I love the way you see nothing but good In everyone you meet, It makes me realise how cynical I am When you act so naive and sweet.
I used to be just like you, I loved everyone too. But time has made me different, Now I can spot a bad one in you.
I always used to love you, No matter what you said, But now I realise the love I had, Was only in my head.
By Victoria Hughes
***
A Change Of Air
Now, a man in Oodnadatta He grew fat, and he grew fatter, Though he hardly had a thing to eat for dinner; While a man in Booboorowie Often sat and wondered how he Could prevent himself from growing any thinner.
So the man from Oodnadatta He came down to Booboorowie, Where he rapidly grew flatter;
And the folk will tell you how he Urged the man from Booboorowie To go up to Oodnadatta – Where he lived awhile, and now he Is considerably fatter.
By Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
***
A Change Of Heart
I’m full of joy and richly blessed Of Christ I’m never shy I’ll journey through this world as guest Until the day I die
Though old, grey near worldly dead The grave my flesh may see But souls who’ve eaten Heaven’s Bread Will rise complete and free
Free of sin of eternal wrath Free through innocent blood Free to travel Christ’s trodden path And live the way I should
It’s not too late to change your ways Seek Jesus’ help on high Fix on Him your fervent gaze Or least of all to try
For God can see a troubled soul The heart of those still blind Seeking someone to make them whole Searching for peace of mind
God sees the filth that keeps us bound Lost, through satanic lies He sees who seek the higher ground In righteousness to rise
He sees who kill, rape, cheat, connive Deceivers greedy for gain Liars, thieves believing to thrive Hoping with Christ to reign
Only who turn to live anew Washed clean in Heaven’s Flame As virgin bride God’s chosen few Receive The Bride-Groom’s name.
By Michael P. Johnson
***
A Change Of Luck
It is said that a four leafed clover Brings good luck to those that find In the middle summer I looked all over For a magic leaf of four… a rare kind
Then one day I discovered a quad-leaf Inconspicuously growing in the lawn Good luck would mine… this was my belief Tomorrow will improve starting at dawn
The next morning I brushed my teeth Then splashed warm water on my face I did not notice the cat beneath my feet Tripped and fell with no time to brace
Standing with bruised knees I wondered How can this happen, how is it possible? What twist of chance caused this blunder? In too much haste… I was accountable
Then I realized that maybe I was fortunate It least I did not break my bones in the fall Hope for luck, turned out to be a distraction Maybe an uneventful day is the luckiest of all…
By Theresa Ann Moore
***
A Change Of Seasons
Autumnal winds caress my face as summer’s heated breeze expires. The years have quickened in their pace, foregoing my misplaced desires.
As winter lurks not far ahead my memory drifts to warmer days, where on a greener grass I tread absorbing love’s adoring rays.
Beneath the August moon we’d dance, embracing ’til the blaze of dawn, but violent gusts would steal my chance and whisk away the dreams I’d drawn.
Through fallen leaves of yesteryears I sift for blades of thriving hope, to help me cool these caustic tears and find the strength and will to cope.
For in the autumn of my life is when I’ll gain a peace within, discarding weights of pain and strife and letting reigns of joy begin.
Then when the days of fall conclude and winter takes its turn on stage, I know my soul will be renewed as life records my final page.
By Jo Lynn EhnesAllen
***
A Little Bird Am I
I ask but this one small thing. Give me the worldly skies For I cannot stay trapped here A little bird am I….
Let me leave this here land. Don’t keep me in a cage. Let me fly to the highest heights. Let me come of age. Let me soar among the clouds. Let my wings spread into flight. I need to be free; I need to see The world without a fright.
I have spent my life so grounded, But my instincts pull me up. They tell me to go, to see the new, To finger each buttercup. I need to witness greatness, need the sorrow of poverty. I need to show the world my wings And shed this gravity.
I want a life of freedom, And I want to know what’s real. I want to step to the edge of earth And watch the sea reveal. I want to take the longest ride, And I want to feel the wind I want to share this life with you, So, forgive me, for I have sinned.
For I know I’m leaving you behind To shadow in my wake, But I cannot stay in these four walls Simply for your sake. I will keep you in my mirror. With me you’ll always be. I will share with you my tales, And I will return to thee.
So I ask but this one small thing Give me the worldly skies For I cannot stay trapped here A little bird am I….
By Hanna Eardley
***
A Prayer For Change
As children of the universe Our destination earth, We ride upon the solar winds Until the hour of birth When scattered, weary travlers Who’ve journeyed from afar Begin their incarnation On this cold and dying star;
What used to be so beautiful,
So vibrant green and blue An oasis for the many Has been wasted by the few, What purpose in this torture Of the motherhood of man? What evil child will desecrate His home because he can?
We’ve overstayed our welcome It’s time for us to leave
And after our destruction Will no man be left to grieve? Sweet children of the universe With hearts so pure and free Release this star from bondage With love’s celestial key!
Return these souls to heaven Wrap this earth in slumber deep, Awaken us with dreaming, Let your love inside us creep Then as buds upon the branches Of Life’s tree on some spring morn’ We shall blossom into beauty And this earth shall be reborn.
By Linda Ori
***
An Old Man’s Lament
When I was born The world was waiting there for me To smell, to touch, to taste, to see. What wonders filled my little eyes. Sounds and sights I’d never heard or seen. I crawled, I stood on wobbly legs, I fell, I walked, I ran, I babbled, spoke, I learned to read, I learned to write.
Then new wonders appeared before my eyes. The Milkman in the early morn, The Iceman with his blocks of ice, The Organ Grinder and his dancing Monk, The candies for our little store, The sizzling buns with slabs of meat, The hungry nurses with their dancing feet, The midnight drive when work was done. My days were filled with joy and fun.
The world was very good to me. The years rolled by, and I became a man. The girls I knew were pretty and bright. I worked by day and loved by night. I married late but married well. Our children flourished and theirs did too.
For them, the world was bright and new, Filled with wonders I neither knew nor learned: I-Phone, Zoom, Instagram. Somehow, the world had passed me by. The Milkman and the Iceman had long since gone. The Organ Grinder and his Monkey, too, Were no longer there.
Corona filled the empty space. Old in body, young in heart, We vowed to never let it win. The Nazis could not kill my wife. This Virus, too, must spare my life.
So here we sit, alone, and wait To reap the wonder of our fate.
By Moshe Sonnheim
***
As Seasons Change As We
To everything there is a season, A time of gladness, grief and cheer, Smiles of laughter, sadness of tears, For every sunset there’s a sunrise, There is no rainbow without the rain, No summer time without the spring, Golden days and frosty nights, Icy winds thoughout the days, With winters newly fallen snows, Whose years are like the seasons,
Let the future hold no doubt, There’ll come a change of scene, With rain bound skies of hope and love, I have seen your different faces, Life is like the changing seasons, Upward always climb, As the seasons change as we.
By Deborah M. Vanderwood
***
As You Grow
As you grow up, the view will start to change. The embrace of the first morning’s light, Running for hours beneath the blue. All of it seems to be there just for you. The days were long and hushed. When did it all become such a rush?
As you grow, the view starts to change. Your hours are no longer free. It is just the way it has to be. The price to pay for growing up Will be the bill you fear the most. Age may be just a number, But no one talks about the word that tags along: Responsibility!
As you grow, the view will start to change. It may be odd to say, But it will be okay. The road is long. The price is steep, But dare I say… It is worth the leap. For one simple reason.
As you grew, the view changed. Long gone are the hours of endless blue. The hours have passed. Your time is up. Was it all well spent?
Your view has changed. But another’s eyes have just opened up To the morning’s first light, The endless hours of blue. The price has been met, All just for one reason, To give this gift to you… Of nothing else but Simpler times.
By Tasha R. Dragoo
***
Before I…
Before I became strong, I knew what it was like To be weak, How difficult it is to love yourself, To find the wholeness that you seek.
Before I knew the light, I have had my fair share of darkness, too, Where my world fell into a hopelessness And I didn’t know how to get through.
For I have known the tears it takes, The courage to stand up again, When you are broken down and bruised And you know nothing but the pain.
You forget to appreciate love, If you haven’t seen the hate, Till you forget the meaning of smile and laughter, And your heart is left abate.
I have known the strength and courage It requires to get it right, To face the things that hold you down And hold your head up and fight.
Before I was who I am now, I was someone I didn’t want to be. I was lost, battered, and defeated, Before I knew how to be me!
By Insiya K. Patanwala
***
Brotherhood Among Us
Can’t we all come and meet each other And no matter what colour we may be Be able to show we love one another And then together we’ll stand, you and me The leaders of Tomorrow, Planning for what is to come Otherwise there will be lots of needless sorrow Over killing which is quite dumb.
So come closer now and grab my hand And we’ll accept each other as brothers And then together we’ll be able to stand To show our Father and Mothers We want to plan for a common future No matter what our race, colour or culture.
By Milton Louw
***
Can’T Change The Weather
Crisp and white and cold It was a beautiful snowy day Life seemed devoid of turmoil As I watched the ducks at play
Trees covered in their lacy winter white The sky was gray with threatening snow And yet a bit of white peaked through It was the best kind’a day I know
And as I drove across a bridge Slush was forming and the snow rearranged It seemed as though there was a pause I knew something was about to change
I love the changing of the weather A cold and blowing storm And then as quick as fingers snap It would be sunny and sweet and warm
I guess whatever the season Or whatever the weather right now We might as well just settle in Can’t change the weather anyhow!
By Marilyn Lott
***
Can’T Change Who I Am
i walk in clothes you don’t like, i hangout with friends you don’t like, why can’t you just excpet the way i am, i can’t not change, its who i am,
this is who i am, the person i am growing up to be, don’t you understand, i am who i want to be, can’t you just let it go,
because this is who i am, you can’t change a thing.
you let her walk in skimpy clothes, when all i want to wear is black, she goes and dates older men, when i only date guys my age and you still won’t let it go.
you don’t have to worry, don’t you want me to be happy?
if you do then let it be.
this is who i am, the person i am growing up to be, don’t you understand, i am who i want to be, can’t you just let it go, because this is who i am, you can’t change a thing.
By Katie Huntress
***
Chance And Change
For one ruined in love, the old status quo Offers comfort of a kind tho’ cold. Suffering neglect, your heart is a wreck, Yet one’s vow demands payment of debt.
Honorbound to see old promises through, Despite the cost and the loss, you do. For years it’s been wrong, and forever’s so long, Wanting to be held, to be known, to belong.
Chances to let go, to be free and to know How good it feels as love flowers and grows Have come and gone just as dusk chases dawn, Like pretty dreams light a world dark and wan.
Change is a Chance taken – – not another need Forsaken to spare one whose tight heart will bleed. Don’t fear that long leap o’er the abyss of trust, Just close your eyes… life without love is but dust.
By Esther Leclerc
***
Change
Changed? Yes, I will confess it – I have changed. I do not love you in the old fond way. I am your friend still – time has not estranged One kindly feeling of that vanished day.
But the bright glamour which made life a dream, The rapture of that time, its sweet content, Like visions of a sleeper’s brain they seem – And yet I cannot tell you how they went.
Why do you gaze with such accusing eyes Upon me, dear? It is so very strange That hearts, like all things underneath God’s skies, Should sometimes feel the influence of change?
The birds, the flowers, the foliage of the trees, The stars which seem so fixed, and so sublime, Vast continents, and the eternal seas, – All these do change, with ever-changing time.
The face our mirror shows us year on year Is not the same; our dearest aim, or need, Our lightest thought, or feeling hope, or fear, All, all the law of alternation heed.
How can we ask the human heart to stay, Content with fancies of Youth’s earliest hours? The year outgrows the violets of May, Although, maybe, there are no fairer flowers.
And life may hold no sweeter love than this, Which lies so cold, so voiceless, and so dumb, And will I miss it, dear? Why, yes, we miss The violets always – till the roses come!
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
***
Change
Thoughts broke down from my dreams demise As I shut my dreaming eyes Stars flickered out My wish lost truth As I cried in a phone booth The string untied Memories faded away I cried all night and I cried all day
Missing you
And you haven’t even left me Missing who You used to be I’m missing you And I wish That you’d leave me, Just wish That you’d leave me alone
Knowledge broke through
Hope lost touch I cried too much Just thinking of you The pain came down My smile turned to frown And I wish I could walk away I just with that I could walk away
Missing you And you haven’t even left me Missing who You used to be I’m missing you And I wish That you’d leave me, Just wish That you’d leave me alone
By Christal Carpenter
***
Change Is All
No one will ever know how I feel, For I cannot even explain it all. Nobody to love, Nobody to blame, Everyone always the same. Nothing to care about, No reason to lie, For I am me, myself, and I. No one sees what I see, Nobody left to care for me. It’s kind of sad knowing what’s true, ‘Cause then you know who’s there for you. Most of them just put on that act. A lot of them talk bad about me behind my back. Thanks for making me feel this way, There’s nothing more I should have to say. All the times I was alone Makes me feel weird when someone’s home. No family for support, no friends to care. People wonder why I don’t go anywhere. Every night crying myself to sleep, Sometimes I wish someone loved me. No hope, no love, no life, no friends. The pain never ends. Sometimes I ask what did I do to deserve this. But nobody answers. A voice in my head tells me to forget the bad and remember good. But then I answer to myself saying there is no good to remember. I always yell at myself asking why me? Why? Sitting in a empty spare room. No one to talk to about how I feel. No one to ask me what I feel. Is anyone out there in this harsh world we live in? Sometimes I begin to wonder. Sometimes I’m harsh on myself. Morn comes and I wake up wishing I was never born. Please help others, because today’s lives Are being taken out of this world just as easy as they are coming in. You can change someone’s life. Make a change. It’s a tough world.
By Olivia Libby
***
Change Of Adress
Dear Friend, please note that my adress Has changed since you were last my guest When you just walked in through my door And one weeks stay turned into four You made me stay up late at nights While you put all the world to rights But everyday you’d stay in bed While i went out with aching head And later with the setting sun I found the dishes still werent done
And there you were just watching cheers and drinking one of my cold beers You took control of my whole life I’m sure you thought i was your wife And when at last you went your way Not a penny did you pay So now i’ve moved you’ll want to know And maybe come again and so In case you feel that way disposed My new adress is not enclosed
By Bridgid Patrick
***
Change Of Seasons
The Summer season gradually fades away, Nature’s way of bidding a humble farewell to all. A change is seen as the leaves fade in unison As the beautiful Autumn season comes to call.
September – the sounds in the garden are quiet now, The song birds are no longer to be found. Flying high up in the cloudy sky, Many feathered friends are southward bound.
October – the trees are covered with tantalizing colors Of red and gold and yellow and even brown, And crimson, too, in a multitude of fashion The leaves come wafting down.
November – fringed with frost and nippy cold, The fading days of Autumn are everywhere. A quiet state of melancholy days With signs of a changing season in the air.
December – All of a sudden the winds of winter blow, The falling snow begins to pile high. We are delighted for the bounty Autumn has provided, Uttering words of thank you – with an appreciative sigh.
By Joseph T. Renaldi
***
Change The Change
We jubilated that the masses Took up arms against the soldiers Who attempted a coup We celebrated the free And fair elections that won With landslide All these do not translate To the fact that democracy Has won. We are in a vehicle of
Statusquo ante Same hunger abode in our stomachs Same lakes on our thoroughfare Same sirens blaring on our roads Same electors yearning for a change And change won’t come Until the change is changed.
By Tony Adah
***
Change The Winds
We cannot change the winds, but the sails – yes, we can do to find smooth paths without sins, to suit direction for me and you.
Life’s struggles damage, without mirth, and we need to move on and find our true selves and our own self worth, before we have our peace of mind.
‘Seek and ye shall find’ is a message sent, and of that we should gain faith and hope that our plea has gone to God – and went to where an answer is found for us to cope.
By Colleen Wright
***
Change Upon Change
Five months ago the stream did flow, The lilies bloomed within the sedge, And we were lingering to and fro, Where none will track thee in this snow, Along the stream, beside the hedge. Ah, Sweet, be free to love and go! For if I do not hear thy foot, The frozen river is as mute, The flowers have dried down to the root: And why, since these be changed since May,
Shouldst thou change less than they.
And slow, slow as the winter snow The tears have drifted to mine eyes; And my poor cheeks, five months ago Set blushing at thy praises so, Put paleness on for a disguise. Ah, Sweet, be free to praise and go! For if my face is turned too pale, It was thine oath that first did fail, —
It was thy love proved false and frail, — And why, since these be changed enow, Should I change less than thou.
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning
***
Change, The Inevitable
Change is to one man the death of a friend, To another the birth of a child. Change is the shifting of soft winds of spring, to a hurricane deadly and wild.
Change is the moving of the hourglass sands, It’s the coming of dawn after dark. Change is taking one step at a time, The emotion in each persons heart.
But change in the end, will not change at all The one constant in everyone’s lives Change is the light at the end of the tunnel The healer who opens our eyes.
By Jake Harris
***
Childhood Memories
I was happy when I was a lad. It wasn’t all good, but it wasn’t half bad. We played with sticks we played with stones; we built ourselves dens that we called homes.
We explored the woods, we climbed the trees, and we played with marbles on our knees. Conkers in season we threaded with string. If your opponent missed, your knuckles would sting.
We built trolleys with old pram wheels. We were often too busy to go home for our meals. We made catapults, bows and arrows and spears, quite often resulting in painful tears.
We scrumped apples, plums and pears; of getting caught, we had no cares. In fact, we were often caught, and our ears clipped, no smart replies – we never lipped.
During the long school summer holidays when the sun shone bright, we played outside from morning to night. War games, tin can tommy, hide and seek, Such fun we’d have, what havoc we’d wreak.
Raiding allotments, pinching what grew. We’d get a good hiding if our parents knew. Round blazing open fires on logs we would sit. In the pitch-black night our faces it lit.
We’d have singsongs and tell tales of ghosts, of things we had done, exaggerated boasts. Now looking back, such a long time it seems. Sometimes I wonder was it all in my dreams.
But then I remember all the things that I did could only be done when I was a kid!
By Paul L. Kennedy
***
Everything That Will Not Change
I want to remember the world this way: The light, steadfast on the windowsill, a breathless sky and the autumn as beautiful as it is bitter.
The way it was just yesterday when you held me against your chest, against a backdropp of sunset: so many colors evolving into darkness- rearranging themselves into the first evening shadows.
I want to sleep with the memory of you still fresh inside of my head, and the scent of your kisses still clinging to my lips. Your eyes: cathartic pools I wish I could dive into, to drown myself in their prismatic vision.
How does it feel to see the world, to see life through a third eye?
I wish I could see beyond my sorrow and live beyond my darkness- then I’d see myself not entirely unraveled, but tearing at the seams to become something more, something other than the girl with a big smile to sacrifice to the world, who will always be just a little bit sad.
By Amberlee Carter
***
Going Forth
What will it take to free this mind, Imprisoned long in apathy, Now reduced to mundane thoughts That stultify activity?
What words might somehow trickle up Through dormant webs of talent, Releasing from the tangled depths, A joy once prevalent?
I stand and peer outside my cave, Security behind me. Am I afraid to take the chance Success might someday find me?
Can I withstand the pounding waves That new ideas foment? Or shall I once again retreat, In dullness be content?
Time laughs as I now hesitate. It says, “Can I keep waiting? Afraid to leave my placid nest, Just stay there still debating?”
No! Not when new horizons Are reaching out to find me. The glove is thrown, the die is cast. I close the door behind me.
By Alora M. Knight
***
I Cannot Change, As Others Do
I cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn; Since that poor swain that sighs for you, For you alone was born. No, Phyllis, no, your heart to move A surer way I’ll try: And to revenge my slighted love, Will still love on, will still love on, and die.
When, killed with grief, Amintas lies
And you to mind shall call, The sighs that now unpitied rise, The tears that vainly fall, That welcome hour that ends this smart Will then begin your pain; For such a fauthful tender heart Can never break, can never break in vain.
By Lord John Wilmot
***
I Have A Dream, Too
I have a dream, too But must walk across the stage, But in order to do that, I must leave this day and age.
I’ll leave friendships and bonds With friends old and new. It’s gone by so fast, It doesn’t seem true.
I’ve become a better person It’s been so much fun, And it seems like I’ve gone from a walk to a run.
I have a dream for the future But I fear too much change. I fear once I move on It won’t be the same.
A family, new friends, a house, and a car, To go to that from this, It just seems so far.
I wish it would stop But it goes faster and faster. The more I struggle The less I seem to last here.
By Cody Duggins
***
I Want To Change The World
I want to change the world I want to impact it so deep That I reach the core I want to change the meaning of peace To something permanent I want to open doors And shut out doubt I want the past to dissolve It makes my ears bleed Mistakes linked in memory Times so hard the world shakes in its boots
I want to change the world The sun rises and then sets But leaves its mark before it goes It creates life and growth The moon brings serenity and mystery Both bring death too I want the growth to shine through But erase the death I want to change the world But I would not dare change the past
By Allyson Bogan
***
Men At Forty
Men at forty Learn to close softly The doors to rooms they will not be Coming back to.
At rest on a stair landing, They feel it Moving beneath them now like the deck of a ship, Though the swell is gentle.
And deep in mirrors They rediscover The face of the boy as he practices trying His father’s tie there in secret
And the face of that father, Still warm with the mystery of lather. They are more fathers than sons themselves now. Something is filling them, something
That is like the twilight sound Of the crickets, immense, Filling the woods at the foot of the slope Behind their mortgaged houses.
By Donald Justice
***
My Inner Child
Looking through the window There is a small child Sitting with his pillow He has been there for a while
He is nervous about the room And the place where he stands His smile turns to gloom When he sees my large hands
Looking deeper through the pane To see what is wrong He’s not sure he is sane He has been there way too long
As I peer into the glass This child starts to fade Leaving no mass And me standing in the shade
By Bryan P. Mix
***
My World With Love And God
My future is coming alive. All tomorrows will be mine. It’s just around the corner, Just a pause in time.
I see into the days ahead And what I want for me. I see smiles and happiness, All the love I want there to be.
A house is not a home Unless with love it stands, And I would not be full Without the love of man.
A yard is just a yard, But with pretty flowers to grow, It makes the sight so colorful. It makes you proud, you know?
And alone we cannot be, For two together as one Is what God wanted, you see. Hand in hand with love.
So come with me to my world. It’s a world of goodness and care. Come with me, I’ll take you. Never hurt, only love, will be there.
By Michelle Strattis
***
Nothing Stays The Same
The earth spins like a rolling ball. Stars shine bright then fade away. Darkness melts and turns to light. The sunrise starts another day. The sun dips slowly into the sea. The moon will wax and wane. The sea will rise and falls with tides. And you will love again.
Nothing ever stays the same. Mountains change with time. Rivers flow and lakes run dry. Salty tears will flood the eye. Healing follows after pain. A crush of grape becomes fine wine. And you will love again. Yes! You will love again.
By Carol A. Andrews
***
Radical Change
Radical change occurs in all men, who from God are Born Again, Born through the Spirit of Christ, and born again unto a New Life. Change begins when you believe, as The Holy Spirit you receive, This as Christ begins to reside, in The Spirit who now lives inside.
Change isn’t obvious at the start, but occurs if He’s in your heart, Dwelling inside, to make you anew, helping you in all that you do. You friend, now belong to Him, the One who died for all your sin, And the new life that Christ gives, changes how the Believer lives.
God doesn’t change who we are, but changes us deeper and far, Changes which go into Eternity, far greater than any eye can see. The Lord truly changes everyone, who comes to accept His Son, Changing the way we live, radically, as a testimony for all to see.
Changes we choose for The Lord; changes that won’t go ignored, Radically changing all former ways, for living out remaining days. Changes made by His power, transforming us each day and hour, Through the power of His name, God creates in us lasting change.
From within God’s Spirit inspires, many changes to all our desires, Directed by a power much higher, to guide every need and desire, By Christ who had died for me, to direct my heart towards eternity, With God’s power in my life, I’m radically changed for Jesus Christ.
