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"subside" poems
In my Rose Garden of memories I see you standing there An angel in disguise Who taught me how to care I long to hear your voice for real not in my dreams I am missing you so much these days how empty my world seems People say time heals all wounds that someday the pain will subside But Grandma I can tell you I think they must have lied The emptiness I am feeling now is strong and I am weak These days go by without you so dreary and so bleak In my Rose Garden of memories I know you'll always be for though you're gone from this mortal world In my heart you'll always be
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Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 10:46 PM UTC
nan i miss you
Your seething tides churn in my mind As my shaky hands subside And though love can be caustic, You are sweet-tempered. Your voice could calm even the roughest storms. I wish I had enough time in the day to tell you of how many times you've kept my heart beating Or of all of the times you've interrupted the steady streams of woe escaping my bloodshot eyes All without even trying. I wish I could thank you for holding my hand while I puked up roses, and drying my eyes when I choked on the thorns.
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Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
This was titled “To My Soulmate” but that guy was a ****
Why do people insist in the use of figurative language I am not as blue as the sky (simile) This sadness is not swallowing me whole (hyperbole) My tears are not carving new paths down the skin covering my cheeks (imagery) The frown I wear is not eating the happiness off my face (personification) This feeling is not a storm that won’t subside (metaphor) I am not softly shaking so someone stops to shush my sobs (alliteration) You can’t hear the smashing of tears on the table (onomatopoeia) There is no way to make this pain sound beautiful I am sad, plain and simple. Deal with it.
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May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
Figurative Sadness
Stressed ?, Tensed ?, Frustrated in a blow ?, Go to desert, beach, hill or a mountain of snow, Sure, plan a trip, better make it solo. Be free, feel the thrill, fear, love as you go. Travel to unknowns, meet strangers say hello. Feeling hurt?, Stretch a desert, Feel the sand, Slipping through your hand, Realise everything isn't in your control A camel safari make it a goal. Experience the culture, mix with locals to rediscover yourself. Are you in pain? Head to mountains, Altitude will test you in every way, Your petty issues will go stray, Try trekking, feel the snow, Chilly breeze upland it blow, Challenge your limits. Trivial issues but mighty mountains digits. When in doubt, A beach you scout, Feel the tropical sun, Respect the relentless sea overrun, You surf, sail and try the scooba fun. Go beyond, challenge your limits, Experience the miracles of nature, Subside your pain, let stress be a bygone, Rediscover yourself in the far unknown.
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Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 5:28 PM UTC
Let's be ALIVE Again!
There once was a friendship A friendship that grew strong One that was durable and could survive all that went wrong The people in this friendship loved each other through blood, tears, and depression They stood by each others sides through Spite, anger,and loss of affection They fought for each others beliefs Held each other when one felt weak Trusted one another with everything But eventually the day came When their friendship wasn't the same And they ran Having each other to blame For the once proud friendships decay There once was a girl who yearned for what was lost She wanted her friendship no matter the cost So she gave up her pride With a plead and a cry She waited patiently for old friend to oblige But to her surprise her friend still insisted she had lied On the outside she shrugged and said at least I tried But on the inside she knew the pain would not subside That the friendship would be broken even after the day she died
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Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 4:33 AM UTC
The broken friendship
it's another early AM when salt tears splash my face, they sting, but they are daisies compared to the swords I have endured with you. it's almost half a year since you took what was not yours to take, with your mumbled excuses and your dismissive gestures. i brace myself, the pain looms again, i shout at it to GO AWAY, the reminder of what you did, but it is a pain that paracetomal will not subside, because the pain is a memory; the increasing anxiety, the thought of you inside of me when i did not want you to be there. GO AWAY.
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Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
a mess
No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have the desire to see another end; after exhaustive months of getting to know a fictionalised persona, fragmented, so No, I don’t have a boyfriend. The last one hurt and you didn’t see, but that doesn’t proclaim the scar less prominent to me, my feelings numb, I no longer crave the intimacy - detrimental to me. No, I don’t have a boyfriend. The last boys touch was for him not for me and my body still screams cause he won’t let it be and you’ll never understand as the trauma won’t subside and my self esteem is diminished by his lies. No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I humoured a guy who gave it a try but all I could feel was nothing inside and when someone bumps into me sauntering by the unwanted touch still makes me cry. No, I don't want a boyfriend.
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Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 5:33 PM UTC
Dear Grandad...
