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Samuel Hoffmann Jul 2018
I’ve seen good men die
And bad men cry
And everything far in-between.

I’ve seen hate born of love
And a black feathered dove,
You have no clue what I’ve seen.

But you say things like:
“I feel you brother,”
“trust me, things will be okay.”

But you have no clue what it like,
Behind my brown spherical eyes.
Please stop the stupid things you say.

I’ve seen people given hope,
necks tied with rope.
My world is crazier than it seems.

I’ve had family members lay dead,
Funerals without one word said.
The world just ***** for me.

But you say it’ll all be okay,
As if you’re clairvoyant.

But you’re not.

You say prayer and hope,
Falling off a cliff? You don't need a rope.
“trust me, things will be okay.”

But it isn’t.

It never is,
Never will be.

You have no clue what I’ve seen.
Here's a good one. Enjoy if you want, hate if you want, don't read if you don't want. Just do whatever makes you happy, thats all which matters.
-sam
Jerry Howarth Jan 2016
A Sympathy poem
   [For the Believer in Christ]

THE LORD GIVES STRENGTH FOR THE PRESENT,
HOPE FOR THE FUTURE AND PEACE FOR THE PAST,
SO LIVE EACH MOMENT AS IT ARRIVES,
ALL YOUR BURDENS, UPON HIM CAST.
                                                           ­                                                                 ­              
LIFE WITH CHRIST IS AN ENDLESS HOPE,
“FOR TO LIVE IS CHRIST, TO DIE IS GAIN”
GOD IS NOT THE GOD OF THE DEAD,
BUT RATHER THE GOD OF THE LIVING,
IN THIS TAKE COMFORT, YOU WILL SEE HIM AGAIN !
                                  BY JERRY HOWARTH
This poem may be printed in a sympathy card substituting the gender as needed.

I do not copy-rite any of my of poetry, but if you  use this poem, I would appreciate
being given credit for it.
being given the credit
Angelina Aug 2017
Life, in a mannerism, they proclaim
Is fragile, untouchable, limitless, rather a chain
Life, the folks sing, as delightful and indescribable as it is, is only here to stay

I do not know where, I do not know why
But thoughts mingling within my nerves apply
A paradox of significance within the definition
Of the purposeful journey we call life

Albeit the good, we choose to focus rather unwisely
Precisely of course, over delusional mastery
Understanding only comes in hand when necessary
When it threatens our existence, calling Bravery

You see, humans as smart as we are perceived to be
Might as well be a laughing stock to the rest of the scene
What we value, we fail to pursue, what we preach, we fail to reach

Would it hurt to let go of Prejudice?
An individual who has been imagined by generations beforehand, woven by bits of uncertainty and; well, where is he?

Hold on, here comes another
Violence and Destruction stand on the porch
Should we let them in? Should we not?
They are there, ready, ready anytime temptation hits now

Humanity degrades what she has created
Humiliates what she has achieved, and criticizes her dignity
Worth has lost its value, hence wonder
What have we done to help save her?

Sense has lost all contact
With wicked games being played, selfish pact
Response no longer yearns for Suffering
Such that, we deceive our own sect

Where is Understanding when we need her?
A few doors down the street, go ahead and wake her
She has not heard from us for a while now
Last time we spoke, I reckon, was when our own path was in danger
Sarah Apr 27
I scream
But a world of deaf can not hear
A wail so loud piercing the night
Excruciating pain tearing at my heart
But a world of deaf can not hear
I bleed
But a world of blinds can not see
Crimson red, staining the bedsheets
Blood spattered across the streets
But a world of blinds can not see
I suffer
I’m battered and withered
But they choose not to see
They choose not to hear
My bleeding agony and silent screams
My bruised body and burning tears
I’m hurting
But a heartless world can not feel.
It’s for all those who are suffering, and the world choose to ignore them.
With due respect
Let's resonate
The sympathetic wave

