"weepings" poems
Dear Diary, I know I haven’t been treating you properly,
I’ve been mundane and confused lately…
But I didn’t know if you would understand,
About the need that my heart did demand…
But I have to turn to you, I have no one else,
The truth echoes within me, like sound through hollow shells….
It all started when I met that person,
Who shone as brightly as the brightest sun…
I won’t mention her blessed name,
In case later there’s a risk of blame…
But I remember my entry in you that day,
“ my life has changed in every way…”
And though my feelings perplex you,
I assure you, Diary, she is one of very few…
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier,
It was because I was confined by fear…
For a guy like me cant get someone like her,
But still, my wretched heart holds her dear…
And though I try to repel the attraction,
I yearn for every possible interaction…
You have all right to be angry, and more,
Because all this in my troubled mind I did store…
Is the situation bad, you ask..??
Getting me back to who I was seems an impossible task..
Because as of now, I can live without filling you with ink,
But I shall die if of her I don’t think…
Yes, its serious, yes I know,
Nowhere is this relationship going to go…
But I still prefer this existence,
Where she and I can be just friends..
For the exuberance that comes with her being,
Seems to give life a whole new meaning…
Diary, I know you are about me, not her…
But she is now part of me, it does appear..
So let us chronicle my love, in liaison,
Let us tell the world about my passion…
For, one day, when I am but dust,
You will show everyone what I did lust…
Diary, I’ve jumped into a well, and I cant come out,
Except you, no one can hear my wretched shout…
Dear Diary, let the pain no longer keep us apart,
Dear Diary, please imbibe the weepings of my broken heart…
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 10:32 AM UTC
She is silver-nitrate and coal.
An Egon Schiele painting
stretched on dream
and sullen sparking glances
tipped in gold.
It is starlight, burnt through a velvet field
that chains me here.
It is honey and hot wine
that haunts my sleep,
by the onomatopoeia
of obsession.
With a lunar caustic kiss
she hexed me.
Woven in her six-sided circle
those rubies in the
hollow of her neck
and fingers that shimmer
like ice.
The Sphinx of Eros.
That heathen curl.
Smoke to hide the ivory!
Spoke to lock the memory!
Caught in click clack shutters
by the silver foaming pond.
Froth from the chambers of
ebony rough hewn hearts.
O starlight!
That raptures me hungry
for bloodsoaked lips
red as fury!
And I sang;
O lord & commoner, I sang!
To the weepings of a sombre, sudden,
stinging violin,
in empty vinyl crackle
from music soaked in paint,
with a voice
like burning velvet.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 1:51 AM UTC
Window Sill Weepings
Draped as a curtain of silk disbelief
Tied back emotions lie still on the wall
Blocking the sunlight to pause in relief
Collections of dust form in spite of it all
Streaks hold the fingerprints bound of the day
Smeared in designs of a weakened refrain
Window sill weepings with nothing to say
Magnified teardrops add depth to the pain
Transparent wishes once hidden from view
Wait in the darkness this side of the dawn
Boarded up portals now moistened of dew
Nothing to see ever since you are gone
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
Another morning I’ve been sentenced,
feeling verb-less,
incomplete,
with my darling noun
I only let down,
when I feel like a child with a numb grip,
dragging him against the ground.
I watch him sleep, my sweet,
shimmering sun against the periwinkle morning
and all glows quiet . . .
but my muck of thoughts smell of rot,
with shadows of vicious vultures—
their black feathers buzzing with dooming vibrations—
smearing their gray against it all.
They’ve grown bored with the feed of palatable pity.
Their cravings threaten to gulp his gushing, golden heart,
bury it in the muck that wishes to swallow my temple.
I think of his holy water and bathe in it;
Thinking in his tears keeps me strong
and carries me down stream.
Each salty orb
wipes the grim and the grime
and refracts the light from his treasure,
his heart, casting
the rainbows that fire
arrows at the shadows.
I find my purpose in the thought of your wailings and weepings,
and I promise I’ll never lose your heart to grief.
Sorry the pillow is wet.
