal strength
And blanks out all balance sheets,  
That credit and debit all accounts on earth
To the remembrance bank of infinity
without showing any disparity?
I am myself Feb 2012
Rivulets running down the pane

Thunder clashes lightning strikes

Purple light fills the sky

No children dance in this violent gale

Rumbling fills the silence

The very air vibrates

Huddled in the dim light

Warm beneath the blankets

Damp from rain and swimming

Chills now long gone

She leaves

Once again left alone

Pounding on my makeshift roof

Trapped inside this cold down pour

How long can measly canvas hold

Pink flamingos on the ceiling

Cast a dull peachy glow

Tired from an early morning

Energy dissipates leaving exhaustion

Yawns stiffled, rubbing eyes

It has slowed to a drizzle

Soft music to my ears

Hypnotic in a way

Breathing begins to deepen

Tonight this is my lullaby

Slumber softly to the sound
Noxx Jul 2016
Caught underneath

this four star sky swimming above smoke

with stiffled sighs and silenced screams

dreams dreamt by darkened eyes

ties tied to torrents. Waves

pulled taut in knots

like vacant lots and empty houses

rouses questions quickly kept in quivers

like arrows undelivered, bullets

barred behind teeth like the barrel of a gun

nowhere to run no why to live

lovers long lost in limbo

no reasons for seasons changing

not staying, no use in praying

simply saying soft snow will seep soon

the ice will melt, like how you felt

my last hand dealt, it's fine, I'm fine

believe me it's true

but the next you see my heart

dont mind the darkened blue
Trying this style again
George Krokos Oct 2013
O mother dear of this my life
you were more to me like a wife
as we lived together for a while
after dad had died and in style.

We went just about everywhere together
though it depended much on the weather.
And the fact that I was more reclusive
meant that it was hard to be inclusive.

Ours was a supremely chaste interdependence
which worked well to the point of transcendance.
Although I was the son and you were the mother
I would often give advice like a husband and father.

You had various problems with your health
but this did not undermine spiritual wealth.
There were certain things that you would more or less ignore
due to a stubborn habitual independence that I would implore.

I tried to enhance your life and give you much more
rather than take anything away out of nature’s store.
And when that was stiffled with outside interference
the end result being one of a regretful ill occurence.

You lived to the ripe old age of eighty eight
and in all you did you were never really late.
You would try to help one and all in your own way
and people would look up to you and kind words say.

A very resourceful lady and one with a certain skill
you tried your hand at many things and the time fill.
I would often marvel as to how you got everything done
with a single minded purposefulness you ignored none.

Now gone is the lady of the house
who played the part of a spouse
and all that we used or shared together
is now idle at the mercy of the weather.

But her love still guides me in my heart
and urges me on daily to play the part
in doing the things that she would like me to do
even though she’s gone by doing to remain true.
_____________
Private Collection - written in 2010.
T R Wingfield Jan 2017
Are we lost to a land of too many tribes,
  Too many choices, of too many scales,
  Too many communities of which to
avail?

  Could we be better off fractured and scattered
  Left shattered like glass by the highway
  A shimmering reminder to the wayward passerby,
  All is not lost though we
Subside

  Could that we merely be torn asunder,
  Pulverized, then obliterated by ritual fire,
  Then wrung from the colluding liquified minds
  Crystaline,
      Incandescent,
          Molten
Purifide

  T­o form as before but free from parameters previously applied,
  Forgotten in the furnace of insanity and strife
  Stiffled,
      Tempered,
          Emboldend,
Refined
There is a group of words in my mind I cannot seem to seperate.  The title represents two of the interior, juxtaposed outside the form of another poem.
It begins as a rumination on the disconnect between generations and geography made so starkly apparent by the recent election, and exacerbated by the duality of social media: it can isolate and embitter an individual in and toward their local community, while at the same time connect and embolden them with a global ego/echo chamber. It sat as one stanza for many months, until I decided to share it. It seemed hollow to pose such vague commentary, and not even attempt to address it, which catalyzed its creation and completion.
BeautyinChaos Mar 2018
I was in first grade the first time he touched me
Sitting in class enjoying my innocence when I felt a hand on my leg
Confusing
fear
Innocence
I wonder now what innocence means
As his hand slipped into my pants
Threatening me I shouldn't tell
Couldn't tell
I'd be in trouble
The goody-two shoes
The thought suffocated me
It stiffled the fight
Mom would be so upset

It didn't stop
For months
I hated going to school
Hated sitting beside him
The troublemaker
Beside the good girl
Maybe she'll be a good influence
She wasn't
Not while he had his hand in her pants
telling her what to feel
Telling her what he was going to do
Or else he'd tell
Tell the teacher who was supposed to care
Tell the parents who should have protected
Break the girl who had done nothing wrong
Was this what adults meant by love?
Control
Fear
Immense shame

She never told
Who would believe her now
That child is dead
Replaced by someone who claws
Begs for a feeling of innocence again
Something to take it back
To replace the childhood that was shattered
But don't tell mom
Don't tell dad
Break slowly inside
As the emotions roll over
Your fault
You never stopped it
Bet you even liked it
Can't handle reality

Never tell.

I'm so broken now
A shattered child lives somewhere deep in my heart, paralyzed on the floor, trapped by fear, afraid to even cry for help
The public school system ****** up
Ayesha Apr 15
Now
The thunderous joy subsides
And I am out of breath
Cheeks hurting
Do I wear this face of self
Everywhere i go?
Do they see?
The confliction in creases
The smallness
The largeness
Of things
The disproportionate
Incapacities
I am no sombre-eyed bird
They say I smile sweetly
But I do not like my teeth
I do not like my joy
I am stiffled by my
Beautiful
Self-acceptance show
It is terrifying to appear
To be seen, twisted
Moulded over and over
By the eyeless mind,
Ever unchanged and
Impossibly me
I am open
For all but myself to see
And how many faces
For how many watchers
Am I to wear them all?
By God, am I to become them
16/04/2024

— The End —