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G Rhydian Morgan Aug 2011
Ripples running away from me
disturbing the cool water around.
My splash is heard by the trees and the birds
But by none who can offer help.
At first I panic, thrash madly,
as a thrush flutters on the breeze.
More waves are caused by the actions
But still I flap and scream.

Not a soul can hear me;
the woods are a wilderness, deserted.
Everything hidden by the low dense cloud,
It stops my sight short and muffles my voice.
So I wait drifting with the current
no longer reaching for a hold,
Confident I’ll be found and saved
Dried out and sent home happy.

The minutes soon become hours though
and still there is no help.
I give up counting depressing time.
I don’t want to know how long.
My skin starts to wrinkle with wetness
like a dried fruit in a plastic bag;
My nails soften in the water
But still trap **** and other life.

My faith in human nature
starts to fade and recede.
I try calling out once more
A strange fear forcing the action
I now grab, frantic, at anything in reach
Losing what little strength's left
And the weight of the water in my clothes
And body is dragging me down.

Finally I realise what’s happening to me
is I am sinking, drowning - and fast.
I am dying and there is nothing
I can do myself to stop it.
Inevitable, unpreventable death that I
now accept as being my destiny,
I close my eyes and try to help
By thinking heavy thoughts.

Running over in my head all the reasons
why it may be better this way -
As death is certain this is academic
But strangely seems to help.
If one can find the good in Death
it’s not so unattractive.
I no longer worry, I am resigned
It is my choice to die.

So I just lie back and wait for
embrace even my forthcoming Death
And then I hear a sound prayed for weeks ago
But dreaded and hated as I am now
Footsteps coming towards me that I try to ignore
(and ignore their voices too)
And a hand reaches for me, grasps mine
They think I should be happy to be saved

But they cannot see I don’t want to be saved
from the Death I was so close to and wanted.
I welcomed it, I willed it, to
Come and release me from the pain
Now I am safe I must endure once more
the suffering, and accept Death again.
So here I am alive and well
Trapped in the prison of life.
Alyanne Cooper Jul 2014
There are days of restless worrying,
And sleepless nights of fear.

Then are days of numb oblivion
With nights of terror-filled dreams.

Like relentless waves pounding
The weakened beachhead of the shore.
Like bloodied knuckles punching
The shredded remnants of a sandbag.

This, my cycle of the
Inevitable,
Unavoidable,
Inescapable,
Unpreventable

Stirring­ up of the
Indescribable,
Indefinable,
Inexpressible

Anger that resides deep within
My broken soul.

Yet no one knows.

I am a calm, placid lake.

A deep and dark lake
Sitting in the mouth of an active volcano.
Sarah Knill Sep 2011
Aligning every thought, you not coming across leaving me the most impatient.
I may be someone to you.
**** the though, linger on dear.
Silky shadows of you rest in my soul.
Aware of my every thought, you smile.
My unimaginable, inconsiderable, unpreventable state of mind may look at you.
Come on in and gently place your flowers on the ground.
With your unobtainable feeling, ideas wisp out.
The delicacy of this proven fact is unknown
Someday I may miss you.
Come and collect every whispering thought of this world.
As your docility frolics throughout my bones, you know exactly what to do.
You came over, oddly real. And from then on turned into something beautiful.
My sensitivity collapses.
Align everything in a lovely way.
jordan May 2015
I should have seen the warning signs.
Maybe then i could have prevented it.
Maybe i could have told her something, anything that would have made her feel better.

you couldn't

I should have seen the warning signs.
Maybe then i could have told somebody.
Maybe then i could have gotten the help she needed.

i wouldn't listen

I should have seen the warning signs.
Maybe then i wouldn't be sitting here, reading the obituaries, trying to erase her name.

it was unpreventable

I should have seen the warning signs.

*you did
Sora Oct 2013
Bury me deep
*****, dark, dead
Let me go through the nights swift hand
Gently and softly
Abruptly, surprisingly
Unpreventable close
Bed of papers
Littered in the streets
Where the angels came to claim me
And He needed another heart and hand
But he does not set me free, he chains me
He does not bring good, he buried me  in the deep.
Now I am soiled
In the dirt of a martyr
In the dark of a beggars hands
In the dead of winters soundtrack

But he did no such thing as disrespect me
Rony Joseph Jul 2010
A Night for a Rose



The arrogance of passion
Touch me in places I didn't know existed
A gallant prince silently Hunts for the stars
Midnight brought Feathers descending slowly
On stray wave thoughts hang on the balance of peacefulness
Deliverance bottled up inside the pain
The thickness of an iceberg
Keeping a glacier glue to the sky
Insane minds swinging with the sharks
The discovery of your eyes in the middle of a blossom rose
Strings of my life squeeze a breath of air
Your hands unlimited creation, a rhythm breakthrough a kingdom
Swift passage through earthly possession, franticly speaking
Fear has left me breathless, reneged against the machine
The exception of a butterfly, the ways of the moon
Straight face keeps false pretence of many eyes
Unpreventable desire of lust
Continue their journey upstream
Deeply pondering, my words became clouds raining on your parade
The door close behind the red lights igniting my way out
Surrender in front a passion passing you by
For a longest I can remember love walk away from my senses
The letter awaken your nakedness in front of the mirror
Softly I lay beside a broken lover
For miles I believed the touché of my lips will heal you
The strike of a guitar playing with the stars
Shine a knockout blow for the undesirables
The wave unveil the true meaning of lost
But the light always shines bright
On my heart…



Rony Joseph all rights reserved 2010
Joseph Childress Feb 2014
By Joseph Childress

This was all expected
Though
Not intended
I've been waiting for this moment
Of contentment
I knew this
Was temporary
Rarity at it's finest
To find
The kind
Within you
This was meant
This was unpreventable
The ability
To love from such a distance
The physical properties
Physicists research arduously
Is hardly relevant
Our spirits connected
Synched
Without wires
We became electric
Telepathically
Put aside
Our pathetic attempts
At being unsympathetic
And agreed
For once
For final
For I know
Our wants
Are far more than what we need
And these
Past few years
We're important

Thank you.
S M Chen Apr 2017
“Learn from the mistakes of others.  You can’t live long enough to make them all yourself.”

-  Eleanor Roosevelt (1884-1962), longest serving FLOTUS



Start with one comely young man of great promise:
He rescues lamb from jaws of bear.
Rescues sheep from clutches of lion.  
Slays giant Philistine with stone and sling.  
Forms deep friendship with prince, son of king.  
Becomes king himself.
Marries daughter of prior king – a princess.

Add a heaping teaspoonful of lust of eye - perhaps both eyes.
Stir in ****** – more than a pinch (is ****** ever less than a pinch?)

Let simmer; boiling over may be unpreventable, even if *** is uncovered and fire is low.
Clean up overflow.
Rinse cleanup cloth, but keep handy; more cleanup may be needed later.
Replenish fire as needed.
Keep plenty of wood; this fire will burn awhile.

Let plot thicken.
No need for additive; it will thicken of own accord.
Add a dash of sleepless nights.



Do not taste; mixture is bitter.
If proof needed, insert fingertip (not more) into stew.
Run cool water over fingertip.
Avoid four-letter words.
Rinse mouth.
Resolve to believe recipe in future.

*

Protagonist is castigated by prophet.
Marries widow of innocent man killed in battle.
With multiple wives, has multiple children; never a good idea.

       *

Son of one wife grows up to, like his father (like father, like son?), succumb to temptation – for his half sister.
Despite her plea, he forces himself on her.
She grieves.

*

Remove lid; handle potholders with care.
Mix in half a cup of tears.
Probably no need for salt; tears may be salty enough.
Stir ever so gently.

*

Her brother learns of her grief, is determined to wreak vengeance upon perpetrator, his half brother.
Which he does at a subsequent banquet.
Blood flows, some into ***.

                               *

No need for yeast.  
This mixture has enough ingredients to rise on its own.
Also, no need for spice.

      


A comely man in his own right, avenger decides to usurp throne.
Once (and future) king flees.
In subsequent combat, usurper flees by mule.
His mane catches in low-hanging branches of an oak (every yang has its yin), and he is killed.
More blood is shed.

*

Blood is salty, and has a flavor all its own.
More will trickle into ***; it cannot be helped.

*

Add cup of gall.
Little to no stirring needed; gall will disperse on its own, and tends to dominate whatever it is commingled with.

*

The king has epiphany, writes psalms – 150 of them.
Despite all above, the Almighty calls king ‘a man after His own heart.’
‘Where sin doth abound, grace doth much more abound.’ – Rom. 5:20.

*

Cooking is done.
Extinguish the fire.
Let *** sit.

*

Contemplate follies of man.
‘What fools these mortals be’ -  Shakespeare, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“We have met the enemy, and he is us.” – Walt Kelly, ‘Pogo’ comic strip.

*

Final stew is less bitter, but also less sweet, than it might have been.
Once put in the *** of life, ingredients cannot be removed.
They can only be tempered by more ingredients.

Choose wisely.
Arlene Corwin Apr 2021
How Are You Today?

Volcanos are waking;
Villages shaking.
My husband and I
Had our second shot yesterday.
Me, I have questions concerning bacilli.
Aways the bad mixed with good, good with bad.
While lying in bed
Learning lots from TV,
All that’s around me,
Patiently waiting to see any side effects;
When, and or if…

Friends on the phone,
Themselves all alone:
Some CoVid and sick-ish, some fine,
Some immune.

All is in movement:
My cat at the moment.
Icebergs and soil,
Men drilling for oil;
Out of one’s hands, much unpreventable
Maybe the whole.

All that I wonder propped up as I lay,
Head on three pillows, is how, really how
Are you feeling today?

How Are You Today? 4.10.2021 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin
Arlene Corwin Jul 2020
Old Is Old

One phenomenon weighs me down:
Humans killing humans -
It a thing that never ages,
Being at the top of sinful wages.

Ebb and tide does not die out,
But we too soon glide from this planet
When we ought to all live out our days
Until the very final phase  
Of nature’s meaning
As was meant in Eden.

Oblivion, as Shakespeare says,
Arrives anon.  In any case,
Soon or late, fate has its voice,
The thing we call free choice erased.

Old is old.
We cannot scold the unpreventable,
Determined and unshakeable,
Regimented by laws born
In every momentary bubble.

Old is simply to observe.
Old is simply to accept.
The script all tightly written.

Old Is Old 5.24.2020/7.18.2020 Birth, Death & In Between III; Circling Round Aging; Circling Round Wrinkles; Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

— The End —