I’ve been crying in your sleep.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
I heard about them
'bout your cries
'bout your weepings
and your tears
I've heard about them
bumping into everything
on the sleek narrow bridge
on the frail dock by the bay
on the gutter when it rains
I've heard about these
muffled screams below
the sheets
and silent sobs
beneath the moonlight
and the pitch black
darkness of tonight
I've heard about you, too
walking through the
sharpest stones
limping through
the darkest shores
drowning yourself
in deepest points
of misery
As I step up
close to them
on those gloomy
sights of yours
and let myself be
lost in the agony
of the tune that
you keep humming
through the doors,
I felt the worst
There, in that very moment,
I've heard just one solo cry
One so devastating
One so heartbreaking
And in that one moment
I know just the reason
—and that reason is me.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
DEPRESSION
Ayad Gharbawi
A word, my friend, I heard
Where Angels of my Father’s memories, spoke shockingly
Where Mother’s weepings sang dirges in my mind
I can never ignore these pages and essays that affect us brittle humans
And where throats hurt once more
The dryness wounds sincerely
How could a clown cry, I thought?
Here, and forever more, I thought - and for what meaningful end?
The Wilderness will forever be my highway!
Endless in repercussions and unsure threats vague
Where eyes conversed in sentences distracted and disconnected
Where body language denied the presence of all meanings or sense
I complained unto no one
For I did complain once unto a god I believed in once
A god I thought could change and alter physics and its grand laws
Yet dryness once more hurt my memory as I attempted
As I attempted and tried to recall what efforts I needed to do
Such as recalling images exact of my ‘friends’ that were meant to help me
I saw too many hollow, unoccupied, futile skies
‘Neath which thorny verses of Sacred Scripture were passionately, lucidly preached
But I tried my self far removed and away
And turned aghast towards
Situations where lies convinced us of truths
Where lovers expressed intimacy within plasticity’s contexts
Eventually, surrendering my sanity and soul
I myself simply stood and looked at snowy sands cold
That was all I existed for
To stand and watch you all live on.
Jan 28, 2010
Jan 28, 2010 at 8:08 AM UTC
~
It is within this rock I sit
Encased in regret
Solidified by guilt's mortality
Hurt friend’s pain and sadness etched
Dead for all sense and purpose
Shifting on ancient sand’s sorrow
Blistered by dire gale forces breathing
Stoic between cracks in the facade
Weathering at rapid paces of mistaken footsteps
A mausoleum of loneliness
Branded with hot iron’d weepings
Deafened of heartbreak earthquake tremors
Hammer and chiseled contaminates
Crushed bits of worthless rubble
Scattered in sincerity's anguished apologies
****** by stupidity…
…dust on the wind
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
Lend me Your ears, Oh Heavenly Father!
For I am terribly sick, full of pain.
This thoughts and emotions I couldn't bear
In this countless despair, shall I remain?
Searching for love, alone, I sigh, I sigh
I drench my pillow with this tears flooding,
Hold me with your loving kindness; for I
Am tiresome and weary with my groaning.
But then, in these thoughts, I have blamed myself,
For I seek Thee, but refrained to listen.
I am like a book, looking for its shelf
Yet covered with thorns that cause Your burden.
So these weepings Oh Lord, I have to stop.
To live with Your wisdom and lift You up!
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 9:59 PM UTC
_
In a lemon zest field
of goldenrod and lavender,
where butterflies frolic
in calm breezes
on a warm springtime afternoon
and shade trees cool the day
with outstretched arms of nature,
an aphonic cloud approaches,
menacing in proportions,
clinging to a frightened sky
Swirling leaves and mingled debris
like shrapnel of days long gone
Beneath life ceases to exist
as frayed discolored blooms
litter the now vacant wasteland
and roots exposed on a parched
desolate earth burn
in umber tinted weepings,
coughing of dust bowl deliveries,
while cataclysmic calamities
bring forth the wrath
of the end
And as the cloud finally passes,
dissipating in a mist of forgotten fears
making its way to a darker universe
now waiting on
the other side of hope,
sunlight returns from pale blue skies
slowly breathing, exhaling the past,
inhaling the future…
a lone butterfly appears
fluttering amidst tiny green sprouts
peeking through a new born soil
and so it begins…again
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
I patiently wait
Beneath the Hospital cot
Holding onto Maitreya Buddha for
Release from death's
Hypnotic kaleidoscope
Eyetwitchings.
Afternoon light flows thru
The ivory curtain and
Winter's soft dress
Appears in lacklove phantoms,
Gayatri Mantra clanging like distant bells of Mont Saint Michel Pilgrimage
Toward Roseflower India!
Bringing me back to memories I never
First experienced.
This mind waltz calligraphy of
FLASHTHOUGHT
Scripture for dawn insanity!
Day opening her mouth and breathing
Cold vacuums of the universe,
Groggy dew of frontlawn grass in
November.