You take my breath away You sweep my feet out from under me You catch me by surprise When I look in your eyes And I see That you believe in me Want me to succeed You freeze all of the pain that is hibernating in my heart You melt me down until you see nothing but emotion Give me potion That shows my weaknesses Forcing me to turn them into strengths And fate has brought you to me Just keep smiling and I promise you'll never lose me You know exactly what to say to bring me out of my dark place And that's not easy Ask anybody who knows me You make my pain subside And I realize That I'm alive when you are near me But you don't even see past the wall that's called friendship You have all these dudes talking to you But I'll treat you like a princess I want to defend your honor Harbor all the feelings I have And write so they can make sense Because honestly you've taken my sense of direction My moral compass leads directly to you Throw that thing in the garbage and I'll still go directly to you You see you might not see that I believe in you and me And if there is a you and me I swear to love you unconditionally You have my head spinning And in my dizziness I only see you You are the bright light that brings me out of the fog You are my North Star I look at you And I'm home
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Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 10:02 AM UTC
My North Star
As humans during our first year of life we are supposed to learn how to trust other people for the basics but what are we supposed to do as we get older and the hurt increases and the pain won't subside what about when our learned balance of trust versus mistrust goes away what about when we lose ourselves and we are not children anymore
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
Trust vs. Mistrust
Your house may be filled with clutter and it may not subside but the entire world is cleaner if you are clean inside
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Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
Clean
Salacious thought Brought on by persuasion A part of the equation That equals the occasion Addicted to the rush The high is amazing Subside; never does the craving The need I’m evading But the flesh is weak And the need is strong My resistance is fading
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Jul 9, 2019
Jul 9, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC
Addicted
The waves subside, And my reflection stares down on me. He bids me come, To come and find rest. I lean in until my nose just breaks through the surface of the air, Looking into his eyes. I whisper words I partially believe, "I'd come join you, but my suffering isn't done" Then the waves gather, And I enter the next storm, All the while contemplating his words, All the while breathing in these salty ocean waters.
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
The Waves
I pulled down vicious KKK flyers, listened to members amplify hate. Their harmful words only frustrate, hoping to cease their cruel desires. Harassment at work occurred hablas ingles? a lady replied. I let the racist remark subside, when I realized I was not heard. Being bullied at school would soon follow. A boy shout the Spanish slur at me, write vile notes for all to see. Slashed my tires with archery arrows. I never thought that they would presume, I was an illegal immigrant. Their logic absent, only based on looks they assume.
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May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 3:59 PM UTC
small town hate
I have this tingling up my spine This voice that pleads at me daily This nagging that won't subside I hurt myself Saving you from a hell you created I'd rather hurt you Showing you what you deserve I've made a beast out of myself Caging things to enjoy the craving Giving into one sin to make another subside My hypocrisy sickens me Yet I revel in it like a fine wine In the fact that I can do this to myself In the fact that this can be done to me In the fact that I hide it so well that no one ever has a clue I feel myself cracking down the center Only half of myself can stand to hold back anymore Only half of me is becoming smaller Becoming nonexistent and loving it Our contact is less Making these voices rush on me like waves Your face brings the images Your voice brings the motive Your actions bring the pain You are the cactus I cling to You are the thorn beneath my skin You are the wound that I let fester You are the cancer spreading within
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May 30, 2010
May 30, 2010 at 2:53 AM UTC
The Dark Passenger
♡ soft sweet soothing sumptuous a comfort to offer an attempt to pamper a big scoop of ice cream after a root canal procedure not  to  subside or else to hide the pain but to  forget it for awhile and / or get the smile back :)
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Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 10:31 PM UTC
Icecream
Maybe it's just because I'm bleeding inside Or it's because I'm no body and cannot be found Or it's the bad luck that is always by my side Or it's the wound that hurts and won't subside Or it's the skies that never rain nor have a cloud Or it's my green fields that I love but never find Or maybe it's just who I am, a man with no pride
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Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC
A Man With No Pride...
It's easy to hear the loneliness in her voice As she speaks she has no one to talk about, there's just no choice She talks about the good old days Filled with love and compassion all was just a faze Loneliness is when you cry There's no one there to make her smile or dry her eyes No one to help with the demons inside her head No one to subside the discomfort of pain from deep inside The demons are here to prey on the misguided brain She continues to hide her pain Only to give into the loneliness of despair Her loneliness has only become a reality because nobody cares Trying to fade away loneliness has taken its toll On her soul Sound of loneliness is silent She doesn't hear the birds singing with great talent She doesn't feel the sun shining People pass her by as if she doesn't exist so she starts declining She wishes her heart could love again highly unlikely loneliness has become her only way of life She remains unable to feel due to the coldness in her heart stuck by a knife
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Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 11:24 AM UTC
Sound of Loneliness
I sit and wail As memories of you swell Threating to bring down the wall As I remember your final fall You fell right through my out stretched arms I could not save you from your demons harm I could not bring you back to me Now your memories is all I have to see I was so angry you left me here all alone This cut is deep, right to the bone A wound that will never heal, never become just a scar As you now dwell amongst the stars Now I find, I turn my eyes to the midnight sky The tears rolling quickly and quietly as I cry I'm searching for something left by you A shooting star, a comet, a clue Just to let me know your okay, that you made it through That would make it worth our final good bye Maybe then my tears would subside Maybe then they would turn to silent sighs But the pain will always be with me that is true For my dearest friend, I will forever miss you Till we meet again on the other side There's one thing that will never die It is constant, it will always be the same My love for you will always remain
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Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
Till We Meet Again
A ***** duct tape silences my mouth People say blood is thicker than water Yet your thunderous voice screams at me Does daddy cherish his daughter? So why can’t your eyes open and see You’ve become a Mein Kampf tyrant? You want my obedience and silence! A ***** duct tape silences my mouth As it leaves a residue of disgust Must this be our memory? Though silent my heart feels unjust- Must you **** all my energy; Leave me to feel lost and astray As mental state starts to decay A ***** duct tape silences my mouth Will your anger subside and be quiet? Fear suffocates vulnerable heart; Wrathful words ready for a riot; Confidence crushed as it’s torn apart. Verbal abuse moves like a torrent flood, Affecting those who share the same blood! (c) 2018 Joanne Chang
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Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC
***** Duct Tape
Dear depression I'm writing to let you know That I don't have anything else to give You took away all my hope What more do you want of me The few breaths that I take? They're not even for me I swear I just don't want them to break The ones who still care about me Somehow you weren't able to push them away I guess they're stronger than I'll ever be But I don't want you to make them ache Hurt me bruise me take my soul But let my body here For them , not me , I'm miserable at my best But I can't let them live in fear Dear depression Please subside We can live together Just don't make me die
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Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 6:05 AM UTC
Dear depression
Eros will never agree with The way you ****** your ***** To this ****** Screams and Scratches, moans and murmurs Of pleasure and pain, devoid of Reason, embellished with passion. Seasons of lust and burn, slash And turn, tides of libido that has No way to subside. You worship This body at the altar of pretensions. Hoping that even the gods through The oracles, will speak to you in the Language of mortals, and will bring You some cataclysmic eruptions of Heaven and hell. Will is nothing to You unless confronted by contentment, And sealed with chastisement.
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Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
******
Feelings passed and hours are gone. Distracted by these demons Of right and wrong. Anxiety now at its prime Id wince and cry Or count the hours to the time I'd die. Alone I feel, within this space. Slicing my arms in disgrace. Her face still stuck in my mind. Her eyes, her hair, her lips which I find... So tempting. But I am only wasting my breath. Shaking hands with ideas of death. Hoping this pathetic pain will subside. Till then this heartache is by my side.
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Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
Heartache
Just a sandy pirate stealing my dreams and I watched the Kraken sing, waves crashing to destroy order chaos laughing at my failure. Just finding gratitude in a melody that cleaned shame and inadequacy. But also nightmares and shades haunting my security, like a pac-man to his ghost meat. Taunting the hope in side that it would subside A dream within a dream within a dream....
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Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 11:08 PM UTC
Sleeping
The perfectionist loves to hear his voice, He is the respected critic inside, He is the learned one, The educated and the educator. A beautiful constructor, The finishing touch To the artist's hand. The voice is always a partner, He will always be there to help The artist, comfort is taken in his ability. The artist needn't forget, There are many voices on the side, Awaiting for their time to speak, Each one has its time, All varying in their patience and duration. The artist sees what he hasn't before: The voice of support; the voice of love; the voice of decision; and the voice of passion. There is always time to contemplate his flaws And he wants to reassure himself: Perfection is not a demand, but a quest, One of beauty and one of joy. Perfection is the beauty in imperfection. The pursuit of achievement is one to relish, it is not to be rushed or Ceased, it is a running walk, a walking run, a sitting stand, a moving still. It is every step he has made. The artist looks behind and sees His effort, he is proud to have experienced His triumphs and his trauma The voice of comfort will be there all the way, She is a gentle quieter spirit that deserves as much an ear. When all voices have calmed and subsided, Her tenderness remains. I remind the artist of his friends, I remind him that the critical voice is the voice of nature, The physical laws unchanged. He is the driving force to stasis and movement in the age worry and indecision. "Do not be overwhelmed" I say to the artist, You are one of many. You are with friends. The voice of change encourages the artist to evolve and to smile, The voice of happiness allows peaceful living and awareness. The tiger belongs to nature, not to be feared, but to be respected and understood. Do not despair, do not relinquish hope, Hope is the shining beacon in a world of anguish. Hope is the angel shining her torch ever so bright. Hope is the window that allows pain and suffering to see the light of day , Hope allows oneness. The artist moves his brush: an effortless stroke, A flicker of joy, A tear in his eye. He once was old, Now is young. He learns to enjoy The work he has done, He can now enjoy the work he does, He is enjoying the work he is doing. He enjoys his life. The state of mind, it is a fickle hatchling. Able to be pursued and persuaded, also able to be liberated. The artist is free, His thoughts can pass, His fear will subside, His body can move, His heart will follow And the mind will allow. Spirit be set free, Bird do fly, Artist do paint, You, You are. Peace within oneself is peace with others. The artist is brave, he is a soul that stands tall in the face of adversity, He is a sleepless enigma in his room at night, He is the passionate one, The artist and his love affair with the critic outshines his charisma, The love for the sophisticated darkness, His love for the melodrama, His quest for knowledge, Perhaps the only knowledge is Ignorance. Blissful unawareness.
0
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
Internal outfit, worn conciousness
The perfectionist loves to hear his voice, He is the respected critic inside, He is the learned one, The educated and the educator. A beautiful constructor, The finishing touch To the artist's hand. The voice is always a partner, He will always be there to help The artist, comfort is taken in his ability. The artist needn't forget, There are many voices on the side, Awaiting for their time to speak, Each one has its time, All varying in their patience and duration. The artist sees what he hasn't before: The voice of support; the voice of love; the voice of decision; and the voice of passion. There is always time to contemplate his flaws And he wants to reassure himself: Perfection is not a demand, but a quest, One of beauty and one of joy. Perfection is the beauty in imperfection. The pursuit of achievement is one to relish, it is not to be rushed or Ceased, it is a running walk, a walking run, a sitting stand, a moving still. It is every step he has made. The artist looks behind and sees His effort, he is proud to have experienced His triumphs and his trauma The voice of comfort will be there all the way, She is a gentle quieter spirit that deserves as much an ear. When all voices have calmed and subsided, Her tenderness remains. I remind the artist of his friends, I remind him that the critical voice is the voice of nature, The physical laws unchanged. He is the driving force to stasis and movement in the age worry and indecision. "Do not be overwhelmed" I say to the artist, You are one of many. You are with friends. The voice of change encourages the artist to evolve and to smile, The voice of happiness allows peaceful living and awareness. The tiger belongs to nature, not to be feared, but to be respected and understood. Do not despair, do not relinquish hope, Hope is the shining beacon in a world of anguish. Hope is the angel shining her torch ever so bright. Hope is the window that allows pain and suffering to see the light of day , Hope allows oneness. The artist moves his brush: an effortless stroke, A flicker of joy, A tear in his eye. He once was old, Now is young. He learns to enjoy The work he has done, He can now enjoy the work he does, He is enjoying the work he is doing. He enjoys his life. The state of mind, it is a fickle hatchling. Able to be pursued and persuaded, also able to be liberated. The artist is free, His thoughts can pass, His fear will subside, His body can move, His heart will follow And the mind will allow. Spirit be set free, Bird do fly, Artist do paint, You, You are. Peace within oneself is peace with others. The artist is brave, he is a soul that stands tall in the face of adversity, He is a sleepless enigma in his room at night, He is the passionate one, The artist and his love affair with the critic outshines his charisma, The love for the sophisticated darkness, His love for the melodrama, His quest for knowledge, Perhaps the only knowledge is Ignorance. Blissful unawareness.
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