We're not blind
We all are mirage
Somehow
We are different
Yet
We are the same
In response to
An exquisite pain
Genre: Observational
Theme: Sympathy || Air Craft Accident, Feb 27, 2019 Nepal. RIP to all departed souls
c Dec 2018
I’ve begun thinking
In terms of music.
We are a decrescendo,
Falling from forte
To pianissimo
As the clock ticks
It’s rhythmic warning.
Your voice is always
In crescendo,
A cello when you laugh,
Mournful viola for those moments
Your strings are wound
Too tightly.
The way your fingers
Glissando across my rib cage,
Playing con amore upon my skin.
You taste like a symphony,
Brass and woodwind,
An opus on my lips.
Some days
You make me forget
How playing someone
Can be bad.
Sympathies abound  
with a withering bud
more
than a fallen from grace
dying full bloom.
To grow up is to be ordinary.
Tyler Harper Mar 8
I want to see
I want to be
Everything you feel
That I couldn't understand to feel
Through the hot embrace of
Sympathetic Empathetic Enthalpy

Through the heat
I will see
Everything that there is to be
(With things words can't free)
All of the sadness or madness you couldn't decree

With the best form of chemistry

I hope to alleviate it
with
Sympathetic Empathetic Enthalpy
a thermodynamic quantity equivalent to the total heat content of a system. It is equal to the internal energy of the system plus the product of pressure and volume
nonya May 3
quit shouting heartbreak!
can that feeling be so unique?
says I, who's single
aury Nov 2018
You play the victim well
Beg for sympathy where you know you’ll get it
As if you aren’t the galvanizer of the hell that you live in
Present yourself as the sad boy
With the broken heart
Left alone with no one to love
As if you didn’t isolate yourself
The destructor of each and every single relationship
Like a tornado
Blowing through all that once was happy
I have no sympathy for you, lonely boy
Just a hope
That one day you’ll open your eyes
And end your pity party
you’re a sinner
and you always have been
With Swollen Tears did my Countrymen commit
In week's Soliloquy request for Aid
And Soul's own Moments whose Sympathy permit
Whilst Sheltered Families pray for more space
Pledge, dear Lord! And Citisens of the World
My People's Wounds soaked in Unwanted Rain
At least in Voice and Gift-Wishes unfold
Would indeed suffice to soften their Pain
Look, Union Jack! The Scenes of Caskets float,
Plastered houses a-washed with nails and wood
Then came the Bayanis, in rubbers and boats
Bore frozen Victims to their Neighbourhood.
It's a Sad Film for anyone to see
Please offer Burnt Roses; Make them Happy.
Gods1son Mar 29
Smiling masked faces
With hearts seriously aching
Seeking ears to talk to
Shoulders to cry on
But quick to say "I'm okay"
Don't wanna be seen as weak
Rather weep alone behind solid high walls
Phone put on airplane mode
No texts and no calls
Steps out again with smiling mask on
Seriously seeking a heart that will listen
Watch out for someone like that around you
And be the listening heart that truly cares.
In a world where everyone is a busy bee, let's pay attention to the ones around us that are hurting and needs listening ears.
A Sympathy poem
   [For the Believer in Christ]

THE LORD GIVES STRENGTH FOR THE PRESENT,
HOPE FOR THE FUTURE AND PEACE FOR THE PAST,
SO LIVE EACH MOMENT AS IT ARRIVES,
ALL YOUR BURDENS, UPON HIM CAST.

GOD UNDERSTANDS ALL YOUR BURDENS,
AS A HIGH PRIEST HE SYMPATHIZES
WITH US, IN OUR TRIALS  OF OF LIFE,
HIMSELF HAVING  SUFFERED,                                                                    ­   
LIFE WITH CHRIST IS AN ENDLESS HOPE,
“FOR TO LIVE IS CHRIST, TO DIE IS GAIN”
GOD IS NOT THE GOD OF THE DEAD,
BUT RATHER THE GOD OF THE LIVING,
IN THIS TAKE COMFORT, YOU WILL SEE HIM AGAIN !
                                  BY JERRY HOWARTH
This poem may be printed in a sympathy card substituting the gender as needed.

I do not copy-rite any of my of poetry, but if you  use this poem, I would appreciate
being given credit for it.
being given the credit
I am suffering in silence
I lack energy
Slow to move
Lack motivation
Less interested
Hide
Doom &
Gloom
Sleep more sleep
How did  it get this bad.
Fullfreddo May 2015
~

in sympathy, in honor, in horror
with those whose heads are shaved
against their free will

and to uncover
my nakedness before you,
as prisoner, as victim, as poet,
nothing must come between us
even this:

and yet,
the prickly stubble head resprouts
soon enough,
spring floral efforts
an annual reminder,
that even undisguised and exposed,
my bald palate plate,

is just another nether hiding place

~
May 2015
Sillo Anderson Sep 2018
Flourished by change
Kingdoms felt great defeat
Simplicity of dreams carved well,
The Sympathy for many.
Dictating hope on many roads
Oh !
How well has poverty been.
Below cypress trees
Wealth grew to and from,
Golden rails around faith.
gather and collect
and then offer your sympathy
feelings deflect our sorrow and antipathy
life is brimming with good deeds
i remain steadfast in all that i seek
sweet love is among us now
her eyes and hands
feed the mouths of two rivers
i chase winter into her bed
our eyelids lift as we drift south
and lots of people desperately
cling to their doubts like old lovers
avalon Apr 2018
i am worn books and french vocabulary, ice cold chai and steaming earl grey. i am stone stares and eyes watering, uncertainty in silence and sharp decisive conversation. i am shaking hands and reciting poetry during anxiety attacks and i am indie rock showers and top-of-your-lungs pop radio in the car. i am empathy without sympathy, crying in the bathroom stall and i am childhood cartoons and your favorite stuffed animal and the beach in the summer. i am desperate to be alone and desperate to scream and desperate to find someone who knows what i mean and still likes me. i am comfort zone constellations, Orion's belt on every nighttime stroll, i am the hollow tree in the backyard of the house we don't own and i am my handwriting and the words in my poems. i am everything you have made me out to be and i hate that; hate that you see all my flaws so clearly but that isn't all of me and i know that now.

i am the trinkets my grandmother left me and her eyes when she looked at me and the way she cried when she read my poetry. i am a thousand ways i have loved those dear to me and the children who fall asleep on me and the way my cat runs to me and i don't need your or anyone's approval but God's and my own. thanks anyway.
TAURANIAN Jul 2016
We explore our minds
We do not talk into terms
Why we close ourselves down
While we can listen and learn?

We overthink when we issue
We say words we do not mean
Why we hurt ourselves
When we can compromise our believes?

It is not wrong to show some sympathy
Why are we afraid to lose?
Instead of standing up for ourselves
We choose to be bruised

Why we live in fear?
Letting go of the unknown
Will we ever collide as humans
Sharing compassion and healing our souls?
We all need more love and compassion! Instead of dealing with fear!
Jasmin Jul 2015
We don't hate the world we see,
we only loathe the society where no one can flee.
Ask for a cup of hot tea,
they'd judge you for not drinking a coffee.
Simple things, they'd make it as serious issues;
Serious matters, they'd pretend it doesn't exist.
Unknown people will always be ignored,
everyone knows their hardships, but no one cared enough to end it.
The popular ones have had their sufferings too,
I'm asking, why only them get the sympathy?
Aren't we all pretty?
spacewalker Oct 2018
I see the sympathy pour from your lips,
A waterfall of meaningful words I'm sure

but I'm fixated on the twinkle in your eye,
it reminds me of the midnight sky
The midnight sky my lover was taken under
The stars stood witness yet they took no pause in their dance above the clouds
Now the stars are hidden well behind the sun
Still,
blue skies don't make you smile
at your lovers funeral

The stars in you eyes make me sad,
Obsession with revenge takes hold
so I mutilate them.
   a slurpy cosmic soup
sits behind your tired eyelids

A small victory in the war with the sky
Fighting an unwinnable fight can turn a man into a monster
Andrew Jun 2017
My sympathy depleted
My friendships deleted
I have been defeated
By truths that hit so hard
I was decleated
By intense hatred deep-seeded
My history was repeated

I guess a three-armed mutant
Has no need for a right hand man
Until his leprosy riddled hands rot off
When he needs them the most
But his ***** limbs had been pretty useless for a while
Since he had lost feeling in them
He had to do a biopsy on his life
After the inaccurate results of the smear test
He took antibiotics to rid himself of the bacteria
But that didn't heal the nerve damage
He yearned for the rhetoric to be less inflammatory
So he took steroids
Transforming the ***** into an ogre
With no semblance of humanity
...Except for the people he devours
Their patience is delicious
He eats that first
Their pity is a delicacy
A rare treat
Their disgust tastes sour
But it's a feast
His cannibalism may seem callous
But the non-mutant lepers take Thalidomide
And get pregnant
Their kids come out defected
With an intense, deep-seeded hatred for three-armed mutants
And lepers and ogres look exactly the same
To those of another species
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