"Om bhur bhuvah svah
Tat savitur varenyam
Bhargo devasya dhimahi
Dhiyo yo nah pracodayat"
Samsara: the non-reality hornets nest,
DISTRACTING those in the garden!
Wirey battery powered
mammals,
Spring loaded elephant's
Cacophony weepings
That existence has become so
Ordinarily material and
!LackSpectacular!
Even the zoo animals realize this!
Butterflies lacking mental stimulation
Hovering Vancouver unknown to their own emptiness.
institutionalized populace (continental)
Voluntarily part of mass electroshock execution.
Soldierly blood is ink for the warpoets
Who will fight back with automatic language fired at the man behind the mask!
Till the last mad writer types
Their last mad verse.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 6:04 AM UTC
Plagued by the troubles of my heart,
Forced expressions to play the part.
If only you knew the routes of my wounds.
The faces I have seen, the loves I had to release.
Curse-d ambition to persevere towards my dreams,
Though my closeted skeletons wept,
searching for their tendons of meaning.
For the places I fled to-to try and make home,
only invited the evil drowned in the vastness of my soul.
Leaving only the rottenness to soothe my bones,
and the incessant weepings to be my song-
"Never stop reaching for your 'dreams', even if everything cease."
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
an evening,
a morning,
a coughing grandfather sighing
with all the weariness of a dimming afternoon.
raining,
windy,
the old flower-tree of grandmothers tap-tap-tapping
against the window.
late spring roses dropping dew and dropping petals
lodging their greenish stem-thorns in boiling bloodstreams
hooking their way into the red-thick muscles of hearts
biting paler lips and weaker tongues,
signing songs of dusk and
coughing,
coughing in the afternoon
in their shallow slumbers of evenings.
call on me weakly,
carry me not into the evening of love,
dimming lamps and fleeting, snoring breaths
call on holy mothers with no more silence
than the tap-tap-tapping
of those flowered grandmother trees.
a morning,
an evening,
parallels of forced breaths and sighing leaf-whispers,
the childish way of half-falling off beds,
shallow, deep, ragged, grumbling inhalations
of neveragain places,
dreams of highlands and weepings of meadows
and woodsmoke in summers.
weep not for life, weep not for death,
weep not for the salty tears in your mouth
weep silent, weep quiet, weep beautiful and stoic,
weep as pretty
as those flowered window-tapping trees in wind and rain,
bite your pale rose-lips like those greenish stem-thorns.
and in the morning,
and in the evening,
sleep deep, sleep deep, sleep deep
but do not weep.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
I do not hold my Loves close enough
As they break away and fade
I am left with the weepings of their shadow and receding warmth
My greed for valuables, taking my privilege as always there
Every rock of the boat
I see I'm truly drowning, no one to bail me out
They all left, were thrown overboard or willingly went
Only their unfinished cups of happiness left
Should have asked for a note written just for me
To be as selfish, so when they leave as well as tragic's
I shall have something to hold on catch my dry tears
I do not hold on enough to the scraps of my memories
They hold the knowledge my past and heartbreak
I have such a pathetic grip, make those that stay not fade away
For even just a second to relive time
Hug my past a little longer, maybe it will be different
Think twice before you loosen your hand
Hold your loves closer than me.
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 11:40 PM UTC
A lyrist was upon the night brought forth,
Like a brilliant star up above;
And Poetry did thru his brain course
Racing its way to the central hub.
He did see thru good, and too thru ill,
He did perceive thru his lone soul
The curiosity of the eternal will
Which is still an open scroll,
And with tired feet he threaded
The arcane walks of acclaim:
The arrows of his ideas were headed
And with due haste they did flame,
Smoothest lyrics came from his tongue,
And of so passionate a flight,
From one end to the other they'd sung,
Filling all with glorious light.
But the wellspring did dry like bone
Leaving the world with sweepings
For to digest as literature and tome,
Until from the learnéd came weepings;
And floating melodies, the winds bore
Them skyward till they'd ignite;
Then, like Beauty so pure came forth yet another celestial light.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
He was the waking
The warning before the storm
But my ears were shut
My hands toppled over them
Like earmuffs frozen to my skin
I only listened to my chest
As it burned with menace
I opened my arms
To reveal my bravery was stronger than my fright
My chest bloomed for years
Carrying weepings of beauty and disaster
And when he went to the unknown
He left me speechless with crippling stories
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC