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September Roses May 2018
Hot chocolate no longer tastes like chocolate

Tea gets me as drunk as wine

I get about as high on cannabis as I would rosemerry or thyme

The clocks in my house have stopped ticking

Though I never stop to check

There's a litter of stray kittens, outside my door, on the front step

Although time has stopped passing
And the gods have fallen asleep

I still find myself laughing
That I've wept to much to weep
Ive had a few people wonder.
Its limbo
Sara Kellie Jul 2018
Promise me, my flesh you'll place
'neath a fledgling willow tree.
And as it grows toward blue sky,
It's in its grace you'll hear me cry.
Laden with the heaviest fears,
resembling, reflecting
my darkest years.

A fragile bone was once my arm,
so likened to the willows charm.
It's branches delicate,
could ne'er do harm.
It's soft and fluffy hand like bud,
encased in skin, the willow's wood.

Hold its hand at branches end.
My message, a vibration,
to you I'll send.
Until the death of said willow tree,
reminding you . . . . .
. . . . . . always of me.

Poetry by Kaydee.
The tired and deathly willow tree with stories to tell of debutantes, swinging
before entering hell.
Caroline Ward Mar 12
I watch my window weep
Small droplets drip
Onto the sill.
I should learn to listen
To sorrow
I cry
And always will.

I hate the burn of rejection
It cuts with a claw
That will sting
My heart wants
Only devotion
And yet
Any small thing.

My mind calls out
For an answer
And thinks silence
Is a thing to be missed
I miss the warmth
Of a lover
And my lips still
Long to be kissed.

It's lonely here in the ocean
My boat floats
Far out to sea
I only wish
That somebody
Was home and
Calling for me.

So my window weeps
And I cry for the lost
And the free
I face the fear
Of a world that is open
When I am caged
And oh so empty.
Hisham Alshaikh Jul 2018
You laugh
Angels weep out of jealousy
Devils have no single conspiracy
Demons dancing in harmony
Men hearts go broken with no remedy
Women eyes tearing continuously
Violins break out of envy terribly
Composers have no more creativity
Music plays with no melody
Silence starts listening joyfully
Happiness laughters left in agony
Beautiful words describe nothing but misery
Tulip flowers become colorless shamefully
Believers lose their faith immediately
Infidels drop their convictions instantly
Hearts start beating rapidly
Lungs oxygenating quickly
Living ones laying listening carefully
The dead come back miraculously

--Hisham Alshaikh
You Laugh. Version 1.
Khoi-San Apr 18
There is a story behind tears
joy or fear
song of hope
Weeping is therapy to the soul
don't feel ashamed to cry
It helps
It is recommended
In the Bible
Jesus wept three times
It is a normal human emotion
Spenser Bennett Feb 2016
The soles of my shoes are
more than skin and bone.
The holes in my heart are filled with
More than blood alone

Time is measured on a hundred million
Each in synchronous space
Rights are driven forward by a hundred million
Anger painted our faces
Love is given over to the lion
Like lambs in guarded places

I am leaving for days gone by
Time we shared
You are leaving for nights alive
Days our hearts bare
We are parting for a time
Fight this
For the end is near

This end is merely beginning
Find hope in loss
This beginning is merely an ending
My friend
For me weep not
I'll be here waiting for you in time
The end
Is not the end of us.
aisha Jul 17
the sky weeps
before me
with me
after me

for the earth
is my soul
and the rain my tears
a grey day calls for a poem about grief
Blake Jul 2018
So now I weep tears of dashed hopes.
The dreadful sorrow cracking and snapping my teasing mind apart as I say a final and tardy goodbye.

But not for you,
But for the man I met all those years ago.
And for the woman that met you.

My one last wishful thought,
Is the greatest of all...
That somewhere our old souls are still prancing carefree and smirking to the pleasure and gift of our love.
When you lose yourself...that grief will always be eternal.
Osiria Melody Mar 22
Your memories, encapsulated on a memorial plaque
Your expensive smile, engraved into my mind
I thought you were all right
Your passions, preserved through my works, a continuation of your legacy
Your kindness, reverberated in this room, bittersweet aura

Every time I step into this room that was once yours, I feel like I'm one step away from Death
Every time I say your name, I feel like I'm one word away from my last
Every time I look at photos of your smile, I feel like I'm one tear away from becoming a memory
Every time I dream of you, I feel like I'm one day away from becoming distant

A distant echo of meaninglessness, for losing you is what I never wanted
A distant echo of confusion, for fearing that I'd never be good enough to make up for lost time
A distant echo of animosity, for drinking anger: the only thing that makes me feel alive
A distant echo of suicide, for I'll never stop blaming myself

You always told me that you were fine
But never told me that 'fine' lost touch with you
You always told me that you were happy
But never told me that 'happy' killed you

I will always stay strong, not for myself, but for you, who has grown—






A scene played in my mind. A mother lost her son because he died from his own hands. She blames herself each day and wants to reunite with him through death, but cannot bring herself to do so. She expends every fiber of strength within her to honor him, even if the memory of him grows distant each day.
Rizna M Rameez Aug 2018
Why do we weep,
When one day upon the
soil we will be, placed
Our grief
upon the shoulders of time and memories, traced
By the ones who still

Why do we weep,
When one day we will be buried in the earthen ground, deep
Hearing our cries, none but Earth

But yet,
Why do we attack her sacred soil, so fiercely
With no thought of the day,
When He will place us at the mercy of her walls,
Of gravel and dirt?

Then, we must weep.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 27
strangely, I think that this
ought be, must be, responsibly,
be the best poem I’ve ever writ,
(though unlikely, as the best will always be the next)
that mine own eyes commissioned,
better be,
just got to be,
this holy-moly notion jeepers weepers,
conceptual rocks me deepest,
an awesome responsibility
to find away of saying
that this beyond conceptual,
coring, especially special sample

If there was to be a but one,
a singularity, a distinguishing feature
of what the human definition
innate contains,
how choice that we animals,
elevate ourselves to being human beings,
the only ones capable of wonderfully weeping

the implications are an astounding!

what a glorious burden,
what a wonderful decision,
the designer slipped in this microscopic checkmark,
somewhere in our cellular DNA perma-dynasty,
runs a common thread, these saltwater fears,
a residual global amniotic fluid hint,
from where we humans out-of-crawled

that empathy,
the signal of an elongated journey of eons,
the marker that says
show the caring,
a trait-ed statement,
us, unique

so often do I weep,
sometimes visible - in my poems listed, oft indicated -
so you could know its sharing was an absolution
that I granted myself,
that that particular  poem was a costly one,

womb bloomed, tongue taken, eye written

sometimes invisible  - even more, do they,
(nobody knows, nobody sees)
just well up, eye cornered kept, secreted,
only skin-staining the underneath-my-eyes
one more shade darker,
a reminder to all, to mirrored me,
that to forgive myself doesn’t
forgive forgetting

is this then my best?

sufficient to breech your
reserves of pseudo-cool,
that correct boundary pretense that keeps us as
mismatched separates?

you be the judge, you be the jury,
you be the prosecutor and the defender,
for it is all of us
standing in the dock,
on trial,

for in our lifetime
guilty of the inhuman crime,
of not crying enough
DEE Sep 6
she I’ll  weep , nor  her days are later
Weep,  when all is bruised ,she prevail’s.
When shadows,  are cast  she’s is a beacon to her light . Soaked in tears , wash her , cleanse her, let her weep.
What will be come of her , when life becomes  sour , consolidated with  fear , let her weep. Her lover is  buried ,her mother is  weary , will she’ weep?
When all is scared  she is a slave  to her ache  , let her weep
Peter Garrett Jun 10
Boys will always be boys
So you’re allowed to be a creep
Treat women as your toys
Don’t let anyone see you weep

Man up, pick some fights
There’s nothing as get a kid hit
Bully away someone’s light
Do that and I promise you’ll fit

Just be cool, society got your back
As long as you paint your soul in black
And never forget to wear your mask
Inspired by my own sick childhood and the doccumentary "The Mask you Live in", which a very dear friend recommended.
Peter B May 2018
It's 3 a.m.
and I can't sleep.
Much louder than in a daytime
at night willows weep.
Weep no more my child
I can see your eyes worn out with wailing
Your heart bursting with argony
And an exhaustion of hopelessness dwelling upon you

Weep no more my child
For I knew upon my death
You would be shattered within
Floating in a river of unanswered questions
Crashed by waves of regret and sorrow
Looking for a way to make it all stop
Perhaps hope to wake up
And realize it was just another dreadful nightmare

Weep no more my child
There is nothing more you could have done
To stop the jaws of death
From claiming my life
For my time had come
But I depart with overwhelming joy and satisfaction
Knowing you were there up to the very end

Weep no more my child
For I made sure you could stand on your own
Am confident the strong person I've groomed you to be
Can face the tides and storms of this world
And the morals I've instilled in you
Will see you through all things

Weep no more my child
For you're not abondoned
Even though they now consider you an orphan
For through your character and every aspect of your life
Am visible to those who can't see me
And within your heart
I'll forever live
What a beautiful place to stay!

Weep no more my child
In you am alive
I feel my blood running through your veins
My strength radiant in your muscles
I see my courage in everything you do
And in your reflection I see myself

So weep no more my child
For am still here within your own self.
Peter J Jul 2018
On flat bank’s where
grass runt reeds grow
waiting for rising tide,
A lone Heron stealths silently
while Gulls cry warning, and dive effortlessly in to a cold sea air.
Pheonix  Peanut and Pandora
stranded on wet mud bank,
wait for their chance to escape
but it’s bonds that need to be severed in their quest for freedom.
Estuary lights dim and flicker in the distance while closer to shore Mermaids sing on the breath of a storm.
Beckoning sailors "come ride the waves"
Siren songs of lost souls and shadows
“Come with us” on this bursting sea.
And they sing with a drowning charm
as fishermen launch vessels under a shawl covered wife's watchful eye.
And yesterdays widows weep, face rained bright from navigational lights.
Ships bell ring in time with a rollicking sea,
Pheonix  Peanut and Pandora
still await their escape but not this night.
While the Heron has long fled this great swell.
No cries now from gulls nor mothers hurrying their little ones to the safety of their coal fired warm homes.
Just the rage of wave riding mermaids that will have their bounty
the heart and souls from a fisherman life.
#Something I dotted down while sat under the brown Laugharne castle gazing  out to sea.
ALesiach Jul 22
As eventide awakens
Under our bower I lay
My pulse begins to quicken
The world vanishes away

As you slip into my dream tonight
Like a prearranged rendezvous
A sweet illusion to fill my sight
I close my eyes, it all comes true

To taste your lips is ecstasy
All worries are left behind
In this land of fantasy
Our movie plays in my mind

In our never-ending romance,
Our unique melody, crafted with love
Your touch so tender, full of finesse
'Neath the precarious moon above

Gallivanting forward in my dreaming
Eager to acquiesce to my heart's desire
How I long to stay sleeping
Of this dream I never tire

But he kisses me, nonchalant
As he gently fades away
Back in my memories to haunt
As night gives way to-day

ALesiach © 05/9/2018
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
The Instigation:
Edmund  Black, commenting on “weary weighted,”

I agree with Kim; This is poetry at its best :)“


both of you shush!

there is no “better” in poetry

mine yours theirs, alive or not,

just gasps tears and blood
whimsical smiles and isles
cuts and burns of pained revelations,
hidden in fog,
that words try to delete away,
through the shrouded mists of
human tissues,
unconstrained by the
bounded shape
of the human cell,
our first, our own
self-imposed jail

tissue, too,
baby soft, or,
purple beating majestic bruised blotches
by those weaklings whose
kindness never
fully developed;  
or old man mine whose
skin cells erodes, so poems and light
weary weighted, lightly flake off
for your “betterment”
mostly tho for worse

good humans all await,
in patientce lightly hidden,
residents of dark sunspots
in the glaring existence exposer
of the unlit lighthouse whose time will come

they get it

how we get there unimportant

get there


get there
that is the poetic
mission critical

no path best or style preferred-
no compare just, but,
any path that
lifts and elevates,
to the commonplace

the common place

where all costarred, universal,
where common is the temple mount
of highest praise, holy smoke rising,

a place that
that discloses and closes,
is scribed/described honestly as
a connective,
which is the simplest

call my poems,
blessedly common!

that an honorable,
so gladly accepted
so much more meaning-full
than merely best or better

for that,
I’d gladly weep,
for no praise
ever been

8/2/18 406pm
on the jitney to my isle
the instigation: Edmund black › “weary weighted, I agree with Kim .... This is poetry at its best :)“
Nobody Oct 2017
That's right baby, come on over here.
Close enough so I can smell you,
long for me, touch my hair.
Put your hands on me,
I got you right where I want you.
Always grossly staring at me,
with those googly eyes.
I ******* despise
your sick pervy eyes.
Oh don’t act so surprised,
What you don’t recognize me
with my disguise?
It’s too late for you anyways.
You didn't even notice
I slashed open your vein.
Now It’s your turn to be tortured for days.
I’m gonna ******* open
with your own blade.
Flay you alive, now I get to play.
Slowly rip out your intestines to burn,
make you shriek as I pick open your brain.
  Nail you through your **** to the wall,
as you whimper ‘please **** me’.
Staple your lips closed
to quiet your screams.
Cut at your heart, pick out your eyes.
Laugh as you suffer,
while you try and weep.
Now you're wishing to god,
you never laid your ******* eyes on me.
ALesiach Jul 22
Deep in the night,
she emerges from the mist.
Clinging to a rose of white,
longing for the one that is missed.

She stands on a rocky peak,
the rose's thorns have dug in deep.
The wind howls and shrieks,
but her eyes have no more tears to weep.

Watching the moonlight dance with the sea,
before crashing on the rocks below.
Once more together they shall be,
as off the cliff she does go.

ALesiach © 10/17/2014
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