By Bob Gotti
***
Sea Of Change
The clouds never break Like blue waters do On this Island of Pain. How can I stand true?
The birds never sing And the love never finds This Island of Pain Where the sun never shines.
The stars never gleam And the moon never glows. There’s never a dream, And the river that flows
Is filled with my tears That lead to the Bay Of this Island of Pain Where I’m destined to stay.
There, in the distance, The fog starts to rise, As I awaken To warm, sunny skies.
No longer a captive So long lost at sea, This Island of Hope Appears before me.
The Sea of Serenity Waves at the shore. Of this Island of Hope, I just can’t ignore.
The birds always sing And the love always finds This Island of Hope Where the sun always shines.
The stars always gleam And the moon always glows. There’s never a tear And the soft wind that blows
Is filled with my dreams That lead to the shore Of this Island of Hope Where I’ll live evermore.
By Douglas J. Olson
***
Seasons Yet To Come
They gave us all a calendar At work this afternoon. Suddenly it dawns on me, The year is ending soon!
Comes January, cold and gray. The new year’s just beginning. And February, short and bright With Valentine hearts winning.
Comes March, the windy roaring one And warm the sun of spring. Then April, bright of shining sky And flowers blossoming.
Comes May, and school comes to a close With children’s happy laughter. Then June, with open city pools And picnics soon thereafter.
July comes booming with a bang Of red-glared rockets blasting. Then August lingers with its heat That seems so…everlasting.
September, gold September comes. The year is growing older. October with sweet Halloween. The nights grow dark and colder.
November smells of harvest, Of turkey and Thanksgiving. December comes with joy and light To fill hearts of the living.
Each page I flip and see these things Of days yet to come. My calendar is a door to me, An adventure just begun!
By Rick W. Cotton
***
Seeds Of Growth
Water the seed, and a plant will grow. Feed the plant, and a tree will grow. Give a tree room, and it will bloom. A seed to a plant, A plant to a tree, A boy to a man, A man to a father. Care for the boy, and the man will grow. Teach the man, and a father will grow. I see my boys. I see my joy. Care for my boys, and I, the man, will grow. Teach me, my boys, and your father will grow. You can’t have the tree without the plant. You can’t have the plant without the seed. I can’t be a father without being a man. I, the man, can’t be a father without my boys. The cycle of life. The man, the boys, the father. The seed, the plant, the tree.
By David Rivera
***
Sonnet 123: No, Time, Thou Shalt Not Boast That I Do Change
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change. Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings of a former sight. Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire What thou dost foist upon us that is old, And rather make them born to our desire Than think that we before have heard them told. Thy registers and thee I both defy, Not wond’ring at the present, nor the past,
For thy records, and what we see doth lie, Made more or less by thy continual haste: This I do vow and this shall ever be: I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.
By William Shakespeare
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Than The Days Will Ever Know
Playing on the Grammar School lot, In a uniform I’d rather not. One of ‘The Boys in High School’ Yeah, pretty tough and sometimes cruel.
Then one day, love chose me Through a girl, a last dance; I knew My wife she’d be.
We worked, we loved, and grew up together; Raising three children through all life’s weather. Traveled the country ’cause of my job, Left family and home, late at night we’d silently sob.
One child left the nest to wed; now there are two So many changes, life hurls us through. With love we rejoice, yet we’re doomed to suffer equal loss, So enjoy the day and those you love, at any and all costs.
For there’s one thing in life I’m certain, As sure as the wind’s gonna blow, Make each and every day count because The years teach more than the days will ever know.
By Steve J. Clymer
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That’s Life
This life is a wonderful gift .. accept it, embrace it. It starts with a new day .. wake up and greet it. Life is a challenge .. take it head on and meet it. Full of opportunity .. use it, don’t waste it.
This life is a mystery .. unfold it, solve it. It starts with meaning .. wake up and understand it. Life is a goal .. take it head on and achieve it. Full of promise .. fulfill it but keep it.
This life is a tragedy .. face it, accept it. It starts with pain .. wake up and help numb it. Life is a struggle .. take it head on and fight it. Full of sorrow .. sorry, just overcome it.
This life is precious .. hold it, treasure it, It starts with hope .. wake up and feel it. Life is a choice .. take it head on and make it. Full of knowledge .. use it, don’t abuse it.
This life is adventurous .. enjoy it, explore it. It starts with a duty .. wake up and perform it. Life is love .. take it full on and love it. Full of beauty .. praise it and behold it.
That life is life .. live it, learn and grow Life is good .. be good with all that you know.
By Danny Joyce
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The Change
She leaned out into the soft June weather, With her long loose tresses the night breeze played; Her eyes were as blue as the bells on the heather: Oh, what is so fair as a fair young maid!
She folded her hands, like the leaves of a lily, ‘My life, ‘ she said, ‘is a night in June, Fair and quiet, and calm and stilly; Bring me a change, O changeful moon!
‘Who would drift on a lake forever? Young hearts weary – it is not strange, And sigh for the beautiful bounding river; New moon, true moon, bring me a change! ‘
The rose that rivalled her maiden blushes Dropped from her breast, at a strangers feet; Only a glance; but the hot blood rushes To mantle a fair face, shy and sweet.
To and fro, while the moon is waning, They walk, and the stars shine on above; And one is in earnest, and one is feigning – Oh, what is so sweet as a sweet young love?
A young life crushed, and a young heart broken, A bleak wind blows through the lovely bower, And all that remains of the love vows spoken – Is the trampled leaf of a faded flower.
The night is dark, for the moon is failing – And what is so pale as a pale old moon? Cold is the wind through the tree tops wailing – Woe that the change should come so soon.
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Change Of Time
The change of time Affects us in days to come, The future is unknown Who knows where it’s from? We run out of luck If things stay the same, Or we will be forever stuck In the memory game. Waves of time will play With us and give us grieve,
Each year has a turning way In all our thoughts and believe. The change of things Comes with each New Year, Who’ll ever know what it brings A smile or twinklings tear? We love though alterity When they are new and exiting, Exotic things to be In days ahead hiding.
Like glowing embroidery Of drifting time gone by, The moments dwell in me Such souvenir can’t die. The change in a life Is beyond a reason, Though regret is rife For each and every season. All old to new then sings What comes and goes we bear, Like silver bells it rings In each of memories ear. I can not futures see Or what to me they bring, Still they’re flying free So playful is their wing. The change, comes and goes Produces us daily on, The past mind’s eye glows Who knows where it’s gone?
By Peter S. Quinn
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The Ghost Of My Past
Fumbling, stumbling, around in the dark. Fighting, igniting, flames from a spark.
Blinded, reminded, of the fear inside. Turning, yearning, for a place to hide.
Soaking, choking, struggling to breathe. Hiding, abiding, my ghost won’t leave.
Chasing, racing, I stagger away. Breathless, restless in the mud I lay.
Dreaming, gleaming, I escape the past. Winning, new beginning, I am free at last.
By Lee W. Barker
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The Happy Change
How bless’d Thy creature is, O God, When with a single eye, He views the lustre of Thy Word, The dayspring from on high!
Through all the storms that veil the skies And frown on earthly things, The Sun of Righteousness he eyes, With healing on His wings.
Struck by that light, the human heart, A barren soil no more, Sends the sweet smell of grace abroad, Where serpents lurk’d before.
The soul, a dreary province once Of Satan’s dark domain, Feels a new empire form’d within, And owns a heavenly reign.
The glorious orb whose golden beams The fruitful year control, Since first obedient to Thy WOrd, He started from the goal,
Has cheer’d the nations with the joys His orient rays impart; But, Jesus, ’tis Thy light alone Can shine upon the heart.
By William Cowper
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The Mentor
I paused to stand and watch a man who had come to the road’s divide. My wonder soared as I watched his stare slowly shift from side to side. He stood as if not noticing that many passed him by. They moved without a second glance down the road most traveled by.
Then as I watched, he stepped full stride toward the path of lesser wear, And soon he vanished from my view round a bend into the snare. I soon, like him, stood center road, faced with that daunting choice. My gaze down his road, causing fear, I quenched my inner voice.
For miles I walked the crowded road breathing dust from others’ feet, Until in despair I stopped and stood, my heart and soul deplete. I gazed about, still holding hope, the other path I’d see. On yonder hill I saw him there, the man who mentored me.
The path between us steep and rough, unforged with dangers there, Yet still I left my path of friends, ignoring their bewares. I pressed through hardship, pain and fear o’er rocks jagged and bent. In time I crashed limp on that path, my every resource spent.
But then a warming touch I felt, a friendly voice I heard. It said, get up and tread this path. I rose without a word. And as I looked, I saw him there, he continued on his way. His only words as he walked on…”You’re on the path, now stay.”
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I chose in err. But looking back, perhaps as well…all memories now seem fair. Much time I spent on the beaten path, and what I learned, immense. But I reached, at last, the other path, and it has still made all of the difference.
By Jeff Bresee
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The Need Of Women
I just know there’s more In the sea of skies above, Holding in those many things of her Thoughts that come to mind, Remembering her moments and mine. There’s a cloud that rains and nothing but blame falls I’m becoming a man , Every day I learn how to depend on myself Instead of falling back into her lap and cry. I resist and shout And roar, I’m proud to say…this fight of life Stalking you behind your back, It seems all the girls walk in stacks Wondering if fate plays a role. The pain of mine can’t simply fade away. Nothing worth what I had with you even if it changed a lot. So much to do to make a life fit for again Searching for the perfect soulmate Taste of Change…
By Rayan Al Sheikh
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The Will To Win
If you want a thing bad enough To go out and fight for it, Work day and night for it, Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for it
If only desire of it Makes you quite mad enough Never to tire of it, Makes you hold all other things tawdry and cheap for it
If life seems all empty and useless without it And all that you scheme and you dream is about it,
If gladly you’ll sweat for it, Fret for it, Plan for it, Lose all your terror of God or man for it,
If you’ll simply go after that thing that you want. With all your capacity, Strength and sagacity, Faith, hope and confidence, stern pertinacity,
If neither cold poverty, famished and gaunt, Nor sickness nor pain Of body or brain Can turn you away from the thing that you want,
If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it, You’ll get it!
By Berton Braley
***
Villanelle Of Change
Since Persia fell at Marathon, The yellow years have gathered fast: Long centuries have come and gone.
And yet (they say) the place will don A phantom fury of the past, Since Persia fell at Marathon;
And as of old, when Helicon Trembled and swayed with rapture vast
(Long centuries have come and gone),
This ancient plain, when night comes on, Shakes to a ghostly battle-blast, Since Persia fell at Marathon.
But into soundless Acheron The glory of Greek shame was cast: Long centuries have come and gone,
The suns of Hellas have all shone, The first has fallen to the last: — Since Persia fell at Marathon, Long centuries have come and gone.
By Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Winds Of Change
Oh, God the winds of change, they are blowing Bringing a revolution to this life Whether relief or challenge, not knowing Always of benefit, even in strife
What of the days past of comfort and rest Whose hours were filled with laughter and joy To be a child once more: happy, blessed For the simple things in life to enjoy
Oh, but these winds of change aren’t new to me I am used to being tossed to and fro Though these winds don’t always bring harmony They all bring opportunity to grow
So, let the rain pour down upon my roof Let the sun beat harshly upon my head May this wind, no matter the storm, be proof That you, oh God, are with us where we tread
By Danny Speicher
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Yes, I’ll Go On Laughing
When worries and fears I claim for my own, When I feel helpless and all alone, When my deepest memories come to mind And all my sadness I leave behind, Then yes, I’ll go on laughing. When I feel I’m going under with nothing To hold onto, When dark shadows cloud my senses, My sadness and fears I’ll be through. When sweet, gentle ways have come to pass And I get my fill of sadness at last, Then yes, I’ll go on laughing. When I give up and go on living And become wiser than I am, I’ll try not to cry tomorrow So this heart and soul shall mend. Then yes, I’ll go on laughing.
By Jac Judy A. Campbell
***
You Cannot Change The Past
You cannot change the past ’tis gone forever And worrying only turns your hair to gray And remember ’tis the future’s all that matter For we cannot change what happened yesterday.
Don’t harbour grudges for grudges only harm you For a grudge like a cancer only grow ill feeling on you can become a burden And you’ll feel happier when you leave your grudges go.
Karma will take care of all wrongdoers And all of those who harm others in any way Will one day for their mistakes feel regretful When to karma they will have a price to pay.
You cannot change the past what’s done is over Before we walked we had to learn to crawl And from the book of life we’re always learning And the future’s all that matter after all.
The past is gone and the past is past changing And let bygones be bygones so it has been said And put more of your thought energy into your future For your happier days for you might be ahead.
This world would be a better place. If we forgave each other and gave some grace When others do wrong, we are quick to blame But many times, we are the same.
Brotherhood of man can be A realization can’t you see. Helping each other, lending a hand Rather than anger and demands.
Rather than judge each other We should act more like brothers. Loving one another changes things And peace to the world it would bring.
By Catherine Pulsifer
***
A Brother Dear
Happy Birthday to a brother who is dear As you read this, I can see your grin ear to ear. Yes, it is me, your sister saying your dear. Did you ever think those words you would hear?
But, you, my brother, you’re the best. Your age shows you’re reaching the crest. It’s over the hill for you now. So let your sister please allow
A song I want to sing for you Siblings, we will always be, that’s true. And with the age, you are now at It’s okay, you’re a little fat.
All joking aside, I wish you a Happy Day. May you enjoy it in every way We want you to know we are always there. And for you, we do care!
By Catherine Pulsifer
***
Autism Within My Brother
Inseparable. Partner in crime. Together forever. A lemon and lime
Normal as can be. Love you always. Special to me. Comforting.
A rock star kid. Good times and bad. Astonishing changes. You’re trending a fad.
Autism. Autistic. Special needs if you please, But retarded, that word never should you speak.
A heart of gold. One amazing soul. A special young man, so very bold. Afraid.
Looking for friends. The words just don’t seem right. This isn’t very fair. Seemingly can’t take flight.
Autism affects his social reaction. Inspiration. He has trouble with getting anyone’s attraction. Bullies.
He will make you laugh. He will treat you right. Wanting normality. He’s funny and bright.
He is my little brother He means the world to me. You can call him autistic but he will always be the sugar in my tea.
By Anna Hall
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Big Brother
Big brother, how I loved you Big brother, why did you leave Big brother, you promised you’d stay Big brother, you never came back
Big brother, I was supposed to go first Big brother, they still need you Big brother, I still need you Big brother, you promised me you’d be here
Big brother, no one else will understand me Big brother who will be here for me Big brother, our plans will never be the same Big brother, no one can fill the gap you left me
Big brother, you’re no longer tan Big brother, you’re no longer warm Big brother, you no longer move Big brother, you no longer make me smile
Big brother, they say you’re never coming back Big brother, I know their wrong, you promised Big brother, you bгоке your promise Big brother you left me, lifeless, just like you…
By Chandler Darlingz
***
Born Brothers
Equality is absolute or no. Nothing between can stand. We are the sons Of the same sire, or madness breaks and runs Through the rude world. Ridiculous our woe If single pity does not love it. So Our separate fathers love us. No man shuns His poorest child’s embrace. We are the sons Of such, or ground and sky are soon to go.
Nor do born brothers judge, as good or ill, Their being. Each consents and is the same, Or suddenly sweet winds turn into flame And floods are on us–fire, earth, water, air All hideously parted, as his will Withdraws, no longer fatherly and there.
By Mark van Doren
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Brother
Brother, oh brother.
Brother, can’t you see, you’re tearing me apart. Brother, won’t you see, this war beats on my heart.
Brother, please remember, when we were once one. Brother, please remember, all the songs we’ve sung.
Brother, oh brother, can we still be friends? Brother, of brother, this can’t be the end.
Brother, have we lost, everything we had. Brother, can we erase, all that has gone bad.
Brother, have we killed, all our brotherhood. Never thought you’d hate me, never thought you would.
Brother, oh brother, can we still be friends? Brother, of brother, this can’t be the end.
Brother, oh brother, we will never be friends. Brother, oh brother, this will be the end.
By Barry Andrew Pietrantonio
***
Brother And Sister
I cannot choose but think upon the time When our two lives grew like two buds that kiss At lightest thrill from the bee’s swinging chime, Because the one so near the other is.
He was the elder and a little man Of forty inches, bound to show no dread, And I the girl that puppy-like now ran, Now lagged behind my brother’s larger tread.
I held him wise, and when he talked to me Of snakes and birds, and which God loved the best, I thought his knowledge marked the boundary Where men grew blind, though angels knew the rest.
If he said ‘Hush!’I tried to hold my breath; Wherever he said ‘Come!’I stepped in faith.
By George Eliot
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Brother and Sister
The shorn moon trembling indistinct on her path, Frail as a scar upon the pale blue sky, Draws towards the downward slope: some sorrow hath Worn her down to the quick, so she faintly fares Along her foot-searched way without knowing why She creeps persistent down the sky’s long stairs.
Some day they see, though I have never seen, The dead moon heaped within the new moon’s arms; For surely the fragile, fine young thing had been Too heavily burdened to mount the heavens so. But my heart stands still, as a new, strong dread alarms Me; might a young girl be heaped with such shadow of woe?
Since Death from the mother moon has pared us down to the quick, And cast us forth like shorn, thin moons, to travel An uncharted way among the myriad thick Strewn stars of silent people, and luminous litter Of lives which sorrows like mischievous dark mice chavel To nought, diminishing each star’s glitter,
Since Death has delivered us utterly, naked and white, Since the month of childhood is over, and we stand alone, Since the beloved, faded moon that set us alight Is delivered from us and pays no heed though we moan In sorrow, since we stand in bewilderment, strange And fearful to sally forth down the sky’s long range.
We may not cry to her still to sustain us here, We may not hold her shadow back from the dark. Oh, let us here forget, let us take the sheer Unknown that lies before us, bearing the ark Of the covenant onwards where she cannot go. Let us rise and leave her now, she will never know.
By David Herbert Lawrence
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Brother Jim
My brother Jim’s a millionaire, while I have scarce a penny; His face is creased with lines of care, While my mug hasn’t any. With inwardness his eyes are dim, While mine laugh out in glee, And though I ought to envy him, I think he envies me.
He has a chateau, I a shack,
And humble I should be To see his stately Cadillac Beside my jalopy. With chain of gold his belly’s girt, His beard is barber trim; Yet bristle-chinned with ragged shirt, I do not envy Jim.
My brother is a man of weight; For every civic plum
He grabs within one pie of state, While I am just a bum. Last Winter he was near to croak With gastric ulcers grim. . . . And no! although I’m stony broke I will not envy Jim
He gets the work, I get the fun; He has no tie for play; Whereas with paddle, rod and gun My life’s a holiday. As over crabbed script he pores I can the sky’s blue rim. . . . Oh boy! While I have God’s outdoors I’ll never envy Jim.
By Robert William Service
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Brother Trouble
Of all the burdens I must bear, My brother’s number one. Our parents really messed up there. They’ve raised an awful son. He’s lazy, stubborn, rough and mean And thinks he’s boss of me. The biggest grouch you’ve ever seen And greedy as can be.
His constant teasing makes me sore. He does it just for spite. He cheats and brags and, furthermore, He tickles when we fight. Unless he stops, I swear someday I’ll punch his ugly face. And if they’d let me have my way, I’d shoot him into space.
But other times, he’s not so bad. He’s taught me lots of games. He gave me toys and books he had And calls me funny names. He helps me when my homework’s hard And finds me when I hide. He built the treehouse in our yard And lets me play inside.
He laughs at every joke I tell And gives me good advice. He knows when I’m not feeling well And treats me extra nice.
So, all in all, I’d have to say It’s better in the end To let the no-good nuisance stay. My brother is my friend.
By Richard Thomas
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Brother, Oh Brother
Brother, oh brother, where would I be without you Over the years, you have helped me in all I do. You have been an encourager and a big fan. In my opinion, you’re the best in the clan!
You are always willing to lend a hand. And you always had time to listen and understand Brothers like you are far and few. What would I ever do without you?
We have shared many tears. Over the past years But also we have had more. Fun times galore!
Siblings we are, but now best friends I will always be here for you to the end. I just want to say thank you, my brother, There truly is no other!
By Catherine Pulsifer
***
Brotherly Love
We are brothers by blood And my love does flood The thoughts of yesterday Two children fast at play
That was the past And the memories will last Because in our dreams time stands still There we can view thoughts of yesterday and, tomorrow at will
Tomorrow will come and I’ll be there With unmeasurable amount of love to share For now we have our dreams and thoughts Our should’ve and oughts
Our fathers and mothers But… we are brothers We are brothers by blood And my love does flood
By Andrew M. Woods
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Brothers
From the depths of my heart, come the words of a brother, where our souls and our minds, are like that of no other. The spirit of competition, will always be there, in the look of our eyes, and the glance of our stare. Protecting each other, is always a must, good times or bad times, never losing that trust. Like a vision of Indians, riding across desert sand, or the heart of a Raider, when he conquers new land. We never lacked courage, or showed too much pride, with no thoughts of guilt, or feelings put to the side. It’s important to strive forward, and not live through regret, but to savor the memories, and to never forget. To be such close companions, always made me so proud, never scared to express feelings, our emotions speak loud. Whether it’s heaven or on earth, our souls are always together, we share that sacred bond, knowing that brothers last forever.
By Steve Mason
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Brothers
Brothers, The ones you go to for help, For comfort, For advice, When you just had a fight with Mom and Dad, Another girl, Or your boyfriend.
Brothers, The ones you go to, to tell them that You’re pregnant, Getting married, Or just need a shoulder to cry on. The ones you look up to, Share jokes, And talk to about everything.
Brothers, They’re there for the good times, Bad, And everything in between.
My brother, He helps me with everything. Now all he needs, Is me.
By Jessica M. Beuerlein
***
Dear Brother
I have searched for many years, Lived through tunnels of tears, Reminiscing in what could have been, The hero I always saw within.
From time to time, the thought came back, Wasn’t I your sister? Wasn’t I your blood?
We each parted our own way, Our parents didn’t help, needless to say.
A couple of months ago, my search finally came to an end, My long lost brother is now my good friend.
What you mean to me I cannot express, You’re more than someone I call when I am in distress.
Today, as you walked me down the aisle, Giving me away, I had the biggest smile, That on one could sway.
This is a fresh start, a new road, Let’s both sit back and watch it unfold.
By Shirley Rodriguez
***
God’s Garden
God looked around his garden and found an empty place. He then looked down upon the Earth and saw your tired face. He put his arms around you and lifted you to rest. With the help of his angels, they flew you to your heavenly place.
God’s garden must be beautiful; he always takes the best. He knew you were suffering; he knew you were in pain. He knew that you would never get well on Earth again.
He saw the road was getting rough and the hills too hard to climb. He closed your weary eyelids And whispered, “Peace Be Thine.” It broke our hearts to lose you, but you didn’t go alone. For part of us went with you the day God called you home.
By Melissa Shreve
***
Growing Up
Growing up, I was always to blame You just sat and smiled all the same.
No matter what I did You always blamed “the kid.”
And in the middle of the night. You would sneak around and give me a fright. And there were times when I would hide. And you would look for me high and wide.
And you always loved the snow. You made snowmen just for show. You always did well on the tests. You were smarter than the rest.
And as a teenager, you thought you were cool. The girls would look at you and drool. I would roll my eyes and sigh. If they only knew, they would cry.
Oh, the memories of so long ago Yes, when we were kids, we didn’t know. What great friends we would be As we got older and more crazy!
So you, my dear brother, I have a bond. Of you, I have grown so fond. You’re the best brother a girl could have Even if you almost drove me mad!
By Catherine Pulsifer
***
He May See Me In His Daughter
It seems it’s been a lifetime Since my brother went away. I long to see him once again And relive those cherished days.
When I was his big sister And looked at him with pride And thought we’d always walk through life, Family side by side.
But in these years he has forgotten me And left me far behind, But still a day does not go by That he doesn’t come to mind.
He has a growing daughter now Whom I know I’ll never meet. She wouldn’t even know me If we passed along the street.
But I have a rather silly hope That maybe just sometimes There will be something that he sees in her That may bring me to his mind.
He may see me in her smile Or in the twinkle of her eye. He may hear me in the sadness Of her broken-hearted cries.
He may find me in her laughter, In those moments filled with joy. Or perhaps he’ll notice I am there In the lilting of her voice.
He might see me in her anger And refusal to give in. And in how she fights for those she loves, The way I did for him.
She may even have a walk like me, That same, familiar stride. I may be in subtle nuances, So impossible to hide.
I pray he sees me in her heart And in the way she wants to care. We may even look at life the same And have dreams and hopes we share.
Although she’ll never know me, And I feel that loss each day, She still carries just a part of me That no one can take away.
So perhaps in silent moments, In just an instant he may see, There within his daughter, A fleeting glimpse of me.
By Patricia A. Fleming
***
I Love My Annoying Brother
He doesn’t really have to do a single thing wrong, For me to become a volcano and explode, It’s just that he is like a huge pile of needles, That is continually adding to my load, It doesn’t take a lot from him, To make me suddenly snap, His mere presence alone is all it takes, To break the camels back, The thing about it all is that I know, I know the whole thing is due to me, What he does doesn’t have be bothersome, Yet every time I still let it be, He behaves like a rabbit caught in the lights, When I start to raise my voice, My brother doesn’t like to be shouted at, But it’s not like I have a choice, I’m out of control when I’m angered by him, I react like a time-ticking bomb, He has a knack for annoying me, Even when he isn’t doing something wrong, I’m older than him so I should be mature, Since he’s only a sixteen year old boy, And I should be reasonable and not get angry, But he sure knows how to annoy, He tells me he really can’t help it, It’s a semi-deliberate thing, And I know I should loosen up, But my brother’s so damn annoying, He does the things he knows bug me most, He’s a pest who buzzes in my ear, His behaviour seems to drive me to the edge, Or at least worryingly near, I love him, I do, rather deep down, And sometimes my brother is great, I should get off his back and stop being mean, But he seems to like to irritate, It doesn’t really matter because soon I’ll be gone, Out of the home and flying from the nest, It’s not like he’s the only annoying brother in the world, I know I’m one of ‘the rest’, The best thing to do is to keep my cool, And not let him get my hot under the collar, Since even though he really annoys me, I really do love my brother.
By Rosanna Woollett
***
I Miss
I miss you, I miss the loud music coming from your room, I miss the warmth of knowing You’re just a call away, I miss the way we fought and played, I miss seeing your big bright smile, I miss getting kicked out of your room, I miss seeing you here and there, I miss cooking you breakfast lunch and dinner, I miss hearing you come in at night, I miss making you wear your seat belt, I miss holding your hand to pray, I miss your smell, I miss you with all my might, I miss the way we would fight, I miss my brother, I miss my friend, I miss you I love you and that’s THE END!
By Salena A. Hayes
***
I Miss You, My Little Bro
I love you and I wish you were home. It hurts me to think you’re so alone. It’s not the same without you here. Why you did what you did is still unclear. I remember when we were little and we played in the yard. Then we’d go sit inside and play cards. You’d look at me and smile. Your smile used to stretch a mile. When I had a bad day, you were the only one who could make me laugh. It’s like you were my other half. It hurts me to see what you’re going through. It hurts even more because there’s nothing I can do. I just wish I could make it all ok, But all I can do is pray. I pray for you every night before I go to sleep And every time I think I hear you creep. Sometimes it’s like you’re still here. I look at the door and wait for you to appear. Then I realize you’re not home, And I go back to feeling so alone. I love you so much; you just don’t know, No matter what, you’ll always be my little bro.
byI love you and I wish you were home. It hurts me to think you’re so alone. It’s not the same without you here. Why you did what you did is still unclear. I remember when we were little and we played in the yard. Then we’d go sit inside and play cards. You’d look at me and smile. Your smile used to stretch a mile. When I had a bad day, you were the only one who could make me laugh. It’s like you were my other half. It hurts me to see what you’re going through. It hurts even more because there’s nothing I can do. I just wish I could make it all ok, But all I can do is pray. I pray for you every night before I go to sleep And every time I think I hear you creep. Sometimes it’s like you’re still here. I look at the door and wait for you to appear. Then I realize you’re not home, And I go back to feeling so alone. I love you so much; you just don’t know, No matter what, you’ll always be my little bro.
by Misty D. Crawford
***
I Remember
I remember a time in youth Brothers, best friends, together always. Fishing, and baseball, – oh those were the days.
I remember, together as teens The fighting and arguing and all in between The laughing and joking till tears filled our eyes.
I remember those times each day I wake Not understanding God’s choice in who to take A brother, a father a good man to all.
I remember our last time together Sitting and talking well into the night Together, your sickness we vowed to fight.
I remember you asking, ‘ Jer are you sure’ Looking at you, our eyes filled with tears ‘ Jack you’re my brother, – my blood is yours ‘.
I remember them saying the transplant went well Kissing you goodbye I went on my way I am fine you said, no need to stay.
I remember that night in June The phone call we’ve all come to fear Still remember those words after all these years.
I remember those words, will all my life Your wife’s voice shaking ‘ the transplant failed’ Three little words through my heart like a knife.
I remember you brother always so strong I pray every day, I hope you forgive me I thought I could help you, I guess I was wrong.
I remember a time in youth Brothers, best friends, together always. Fishing, and baseball, oh those were the days.
By Jerry Krause Sr.
***
In My Mind
Somewhere in my dreams tonight I’ll see you standing there. You look at me with a smile. “Life isn’t always fair.”
You say you were chosen for his garden. His preciously hand-picked bouquet “God really needed me, That’s why I couldn’t stay.”
It’s said to be that angels. Are sent from above I’ve always had my angel. My brother – whose heart was filled with love
Wherever the ocean meets the sky There will be memories of you, and I When I look up at the sky so blue All I see are visions of you. “While there’s a heart in me, you’ll be a part of me.”
By Jenn Farrell
***
Little Brother
Wars have been and wars will be Till the human race is run; Battles red by land and sea, Never peace beneath the sun. I am old and little care; I’ll be cold, my lips be dumb: Brother mine, beware, beware . . . Evil looms the wrath to come.
Eastern skies are dark with strife, Western lands are stark with fear; Rumours of world-war are rife, Armageddon draweth near. If your carcase you would save, Hear, oh hear, the dreadful drum! Fly to forest, cower in cave . . . Brother, heed the wrath to come!
Brother, you were born too late; Human life is but a breath. Men delve deep, where darkly wait Sinister the seeds of death, There’s no moment to delay; Sorrowing the stars are blind. Little Brother, how I pray You may sanctuary find. Peoples of the world succumb . . . Fly, poor fools, the WRATH TO COME!
By Robert William Service
***
My Big Brother Off to The Army
ou’ve always been here for me, But now you are about to leave. I know we fuss and fight, But I love you with all my might.
You are my big brother, And there is no other. No one can take your place, And when you leave, there will be this big empty space.
We’ve never been really close, But at least you have not always lived across the coast. Because some big brothers do, I’m really grateful for the 15 years I’ve lived with you.
I remember when I was small, And I would always fall. You were always there for me, And I know you always will be.
You told me not to cry, That it would be ok. Even if I thought you lied, It was like my big brother saved the day.
You’ve made me laugh, you’ve made me cry, You’ve even helped me hide some lies. I love you is something I don’t tell you enough, But I want you to know When you leave it will be really tough.
I don’t know how my life will be, Without you here beside me. You’ve lived with me for 15 years, But now we’re shedding our good-bye tears.
I know you have to move out, And start a life of your own. But promise me without a doubt, You will never forget us back home.
Dedicated to my big brother Danny Brewer Jr. recently sent off for basic training for the army.
By Terri L. Brewer
***
My Brother
My Brother My brother is strong when I am weak Courageous when I am scared Funny when I am sad My Brother
My Brother He is there when I need him He is there when I don’t He is the one that needs no introduction My Brother
My Brother He is the one that is Priceless The one that is Sincere My brother is the coolest My Brother
If I ever needed him, you know whom I am going to call My Brother
By Benjamin L. Wiley
***
My Brother At Sea
I know we are miles apart I just want you to know you will always be in my heart I always think of you And I know you think of me I will always remember you when you go off to sea We will always have each other I am so glad you are my big brother Your so sweet And so caring And when I need something You are very sharing Of all the big brothers in the world I got the best I look up to you in so many ways I hope we are best friends For all of our days
By Kelly I. Helms
***
My Brothers
While I make rhymes my brother John Makes shiny shoes which dames try on, And finding to their fit and stance They buy and wear with elegance; But mine is quite another tale,– For song there is no sale.
My brother Tom a tailor shop Is owner of, and ladies stop To try the models he has planned, And richly pay, I understand: Yet not even a dingy dime Can I make with my rhyme.
My brother Jim sells stuff to eat Like trotters, tripe and sausage meat. I dare not by his window stop, Lest he should offer me a chop; For though a starving bard I be, To hell, say I, with charity!
My brothers all are proud of purse, But though my poverty I curse, I would not for a diadem Exchange my lowly lot with them: A garret and a crust for me, And reams and dreams of Poetry
By Robert William Service
***
Proud To Call You A True Brother
Every morning as I wake up, I think of you, as the hero that came into my life. More and more, you appeared to me when I was in strife. Afraid I could not live without you in my life. I only prayed every day and every night. To have a brother like you by my side. When I was hurt so many times. You never let me down. Therefore I am proud. To call you a true brother. Even though I know you’re not a child of my mother. To me, you’ll always be. I remembered you see. As Mecca, the person who saved my life. Forever the memory will seem right.
By Slim Deuce
***
Tears
I saw my brother cry today. He seemed five years old It did not seem to me that he was six feet tall. He lost a thing he treasured, I saw it in his eyes. To see my brother hurt, It made me want to cry. Love is not measured in how tall you are, Or how far around your arms go. When you hug someone that you love so. But how much it hurts to let something you love go. I want my brother to know that he Is loved by all, especially me. I saw my brother cry today.
By Margaret A. Collins
***
Thank You Brother
Thank you You were their when I was sad You were their when I was mad, thank you.
You touched my heart and told me not to cry, That’s one reason our love cannot die
You respected my decision I respected you’re compassion
Tell me brother why where you so good to me? I screamed at you about 300 times You were trying to help me, help me not to die
Now I know you did it for my best You are no longer here, you are finally put to rest
You can’t leave me now that I need you the most Brother where are you, my heart is about to burst.
By Prisma Y. Hernandez
***
Thanks Brother
I was alone all this while in search of a real friend.. You came with a smile and took me by my hand.
You made me walk on the path of stones just to let me know there are flowers ahead.. You made me learn how to smile after all my tears had shed.
You took me through the cloudy sky just to show me the sunny part of it.. You made me realize that happy days are here and together in the garden of happiness we sit.
You took me to the closed door and told me where is its opening.. You gave me its key and told that its just the beginning.
The doors of happiness and trust were open and it lead me through a flowery road.. without you where could I be in troubled waters was my boat.
THANKS to you DEAR BROTHER for always being there in my grays.. for bringing out my real self and for promising to be my shade.
THANKS DEAR BROTHER for the love you gave its been six years of all this care.. I pray that this doesn’t over FOR, A BROTHER LIKE YOU IS RARE!
By Pooja Chhajer
***
The Star & The Sky
I guess we made it through struggle and strife. I remember when we first started our life.
We climbed every step one in back of the other, And if you would fall I would catch you, brother.
I was the sister, you were the brother. If we didn’t have much, we had each other.
We never seemed to wander from each other too far, ‘Cause how could the Sky drift away from the Star?
Now you are a father and I am a mother, But I’m still your sister and you’re still my brother!
By Patricia L. Cisco
***
To My Brother
To my Brother:
Words are hard to describe feelings, I have always been better with images. Yet writing down how much I miss you, Seems to give me more tranquility.
Writing to let go, to give this all a place. It will never heal, it will never go away, But just learning to give it time and space.
I can tell you how much I care, how much I would give to have you back in my life, But you know all of this and it won’t change anything, that’s what I am learning within time,
Writing to tell you how much I have learned, to show you that through fragility I become a stronger person More able to understand, more able to listen and to care, Hurt through loss, I’ve become yet a wiser person
By Anne Harskamp
***
To My Brother George
Many the wonders I this day have seen: The sun, when first he kissed away the tears That filled the eyes of Morn;—the laurelled peers Who from the feathery gold of evening lean;— The ocean with its vastness, its blue green, Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears, Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears Must think on what will be, and what has been. E’en now, dear George, while this for you I write, Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping
So scantly, that it seems her bridal night, And she her half-discovered revels keeping. But what, without the social thought of thee, Would be the wonders of the sky and sea?
By John Keats
***
To My Brother With Love
We’ve grown slowly apart, But you’ve always been in my heart. From a distance I watched you grow, Wondering about the man I’d get to know. Who you could become, Who that could be I fathom. Good choices you’ve made all together, I’m so glad you didn’t pay attention lil’ brother. So many things going on around you, I’m so thankful it didn’t drag you in too. When put to the test, You were meant to out shine the rest. You have an important role here on earth, It was given to you before your day of birth. Walk with your head held high, Don’t worry everyone will learn why. You have the gift, please use it wise. Not like a birthday gift, not a surprise. It’s in your heart, soul, and your mind. Some people find it, some get left behind. You have found it, I’m so proud. Hold on to it, losing it is not aloud. I know you’ll be fine, this I don’t worry. Even though you have it, don’t grow up in a hurry. You’re going to be somebody, this I already know. But there’s a lot to learn, what you have will help you grow. Keep your eyes open don’t let anything pass you by. Your great and growing greater, all you have to do is try. I love you Jeremy from day one. I hope I can pass your gift to my son. He could be just like you, I wouldn’t mind. A man like you is of a greater kind. Off into the world you go, You’ll be great, this everyone knows!
By Tamarah M. Olsen
***
Understanding My Brother
He’s my brother, My older brother.
His eyes are glued to the laptop screen, A slight smile is tugging at his lips. The room is vibrating with his music. His fingers tap out the beat on the keys.
He’s my brother, My older brother.
It’s the early hours of the morning, I can hear him crying in his bedroom. At breakfast he seems cheerful, But his blue eyes sparkle with tears.
He’s my brother, My older brother.
He never spends his time at home. Instead, prefers to go for long walks. He comes home singing softly, And sits straight down at his laptop.
He’s my brother, My older brother.
By Lenae Harris
***
You’re My Big Brother
You’re my Big Brother And I love you with all my heart. When I was young, we were very close Now, I regret us growing apart.
You were always my HERO When I was a little girl. There was no one like my Charles Ray. Not in this world.
Then you got married, And everything seem to change. I understood things would be different, But not completely rearranged.
As time went by, Our closeness seemed to disappear, But not my love and admiration. And if you really look, that is clear.
I know I’ve disappointed you And I know I’ve let you down. But Charles, I’m trying to rebuild And get our relationship back on solid ground.
The ability to forgive defines, strong people. The idea of forgiveness sooner or later comes into the life of every adult. It is a voluntary refusal to judge someone, to punish, and to restore justice on your own and at your level of development.
Each person is able to comprehend his wrong attitude toward others or feels embarrassed for what they have committed to his beloved ones. How to apologize, how to ask for forgiveness, if thoughts seem to have left the head, and the heart treacherously beats and makes you blush? Beautiful lines will undoubtedly help you.
«A Plea For Forgiveness» by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Forgive us if we claim to be Activists for peace and justice And yet we remain silent to your cries and plea for help.
Forgive us if we close our borders because of fear And miss the chance to help You in time of your great need.
Forgive us if we uphold Human rights of all peoples On earth and yet segregate Those who are worthy of Our attention and hospitality.
Forgive us if in our inability To help and rescue you We only seek to protect first our own self-interests.
***
«Anger And Forgiveness» by Ray Andrews
When I am full of anger I think in anger’s terms Part of my existing life Is full of anger’s germs
Nothing seems a perfect right Most of things gone wrong I get such vengeful feelings When I carry anger along
When I think of forgiveness I think in forgiveness’ terms My life is held in gentle hands Softly in those twists and turns
Very few are perfect wrongs So many things are right Show me God forgiveness’ face So I can live in light
***
«Culture Of Forgiveness» by Lawrence S. Pertillar
A culture of forgiveness, Has begun to emerge. As a surge of outrageous madness, Nibbling on a serving of hatred… Permitted to exist but no one deserves.
Not too many are finding to discover, Their judgements to pass… On and/or between each other, Retrieves to leave them beneficial results.
To realize what is sent returns to themselves.
A doing away of charades to masquerade. And roles to portray to display, Betrayal of a truth kept submerged is now seen. To make it easier for those to remove their masks. With a wish to no longer pick anyone to demean.
A culture of forgiveness, Has begun to emerge.
As many are more willing, To show they can be bold and brave. And undaunted by others with less nerve.
People have grown tired, Of being deceived into conflicts. And perceiving their neighbors to them are threats. People are tired of having these accusations thrive. People are seeking peace with more of it in their lives.
‘I pray for peace to come my way.’
~Keep praying and live it. Show it to display and don’t from it stray. Put your prayers into action. That’s the only way the peace you seek, Will come to you and others to stay.
***
«Declining Forgiveness» by Lawrence S. Pertillar
We must help those whose lives, Are stuck in an unchanged past. It is difficult for them to accept, The times now out of their grasp.
With embellished insecurities… Of memories flourished now gone. Their mentalities are witnessed to be diminishing quick. And within themselves, They can not admit…
These times lived today, Will not continue to permit… An attention given, To such stubbornly held sickness… They have become riddled and sit with!
We must help those whose lives, Are stuck in an unchanged past. It is difficult for them to accept, The times now out of their grasp.
The challenges ahead requires a collective focus, That has to exist! To be drained emotionally by someone misfit… Detaches an empathy! With a declining forgiveness, Decaying with it! And a healing affect, Will for all go neglected
***
«Despaired Forgiveness» by Nashy Lamen
Enraged eyes of fire and doom, To no extent I’ve made a sin, To no forgiveness I broke their trust, And I know I must regain… I must.
I have deceived and I am cursed, I’ve tried no tries; I’ve made it worse, My guilt has drowned me in my lies, And now my damaged conscience cries.
So here I sit in silence, blind, There’s no solution I can find, I am trapped in broken glass, As time and chances pass by fast.
I’m so sorry, so nonsense I know, Useless, I see, Cause I’ve done much wrong, So tragically.
I don’t know what to do anymore, Without you, I’m wept of my shore, Without you guys, I’m an empty hole, Endless, sorrows and regrets to roll.
I’ve said things that I did not intend, Can you still try to comprehend? Or there’s no use in my beseech, There’s none to beg, there’s none to teach.
I’ve done my wrong, my pang of guilt, I’ve sunken down, ensconced in filth, To no forgiveness I broke their trust, And I know I must regain… I must.
And now I must regain, I must.
***
«Dont Ask My Forgiveness» by Amy Louise Kerswell
Dont ask for my forgiveness. Dont say youll wait for it. Becuase I shall tell you. This only once. Youll get my forgiveness When hell freezes over. Youll be waiting a long time. You dont get my forgiveness. Oh no you dont. Dont kid yourself.
Are you all there in the head? Forgiveness I cant give. I dont offer it to you. Why should I make you feel better? To hell with that. If your feeling guilty Thats you problem not mine. You dont deserve forgiveness. Ask me again And I’ll be waiting with a knife.
For my protection. Forgive you Yeah right Dont make me laugh. I depise you all. Forgive you no. Shove it up your arse. You thick twatt.
***
«For Forgiveness They Have A Flair» by Bri Mar
This life is tough, I’ve had enough, I am caught up in life’s sticky web, It’s time to do some different stuff, I’ve given up being a pleb.
Within my heart, I’m drifting apart, From those days of hardship and pain, As of now I’ll make a new start,
From compassion I will now abstain.
To really earn, I’ll have to learn, To look after number one, For others I’ll no longer show concern, I’ll ensure my new life is fun.
To family and friends, I will not make amends,
They’re no longer part of my life, As into paradise my life ascends, I’ll no longer suffer their strife.
I’ll be selfish and cruel, I won’t suffer the fool, From now on I’ll look after myself, They may well say I’ve become a ghoul, But it’s they who’ll gather dust on the shelf.
Now I’ve reached the top, It’s a long way to drop, But disaster’s but a second away, All it takes is being caught on the hop, Then your riches no longer hold sway.
I now live in fear, As these cretins up here, Are ready and willing to attack, Out of the shadows they suddenly appear, Waiting to stab me in the back.
I feel a frown, I’m knee deep in brown, From so called friends I’ve now been deserted, It’s really tough this road back down, From reality I’ve been diverted.
Whether rich or poor, Of one thing be sure, Those who love you will always be there, Their devotion to you, you must never obscure,
‘’ For Forgiveness They Have A Flair ‘’
***
«Forgive For That Is What God Would Do» by Anna Mcmath
Your wicked tongue, It speeks much evil.
Your pallid face, You give no hope, No strength, Your weakness collides.
You’re nothing but a liar, A dirty-mouth, And a show-off.
You give no support, But pride. Your mercy goes to you only, Which shows your hate.
Hate is what you get back, After the back-stabs, And the tortures you gave.
Now no one cares of your fate, Your trifling, Even if you die, You are now spoken by bane words.
But yet I forgive your lies, And your back-stabs that hurt.
I forgive your derisiveness, Your barbarous, And yet your treachery… I forgive you.
For that is what God would do.
***
«Forgiveness» by John Greenleaf Whittier
My heart was heavy, for its trust had been Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong; So, turning gloomily from my fellow-men, One summer Sabbath day I strolled among The green mounds of the village burial-place; Where, pondering how all human love and hate Find one sad level; and how, soon or late, Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face, And cold hands folded over a still heart, Pass the green threshold of our common grave,
Whither all footsteps tend, whence none depart, Awed for myself, and pitying my race, Our common sorrow, like a mighty wave, Swept all my pride away, and trembling I forgave!
***
«Forgiveness» by Alfred Austin
Now bury with the dead years conflicts dead And with fresh days let all begin anew. Why longer amid shrivelled leaf-drifts tread, When buds are swelling, flower-sheaths peeping through? Seen through the vista of the vanished years, How trivial seem the struggle and the crown, How vain past feuds, when reconciling tears Course down the channel worn by vanished frown. How few mean half the bitterness they speak! Words more than feelings keep us still apart,
And, in the heat of passion or of pique, The tongue is far more cruel than the heart. Since love alone makes it worth while to live, Let all be now forgiven, and forgive.
***
«Forgiveness» by David Keig
Not to forgive is emptiness For cold and lonely souls Who understand forgiveness As somewhere they can’t go They fear a loss of strength it seems And trap others in their web Of blame and guilt and right and wrong And leave the truth unsaid For truth is not their province Nor humanity their cause
They ask others to obey them And think they own the laws They seek virtue in adversity They cannot once forgive For they have never done a wrong In the perfect lives they live.
***
«Forgiveness» by Dr. Antony Theodore
If knowledge was our greatest need God would have sent to us a universal genius.
If technique was our greatest need God would have sent us a scientist.
If money was our greatest need God would have given us an economic expert.
If conversation was our greatest need God would have sent to us a conversation expert and a psychologist.
But since our greatest need is the ability to FORGIVE, Holy Scripture was sent to us, inspired by God the Almighty which teaches forgiveness.
If we listen to the message of Forgiveness in all Religions we shall be great human beings.
Peace will remain in our hearts as apermanent guest sent from The Almighty and The Merciful.
***
«Forgiveness» by Allyson Gordon
Forgiveness is the key Forgiveness alone, Can set you free From all you’ve done
Forgive yourself For all your wrongs Unleash the spirit That’s been hiding for so long
Forgive others Life’s too short to worry Keep close your lovers But take it slow, don’t hurry!
Forgiveness is the key Forgiveness alone, Can set you free From all you’ve done
***
«Forgiveness» by Genya Ehrlich
Forgiveness is the melted snow, which, melted, simply goes away with shattered ice. Forgiveness is the never yet forgotten home, the low wall, the squeaking stairs, the dome with sparrows high above. Forgiveness is the pain of birthing child, the sleepless nights, the silver tears. Suppressed forgetfulness which
stays forever in the slow-beating heart – – is not forgiveness. It starts exactly at the end of life, when you forgiveness want. You see the ever-growing tree, some branches dry and broken? It brings so much forgetfulness to thee, it’s not forgiveness. Do not fret for only God forgives, and you forget.
***
«Forgiveness» by Francis Duggan
There is an old saying called live and let live And though it may be hard to forget one should try to forgive Since the gift of forgiveness is a great gift indeed For the antidote to the healing of the mind it does plant the seed
Those who cannot forgive cannot know of happiness They live till they die with anger and bitterness It is when you forgive that in life you can move on For bitterness can lead to serious crime and what has been has gone
Some people will take their anger and bitterness with them to the grave The gift of forgiveness only does belong to the brave Some who cannot forgive do turn to payback crime And spend most of the best years of their lives serving prison time
Forgiveness of anger and bitterness will set you free This does apply to everyone as well as to you and me The person who harbors a grudge is his or her own greatest foe And that the act of forgiveness removes anger and bitterness from the mind happens to be so.
***
«Forgiveness» by Barry Van Allen
I know it’s not the first time, I doubt that it’s the last, I admit that I messed-up again, … but, the drastic over-reaction, is more than I will deal with.
At least I tried to face it, I never claimed that, ‘ It just Happened ‘, as so many others have.
My genuine contrition, does not seem to mean a thing, and with my olive branch extended, … I saw my arm cut off, … right down to the bone, by a semi – rightious brother, who was feeling new found oats.
I am sure it’s not my first time,
and I would doubt that it’s my last, … but, I’m not going to make a tour of this, to atone for one mistake this time.
If you think your new found attitude, is what my life is going to do, well, you had better think it over now, … because forgiveness is not new, … if you remember, me and you.
Yes, it’s my fault, … and I admit that, and have forgiven many times, stupidity and drunkeness, that wasn’t even mine… because it all belonged to you.
Sanctimony should be kept, among the memories of the long forgotten, … that have been gone for far too long, and weaved inside your memories cotton.
If you are allowed to pass the judgement, perhaps, forgiveness is allowed, … now and then when humans prove humanity, It would be nice if that extends beyond yourself.
I DO admit I did it, but, now I see the glitch… what is good, is right for only you, … I ‘ve learned another lesson here, … Forgiveness doesn’t tell me which, – – – SO, I choose both!
***
«Forgiveness» by Robert Rorabeck
Guardians of gypsum satellites Fight against the destroyer of hopes The strange watchers in the night Like banks of candles lit up For Catholic mass
Each one holds a secret priest Burning for your confession, As she grips you about the waist, A savior from the murdered sea,
Begging your forgiveness….
***
«Forgiveness» by Michael P. Johnson
To show forgiveness! Jesus came Christ died that mercy, live Yet still we perish in our shame Because we don’t forgive
A grudge, can only lead to hate Such hate is Satan’s tool Don’t nurse a grudge to share his fate Don’t be the tempter’s fool
That’s what the devil loves to do Feed hatred deep within If he can do the same to you Then sickness; can begin
The vicious circle’s then complete Death’s race, has now begun Now only love can bring defeat By grace of Christ God’s Son
Forgiveness; comes from God on high When Jesus comes to live Then all our hate will start to die As soon as we forgive
For hate is weak! Where love is strong As Jesus taught the few “Forgive each one who does you wrong As God does unto you”
Forgiveness! Is the golden rule Where love is God’s command Obedience; life’s eternal pool God’s healing to the land
To show our love we must forgive No matter what the cost Then with the Lord we too can live And nought but pride is lost…
***
«Forgiveness & Salvation» by Tom Zart
Do you still struggle with fear and un-forgiveness Of any who have wronged or hurt you? True forgiveness is more than just a feeling It’s an action we must preach, live and pursue.
The main reason we suffer from our failure to forgive Is a simple matter called human self-pride. Christ forgave those who nailed Him to the cross Where He was beaten, crucified, and died.
When you have been hurt plead for deliverance To guide you in all you think, do and say. Forgive your offenders and forgive yourself As to God All Mighty you confess and pray.
Scripture reminds us that all believers Are called to love Christ as God’s creation. Each of us was conceived to fulfill our purpose To lead the lost from the darkness to salvation.
***
«Forgiveness Is Divine» by Patricia A. Fleming
Some people view forgiveness, As a virtue for the weak. An act of Mercy undeserved, That serves no useful need.
They stand firmly in their judgment, And won’t consider a mistake. They prefer to hold a senseless grudge, Than accept amends when made.
They feel they have some Godly right, To reject and criticize. They’re possessed by righteous anger, And consumed by pointless pride.
They’re focused on how they’ve been wronged, And won’t be made the fool again. So they feel they must avenge themselves, By refusing to give in.
They will sacrifice their family, Or forsake a long, time friend. Do anything they have to do, To be the winner in the end.
Or perhaps it’s that they can’t resolve, The depth of all their hurt. Caused when someone that they’ve trusted, Left them questioning their worth.
But no matter why the struggle, Out of pride or out of fear. Not being able to forgive, Can cause the loss of ones most dear.
Yes, forgiveness is a virtue, They even say it is divine. But more than that it sets you free, From what weighs you down inside.
The best way to approach this life, Is to ask forgiveness and to forgive. There’s a balance to this crazy world, So live and just let live.
***
«Forgiveness Is Not The Key» by Lenore Lee
I look down at the people, I worry about their woes I worry about their joys, their friends, their foes I worry about their lives and the way they live it I worry about their dreams and wonder if they’ll heed it I worry about the tears I see running down their face I worry about their lies they tell in this time and place I worry about their truths that always hurt more I worry about what they will definitely have in store
I look down at the people who never showed compassion
Who hate each other with the strongest passion Who pushed me aside as though I were nothing I wonder, do they care about anything? I realise they treat each other as dirt And they revel within all the hurt Not one ever worried for me I’m so glad that I can finally see
I refuse to worry or care about them and their petty ways I will never again worry for their days
Because not one ever cared for me Forgiveness is not the key Not when I live life so lonely I want to be loved only For them I’ll never again feel woe Because I’ll be nothing but their foe
***
«Forgiveness Is Not There» by Lawrence S. Pertillar
When cries of the young, Can not be soothed or stopped. And bombs continue to drop… Outside of their innocent visions. No cheek is turned, As flesh of loved ones burn. Nor fear can be explained away. These images stay! And a hatred grows. Increasing a revenge held within them.
These scenes never diminish. What begins does not finish. They grow more intense! And a wish for peace… Will find an advancement of weapons, To isolate and save humanity from countless graves… A game played to the end. With no one declared the winner. Since a forgiveness is not there…
To be spared!
***
«Forgiveness, Trust & Love» by Tom Zart
God is searching for warriors judged by their faith Who keep themselves ready for battle of any kind. He ask them to do, in the name of Jesus, Those things that help the lost love Christ in time.
The Lord created us for a very special purpose Along with specific skills we are to share and perform. When we live our lives for the happiness of others We receive His favor in both times of peace and storm.
Since God is opposed to the wicked, hateful and proud He calls on the honorable to achieve, preach and rise above. When we keep living immorally it makes us less useful Hiding His guidelines of forgiveness, trust and love.
***
«From The Law To Forgiveness» by Bob Gotti
When I fail The Great I AM, I seek forgiveness from The Lamb, Asking my Savior Jesus Christ, Who was for me, my sacrifice, I Am who lives for me today, is upon The Throne so I can pray, When I fail in the way I live, in Christ, forgiveness God will give.
Seeing God’s Commands and Law, being a sinner, I could fall, So when I fail, I seek His face, by God’s Mercy and His Grace, When falling in unrighteousness, I go to Christ for forgiveness, As we confess failures to Him, our Risen Lord forgives our sin.
Reflecting on the Law God gives, God speaks of relationships, Not only with Him, but others too, all people about me and you, Commandments, we must obey, as we live out our lives today, As The Law in the Old Testament, in our lives today is relevant.
Of those commandments we read, all, not some we must heed; Knowing we are sinful and frail, regarding Law, we all shall fail, Even when we fail at just one, then God’s justice must be done, So in light of God’s eternal Law, not some but everyone will fall.
But God’s Law is to lead us, to know God’s only Righteousness, The Savior, Who forever lives, The Lamb of God, Who forgives, Who came to be God’s sacrifice, to pay for us sin’s eternal price, So, God forgives us through Christ, redeeming us for eternal life.
***
«Gain Forgiveness In Time» by Bernedita Rosinha Pinto
I cannot ask for the dead to rise and for those alive to die; I cannot ask sunflowers to face the moon and the fruits of the season to ripen out of time; I cannot ask for men to slog and for bees to sleep I cannot ask for oceans to roar and lions to roll; I cannot ask for storms to be calm and nightingales to sing in the daylight; I cannot ask for lovers to forsake their intimacy and cinema to be real and true from its fantasy;
I cannot ask you to tempt me to misplace my prudence and endow you with the privileges of unlawful vengeance. I can ask you to die so that your soul gains freedom from avarice, I can pray for your unforgiving sins and silent crimes which entwines your vicious thoughts and intentions; Yet, I can implore God to grant you clemency if you sincerely deserve it or you can search for that road to divert yourself from those embers that engulf the deceitful
and tempestuous when they depart… And I can wait for you by that bridge if your remorse will connect to your actions and your resolution to your conscience; but if your retribution is endless and unmatched you can never meet me, I can never meet you even if lions roar, oceans roll, seasons change for out there, God will be the Judge and not me.
***
«I Don’T Deserve Forgiveness» by Champion Chris
Now that I have seen the light That all that i’ve done, fought the wrong fight
I can’t believe that I was misguided My own power, and kept me incited
I’m so sorry, if it even matters now I doubt you’ll hear me, why would you, how?
I feel evil and demonic, dont look at me
You don’t have to forgive, one who cannot see
Blind no more, and now see true That I HAD found a way, to actually hurt you
It wasn’t before, or during then It was after, when my demon came in
Please forget me, i don’t deserve salvation What i do deserve, is total damnation
Your hate isn’t hate, it’s tears of pain That I had been lost, in the holocaust’s rain
You let me go, but didn’t intend To watch me slip, into Hitler’s own men
My heritage had killed my kindness Nazi blood, took away my divineness
Best in the world? Not anymore My name is now blacker, than any whore
I am sorry, I’ve earned my slot In hell’s black hole, ruled by the Harlot
Final testimony, my last request If we’re still friends, not here will I rest
***
«I Wish I Didn’t Remember» by Shelby Vitgenos
It was a night I wish I didn’t remember A couple months before December I can’t believe it happened this way And now we both have to pay All I remember is when you said I was the biggest mistake of your life And when I took that pill I stabbed myself with a knife I know that we made a mistake And I know now you a just a fake I look at you now and all I want to do is cry Because all you left me with were a couple simple lies We were like best friends But now that journey has come to an end I miss when we used to talk But now all I see is your back when you walk I hate having a class with you All the memories of the things we used to do I regret it all And now I look at you and you seem so small I thought you were smart But all I figured out is that you have no heart Life goes on I guess I have made this such a mess Everything happens for a reason You’re such a real good treason You really hit two birds with one giant stone I’ve never really felt so completely alone.
***
«Let Forgiveness Heal» by Michael P. Johnson
We’ll seek forgiveness love and grace We’ll seek through Christ to live Yet fail to see His wondrous face Because we won’t forgive
Through selfish ways through foolish pride Through shallowness of soul Bitterness hinders love inside To make our spirit whole
Resentment has no place above Hatred’s ordained to die Forgiveness though God’s fruit of love Will pave The Way on high
Blessing our soul righting our wrong Mending our broken heart Forgiveness sings its healing song Heralding life’s new start
For foolish walls to crumble down Let wisdom now explain Forgiveness needs to wear a crown And love begin to reign
Be merciful to friend and foe Forgive the evil done Believe the seed today we sow Will grow till victory’s won
Be wise to Heaven’s true advice Heed all Christ had to say In Matthew six He warns us twice To walk forgiveness’ way
Forget the hurtful things you’ve heard Let malice speak in vain Believe in God, His faithful word So love can heal the pain
***
«Love & Forgiveness» by Tom Zart
My love consumes me like the flame of a candle In the window of my heart, soul and self-esteem. When you’re annoyed with how I perform I can’t sleep, be happy, succeed, or dream.
I’m lost, sad, fearful, distressed and alone When shamed by my actions both present and past. My passion for you means more than life itself As I suffer remorse for my wrongs to the last.
I depend on prayer if you’re dissatisfied and upset For God to lead me to recapture your rewarding smile. Every day of our existence from birth to deliverance Places our faith, love and forgiveness to the trial.
***
«My Heart’s Desire» by Leslie Absher
My mind racing in confusion, so scared to speak a word. My mouth starts to move, but a word was unheard. My heart racing so fast, love comes to mind, tears in my heart that couldn’t begin to speak the pain, but every time I see you, I remember that sweet kiss you put upon my face. A love that never begins to fade away ’cause my heart calls out your name, repeating the pain I caused you every day, but my desire is to love you – til death do us part, but that same question still remains in my heart. Even though you are gone, I can’t let you go. I have so many things I want you to know. I’m not trying to hide myself in tears, but I only had a few years. I’m sorry I didn’t show you my love, but I’m not ready to travel or give up. I need you by my side so you again can be mine. I want you to grow old along with me; the best is yet to be, so bless the memories within your heart. Please don’t forget about them and tear them apart. I’m sorry I hurt you; I know now I was wrong, but remember, we all stumble. Every one of us do wrong, so will you give me your hand, and help me through this too? I know you’re still hurt, and I’m sorry for that too. Maybe one day you’ll realize it’s true. It’s coming, coming from my heart to you.
***
«Please Don’t Leave My Love» by Jessica Langton
My words were not that of a kind person. Hurtful words that should have never entered my mind But they did, and they can be erased in time.
Just watch, you’ll see. I’ll try harder; it’ll get better. I promise I will be better.
I’ll smile every time I see you. There has got to be something that I can do or say, Something that will make you want to stay.
Don’t leave me alone, not like this. I only just found you, my only one. We can’t possibly be over and done.
Please, tell me I’m still in your heart. Let me show you that I can appreciate you more Every day, more than the day before.
PLEASE, I LOVE YOU! And he turned with glazed eyes “I love you, too.”
***
«Poet’s Plea For Forgiveness» by James Grengs
If I have hurt, I am sorry. If I have been wrong, I am sorry. If you could have written it better, I am sorry. If there might have been some other way For me to express myself, I am sorry.
For what am I sorry? I am sorry For offending the tender conscience. I am sorry For not being everything you thought I was. I am sorry That my poetry is not perfect. I am sorry That this poor medium is all I know To use in self-expression.
For all these which you call wrongs, I am sorry. Please forgive me.
***
«Sorry» by Harry Boslem
Being sorry can be very hard when we’re overwhelmed with pride, But sometimes our pride must take a fall before we lose out. And when we have to say sorry, we should mean it from our soul. A meaningless sorry is like a broken promise to the heart.
And it only hurts more in the end, bringing bitter resentment, And leading to the loss of a love that should be eternal. Bringing us back down to earth from the fairy tale world of our mind, With a pain that is maddening, physical and sometimes critical.
My heart is weeping tears of blood for the pain that I’ve caused you, And it’s crying out my apologies to your mind, Pleading for your forgiveness for my unfortunate outbursts. I never meant in a million years to be so unkind.
I have made mistakes in the past but never as serious as this, And I know I will only have myself to blame if you leave, And that scares me more than I’ve ever been scared in my life, For you’re my true motivation, the only real thing in which I believe.
Everything else is just a fantasy to my egotistical ideals. It’s always been me, me, me for far too long, And lately I haven’t given even a passing thought to your concerns. I let them all fly past me, but now I know I was wrong.
You were reaching out to me in your time of uncertainty and sorrow, While all I cared about was me and what was mine, And as I watch you pack your bags with tears streaming down my cheeks, Too late, I feel all your angst and pain.
And all that’s left for me to do is say sorry in a sincere way, With an apology that comes from deep inside my soul. It’s all I have left to offer for your love and your loyalty. It’s just a pity that my own loyalty I couldn’t hold.
Now all I have left of you are the memories of the goodness I have lost, And that loss brings a sadness every time I think of your name. And my heart yearns to be able to turn back the hands of time, To correct the mistakes I’ve made and start again.
So please take time to think about what I’ve said, as it comes from the heart. Take time and try to forgive me my failure to deliver, And if you can’t, then cast me out of your life never to return, And I will hang my head in shame…forever.
***
«Tears Of Forgiveness» by Linda Winchell
Do you think your tears will bring you God’s forgiveness? Well you’ve got it all wrong my friend, Forgiveness only comes through the blood of Jesus Christ, Which will wash away all of mankinds sin.
You may claim to be a Christian, But what about a true believer be? Anyone can raise their hands and shout God’s praises, But it’s our hearts the Lord really wants to see.
The trueness of the heart of man, That which no earthly man can see inside, For the heart can render many secrets held, From others you may its content hide.
So cry a river of tears if you must, Showing all who view their streams, But what your heart hides from anothers view, Is really who God wants us all too truly be.
***
«The Joy Of Forgiveness» by Susan T. Aparejo
The joy of forgiveness lightens one’s burden, It showers happiness, Showers our heart with blessedness, so we wake up in a lighter mood of wellness.
Just try, unload your baggage, Throw away such garbage, Let our heart fly and set a voyage,
Feel free to take out such bondage, And stop our physique from its wreckage.
The joy of forgiveness is the key, To live on earth peacefully, And wake up the morning readily, A fresh air dominates comfortably, So sweet a conscience of harmony.
I forgive you and you forgive me,
Another flow of peace release, Another love and acceptance dominate, Let the trust once again surface, As we give each other a chance, We mean forgiveness at hand.
***
«The Lover Asks Forgiveness Because Of His Many Moods» by William Butler Yeats
IF this importunate heart trouble your peace With words lighter than air, Or hopes that in mere hoping flicker and cease; Crumple the rose in your hair; And cover your lips with odorous twilight and say, ‘O Hearts of wind-blown flame! O Winds, older than changing of night and day, That murmuring and longing came From marble cities loud with tabors of old In dove-grey faery lands;
From battle-banners, fold upon purple fold, Queens wrought with glimmering hands; That saw young Niamh hover with love-lorn face Above the wandering tide; And lingered in the hidden desolate place Where the last Phoenix died, And wrapped the flames above his holy head; And still murmur and long: O piteous Hearts, changing till change be dead In a tumultuous song’:
And cover the pale blossoms of your breast With your dim heavy hair, And trouble with a sigh for all things longing for rest The odorous twilight there.
***
«The Path Of Forgiveness» by Mary Nagy
As I creep down the path of forgiveness and I search for my own lonely heart, I yearn for the feel of completion. I must finish what God made me start.
I can see in the distant horizon there resembles someone I once knew. Do I have the strength needed to reach her? If I don’t can I get it from you?
Will you help clear my path as I’m trudging down that frightfully winding old road? Can I lean on your arm for my safety even though you can’t carry my load?
This old path is alive in my memory. It knew I’d return on this day. I am listening to my own heartbeat while the unknown is leading the way.
My legs have been turned into jelly. I see myself walking along. I wonder if I should be back here. For some reason this feels very wrong.
***
«The Smile» by Howard Bright
Bronze shadows pallid against the tears of time casting wonder on faceless images void of depth. She walked with poise and grace as the hour rang calling my name, a warm filled tune on endless breath.
The moment was brief yet set in unbridled granite, so there was no hope of breaking her binding grasp. Cascading memories from life’s immortal chasms brought a peace I knew her heart could make last.
When the darkness crept in to steal her away by deception disguised as worthwhile gain. The pain endured and weeping waves spent tried to end our dream with unrequited blame.
Stoical visions danced candidly through the grief, numbing expansions of wondrous times gone past. Fighting the loveless demon that tore her astray I was deciding the fate of a tumultuous caste.
Quietly I watched her silken and sultry moves, the same as seen the years since our eyes met. Weighing the countless graciousness from the err, I realized with her smile she had paid her debt.
***
«Un-Forgiveness» by Tom Zart
Do you still struggle with fear and un-forgiveness Of any who have wronged or hurt you? True forgiveness is more than just a feeling It’s an action we must preach, live and pursue.
The main reason we suffer from our failure to forgive Is a simple matter called human self-pride. Christ forgave those who nailed Him to the cross Where He was beaten, crucified, and died.
When you have been hurt plead for deliverance To guide you in all you think, do and say. Forgive your offenders and forgive yourself As to God All Mighty you confess and pray.
***
«Why It Hurts» by Jose Pazsoldan
I don’t understand why there’s pressure inside, but the pain that comes from it brings a tear to my eye, I haven’t talked or seen you in a long time, so why do I still feel pain inside, is it a heart attack or is my heart trying to put itself back, from the years of miss-use broken in pieces, quarters, and halves, when I finally have the courage to look at your page, I see you’ve grown, but I have aged, you’re so beautiful, you look like an angel to me, but by now I know you’ve forgotten all about me, I don’t blame you, I would to, after all the nasty things I said to you, but you have to understand I don’t have the time to play the kid, I have a lot of work and time put in, but for some reason all my songs are about you, at this point I feel lost without you, you were my happiest inspiration to sing about and write, but now you’re the reason why I can’t sleep at night, but I know I must learn to forget, practice ignorance pretend to not exist, but as my last message, thoughts about you, I want you to know how much I think about you, if fate wanted us to be together then together we shall be, but for now I will forget about you and me, before I push the reset button for my heart, there still a chance for a start, just tell me you miss me and I’ll back away, then in my heart you will stay.
***
«Wisdom, Forgiveness & Love» by Tom Zart
Jesus perished from pain we can’t begin to comprehend By His suffering the whip, the nail and the cross. Those who refused He was the Son of God Intended to teach mankind who was boss.
The Wounds Christ bore were to save us from sin The strips that shed His blood to the dust of Earth. He washed us clean of all our past wrongs As a gesture of faith, motivation and worth.
Too many forget the truth of their own existence The crucial aspects of God’s grace within and above. If we’re honest with ourselves and submit to Him He shall bless us wisdom, forgiveness and love.
The ability to forgive defines, strong people. The idea of forgiveness sooner or later comes into the life of every adult. It is a voluntary refusal to judge someone, to punish, and to restore justice on your own and at your level of development.
Many of us get happy with it and look forward to this beautiful season. It is in the spring when nature awakens, and a spirit of magic flies in the air. Birds sing, streams ripple, and the sun appears much more often. Springtime signs are loved to be described by poets. Soak in this miraculous moment even more deeply.
«A Light Exists In Spring» by Emily Dickinson
A Light exists in Spring Not present on the Year At any other period — When March is scarcely here
A Color stands abroad On Solitary Fields That Science cannot overtake But Human Nature feels.
It waits upon the Lawn, It shows the furthest Tree Upon the furthest Slope you know It almost speaks to you.
Then as Horizons step Or Noons report away Without the Formula of sound It passes and we stay —
A quality of loss Affecting our Content As Trade had suddenly encroached Upon a Sacrament
***
«A Prayer in Spring» by Robert Frost
Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night; And make us happy in the happy bees, The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.
And make us happy in the darting bird That suddenly above the bees is heard, The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill, And off a blossom in mid air stands still.
For this is love and nothing else is love, The which it is reserved for God above To sanctify to what far ends He will, But which it only needs that we fulfil.
***
«Acorn» by Darren C. Mossman
The spring was a ghost, as winter wither’d away. The bird’s song was vapid, the flowers awaited May. Alone we all sat, windows locked and shutter’d, afraid of our neighbours, our bread went unbutter’d.
All shopkeepers were closed, all kegs were untapped, all music did cease, all performance unclapped. Alone we all sat, doors closed and locked. Our pantry’s slowly dwindling, inadequately stocked.
All games were ended, all our works were halted. All prayers were whispered, all hopes were exalted. Alone we all sat, as the world slowly warmed, the trees unpruned, ragged and deformed.
The gardens untilled, the boats tied to dock. The productive were idle, the busy as rock. Alone we all sat, avoiding the ravage of an invisible foe, so vile and savage.
The streets were all empty, the pews were all bare. The neighbours were treated only with what we could spare. Alone we all sat, fearful and forlorn, Locked in our homes, to weather this storm.
As the sun warms the airs, and the rains wet its feet, The Oak reaches upwards as if heaven to meet. Alone we all sat, uncertain and torn, Our Solace unveiled by its wee acorn.
***
«After the Winter» by Claude McKay
Some day, when trees have shed their leaves
And against the morning’s white
The shivering birds beneath the eaves
Have sheltered for the night,
We’ll turn our faces southward, love,
Toward the summer isle
Where bamboos spire the shafted grove
And wide-mouthed orchids smile.
And we will seek the quiet hill
Where towers the cotton tree,
And leaps the laughing crystal rill,
And works the droning bee.
And we will build a cottage there
Beside an open glade,
With black-ribbed blue-bells blowing near,
And ferns that never fade.
***
«April» by Ella Higginson
Ah, who is this with twinkling feet, With glad, young eyes and laughter sweet, Who tosses back her strong, wild hair, And saucy kisses flings to Care, The while she laughs at her? Beware— You who this winsome maiden meet!
She dances on a daisied throne, About her waist a slender zone Of dandelion’s gold; her eyes Are softer than the summer skies, And blue as violets; and lies A tearful laughter in her tone.
She reaches dimpled arms and bare; Her breath is sweet as wild-rose air; She sighs, she smiles, she glances down, Her brows meet in a sudden frown; She laughs; then tears the violets drown— If you should meet her—ah, beware!
***
«Charming Spring» by Patricia L. Cisco
Reminiscent melodies serenade the morning breeze.
Feathered creatures nest with care in cherry blossoms pink and fair.
Perfumed scent of roses flow. Tiny blades of green grass grow.
Misty showers soak the earth, glorious colors come to birth.
Gathering clouds come and go, rain, sun, and vibrant bow.
Dainty petals, fancy flair, dancing in the warm, sweet air.
Thank you, oh sweet lovely Spring, patiently waiting the charms you bring!
***
«Daisy Time» by Marjorie Pickthall
See, the grass is full of stars,
Fallen in their brightness;
Hearts they have of shining gold,
Rays of shining whiteness.
Buttercups have honeyed hearts,
Bees they love the clover,
But I love the daisies’ dance
All the meadow over.
Blow, O blow, you happy winds,
Singing summer’s praises,
Up the field and down the field
A-dancing with the daisies.
***
«Fides, Spes» by Willa Cather
Joy is come to the little Everywhere; Pink to the peach and pink to the apple, White to the pear. Stars are come to the dogwood, Astral, pale; Mists are pink on the red-bud, Veil after veil. Flutes for the feathery locusts, Soft as spray; Tongues of the lovers for chestnuts, poplars, Babbling May. Yellow plumes for the willows’ Wind-blown hair; Oak trees and sycamores only Comfortless bare. Sore from steel and the watching, Somber and old,— Wooing robes for the beeches, larches, Splashed with gold; Breath o’ love to the lilac, Warm with noon.— Great hearts cold when the little Beat mad so soon. What is their faith to bear it Till it come, Waiting with rain-cloud and swallow, Frozen, dumb?
***
«Flower God, God Of The Spring» by Robert Louis Stevenson
FLOWER god, god of the spring, beautiful, bountiful, Cold-dyed shield in the sky, lover of versicles, Here I wander in April Cold, grey-headed; and still to my Heart, Spring comes with a bound, Spring the deliverer, Spring, song-leader in woods, chorally resonant; Spring, flower-planter in meadows, Child-conductor in willowy Fields deep dotted with bloom, daisies and crocuses: Here that child from his heart drinks of eternity:
O child, happy are children! She still smiles on their innocence, She, dear mother in God, fostering violets, Fills earth full of her scents, voices and violins: Thus one cunning in music Wakes old chords in the memory: Thus fair earth in the Spring leads her performances. One more touch of the bow, smell of the virginal Green – one more, and my bosom Feels new life with an ecstasy.
***
«Green Is Spring» by Elizabeth Y. Linn
Green is spring, Bright, fresh, and new.
Yellow is the sun, Bright, bold, and true.
Blue is the sky, Shimmering and cool.
Purple is the king, Quite royal in his rule.
Orange is fire, Burning hot in the night.
Red is fall, Bold, brilliant, and bright.
All these vivid colors combine, So that in this world, We never get bored.
***
«I Have This Way of Being» by Jamaal May
I have this, and this isn’t a mouth full of the names of odd flowers
I’ve grown in secret. I know none of these by name
but have this garden now, and pastel somethings bloom
near the others and others. I have this trowel, these overalls,
this ridiculous hat now. This isn’t a lung full of air.
Not a fist full of weeds that rise yellow then white then windswept.
This is little more than a way to kneel and fill gloves with sweat,
so that the trowel in my hand will have something to push against,
rather, something to push against that it knows will bend
and give and return as sprout and petal and sepal and bloom.
***
«In Perpetual Spring» by Amy Gestler
Gardens are also good places
to sulk. You pass beds of
spiky voodoo lilies
and trip over the roots
of a sweet gum tree,
in search of medieval
plants whose leaves,
when they drop off
turn into birds
if they fall on land,
and colored carp if they
plop into water.
Suddenly the archetypal
human desire for peace
with every other species
wells up in you. The lion
and the lamb cuddling up.
The snake and the snail, kissing.
Even the prick of the thistle,
queen of the weeds, revives
your secret belief
in perpetual spring,
your faith that for every hurt
there is a leaf to cure it.
***
«Lines Written in Early Spring» by William Wordsworth
I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And ’tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure:— But the least motion which they made It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent, If such be Nature’s holy plan, Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?
***
«May» by Jonathan Galassi
The backyard apple tree gets sad so soon,
takes on a used-up, feather-duster look
within a week.
The ivy’s spring reconnaissance campaign
sends red feelers out and up and down
to find the sun.
Ivy from last summer clogs the pool,
brewing a loamy, wormy, tea-leaf mulch
soft to the touch
and rank with interface of rut and rot.
The month after the month they say is cruel
is and is not.
***
«May Day» by Sara Teasdale
A delicate fabric of bird song Floats in the air, The smell of wet wild earth Is everywhere.
Red small leaves of the maple Are clenched like a hand, Like girls at their first communion The pear trees stand.
Oh I must pass nothing by Without loving it much, The raindrop try with my lips, The grass with my touch;
For how can I be sure I shall see again The world on the first of May Shining after the rain?
***
«May’s Spring Days» by Hemakumar Nanayakkara
Over the distant mountains morning breeze blows Humming through robust beech birch and oak trees Evergreen pines whistle to the tune of nippy breeze Group of songbirds sing delightful springtime Songs
Twirling flossy clouds dance graceful waltzes Mountain range beneath has got rich pastures Cows graze fresh grass in lavish green Meadows Chiming cowbells from mornings to evenings
Sunlight glistens after early morning showers Pearls like dewdrops fastened to lilac flowers Beautiful Little lilacs flourish in heavy Clusters Spreading honey scented appealing fragrances
May’s spring days are refreshing and sunny Trees have new leaves flowers rapidly bloom When cool breeze blows through the garden Young maple leaves rustle and pansies dangle
***
«Miracle on St David’s Day» by Gillian Clarke
An afternoon yellow and open-mouthed with daffodils. The sun treads the path among cedars and enormous oaks. It might be a country house, guests strolling, the rumps of gardeners between nursery shrubs.
I am reading poetry to the insane. An old woman, interrupting, offers as many buckets of coal as I need. A beautiful chestnut-haired boy listens entirely absorbed. A schizophrenic
on a good day, they tell me later. In a cage of first March sun a woman sits not listening, not seeing, not feeling. In her neat clothes the woman is absent. A big, mild man is tenderly led
to his chair. He has never spoken. His labourer’s hands on his knees, he rocks gently to the rhythms of the poems. I read to their presences, absences, to the big, dumb labouring man as he rocks.
He is suddenly standing, silently, huge and mild, but I feel afraid. Like slow movement of spring water or the first bird of the year in the breaking darkness, the labourer’s voice recites ‘The Daffodils’.
The nurses are frozen, alert; the patients seem to listen. He is hoarse but word-perfect. Outside the daffodils are still as wax, a thousand, ten thousand, their syllables unspoken, their creams and yellows still.
Forty years ago, in a Valleys school, the class recited poetry by rote. Since the dumbness of misery fell he has remembered there was a music of speech and that once he had something to say.
When he’s done, before the applause, we observe the flowers’ silence. A thrush sings and the daffodils are flame.
***
«Monday Rain» by Mandeep Singh
My sister woke me up and called me out, I got up annoyed and asked her what was it about.
she replied-come out, it’s gonna rain, I jumped out of the bed, and opened the glass window and, a cool breeze whizzed past my head.
The delightful fragrance, The magical lightning, and the thunder storm was very frightening.
To me it was the best creation of God, the magnificent rain and for others it was just another Monday rain….!!!
***
«More Than Enough» by Marge Piercy
The first lily of June opens its red mouth.
All over the sand road where we walk
multiflora rose climbs trees cascading
white or pink blossoms, simple, intense
the scene drifting like colored mist.
The arrowhead is spreading its creamy
clumps of flower and the blackberries
are blooming in the thickets. Season of
joy for the bee. The green will never
again be so green, so purely and lushly
new, grass lifting its wheaty seedheads
into the wind. Rich fresh wine
of June, we stagger into you smeared
with pollen, overcome as the turtle
laying her eggs in roadside sand.
***
«Narcissus» by Patricia Hooper
Near the path through the woods I’ve seen it: a trail of white candles.
I could find it again, I could follow its light deep into shadows.
Didn’t I stand there once? Didn’t I choose to go back
down the cleared path, the familiar? Narcissus, you said. Wasn’t this
the flower whose sudden enchantments led Persephone down into Hades?
You remember the way she was changed when she came every spring, having seen
the withering branches, the chasms, and how she had to return there
helplessly, having eaten the seed of desire. What was it
I saw you were offering me without meaning to, there in the sunlight,
while the flowers beckoned and shone in their flickering season?
***
«Nature’s Way» by Christopher Salerno
Upon a nice mid-spring day, Let’s take a look at Nature’s way. Breathe the scent of nice fresh air, Feel the breeze within your hair.
The grass will poke between your toes, Smell the flowers with your nose. Clouds form shapes within the skies, And light will glisten from your eyes.
Hear the buzzing of the bees, Climb the tallest willow trees. Look across the meadow way, And you shall see a young deer play.
Pick the daisies as they grow, Watch a gentle cold stream flow. Know the sounds of water splash, Catch its glimmer in a flash.
When altogether all seems sound, Lay yourself upon the ground. Take a moment to inhale, And listen to Nature tell her tale…
By Heidi Campbell
«Notes For Further Study»
You are a nobody until another man leaves a note under your wiper: I like your hair, clothes, car—call me! Late May, I brush pink Crepe Myrtle blossoms from the hood of my car. Again spring factors into our fever. Would this affair leave any room for error? What if I only want him to hum me a lullaby. To rest in the nets of our own preferences. I think of women I’ve loved who, near the end, made love to me solely for the endorphins. Praise be to those bodies lit with magic. I pulse my wipers, sweep away pollen from the windshield glass to allow the radar detector to detect. In the prim light of spring I drive home alone along the river’s tight curves where it bends like handwritten words. On the radio, a foreign love song some men sing to rise.
***
«Ode on the Spring» by Thomas Gray
Lo! where the rosy-bosom’d Hours,
Fair Venus’ train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!
The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo’s note,
The untaught harmony of spring:
While whisp’ring pleasure as they fly,
Cool zephyrs thro’ the clear blue sky
Their gather’d fragrance fling.
Where’er the oak’s thick branches stretch
A broader, browner shade;
Where’er the rude and moss-grown beech
O’er-canopies the glade,
Beside some water’s rushy brink
With me the Muse shall sit, and think
(At ease reclin’d in rustic state)
How vain the ardour of the crowd,
How low, how little are the proud,
How indigent the great!
Still is the toiling hand of Care:
The panting herds repose:
Yet hark, how thro’ the peopled air
The busy murmur glows!
The insect youth are on the wing,
Eager to taste the honied spring,
And float amid the liquid noon:
Some lightly o’er the current skim,
Some show their gaily-gilded trim
Quick-glancing to the sun.
To Contemplation’s sober eye
Such is the race of man:
And they that creep, and they that fly,
Shall end where they began.
Alike the busy and the gay
But flutter thro’ life’s little day,
In fortune’s varying colours drest:
Brush’d by the hand of rough Mischance,
Or chill’d by age, their airy dance
They leave, in dust to rest.
Methinks I hear in accents low
The sportive kind reply:
Poor moralist! and what art thou?
A solitary fly!
Thy joys no glitt’ring female meets,
No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,
No painted plumage to display:
On hasty wings thy youth is flown;
Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone—
We frolic, while ’tis May.
***
«Ode to Spring» by Frederick Seidel
I can only find words for.
And sometimes I can’t.
Here are these flowers that stand for.
I stand here on the sidewalk.
I can’t stand it, but yes of course I understand it.
Everything has to have meaning.
Things have to stand for something.
I can’t take the time. Even skin-deep is too deep.
I say to the flower stand man:
Beautiful flowers at your flower stand, man.
I’ll take a dozen of the lilies.
I’m standing as it were on my knees
Before a little man up on a raised
Runway altar where his flowers are arrayed
Along the outside of the shop.
I take my flames and pay inside.
I go off and have sexual intercourse.
The woman is the woman I love.
The room displays thirteen lilies.
I stand on the surface.
***
«Paris In Spring» by Sara Teasdale
The city’s all a-shining Beneath a fickle sun, A gay young wind’s a-blowing, The little shower is done. But the rain-drops still are clinging And falling one by one — Oh it’s Paris, it’s Paris, And spring-time has begun.
I know the Bois is twinkling
In a sort of hazy sheen, And down the Champs the gray old arch Stands cold and still between. But the walk is flecked with sunlight Where the great acacias lean, Oh it’s Paris, it’s Paris, And the leaves are growing green.
The sun’s gone in, the sparkle’s dead, There falls a dash of rain,
But who would care when such an air Comes blowing up the Seine? And still Ninette sits sewing Beside her window-pane, When it’s Paris, it’s Paris, And spring-time’s come again.
***
«Penumbrae» by John Updike
The shadows have their seasons, too.
The feathery web the budding maples
cast down upon the sullen lawn
bears but a faint relation to
high summer’s umbrageous weight
and tunnellike continuum—
black leached from green, deep pools
wherein a globe of gnats revolves
as airy as an astrolabe.
The thinning shade of autumn is
an inherited Oriental,
red worn to pink, nap worn to thread.
Shadows on snow look blue. The skier,
exultant at the summit, sees his poles
elongate toward the valley: thus
each blade of grass projects another
opposite the sun, and in marshes
the mesh is infinite,
as the winged eclipse an eagle in flight
drags across the desert floor
is infinitesimal.
And shadows on water!—
the beech bough bent to the speckled lake
where silt motes flicker gold,
or the steel dock underslung
with a submarine that trembles,
its ladder stiffened by air.
And loveliest, because least looked-for,
gray on gray, the stripes
the pearl-white winter sun
hung low beneath the leafless wood
draws out from trunk to trunk across the road
like a stairway that does not rise.
***
«Song For An Old-Fashioned April» by Judith Chiorazzi
April, April, how do I know whether thou be friend or foe? Give me sunlight, give me breath, Give me belief there is no death.
How I wonder, my giver of the flower Whether I’ll have staying power; To wage this battle through thick and thin To know my love will come back again…
Tell me April, who is my love, The red robin or the cooing dove? How can a messenger seem so still While streams overflow with winter’s swill?
Give me love or give me power; I’ll take some of both And contemplate the flower……
***
«Song of a Second April» by Edna St. Vincent Millay
April this year, not otherwise Than April of a year ago, Is full of whispers, full of sighs, Of dazzling mud and dingy snow; Hepaticas that pleased you so Are here again, and butterflies.
There rings a hammering all day, And shingles lie about the doors; In orchards near and far away The grey wood-pecker taps and bores; The men are merry at their chores, And children earnest at their play.
The larger streams run still and deep, Noisy and swift the small brooks run Among the mullein stalks the sheep Go up the hillside in the sun, Pensively,—only you are gone, You that alone I cared to keep.
***
«Song Of March» by Patricia L. Cisco
With winter’s footprints in the past, and snows begin to melt at last.
With longer days and shorter nights, the wayward winds of March take flight.
Four winds she holds within her grip, then hurls them from her fingertip.
Her woolly, fleecy clouds of white, she sets in skies of blue delight.
Her wild bouts of gusty breezes roar through valleys, hills, and trees.
That high pitch whistling song she sings awakens earth and flowering things.
She tears a hole in heaven’s sky so sun can shine and rain can cry.
She gently calms as spring draws near, as blooming daffodils appear.
She welcomes April showers in, then gathers up her dwindling winds. Now her long journey home begins,
knowing she’ll be back this way, upon a cold, late winter’s day,
when nights grow short and days grow long.
Listen for her whistling song!
***
«Song: Spring» by William Shakespeare
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: Oh word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are plowmen’s clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: Oh word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
***
«Sonnet 98» by William Shakespeare
From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in everything, That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer’s story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew: Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight Drawn after you, – you pattern of all those. Yet seem’d it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play.
***
«Spring» by Martin Taylor
One of four siblings, the youngest of course. Or am I the oldest? Not really sure.
I bring new life and herald the warmth, but hay fever, too, is in my source.
Autumn has color but tinged with decay. Some call her Fall. I think she’s OK.
Not like my bother, cold in his breath. Winter his name, in darkness brings death.
Summer’s the one that gets all the glory, but brush fires and sunburn are in her story.
So, season of choice, who will win? The one with potential, of course; it’s Spring.
***
«Spring» by Camille Gotera
When the cold, harsh winter has given its last breath, When the sky above shows life instead of death, When the claws reaching to the frozen sky become decorated with leaves, When the animals -long in hiding- scurry from trees, We know winter has ended.
When the frost on grass is replaced with sweet dew, When the fields become dotted with flowers, reminding me of you, When the lonely silence becomes filled with melodies, When you feel warm air, erasing bad memories We know winter has ended.
When the hard, bare ground becomes painted with green, When the frost-bitten air becomes fresh and clean, When the coats and boots are all stored away, When the playgrounds become occupied again with child’s play, We know winter has ended.
When you hear the pleasant sound of children’s laughter, When the air is filled with joy- long sought after, When the world is filled with sunlight, brighter and longer, When the song of Mother Nature becomes stronger, Spring has begun.
***
«Spring» by Christina Rossetti
Frost-locked all the winter,
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,
What shall make their sap ascend
That they may put forth shoots?
Tips of tender green,
Leaf, or blade, or sheath;
Telling of the hidden life
That breaks forth underneath,
Life nursed in its grave by Death.
Blows the thaw-wind pleasantly,
Drips the soaking rain,
By fits looks down the waking sun:
Young grass springs on the plain;
Young leaves clothe early hedgerow trees;
Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits,
Swollen with sap put forth their shoots;
Curled-headed ferns sprout in the lane;
Birds sing and pair again.
There is no time like Spring,
When life’s alive in everything,
Before new nestlings sing,
Before cleft swallows speed their journey back
Along the trackless track –
God guides their wing,
He spreads their table that they nothing lack, –
Before the daisy grows a common flower
Before the sun has power
To scorch the world up in his noontide hour.
There is no time like Spring,
Like Spring that passes by;
There is no life like Spring-life born to die,
Piercing the sod,
Clothing the uncouth clod,
Hatched in the nest,
Fledged on the windy bough,
Strong on the wing:
There is no time like Spring that passes by,
Now newly born, and now
Hastening to die.
***
«Spring» by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.
What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.
***
«Spring» by Edna St. Vincent Millay
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
***
«Spring» by Eliza Cook
Welcome, all hail to thee! Welcome, young Spring! Thy sun-ray is bright On the butterfly’s wing. Beauty shines forth In the blossom-robed trees; Perfume floats by On the soft southern breeze.
Music, sweet music, Sounds over the earth; One glad choral song Greets the primrose’s birth; The lark soars above, With its shrill matin strain; The shepherd boy tunes His reed pipe on the plain.
Music, sweet music, Cheers meadow and lea;— In the song of the blackbird, The hum of the bee; The loud happy laughter Of children at play Proclaim how they worship Spring’s beautiful day.
The eye of the hale one, With joy in its gleam, Looks up in the noontide, And steals from the beam; But the cheek of the pale one Is mark’d with despair, To feel itself fading, When all is so fair.
The hedges, luxuriant With flowers and balm, Are purple with violets, And shaded with palm; The zephyr-kiss’d grass Is beginning to wave; Fresh verdure is decking The garden and grave.
Welcome! all hail to thee, Heart-stirring May! Thou hast won from my wild harp A rapturous lay. And the last dying murmur That sleeps on the string Is welcome! All hail to thee, Welcome, young Spring!
***
«Spring and All» by William Carlos Williams
By the road to the contagious hospital under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast-a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen
patches of standing water the scattering of tall trees
All along the road the reddish purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy stuff of bushes and small trees with dead, brown leaves under them leafless vines—
Lifeless in appearance, sluggish dazed spring approaches—
They enter the new world naked, cold, uncertain of all save that they enter. All about them the cold, familiar wind—
Now the grass, tomorrow the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf One by one objects are defined— It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf
But now the stark dignity of entrance—Still, the profound change has come upon them: rooted, they grip down and begin to awaken
***
«Spring And Winter» by William Shakespeare
WHEN daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo! – O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo! – O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!
***
«Spring Has Sprung» by Judith Chiorazzi
Sun-kissed day Blends into Sun’s warmth of Evening. Forgive us, Lord, If we be cleaving To these gentle Dappled nights Filled with bird-song And delights. How can there be strife When this peaceful day Ascends and descends, Gently like an amends? For the harshness of hell, And the troubles which dwell, All winter in the human heart. With spring we have a Brand new start.
***
«Spring in New Hampshire» by Claude McKay
Too green the springing April grass,
Too blue the silver-speckled sky,
For me to linger here, alas,
While happy winds go laughing by,
Wasting the golden hours indoors,
Washing windows and scrubbing floors.
Too wonderful the April night,
Too faintly sweet the first May flowers,
The stars too gloriously bright,
For me to spend the evening hours,
When fields are fresh and streams are leaping,
Wearied, exhausted, dully sleeping.
***
«Spring in Tulwa Thlocco» by Alexander Posey
Thro’ the vine-embowered portal blows The fragrant breath of summer-time; Far, the river, brightly winding, goes With murmurs falling into rhyme.
It is spring in Tulwa Thlocco now; The fresher hue of grass and tree All but hides upon the mountain’s brow The green haunts of the chickadee.
There are drifts of plum blooms, snowy white, Along the lane and greening hedge; And the dogwood blossoms cast a light Upon the forest’s dusky edge.
Crocus, earliest flower of the year, Hangs out its starry petals where The spring beauties in their hiding peer, And the red-buds crimson all the air.
***
«Spring in War-Time» by Sara Teasdale
I feel the spring far off, far off, The faint, far scent of bud and leaf— Oh, how can spring take heart to come To a world in grief, Deep grief?
The sun turns north, the days grow long, Later the evening star grows bright— How can the daylight linger on For men to fight, Still fight?
The grass is waking in the ground, Soon it will rise and blow in waves— How can it have the heart to sway Over the graves, New graves?
Under the boughs where lovers walked The apple-blooms will shed their breath— But what of all the lovers now Parted by Death, Grey Death?
***
«Spring Pools» by Robert Frost
These pools that, though in forests, still reflect The total sky almost without defect, And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver, Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone, And yet not out by any brook or river, But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.
The trees that have it in their pent-up buds To darken nature and be summer woods – Let them think twice before they use their powers
To blot out and drink up and sweep away These flowery waters and these watery flowers From snow that melted only yesterday.
***
«Spring Quiet» by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Gone were but the Winter, Come were but the Spring, I would go to a covert Where the birds sing;
Where in the whitethorn Singeth a thrush, And a robin sings In the holly-bush.
Full of fresh scents Are the budding boughs Arching high over A cool green house:
Full of sweet scents, And whispering air Which sayeth softly: “We spread no snare;
“Here dwell in safety, Here dwell alone, With a clear stream And a mossy stone.
“Here the sun shineth Most shadily; Here is heard an echo Of the far sea, Though far off it be.”
***
«Spring Rain» by Sara Teasdale
I thought I had forgotten, But it all came back again To-night with the first spring thunder In a rush of rain.
I remembered a darkened doorway Where we stood while the storm swept by, Thunder gripping the earth And lightning scrawled on the sky.
The passing motor busses swayed, For the street was a river of rain, Lashed into little golden waves In the lamp light’s stain.
With the wild spring rain and thunder My heart was wild and gay; Your eyes said more to me that night Than your lips would ever say. . . .
I thought I had forgotten, But it all came back again To-night with the first spring thunder In a rush of rain.
***
«Spring Sings» by Tiffany Santa Cruz
Spring sings, Its gentle breeze Butterflies of Glazing wings Birds cheerfully sing their Lighthearted songs As they soar across the meadow Of elegant flowers Delivering the message that spring is near The flowers danced of such joy The silent dance Moved the lake The water was sparkling For the flowers danced gracefully Across it Spring sings its gentle song.
***
«Spring The Season Of Joy» by Rahat Sandhu
The spring is here and the sun is bright, Everyone is playful they are not having anyone’s fright. I could see the little birds swaying their wings, I could hear the pretty flowers sing. The green leaves that are dancing in the air, Are fearless from everyone present here. Tip! tip! tip! the water falls, Sweep! sweep! sweep! the caterpillar crawls. And when the playful squirrels run, They seem that they are having so much fun. As the small kids are swinging high, Their rosy pink cheeks get shy. Jumping, jumping come the rabbits, I really praise their lovely habits. As they play with their long ears, Everyone forgets their cries and tears. But lets wait for the butterflies, Who keep on flying in the endless skies. But now mam taps on the door, And it’s the time to go indoor. I’m always eager for the spring to come, Because it brings along so much fun.
***
«Spring, the sweet spring» by Thomas Nashe
Spring, the sweet spring, is the year’s pleasant king,
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet:
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to witta-woo!
Spring, the sweet spring!
***
«The Aftermath Of Melody» by Lisa Hart
Whispering quietly, the raindrops fall; Such ominous secrets, for one so small. Slowly, dispersing, the raindrops subside. Leaving all but the hesitant, to trickle behind.
The storm has passed, the clouds have gone. Out comes a robin to sing us his song. He fills his heart with rhapsody, for The aftermath of melody.
Flocks of birds, fast as they came, To sing us a rainbow, After the rain.
***
«The Enkindled Spring» by D.H. Lawrence
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green, Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes, Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.
I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration, Faces of people streaming across my gaze.
And I, what fountain of fire am I among This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed About like a shadow buffeted in the throng Of flames, a shadow that’s gone astray, and is lost.
***
«The Man Who Is Ready» by Charles Rafferty
I’m on the brink of daffodils. The backyard snow is full of urine blooms, the mud underneath is ready to be itself. It won’t be long before the planet tilts and the birds roll north like marbles, the sap crawls out of the bedrock. The meadow’s sublimation makes me feel like a piece of sky — ready to plummet, ready to rain. Up on the mountain the snowcap wishes toward water — a wildness that doesn’t lose pace, no matter the stones crowding its path, no matter the roots of everything. Down here I’m waiting for the ants to arrive with their shifting script, their message from below. I’m ready for this page, this square of softening dirt, for this garden of almost daffodils to bang all my air to bells.
***
«The Spring» by Thomas Carew
Now that the winter’s gone, the earth hath lost
Her snow-white robes, and now no more the frost
Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream
Upon the silver lake or crystal stream;
But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth,
And makes it tender; gives a sacred birth
To the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree
The drowsy cuckoo, and the humble-bee.
Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bring
In triumph to the world the youthful Spring.
The valleys, hills, and woods in rich array
Welcome the coming of the long’d-for May.
Now all things smile, only my love doth lour;
Nor hath the scalding noonday sun the power
To melt that marble ice, which still doth hold
Her heart congeal’d, and makes her pity cold.
The ox, which lately did for shelter fly
Into the stall, doth now securely lie
In open fields; and love no more is made
By the fireside, but in the cooler shade
Amyntas now doth with his Chloris sleep
Under a sycamore, and all things keep
Time with the season; only she doth carry
June in her eyes, in her heart January.
***
«The Spring And The Fall» by Edna St. Vincent Millay
In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year, I walked the road beside my dear. The trees were black where the bark was wet. I see them yet, in the spring of the year. He broke me a bough of the blossoming peach That was out of the way and hard to reach.
In the fall of the year, in the fall of the year, I walked the road beside my dear. The rooks went up with a raucous trill.
I hear them still, in the fall of the year. He laughed at all I dared to praise, And broke my heart, in little ways.
Year be springing or year be falling, The bark will drip and the birds be calling. There’s much that’s fine to see and hear In the spring of a year, in the fall of a year. ‘Tis not love’s going hurt my days. But that it went in little ways.
***
«The Spring Crocus Fairy» by Anne Pollock
Awake, little crocus, spring is nigh! Let me kiss the slumber from your eye. Come! Dance with me upon the lawn, The night is o’er, embrace the dawn!
How long I’ve waited patiently Mid changing seasons of the year; Through sunshine, harvest, and icy blast When last I watched through frozen tears.
Now nature stirs from winter’s lair As petals open to the rain, And I shall hover ever near Until you fall asleep again.
***
«The Thrush» by Edward Thomas
When Winter’s ahead, What can you read in November That you read in April When Winter’s dead?
I hear the thrush, and I see Him alone at the end of the lane Near the bare poplar’s tip, Singing continuously.
Is it more that you know Than that, even as in April, So in November, Winter is gone that must go?
Or is all your lore Not to call November November, And April April, And Winter Winter—no more?
But I know the months all, And their sweet names, April, May and June and October, As you call and call
I must remember What died into April And consider what will be born Of a fair November;
And April I love for what It was born of, and November For what it will die in, What they are and what they are not,
While you love what is kind, What you can sing in And love and forget in All that’s ahead and behind.
***
«The Winter’s Spring» by John Clare
The winter comes; I walk alone, I want no bird to sing; To those who keep their hearts their own The winter is the spring. No flowers to please–no bees to hum– The coming spring’s already come.
I never want the Christmas rose To come before its time; The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime. I love to see the snowstorm hing; ‘Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom: The snowstorm’s best in white. I love to see the tempest come And love its piercing light. The dazzled eyes that love to cling O’er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow That hangs on everything, It covers everything below Like white dove’s brooding wing, A landscape to the aching sight, A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods That winters bring–the dress, White Easter of the year in bud, That makes the winter Spring. The frost and snow his posies bring, Nature’s white spurts of the spring.
***
«To Daffodils» by Robert Herrick
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain’d his noon.
Stay, stay,
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;
And, having pray’d together, we
Will go with you along.
We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
As you, or anything.
We die
As your hours do, and dry
Away,
Like to the summer’s rain;
Or as the pearls of morning’s dew,
Ne’er to be found again.
***
«Today» by Billy Collins
If ever there were a spring day so perfect, so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage, indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out, holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white, well, today is just that kind of day.
***
«Villanelle Of Spring Bells» by Keith Douglas
Bells in the town alight with spring converse, with a concordance of new airs make clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing.
People emerge from winter to hear them ring, children glitter with mischief and the blind man hears bells in the town alight with spring.
Even he on his eyes feels the caressing finger of Persephone, and her voice escaped from tears
make clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing.
Bird feels the enchantment of his wing and in ten fine notes dispels twenty cares. Bells in the town alight with spring
warble the praise of Time, for he can bring this season: chimes the merry heaven bears make clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing.
All evil men intent on evil thing falter, for in their cold unready ears bells in the town alight with spring make clear the fresh and ancient sound they sing.
***
«When Spring Goes By» by Duncan Campbell Scott
The winds that on the uplands softly lie, Grow keener where the ice is lingering still Where the first robin on the sheltered hill Pipes blithely to the tune, “When Spring goes by!” Hear him again, “Spring! Spring!” He seems to cry, Haunting the fall of the flute-throated rill, That keeps a gentle, constant, silver thrill, While he is restless in his ecstasy.
Ah! the soft budding of the virginal woods,
Of the frail fruit trees by the vanishing lakes: There’s the new moon where the clear sunset floods, A trace of dew upon the rose leaf sky; And hark! what rapture the glad robin wakes- “When Spring goes by; Spring! Spring! When Spring goes by.”
***
«Written In Early Spring» by William Wordsworth
I heard a thousand blended notes While in a grove I sat reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What Man has made of Man.
Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And ’tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure – But the least motion which they made It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent, If such be Nature’s holy plan, Have I not reason to lament What Man has made of Man?
***
«Young Lambs» by John Clare
The spring is coming by a many signs; The trays are up, the hedges broken down, That fenced the haystack, and the remnant shines Like some old antique fragment weathered brown. And where suns peep, in every sheltered place, The little early buttercups unfold A glittering star or two–till many trace The edges of the blackthorn clumps in gold. And then a little lamb bolts up behind The hill and wags his tail to meet the yoe, And then another, sheltered from the wind, Lies all his length as dead–and lets me go Close bye and never stirs but baking lies, With legs stretched out as though he could not rise.
God always wants the best for us, But in Eden we sinned; we really blew it. We disobeyed God’s direct decree; We separated from Him, and we knew it.
You’d think we’d learn to behave ourselves, But through all time, we just kept doing it; Piling wrong on top of wrong, Our punishment—we kept accruing it.
Jesus came and changed all that; He paid the price for all our sins; When we repent and believe in Him, We change, and a better life begins.
Easter stands for a second chance For us to choose to put things right; If we repent, and really believe, Our record is polished clean and bright.
When Jesus rose from the dead back then, He guaranteed our eternal life, Reunited with God in heaven, Free from tears and fears and strife.
Easter ensures paradise For all of us, for you and me; We’re reconciled to our Lord and King For now and all eternity.
By Joanna Fuchs
***
An Easter Canticle
In every trembling bud and bloom That cleaves the earth, a flowery sword, I see Thee come from out the tomb, Thou risen Lord.
In every April wind that sings Down lanes that make the heart rejoice; Yea, in the word the wood-thrush brings, I hear Thy voice.
Lo! every tulip is a cup To hold Thy morning’s brimming wine; Drink, O my soul, the wonder up— Is it not Thine?
The great Lord God, invisible, Hath roused to rapture the green grass; Through sunlit mead and dew-drenched dell, I see Him pass.
His old immortal glory wakes The rushing streams and emerald hills; His ancient trumpet softly shakes The daffodils.
Thou art not dead! Thou art the whole Of life that quickens in the sod; Green April is Thy very soul, Thou great Lord God.
By Charles Hanson Towne
***
An Easter Carol
Tomb, thou shalt not hold Him longer; Death is strong, but Life is stronger, Stronger than the dark, the light, Stronger than the wrong, the right, Faith and Hope triumphant say Christ will rise on Easter Day.
While the patient earth lies waking Till the morning shall be breaking, Shuddering ‘neath the burden dread
of her Master, cold and dead — Hark! she hears the Angels say Christ will rise on Easter Day.
Up and down our lives obedient Walk dear Christ, with footsteps radiant, Till those garden lives shall be Fair with duties done for Thee And our thankful spirits say, Christ arose on Easter Day.
And when sunrise smites the mountains, Pouring light fom Heavenly fountains. Then the earth blooms out to greet Once again the blessed feet; And her countless voices say Christ has risen on Easter Day.
By Phillips Brooks
***
An Easter Flower Gift
O dearest bloom the seasons know, Flowers of the Resurrection blow, Our hope and faith restore; And through the bitterness of death And loss and sorrow, breathe and breath Of life forevermore!
The thought of Love Immortal blends With fond rememberances of friends; In you, O sacred flowers, By human love made doubly sweet, The heavenly and the earthly meet, The heart of Christ is ours!
By John Greenleaf Whittier
***
An Easter Memory
A little girl at Easter time Is a beautiful sight to see, Wearing a bonnet with frills upon it And her face so bright with glee. Such a pretty and excited little girl As she gazes in curiosity and delight At others wearing their Easter bonnets And the white lilies they are holding tight.
A little girl is precious
As she struts about her way, So much alertness and excitement On this lovely Easter Day. Not a basket left untouched, Colored eggs and cellophane everywhere, And her actions indicate happiness, Not a single agitation or care.
A little girl is smiling When at last her nightly prayers are said,
And she thinks of the Easter activities While lying in her comfortable bed, Aware of of her bonnet and chocolate bunnies And the laden baskets trimmed so grand. The memory she treasures of Easter Is the white lily she held in her hand.
By Joseph T. Renaldi
***
An Easter Prayer
God, give us eyes to see the beauty of the Spring, And to behold Your majesty in every living thing.
And may we see in lacy leaves and every budding flower The Hand that rules the universe with gentleness and power.
And may this Easter grandeur that Spring lavishly imparts Awaken faded flowers of faith Luing dormant in our hearts.
And give us ears to hear, dear God the Springtime song of birds With messages more meaningful than man’s often empty words.
Telling harried human beings who are lost in dark despair ‘Be like us and do not worry for God has you in his care.’
By Helen Steiner Rice
***
Celebrate Our Savior
On Easter morn, we celebrate our Savior; Whatever people seek in Him, they find. In history, there has never been another So holy, sacrificial, good and kind.
His resurrection makes us all immortal; In heaven, we’ll be together with our King. Eternally we’ll share in all His blessings; Happy Easter! Jesus Christ is everything!
By Joanna Fuchs
***
Easter
Let every heart be filled with joy, A joy of thankfulness to our Savior and King! He is victorious over sin and death. He conquered death to give us a new life.
A life blossoms through His unending love. It is for a cause and without condition The love that brings healing and reconciliation, A pure love that creates in us real peace.
Peace that springs from his sacred heart, A heart that bleeds for our affliction. It is full of mercy and compassion, A heart wounded for our sins and vainglory.
Rejoice! Jesus is truly risen from the dead For us to live once again, To live without blemish of pride, And live a life unselfishly for others in need.
By Estela Canama
***
Easter
Most glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day, Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin; And, having harrowd hell, didst bring away Captivity thence captive, us to win: This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin; And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dye, Being with Thy deare blood clene washt from sin, May live for ever in felicity!
And that Thy love we weighing worthily,
May likewise love Thee for the same againe; And for Thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy, With love may one another entertayne! So let us love, deare Love, lyke as we ought, –Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
By Edmund Spenser
***
Easter
Rise, heart, thy lord is risen. Sing his praise Without delays, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise With him may’st rise: That, as his death calcinèd thee to dust, His life may make thee gold, and, much more, just.
Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part With all thy art, The cross taught all wood to resound his name
Who bore the same. His stretchèd sinews taught all strings what key Is best to celebrate this most high day.
Consort, both heart and lute, and twist a song Pleasant and long; Or, since all music is but three parts vied And multiplied Oh let thy blessèd Spirit bear a part, And make up our defects with his sweet art.
By George Herbert
***
Easter
Lent gathers up her cloak of sombre shading In her reluctant hands. Her beauty heightens, fairest in its fading, As pensively she stands Awaiting Easter’s benediction falling, Like silver stars at night, Before she can obey the summons calling Her to her upward flight, Awaiting Easter’s wings that she must borrow Ere she can hope to fly–
Those glorious wings that we shall see to-morrow Against the far, blue sky. Has not the purple of her vesture’s lining Brought calm and rest to all? Has her dark robe had naught of golden shining Been naught but pleasure’s pall? Who knows? Perhaps when to the world returning In youth’s light joyousness, We’ll wear some rarer jewels we found burning In Lent’s black-bordered dress.
So hand in hand with fitful March she lingers To beg the crowning grace Of lifting with her pure and holy fingers The veil from April’s face. Sweet, rosy April–laughing, sighing, waiting Until the gateway swings, And she and Lent can kiss between the grating Of Easter’s tissue wings. Too brief the bliss–the parting comes with sorrow. Good-bye dear Lent, good-bye! We’ll watch your fading wings outlined to-morrow Against the far blue sky.
By Emily Pauline Johnson
***
Easter
Easter Sunday, was always a day, you’d never evade! For people dressed, in their finery, just to go to the Easter Parade. Strolling down Fifth Avenue, was a sight beyond compare! Women, in their fancy clothes and hats, came from everywhere. Each one, outdoing one another, assuming what they wore, was truly the best. Some men,
not to be overlooked, donned their best clothes and wore a fancy vest. Where else could you see such a sight and get all of it for free? I’m lucky, I was able to take part of this, as there’s no place else, I’d rather be!
By Audrey Heller
***
Easter
Bunnies and colored eggs. Pastel shades, And folks dressed for church. Commemorating, The resurrection of Jesus. After his crucifixion.
Although this is not Christmas, Also celebrated by christians.
It is on the Sunday… Following the full moon next After the vernal equinox, Welcomes Spring to bloom at its best.
Falling between March 22nd, And April 25th. ‘Eastre’ that Spring Goddess… Brings a sense of joy, And merriment with it!
By Lawrence S. Pertillar
***
Easter
Bring flowers to strew His way, Yea, sing, make holiday; Bid young lambs leap, And earth laugh after sleep.
For now He cometh forth Winter flies to the north, Folds wings and cries Amid the bergs and ice.
Yea, Death, great Death is dead, And Life reigns in his stead; Cometh the Athlete New from dead Death’s defeat.
Cometh the Wrestler, But Death he makes no stir, Utterly spent and done, And all his kingdom gone.
By Katharine Tynan
***
Easter
Rise, heart, thy lord is risen. Sing his praise Without delays, Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise With him may’st rise: That, as his death calcinиd thee to dust, His life may make thee gold, and, much more, just.
Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part With all thy art, The cross taught all wood to resound his name Who bore the same. His stretchиd sinews taught all strings what key Is best to celebrate this most high day.
Consort, both heart and lute, and twist a song Pleasant and long; Or, since all music is but three parts vied And multiplied Oh let thy blessиd Spirit bear a part, And make up our defects with his sweet art.
By George Herbert
***
Easter At Spanish Cove
As always when a holiday is here Food miraculously arrives For Spanish Cove they have Cooks where perfection thrives
Fresh, delicious and tasty Tables set up with such style Folks lined up to fill their plates Food that satisfies for awhile
Lovely flowers graced the tables And put everyone in the mood For Easter dinner is special Nowhere can you find better food
The color and freshness of fruit Adorned the enormous salad bar Looking very festive as well And wanted to be the star
I hope you had a special Easter Like the folks who love to rove A delicious dinner like the ones Who had Easter at Spanish Cove!
By Marilyn Lott
***
Easter Bunny
Here jumps a little bunny Happy as can be, Looking for his Easter eggs Jumping right to me. He’s sniffing for some eggs How many will he find? Around and around he goes Kicking up his hinds. He’s jumping up and down He’s looking in the grass,
He is a happy bunny He’s found one at last, A smile is on his face He knows Easter is a bliss, He will not miss this day As he jumps to give a kiss, Right up to my face He plants his little kiss, So happy and so bouncy This Easter he did not miss.
By Debra Pitts
***
Easter Bunny Thief
I have flat feet and a puffy tail my name is bun bun, I’m a little frail. I ate my carrots but that’s not enough, I need some really good sweet stuff. Off to walmart or the safeway store, I’ll hide out and try to score. humm humm good, I really should jump in that cart, have a little fart. Away goes Mrs. Curly Mae, now I can have a chocolate bar today.
hipity hop, hipity hop, I’ll take my chocolate bar to the street car stop. I’m just a little bunny, it’s not Easter yet. I’ll be ready with lot’s of candy, so don’t you fret.
By Melvina Germain
***
Easter Candy…
Never buy Easter candy Days before the designated date Bags of sweets are too handy… Lusciously tempting a salivating fate
Pastel egg shaped treats disappear Marshmallow chicks vanish in a blink Jellybeans evaporate as Easter nears Chocolate bunnies become extinct
Baskets are filled with empty desire Pleasurable expectations have fled Another trip to the store is required Before tears of disappointment are shed
By Theresa Ann Moore
***
Easter Communion
Pure fasted faces draw unto this feast: God comes all sweetness to your Lenten lips. You striped in secret with breath-taking whips, Those crooked rough-scored chequers may be pieced To crosses meant for Jesu’s; you whom the East With draught of thin and pursuant cold so nips Breathe Easter now; you serged fellowships, You vigil-keepers with low flames decreased,
God shall o’er-brim the measures you have spent With oil of gladness, for sackcloth and frieze And the ever-fretting shirt of punishment Give myrrhy-threaded golden folds of ease. Your scarce-sheathed bones are weary of being bent: Lo, God shall strengthen all the feeble knees.
By Gerard Manley Hopkins
***
Easter Day
The silver trumpets rang across the Dome: The people knelt upon the ground with awe: And borne upon the necks of men I saw, Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome. Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam, And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red, Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head: In splendour and in light the Pope passed home. My heart stole back across wide wastes of years To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest: ‘Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest, I, only I, must wander wearily, And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.
By Oscar Wilde
***
Easter Eggs For The Homeless
When I’m feeling lost and bored I contemplate Our Holy Lord Who rose from the dead on Easter Day Much to the Devil’s deep dismay!
I sit here in the street and beg – No, not for me an Easter egg! Food’s something that I can’t afford And usually I am ignored.
I thought that Jesus loved the poor But I don’t believe that anymore, I think the whole thing is a hoax When I curl up in my cardboard box.
Is there no justice in this life, Just hunger, misery and strife? Did Judas die from suicide? He might have been wrong but at least he tried!
His silver coins would have helped the poor And fed a mouth or two for sure, Perhaps his tortured heart was pure – Now that’s a thought you can’t endure!
By John Thorkild Ellison
***
Easter Gate
Jesus came to show us how To live and love on earth, right now. Then he died to erase our sin, So the pearly gates would let us in.
Raised from death, Jesus is our guide Through our own death to the other side. Believe in Jesus, and you’ll be Written in the book of eternity.
Easter means, in heaven, life, Free from sadness, free from strife. If your name is in God’s journal, You’re assured of life eternal.
Easter Hymn
Make no mistake; there will be no forgiveness; No voice can harm you and no hand will save; Fenced by the magic of deliberate darkness You walk on the sharp edges of the wave;
Trouble with soul again the putrefaction Where Lazarus three days rotten lies content. Your human tears will be the seed of faction Murder the sequel to your sacrament.
The City of God is built like other cities: Judas negotiates the loans you float; You will meet Caiaphas upon committees; You will be glad of Pilate’s casting vote.
Your truest lovers still the foolish virgins, Your heart will sicken at the marriage feasts Knowing they watch you from the darkened gardens Being polite to your official guests.
By Alec Derwent Hope
***
Easter Hymn
If in that Syrian garden, ages slain, You sleep, and know not you are dead in vain, Nor even in dreams behold how dark and bright Ascends in smoke and fire by day and night The hate you died to quench and could but fan, Sleep well and see no morning, son of man.
But if, the grave rent and the stone rolled by, At the right hand of majesty on high You sit, and sitting so remember yet Your tears, your agony and bloody sweat, Your cross and passion and the life you gave, Bow hither out of heaven and see and save.
By Alfred Edward Housman
***
Easter Joy
Jesus came to earth, To show us how to live, How to put others first, How to love and how to give.
Then He set about His work, That God sent Him to do; He took our punishment on Himself; He made us clean and new.
He could have saved Himself, Calling angels from above, But He chose to pay our price for sin; He paid it out of love.
Our Lord died on Good Friday, But the cross did not destroy His resurrection on Easter morn That fills our hearts with joy.
Now we know our earthly death, Like His, is just a rest. We’ll be forever with Him In heaven, where life is best.
So we live our lives for Jesus, Think of Him in all we do. Thank you Savior; Thank you Lord. Help us love like you!
By Joanna Fuchs
***
Easter Love
On Easter we celebrate love, love coming down from heaven, love blanketing the earth in a transforming embrace; unique and infinite love, giving more than we can imagine for us, to cleanse our sin, a perfect sacrifice, Lamb of God, the walking, talking Word. He is teacher, role model, friend, this God in human form, dying, then rising from the dead, proving all who believe will also rise to have eternal life, with Him, Lord of all. Oh, Happy, Happy Easter!
By Joanna Fuchs
***
Easter Marks Reunion
The Creator of the universe, the King of Kings, wanted communion, wanted to bond with those He had created; but He had given them free will, and they did not respond to an unknowable God.
So He came to earth in human form, to teach, to be a role model. A Holy God requires a holy sacrifice for sin. So God, in human form, Jesus, allowed His own sacrifice for our sins, so we could be reunited with our Creator.
His resurrection proves that we, also, will be resurrected in Heaven, to mansions and wonders our God has made for us. Easter marks the resurrection. That’s why Easter is a Christian’s highest Holy Day. Happy Easter!
By Joanna Fuchs
***
Easter Means Eternal Life
A perfect God demands a perfect justice; He cannot let us get away with sin. We used God’s gift of our free will to trespass, So heaven’s gates were closed; we couldn’t get in.
Our sin required our blood, a sacrifice, To atone for all the wrongs that we had done. “But I love them!” cried our Father, filled with sorrow; “I’ll send my only Son to be the one.”
Good Friday marks the slaying of our Jesus, The unblemished lamb, the perfect sacrifice. He took our guilt and blame upon Himself, So we could be with Him in paradise.
On Easter morning, he came back from death; He vanished from the tomb, the empty grave. His resurrection means eternal life For us, the ones he came to earth to save.
This summarizes all the Easter story And because of it, we’ll be with Him in glory.
By Joanna Fuchs
***
Easter Monday
In the last letter that I had from France You thanked me for the silver Easter egg Which I had hidden in the box of apples You like to munch beyond all other fruit. You found the egg the Monday before Easter, And said. ‘I will praise Easter Monday now – It was such a lovely morning’. Then you spoke Of the coming battle and said, ‘This is the eve. ‘Good-bye. And may I have a letter soon’.
That Easter Monday was a day for praise, It was such a lovely morning. In our garden We sowed our earliest seeds, and in the orchard The apple-bud was ripe. It was the eve, There are three letters that you will not get.
By Eleanor Farjeon
***
Easter Morning
My holy God your love so peaceful, Brings to the earth at break of dawn, Brings to the earth renewed forgiveness, Brings to the earth thy holy light Shine on the world this Easter morning, Shine on the world thy holy light, Bring to the world renewed forgiveness, Dear lamb of God shine holy light. River of light spring forth thy kindness, River of mercy, hope, and joy,
Ever so gently flow thy mercy, Peacefully flow thy love divine.
By Yolanda A. Seibert
***
Easter Parable
I have died a thousand deaths And come back alive A thousand times too But, I never equated the betrayal Leading to death and life again To the Easter parable, till today You opened a window and showed me
The warmth that remains And revives me again Each time to love and life Is by the purging of self Through the pyre of pain!
By Angelina Pandian
***
Easter Services
It is a yearly event we cherish Getting together to honor Jesus The day is planned carefully For it is extremely important to us
A sermon created thoughtfully Each word means so very much The entire church is sparkling With an extra sacred touch
The Easter flowers are just lovely As though grown just for Him And a day of true remembrance As we sing our special hymns
Our Sunday school teacher honored Who is there to help us through Our trials and tribulations And an understanding of the bible too
Afterward there are cookies and coffee Much chatting and camaraderie To value Jesus and each other every day Brings tremendous peace and harmony!
By Marilyn Lott
***
Easter Song
I Got me flowers to straw Thy way, I got me boughs off many a tree; But Thou wast up by break of day, And brought’st Thy sweets along with Thee.
The sunne arising in the East, Though he give light, and th’ East perfume, If they should offer to contest With Thy arising, they presume.
Can there be any day but this, Though many sunnes to shine endeavour? We count three hundred, but we misse: There is but one, and that one ever.
By George Herbert
***
Easter Week
See the land, her Easter keeping, Rises as her Maker rose. Seeds, so long in darkness sleeping, Burst at last from winter snows. Earth with heaven above rejoices; Fields and gardens hail the spring; Shaughs and woodlands ring with voices, While the wild birds build and sing.
You, to whom your Maker granted
Powers to those sweet birds unknown, Use the craft by God implanted; Use the reason not your own. Here, while heaven and earth rejoices, Each his Easter tribute bring- Work of fingers, chant of voices, Like the birds who build and sing.
By Charles Kingsley
***
Easter Week
See the land, her Easter keeping, Rises as her Maker rose. Seeds, so long in darkness sleeping, Burst at last from winter snows. Earth with heaven above rejoices; Fields and gardens hail the spring; Shaughs and woodlands ring with voices, While the wild birds build and sing.
You, to whom your Maker granted Powers to those sweet birds unknown, Use the craft by God implanted; Use the reason not your own. Here, while heaven and earth rejoices, Each his Easter tribute bring- Work of fingers, chant of voices, Like the birds who build and sing.
By Charles Kingsley
***
Easter Wings
Lord, Who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more, Till he became Most poore:
With Thee O let me rise, As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day Thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did beginne; And still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish sinne, That I became Most thinne.
With Thee Let me combine,
And feel this day Thy victorie; For, if I imp my wing on Thine, Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
By George Herbert
***
Easter Zunday
Last Easter Jim put on his blue Frock cwoat, the vu’st time-vier new; Wi’ yollow buttons all o’ brass, That glitter’d in the zun lik’ glass; An’ pok’d ‘ithin the button-hole A tutty he’d a-begg’d or stole. A span-new wes-co’t, too, he wore, Wi’ yellow stripes all down avore; An’ tied his breeches’ lags below The knee, wi’ ribbon in a bow; An’ drow’d his kitty-boots azide, An’ put his laggens on, an’ tied His shoes wi’ strings two vingers wide, Because ‘twer Easter Zunday.
An’ after mornen church wer out He come back hwome, an’ stroll’d about All down the vields, an’ drough the leane, Wi’ sister Kit an’ cousin Jeane, A-turnen proudly to their view His yollow breast an’ back o’ blue. The lambs did play, the grounds wer green, The trees did bud, the zun did sheen; The lark did zing below the sky, An’ roads wer all a-blown so dry, As if the zummer wer begun; An’ he had sich a bit o’ fun! He meade the maidens squeal an’ run, Because ‘twer Easter Zunday.
By Ingeborg Bachmann
***
Easter!
Now it’s the time of the year again When Easter is making its coming plain Whether its date was right or wrong Upon a tree the Saviour was hanged A place which He was never belonged Its Christ crucifixion that brings us Easter
Though He died of much agony and pain
Christ’s death to save us was never in vain Evil might’ve thought it was making gain Not knowing Jesus’ death was to save life That was suffering losses from evil’s strife Christ crucifixion brings to the world Easter
Like a humble lamb Jesus went to the cross Where by His shed blood sin was outclassed And made human’s death by sin to be tossed Only by what had been done at Calvary’s Cross
Man’s life had been redeemed Jesus paid the cost Christ crucifixion is allowing us to celebrate Easter
Now there is no need for anyone’s soul to be lost Since Jesus Christ took the task and gave sin a blast We all can clap our hands and jump, dance and prance Through the great Saviour who gave us a second chance Sin had lost by the blood of Christ now we can all dance. By Christ crucifixion we are allowed to celebrate Easter.
By Clarence Prince
***
Easter’s Past
Sitting in Church Listening to sermons With white patent leather shoes A fancy dress and little white gloves With a new purse, My brothers all dressed In nice shirts and pants, My mom dressed up like a movie star With her beautiful dress and hat, My step dad who never cared for church
He even dressed up for the day.
And in our pockets Were chocolate eggs and jelly beans We were told not to take to church But we couldn’t help it. I would peek at my brothers Sneaking candy out of their pockets And when mom wasn’t looking I would sneak some out of my purse,
And slowly let the chocolate egg Dissolve in my mouth I couldn’t let her see me chewing Not in church!
We would come home Have an egg hunt That we enjoyed so much That we all would hide the eggs again Ourselves Then we had a nice big Easter dinner Maybe even play monopoly While eating more Easter candy.
I know the holiday was about Jesus Being resurrected I had spent many years In classes learning these things But somehow Easter Just reminds me more of Family togetherness and love And visits from the Easter Bunny And I don’t think Jesus would mind that at all.
By Connie Webb
***
Every Sunday’s A Little Easter
Every Sunday to me is Easter, Don’t need it to roll around but once a year to see, For I look forward to Christ’s Resurrection, And what He gave on a cross at Calvary.
Don’t need to see the cross before me, Or see the stone that was rolled aside. For Christ lives within each of us, If only we’d only allow Jesus to come inside.
To warm our hearts… to quench our thirst, To bring us joy that no man could ever do. To be all that He is and will ever be, To shine His glorious love through and through!
So put on your best bib and tucker this Sunday, And every Sunday thereafter and on, For little Easter’s come each Sunday, For all of God’s children everlasting to feast upon.
By Linda Winchell
***
Freedom In The Cross
There’s something that occurred on that evening at Calvary that created such a lavish stir in all of history.
Upon that old rugged cross our Savior bared it all and offered himself a sacrifice to overspread humanity’s fall.
The sacred blood that was spilled wiped clean the sinner’s slate. Christ paid the price for everyone and carried our weight.
A willing heart endured the pain, and purpose paved His way. He opened the eyes of every man To whom He came to save.
Though the tragedy of that day will be mourned by those around, our joy is found three days later when He arose from the very ground.
And through that selfless act of love, we were given new life in Him, set loose from our bondages to experience true freedom within.
By Olivia Lakis
***
He Did It For Me
It was for me Christ Jesus died. So that I could live, He was crucified. Jesus was innocent, he knew no sin. But yet He died for sinful men.
It was for me Jesus paid the price. He became the ultimate sacrifice. Oh, the depth of the love of one. Who would offer up his only son?
It was for love God gave His all to restore mankind after the fall. The debt was huge and the price high, therefore an innocent man had to die.
God could find no one else to qualify to pay the awful debt for you and I. Because sin was found in one and all, only Jesus could answer the call.
So out of His endless love for man God unfolded His perfect plan. Jesus said, “I’ll give my life for man.” And God said, “I’ll raise you up again.”
And through the death of Jesus Christ we all have access to eternal life. From east to west, in all directions, we give thanks for the resurrection.
By Lenora McWhorter
***
I Am The Easter Bunny
I am the Easter Bunny, I really do exist, And if you think that’s funny, I’ll smash you with my fist.
I am the Easter Bunny, And I come around in Spring, When it gets warm and sunny, And the birds begin to sing.
I am the Easter Bunny, And I loath those little birds, With eggs so gross and runny, I hate them beyond words.
I am the Easter Bunny, And I have a habit strange, I like to take those slimy eggs, And boil them on my range.
I am the Easter Bunny, But I’m an herbivore, So I take those crummy hard-boiled eggs, And leave them at your door.
By Richard Dates
***
Just Prayers
No colored eggs Or bunnies here, Just deep-felt love For Christ, so dear.
No easter baskets Full of fluff, No jelly beans And other stuff.
No superior looks, No strife, no fights With those who keep The worldly rites.
No condemnation For those who do, Just prayers for them To love Him, too.
By Joanna Fuchs
***
Love To The Fullest
Love to the fullest once roamed our earth. He arrived here by means of a heavenly birth.
From the very beginning most everyone knew there was something so special this child would do.
As time would prevail He became a man, teaching us love from God’s own hand.
Though to some He knew He would be such a dread. They never could rest until He was dead!
He knew His own fate from beginning to end. He knew and still loved His betraying friend.
He carried His cross using His own two feet to die for our sins and our total defeat.
Why did He do it? No reason but love! He wanted to help us to heaven above.
Who was this man with such merciful love? None other than Jesus, our Savior above!
By Patricia L. Cisco
***
Meaning
When Jesus came on the scene He came in a way that was humble Here on earth He never mumbled nor grumbled
Man shed innocent blood When Jesus died on the cross They thought they were above God In the end they found out who was boss
Easter is a day set aside For Christ’s death, burial and resurrection If in your life you’re not living right This is the time to make corrections
Easter shouldn’t be celebrated With nice clothes and beautiful hats God’s death, burial and resurrection Has nothing to do with that
Jesus bore the cross Heading for Calvary Through God’s love Allowed us to be free
He was put in His tomb And on the 3rd day He got out So I could capture salvation And for this reason I can jump and shout
Now when I think of Easter I don’t think of material things I use it as a reminder Of the joy it brings.
By Michael A Burke Sr
***
No Second Chance
If there was no resurrection, there would be no hope for mankind. We would have no second chance and no peace of mind.
The love of God is clearly seen in the sacrifice of His Son, who took our punishment and our sin and offered redemption for everyone.
Had not Jesus died on the cross, had His life not been sacrificed, there would be no forgiveness of sin and there would be no eternal life.
Jesus did no wrong and knew no sin. But for love’s sake He died… so our sin debt could be paid in full. He gave Himself to be crucified.
The good news of salvation comes to us by the way of the cross. God raised up Jesus from the dead so that no man need be lost.
Oh, what love the Father has for us, shown by the gift He freely gave. So that we could have a second chance. God raised Jesus from the grave.
By Lenora McWhorter
***
On Easter Day
The silver trumpets rang across the Dome: The people knelt upon the ground with awe: And borne upon the necks of men I saw, Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome. Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam, And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red, Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head: In splendor and in light the Pope passed home. My heart stole back across wide wastes of years To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest: “Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest, I, only I, must wander wearily, And bruise My feet, and drink wine salt with tears.”
By Oscar Wilde
***
Rejoice, Rejoice!
“Rejoice, Rejoice! ” “For Jesus has risen from the grave! ” His Father placed Him in the womb of a virgin Then His life for us on a cross one day He gave.
His Father said that He would rise up Then, in three days ascend, unto His Father’s home. He is not where you now look for Him He has rolled away the tombs, heavy stone.
While Mary was in the garden’s yard
She had seen Jesus walking there. While others were in such deep sorrow of loss As the King’s guards on watch, slept un-aware.
“The King of man has risen! ” He did the job that was meant for humanity to do. He died upon a cross at, ”Calvary” He seen that His mission was complete And He did this all for me and you.
So if you too seek after Him You needn’t go to the tomb to see. Just kneel down before the cross in prayer Asking God’s forgiveness Where He now, can always live inside of thee.
By Linda Winchell
***
Resurrection
Ridiculed and mocked, nailed to a cross. Each of his followers mourning his loss. Set down from on high, placed in a cave. Unmovable stone in front of his grave. Roman soldiers guarded the solemn room, Rejecting attempts to enter the tomb. Entrance sealed so no one could steal Christ’s body, which had a great appeal. Then on the third day, Mary could not believe Inside the cave – no body to grieve. On Sunday he was seen it was said. Now God had raised His son from the dead.
By Eric R. Harvey
***
The Easter Bunny Hop
Hippity hop, hippity hop The Easter Bunny does not stop Hippity hop, hippity hop The Easter Bunny does his crazy bop The Easter Bunny’s ears do flop when he goes…. Hippity hop, hippity hop So come on Come on and join on in today As the Easter Bunny goes Hippity hop, hippity hop
All along The Bunny Trail To bring a smile to….. All the faces of the children of tomorrow’s future
By Ramona Thompson
***
The Easter Decorations
O take away your dried and painted garlands! The snow-cloth’s fallen from each quicken’d brow, The stone’s rolled off the sepulchre of winter, And risen leaves and flowers are wanted now.
Send out the little ones, that they may gather With their pure hands the firstlings of the birth,— Green-golden tufts and delicate half-blown blossoms, Sweet with the fragrance of the Easter earth;
Great primrose bunches, with soft, damp moss clinging To their brown fibres, nursed in hazel roots; And violets from the shady banks and copses, And wood-anemones, and white hawthorn shoots;
And tender curling fronds of fern, and grasses And crumpled leaves from brink of babbling rills, With cottage-garden treasures—pale narcissi And lilac plumes and yellow daffodils.
Open the doors, and let the Easter sunshine Flow warmly in and out, in amber waves, And let the perfume floating round our altar Meet the new perfume from the outer graves.
And let the Easter “Alleluia!” mingle With the sweet silver rain-notes of the lark; Let us all sing together!—Lent is over, Captivity and winter, death and dark
By Ada Cambridge
***
The Easter Flower
Far from this foreign Easter damp and chilly My soul steals to a pear-shaped plot of ground, Where gleamed the lilac-tinted Easter lily Soft-scented in the air for yards around;
Alone, without a hint of guardian leaf! Just like a fragile bell of silver rime, It burst the tomb for freedom sweet and brief In the young pregnant year at Eastertime;
And many thought it was a sacred sign, And some called it the resurrection flower; And I, a pagan, worshiped at its shrine, Yielding my heart unto its perfumed power.
By Claude McKay
***
The Easter Story
esus came to compensate For all the wrongs we do. He came to earth to die for us, So we’d be born anew.
“This bitter cup, let it pass from me,” He cried, in a plaintive voice; “Yet not My will, but Thine be done;” He said, in His faithful choice.
The Judas kiss would seal his fate; He faced a hostile crowd; The governor, Pilate, saw through it all; Jesus’ guilt he disavowed.
“I wash my hands of all of this,” Said Pilate, “Let Him be.” But the crowd yelled “Crucify him now, And set Barabbas free!”
Pilate yielded to their wish; And Jesus was led away. The soldiers beat him, and mocked Him, too, Yet He continued to obey.
A crown of thorns lay on His head, As His sentence was carried out; His hands and feet were pierced with nails, But He did not scream or shout.
“Father, forgive them for this crime; They know not what they do.” He said this despite His torment, because, He was thinking of me and you.
“It is finished,” he sighed in His anguish and pain, As His body gave up to death. The curtain tore, and darkness fell, After He took His last breath.
The best of the story is the very last part; It’s why on Easter we’re filled with pleasure: Death could not our Savior hold; His power is beyond all measure.
He rose from the grave, and was seen all around; Ever since, He’s inspired devotion, And we’ll be with Him for eternity, When we get our heavenly promotion.
That’s why Easter is a major event: He suffered and died in our place. He rose and forgave us and loves us still, Our Savior of matchless grace.
By Joanna Fuchs
***
The First Easter
Dead they left Him in the tomb And the impenetrable gloom, Rolled the great stone to the door, Dead, they thought, forevermore.
Then came Mary Magdalene Weeping to that bitter scene, And she found, to her dismay, That the stone was rolled away.
Cometh Peter then and John, Him they’d loved to look upon, And they found His linen there Left within the sepulcher.
‘They have taken Him away!’ Mary cried that Easter Day. Low, she heard a voice behind: ‘Whom is it you seek to find?’
‘Tell me where He is!’ she cried, ‘Him they scourged and crucified. Here we left Him with the dead!’ ‘Mary! Mary!’ Jesus said.
So by Mary Magdalene First the risen Christ was seen, And from every heart that day Doubt’s great stone was rolled away.
By Edgar Albert Guest
***
The Meaning Of Easter
I was heading down the road of destruction, I mean the path was so clear, there was no obstruction But on that faithful day, Jesus stepped in the way and for this me say: YAY!
Now Jesus, he ain’t just any speed bump, The wall; him so big, me nah even try jump! Lived, died and rose-His Father’s will he chose.
My friend, now salvation he gives Repent my and accept it! Save you and me from the fiery pit On himself he lovingly took it Down in hell he took the key Doing it all for me! And now I choose him, and I’m no longer heading to destruction For with the life he lived, he laid down some construction
The man had no shame
Yet on cavalry, he took my blame Now me just call his name And like Clorox He washes away my stains! So now I’m no longer heading down the road of destruction
My God so good In his word, I got my food: His son he gave, So that I can be saved Plus, The Holy Spirit: Holding my hands Leading me away from the fiery pit So now, I’m no longer heading down the road of destruction I just believe and Jesus became my obstruction!
By Leslie Alexis
***
The Reason We Celebrate Easter
We celebrate the resurrection and hail the risen Christ. We kneel before the rugged cross where Jesus gave His life.
We lift our hands in total praise and give thanks to God above for the great sacrifice He made to declare His unfailing love.
If we look back to Calvary where Jesus was crucified, we can see His nail-pierced hands and the wounds in His side.
We marvel at Christ’s suffering and give thanks for His sacrifice ’cause it was for us that Jesus died so we could have eternal life.
But God raised Jesus from the dead! And with gratitude we can say, “Our sin debt has been paid in full,” so we celebrate Resurrection Day!
By Lenora McWhorter
***
This Life on Earth
Easter means that this life on earth is not all there is. Jesus went “to prepare a place for us” in His Father’s heavenly mansions for all eternity. Jesus died for our sins, paying our penalty, so that we could be forgiven. He was resurrected, to prove that death has no hold on those who repent and accept Him as Savior. This life on earth is a prelude to eternal joy with our Lord. Easter is a celebration of our eternal destiny.
By Joanna Fuchs
***
Thoughts Of Easter
I awoke before dawn this Easter morn, Laid very still and just thought, Not of the eggs and bunnies that Easter brings, But of the gift of life that it brought, I thought of that cross he carried, That crown of thorns on his head, The nails into his body they buried, Betrayed by even those that he led, Up that road to Calvary, Totally sinless too, Jesus paid the ultimate out of love, He died for me, for you, Love keeps no records of right or wrong, Love doesn’t keep a score, To our Father in heaven we all belong, Just as on that day long before, I looked in the room at my sleeping sons, Tears slipped from my eyes, God had done more than I could have done, To just watch as my son suffered and died, My Easter held such meaning then, As I watched the dawn breaking through, Just thinking of that day so long ago, When God did what I could not do.
By Deborah Wininger
***
Three Years And Twelve Friends
We’ve been given the greatest gift, The most precious, wonderful promise ever made. It’s about the resurrection. This truth will never fade.
His gift is for all eternity, Not just a moment in time. He’s given us a mind-boggling gift. He was innocent of His crime.
Released from the burden of our sin, The veil was torn to free. A promise delivered as the prophecies told. The ancient ones could see.
Nothing can separate, No man-made intervention. We are saved from our mortal sin By the power of the resurrection.
He came and walked with us With twelve friends he taught and prayed. Three years of dedicated ministry, In His blood our debt is paid. Amen
By Raelene J. Elliss
***
To All Who Love Him
O God of the Universe, you shed your glory, your majesty, your omnipotence to become human, as Jesus Christ– to get close to us, to connect with us, to be our role model and guide for living. O God of the Universe, you became the human Jesus Christ, to know us, to feel all we feel, to show us how much you love us by taking within yourself all our sins. O God of the Universe, you felt not just one person’s pain but the pain of all of us, to wash us clean and bond with us, your creation, your children. O God of the Universe, you proved your trancendent holy power by rising from the dead, a sign that all of us who believe in You will also rise to be with You eternally. The resurrection of Jesus Christ is the “Happy” in “Happy Easter.” Happy Easter to all those who love Him.
By Joanna Fuchs
***
Who Won
From Friday’s tragedy and terror to Sunday’s redeeming cry, The world has discovered that Christ is real, with evidence man can’t deny. Truly He’s risen, just as He promised, sitting at God’s right hand; We have the privilege of calling Him Saviour if we obey His command.
But oh, so costly was this venture, it brought such agony and pain, Hatred filled the hearts of leaders; somehow their laws they must maintain. If He won the crowd’s devotion, if they followed in His train, They would lose prestige and power, they could would not allow His gain!
Make an example of this rebel, the arm of the law must rule supreme; This young intruder’s no exception, we’ll end this young man’s crazy scheme. But death will never be the ruler – God had initiated a plan, Created after the downfall of Adam, Satan must never have rule over man!
Christ gives us choices, we have an option; sin’s penalty paid that we might go free, God is the author, Christ the Redeemer, nothing can change this eternal decree. Pharisees tried, thought they had killed Him, yet Jesus rose triumphantly. He is still Ruler, fully in power, great interceder for you and for me.
By Greta Zwaan
Without Easter
Without Easter, there would be no hope of heaven. Without the hope of heaven, there would be no repentance, no personal transformation, no attempt to follow biblical principles. Without Easter, the world would be in chaos and darkness. Jesus’ death and resurrection means we can be reborn, to live better, to do better, to shine light into the shadows. Hallelujah! Happy, Happy Easter.
You can’t deny that hope is the last thing that dies in a man. As long as they stay alive, there is always hope. We hope for the best, believe in happiness, and wait for change. In moments of contemplation about own path and destination in life, about unrealized opportunities and ways how to realize them, the poets create beautiful lines. Read them to get filled with positivity and faith in your strength.
«“Hope” is the thing with feathers» by Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
***
«A Bit Of Hope» by Danielle Anne Wilkinson
I held on tight and longed for the best then realised there was nothing to hold onto.
I fell deeper and deeper Then i thought to myself What a wonderful life.
I dug far in my mind To find a little hope
It took a while, But eventually did.
I squeezed it tight And wished and wished Until my hope became reality and all was well.
I woke up that morning Thinking back to my dream And i thought about the message
When you’re feeling down Find a little bit of hope Take it, build on it and never give up!
***
«A Center» by Ha Jin
You must hold your quiet center,
where you do what only you can do.
If others call you a maniac or a fool,
just let them wag their tongues.
If some praise your perseverance,
don’t feel too happy about it—
only solitude is a lasting friend.
You must hold your distant center.
Don’t move even if earth and heaven quake.
If others think you are insignificant,
that’s because you haven’t held on long enough.
As long as you stay put year after year,
eventually you will find a world
beginning to revolve around you.
***
«A Soldier Of Life» by Dylan Simpson
Wounded and broken, But still we stand tall. No challenge too over-bearing, And no fear too consuming.
For each day is a battle, One we do not always win, But our persistence is our courage. We fight with all that we have, And sometimes that is not enough, Yet still we continue in a battle With victory seeming impossible.
Our determination and dreams of happiness Are not only our guidance, But also a dagger in our back, For it is the euphoric joy and brightness That we battle for.
With each passing loss, The prospects of happiness begin to grow dim. Again we continue to fight, Disregarding the wounds of our previous battles, Ignoring what may seem inevitable.
For every once in a while we stand, Our heads held high, victorious at last. It is now that we find the will-power to keep fighting, To continue in this never ending war.
But for that brief moment of victory, We embrace the beauty that is life and all it has to offer.
***
«A Song Of Hope» by David SmithWhite
I refuse to be depressed, ’cause I’m totally obsessed, with the feeling that I’m really lying. It’s an idea that I detest, but once gotten off my chest, I know I’ll feel less and less like crying.
I won’t yield to grim despair; I must just grin and bear, ’cause I’ve other irons in the fire, frying.
If I’m burnt out or I scar, when my words have turned to char, it’s not because this Smithy’s stopped trying.
So life goes on and on, and I know I’ll carry on, with the hope of a song in my heart. I know I must be strong, lest my quest to belong, is diverted or goes wrong from the start.
By now I think you’ve guessed, that life is no idle jest; what scares us most is not just the fear of dying. It is the panic and the stress, of emotions long suppressed; the narcotic of self-love and self-denying.
With the passing of the days, I know I’ll find a way, to keep that song singing in my soul. If my life begins to fray, at ambition’s sad dismay, there is resource in disarray controlled.
So if you find you’re not impressed, by the things that I express, and the knot of love between us is untying; will you not think me a pest, if I honestly confess, that my life with you was truly satisfying.
Though there’s no objective test, we must know that we’re possessed, of a love that’s true and real and gratifying. And if we live our lives with zest, and keep striving for the best, we cannot lose unless no one is buying.
So as time begins to fade, I’ll keep the promises I made, to press that song forever to my breast. And as the closing act is played, when the bill of death is paid, my final breath will sing me to my rest.
***
«All Hope» by Bill Smith
All hope lies in tomorrow Betrayed by yesterday For every new horizon There is a price to pay The piper plays his tune Holds out a hand for gilt The memory cries a river The wrong side of spilt milk
All hope lies in tomorrow
Forgetting yesterday All hope is stored in thoughts Arranged to form a play There’s laughter and there’s intrigue There’s sadness and there’s pain Yet by the final act Laughter rules again
All hope lies in tomorrow Aphrodite by my side
To walk a brave new world Athena as my guide All hope lies in tomorrow Under Helios’s light To trust tomorrow to Themis Her justice and her right
***
«As Is Life» by Albi Demeza
It’s strange the things you remember And the things you seem to forget. It’s a jamboree of all sorts, A patchwork of joys and regrets.
You remember the days when you mess up, The days when sadness brings tears, But you forget all those small happy moments When it’s laughter that brings you to tears.
If only we could be happy forever, To look forward, not think of the past, Our lives would be full of elation, With sadness a ghost of the past.
***
«Bird Of Hope» by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Soar not too high, O bird of Hope! Because the skies are fair; The tempest may come on apace And overcome thee there.
When far above the mountain tops Thou soarest, over all – If, then, the storm should press thee back, How great would be thy fall!
And thou wouldst lie here at my feet, A poor and lifeless thing, – A torn and bleeding birdling, With limp and broken wing.
Sing not too loud, O bird of Hope! Because the day is bright; The sunshine cannot always last – The morn precedes the night.
And if thy song is of the day, Then when the day grows dim, Forlorn and voiceless thou wouldst sit Among the shadows grim.
Oh! I would have thee soar and sing, But not too high, or loud, Remembering that day meets night – The brilliant sun the cloud.
***
«Brighter Skies» by Ann D. Stevenson
If you awake to one more dreary day, an empty heart with empty hours to kill, remember brighter skies are on their way.
A breath of air can blow the clouds away; thoughts, like clouds, can drift aloft at will, if you awake to one more dreary day.
If some stubborn clouds should decide to stay, their shadows causing something of a chill, remember brighter skies are on their way.
Search out old memories; you’ll find that they help lift your spirits up and linger still, if you awake to one more dreary day.
Memories, like sunshine, do not stay at bay; their warmth and love your empty heart will fill. Remember brighter skies are on their way.
Sunny days arrive with a great “hurray” with further magic moments to instill. If you awake to one more dreary day, remember brighter skies are on their way.
***
«Caged Bird» by Maya Angelou
The free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wings in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with fearful trill of the things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom.
***
«Carrion Comfort» by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
***
«Dare I Hope?» by Sophia White
Dare I hope to hope? Is it safe? Is it right? Am I hoping for nothing But a black and empty night?
Hope should make me happy. I should laugh, sing, and dance Because I am hoping. Right? Ha! Not a chance.
How is it that hope can leave me Trembling in the darkness? How is it that something so “good” Should leave me feeling helpless?
Dare I hope to hope? What difference does it make? Fate will be fate in the end, It will either “make or break.”
Does Fate regard my hope? Does She listen? Or care? Am I shooting for a star that Simply isn’t there?
I cannot know! Oh, God Why must I struggle with This doubt that pulls at me Rends me, limb from limb?
What sort of hope leaves pain Where it should instead leave joy? Is this hope at all? Or perhaps Some wicked demon’s ploy?
I cannot know! Dear heaven! How can I even begin to dare To hope for something – anything? Is no assurance there?
No promise? No guarantee? I cannot stand it! I cannot! The doubt is a plague In my every thought.
Dare I hope to hope In a hope that leaves me dry And lost? How can I dare To hope in hope? How can I?
***
«Do Something» by Lucy Larcom
If the world seems cool to you, Kindle fires to warm it! Let their comfort hide from you Winters that deform it. Hearts as frozen as your own To that radiance gather; You will soon forget to moan, “Ah! the cheerless weather! “
If the world’s a “vale of tears,” Smile till rainbows span it; Breathe the love that life endears Clear from clouds to fan it. Of your gladness lend a gleam Unto souls that shiver; Show them how dark sorrow’s stream Blends with hope’s bright river.
***
«Don’T Give Up Hope» by Sylvia Chidi
Don’t give up hope Don’t give up hope There is still a whole slew of scope in hope
I know how you feel Your predicament is unpleasant and real Before you crumble and stumble Like a lone wolf in your solitary struggles I hear the sadness in your tongue Realize that your suffering will pass
Its duration may be long Hang in there, be strong I know the words to your plightful song You are not where you wish to belong But giving up hope is forever wrong A flower never fumbles and gives up hope While waiting for its daily water Hope is all to it that matters
Don’t give up hope
Don’t give up hope Clutch on tight to all ropes There is still a whole slew of scope in hope
***
«Don’t Let The Song Go Our Of Your Life» by Kate R. Stiles
Don’t let the song go out of your life; Though it chance sometimes to flow In a minor strain, it will blend again With the major tone, you know. What though shadows rise to obscure life’s skies, And hide for a time the sun; They sooner will lift, and reveal the rift, If you let the melody run.
Don’t let the song go out of your life; Ah! it never would need to go. If with thought more true and a broader view We looked at this life below. Oh! Why should we moan that life’s springtime has flown, Or sigh for the fair summer time? The autumn hath days filled with paeans of praise. And the winter hath bells that chime.
***
«Endure Like A Tree» by Alicia Quetzalcoatl
To get through life you have to endure as a tree does. When Mother Nature tries to bring you down, You will never fall; you will stand your ground. You will encounter burning flames. Yes, it will be painful and hard, But once it’s over and done with, Your bark will grow back stronger than ever. When your leaves start to slowly leave, Never fret, there will be more to take their place. They’ll come and go throughout your life, That’s just how it is. From the time you’re a seedling to the time you’re mature, Your roots will always be there to support you. After many years, After enduring forest fires and changing leaves, Your own saplings will fall away to start anew. Then you’ll know not to worry, They’ll grow into tall, strong trees, Just like those before you.
***
«Enjoy Hope» by Sandra Osborne
So many Different dreary worlds, That it’s hard to make a choice, Hard to choose at all, Hard to have to.
Ahh, that’s it isn’t it? Choice. The great commanding curse Of freedom. It’s very source.
No Freedom without it, Only a painful apathy, With no worry, and no hope.
For hope is always tight with worry, Hope and dread, did I make the right choice? Did I choose wrongly? The stress, anxiety Over the future, over it’s hope.
Yet, and still, there are no wrong choices,
Just fleeting, frozen moments. Forever, and without changes, With no way to make them.
So don’t worry, Just choose and go, follow Freedom’s path to the next choice, And don’t worry, Enjoy the hope.
***
«Expect The Worst And Hope For The Best» by Lillian E Curtis
In this world where waves of trouble ever are rolling, And discouragement is ofttimes a guest, If, perchance, there’s a fond hope with its gentle consoling, Expect the worst and hope for the best.
There’s a full cup of joy, perhaps, that’s almost your own, And may soon in your expectant clasp rest, Yet many such ones rude winds have blown, Then expect the worst and hope for the best.
Where life were witness to volumes of incoming sorrow, And for the faint possibility of a forthcoming joy thirst, Blight not the hope, nor undue misgivings borrow, Nor less hope for the best, but be prepared for the worse.
The best needs no precedent its arrival to announce. Twill be joyfully welcomed as animation will attest, But Oh, lest its rival swoop down with deft, sudden pounce, Calmly expect the worst, still hope for the best.
An emergency armor were safe fortified by an alternative plan For there’s many an if in this field of contest, And much that is promising may prove but a sham, Then expect the worst and hope for the best.
***
«Faith And Hope And Charity» by David Keig
Hope is forever dreaming Faith is forever pure While charity weighs up its lot So its life it can endure.
Hope is forever youthful Faith has no greying hair While charity is ageless So it is forever there.
For faith and hope and charity Are of each of us a part The measures there between them Are what balances our heart.
***
«Faith, Hope And Clarity» by Terry Donovan
When I wake in the morning, will I find That this was nothing but a lavish dream, A magic moment conjured in the mind, A mirage with a wishful-thinking theme? Once more, reality the status quo, A consequence of castles in the air, A lonesome lover who will never know The pleasure of the treasure that you bare? Or will this little miracle prevail, This little world of wonder never cease,
Will I still drift with no wind in my sail, Another painted picture, party piece?
I lay my body down to sleep and pray That you’ll still be here at the break of day.
***
«Finding Hope» by Patricia A. Fleming
I’ve always viewed life from the side lines, Just watching it passing me by. In the past, too afraid to just let go and live, And lately too tired to try.
I’ve envied the people around me So invested in living each day, While I spent my time hiding out from the world And searching for ways to escape.
For most of my life I truly believed I was here to help somebody else, But now it’s so clear it was just an excuse. To avoid living life for myself.
It’s sad that our lives and the pain we endure Can weaken our strength to move on, But if we get lost in the scars of our past, Without knowing our lives will be gone.
It’s true, people are disappointing, They can turn in the blink of an eye, But we can’t avoid hurting each other, When we all want a chance at this life.
But there’s something I’ve learned through the wisdom of age, A truth about all of our lives, And that is no matter what path we each take, In the end, we just want to survive.
So the time has now come to conquer my fears And to stand up and face a new day. Let the hurts of my past wash away with my tears And stop letting my life slip away.
***
«Fringed Lily» by Talia Baken
I gracefully bloom in July, Clothed in a delicate silk, Fringed with a delicate lace, Sprinkled with the color of milk.
I desire to be free like the butterflies, Floating and fluttering where they please. I yearn to explore the world And be as adventurous as the bees.
The wind blows me left and right, But I am rooted to the ground. The soil holds me prisoner, But I hope one day I’ll be found.
One day I may be discovered. Gentle hands may reach down, Free me from my prison, And admire my beautiful gown.
***
«God Will Make A Way» by Lydia Preston
Society seems in a mess. Mothers cry, while fathers stress. To be polite is a disgrace as children mock you to your face
Every day the papers show that crime and rape did upward go. The things done in laboratories are stashed away in lavatories.
Drugs and sex aren’t hard to find. It seems as if the world’s gone blind, for what the people fail to see is messing up society.
As dads no longer head their home and kids all sit and chat by phone. What once to all has been a home is looking like a war-torn zone.
No longer do you find that kids are playing in the park, for it’s become a hideout place for gangsters after dark.
What once was right now seems so wrong. No more joy and no more song, as what this all was meant to be lies buried in a cemetery.
By telling you these things my aim is not to make you mad. It’s just to tell another truth, which soon will make you glad.
Amidst the chaos of this world, of hurt, despair, and pain and hate along with treachery all done for selfish gain.
There’s this one thing I know of, believe with all my heart, that when I bend my knees to pray my God will make a way.
***
«Hope» by mily Jane Brontë
Hope was but a timid friend; She sat without the grated den, Watching how my fate would tend, Even as selfish-hearted men.
She was cruel in her fear; Through the bars, one dreary day, I looked out to see her there, And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard, false watch keeping, Still, in strife, she whispered peace; She would sing while I was weeping; If I listened, she would cease.
False she was, and unrelenting; When my last joys strewed the ground, Even Sorrow saw, repenting, Those sad relics scattered round;
Hope, whose whisper would have given Balm to all my frenzied pain, Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven, Went, and ne’er returned again!
***
«Hope» by Mathilde Blind
All treasures of the earth and opulent seas, Metals and odorous woods and cunning gold, Fowls of the air and furry beasts untold, Vineyards and harvest fields and fruitful trees Nature gave unto Man; and last her keys Vouched passage to her secret ways of old Whence knowledge should be wrung, nay power to mould Out of the rough, his occult destinies.
But tired of these he craved a wider scope:
Then fair as Pallas from the brain of Jove From his deep wish there sprang, full-armed, to cope With all life’s ills, even very death in love, The only thing man never wearies of– His own creation–visionary Hope.
***
«Hope» by Joseph Rodman Drake
SEE through yon cloud that rolls in wrath, One little star benignant peep, To light along their trackless path The wanderers of the stormy deep.
And thus, oh Hope! thy lovely form In sorrow’s gloomy night shall be The sun that looks through cloud and storm Upon a dark and moonless sea.
When heaven is all serene and fair, Full many a brighter gem we meet; ‘Tis when the tempest hovers there, Thy beam is most divinely sweet.
The rainbow, when the sun declines, Like faithless friend will disappear; Thy light, dear star! more brightly shines When all is wail and weeping here.
And though Aurora’s stealing beam May wake a morning of delight, ‘Tis only thy consoling beam Will smile amid affliction’s night.
***
«Hope» by Holly Heron
I’ve heard hopes enough, Enough to keep you alive, They say that hopes a joyous feeling, Hope that they”ll come back, Hope they’ll see their mistake, But hope hurts more than the the deepest betrayal, It keeps you awake at night, With dreams that tomorow, Well, that tomorrow everything will go back, Back to how it was,
Back to love and happiness, And then in the morning when nothings changed, When your all alone, Wondering why, Then you know the truth of hope, That hope gives you sleepless nights, The pain thats throbbing in your chest, The knowledge that for all your want, It will never be the same, And that hope is the biggest betrayal.
***
«Hope» by Evelyn Locke Irvin
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for.” As we travel on life’s road from day to day. Hope gives light, like a light house sends it’s beams to guide the way. It stirs our souls to climb mountains to the highest peaks. And never conquers all defeat. It builds bridges over troubled waters of a stormy sea; And puts wings on our heart aches and trials and sets us free. Hope is like a beautiful bird singing all day on it’s nest, And the tones it sings brings sweet rest. Hope lifts our spirits like the sight of a lovely rose blooming above it’s thorns,
As the fresh dew kisses it’s petals in the early morn. Hope brings light to the darkest day, It makes a shining path, and takes all fear away.
***
«Hope» by David Keig
When there is no bright sun shining when saddened words have just been said when you find no sense in wonder when all those tears have been full shed when your path seems pointless forwards when you eye the day with fear when the black dogs will walk with you when their howl is always near when you fail to see the goodness when you fail to see the hope
when you fail to see that life itself hangs from a fraying rope when you fail to smile at sunrise when the dusk is in your soul then you live your life in shadows and its time to take control for there is no sense in grieving for a past that’s left behind and the wonder of the future is that its there for us to find
so when there is no bright sun shining when you feel you’ve lost your way turn your eyes forever forwards and bless every single day.
***
Hope Sending Hope by Peter S. Quinn
Sunlight is everywhere to be found Hope sending hope to the inside far true High heavens bluer drifting in sunset through In your eyes here and there and all around
Playing and moving distant in tomorrow Giving from its love that will linger on Moods to remember from a world that’s gone Feelings of care that no one can borrow
A day is in evening saying its goodbye With yellow red burning into the dark Dreams to linger on to the calls of night Clearing reality from luminous sky Each of its dreams from outer there to spark Losing each shading to darkish mauve sight
***
«Hope Against Hope» by Qiniso Mogale
In an evil world In a hostile world In a dark world In a selfish world In a survival of the fittest world In a hopeless world We hope against hope.
In a dishonest world In a disconcerted world
In a discouraged world In a violent world In a hateful world In a hopeless world We hope against hope.
In a morally bankrupt world In a world devoid of the truth In a world where wrong is right In a world where right is wrong
In a world where fables are preferred In a world where tales are preferred In a world where truth is detested In a hopeless world We hope against hope.
***
«Hope Behind The Shadows Of Pain» by Shermain Joy Lipao
In some people’s pretty eyes There’s a great painful disguise, Disguise that dressed their lonely heart With devastating cuts that ever hurt.
Their smiles turned into sobs. Their laughter turned into screams. Their days turned into nights, And their joys turned into sorrows.
But no matter what caused their pains, They move forward as they wipe their tears, For in every beat of a lonely heart There is hope that lights the path.
***
«Hope Beyond Hope» by John Sensele
If I aspire to succeed In implementing actions I take and reactions I fake When I dispense of feeds and seeds of weeds I ought to bleed As crucibles of uncertainties prolong the mistake
I cultivate and motivate in crates of habits Over and over again I grow In my mind watering and aerating bits I ought to eradicate from the reason row
Where my future lies in abundance Waiting for the salient sign To engage at full throttle the dance That mind and body align and assign
When I make up my mind to quit Conniving with masochism And embark on the mission to meet Conditions to rekindle my respect for the catechism.
***
«Hope Deferred» by Robert Fuller Murray
When the weary night is fled, And the morning sky is red, Then my heart doth rise and say, `Surely she will come to-day.’
In the golden blaze of noon, `Surely she is coming soon.’ In the twilight, `Will she come?’ Then my heart with fear is dumb.
When the night wind in the trees Plays its mournful melodies, Then I know my trust is vain, And she will not come again.
***
«Hope For All» by Mary Dolores Meier
The Lord said “Will you help someone?” And hope was really there, He said “Go to foreign lands.” Again hope was there. Soldiers go far and wide To help their countrymen. And each time they go far away, There is hope again. He helps them near, He helps them far away.
Hope’s love is always Here to stay. And all who know Him, love Him Because he really cares. The lord calls many mean to Him to do his special jobs. His wife must be an angel As she helps him day by day. To do the work our Lord has planned And he must be on his way.
So as Uncle Sam sends the boys out Each and every day, The world would like to thank hope for freeing their stress without delay.
***
«Hope For The Future by Joseph T. Renaldi
Today we face the trying times Of heartache and pain. Many hopes and dreams are shattered, And prayers seem to be in vain. With the hope of peace diminishing, The heart has no definitive song. We’ve waited for an end to hostilities, But the struggle seems so long.
Yet – there is hope for the future,
Liberty and freedom are still in command, But God will make the ultimate decisions. He will evaluate our worldly demands, And he holds the future in his grasp. Why should we despair? He mourns and counts every tear, And he hears and reviews every prayer.
***
«Hope For Tomorrow» by Charles S. Poling
There’s never a road but has an end, And each long day has its close, And all must say good-bye to a friend, And the frost must blight the rose.
There’s always an end to laughter, And always an end to tears. Winter? But Spring will come after, And youth must grow old with the years.
And even the rainbow that mantles the storm, Is destined to pass from your view, And the dark of the night is put paging the morn, And the end is a door to the new.
So hope for tomorrow, trudge on with a song, There’s work for your hands to do, Don’t brood o’er the past and the things that are gone, Life’s best lies ahead of you.
***
«Hope Is A Tattered Flag» by Carl Sandburg
Hope is a tattered flag and a dream of time. Hope is a heartspun word, the rainbow, the shadblow in white The evening star inviolable over the coal mines, The shimmer of northern lights across a bitter winter night, The blue hills beyond the smoke of the steel works, The birds who go on singing to their mates in peace, war, peace, The ten-cent crocus bulb blooming in a used-car salesroom, The horseshoe over the door, the luckpiece in the pocket, The kiss and the comforting laugh and resolve— Hope is an echo, hope ties itself yonder, yonder.
The spring grass showing itself where least expected, The rolling fluff of white clouds on a changeable sky, The broadcast of strings from Japan, bells from Moscow, Of the voice of the prime minister of Sweden carried Across the sea in behalf of a world family of nations And children singing chorals of the Christ child And Bach being broadcast from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania And tall skyscrapers practically empty of tenants And the hands of strong men groping for handholds And the Salvation Army singing God loves us….
***
«Hope Is Good Thing To Hope» by Kristina Riggs
I hope my family get a long like they use too I hope God finds away to bring my brother back from drugs I hope my father stays in my life and don’t take off life he did before when I was a baby I hope before I am 30 years old I be marriage and have family like my friends do I hope my dreams I want out of life comes true I hope me wanting to hope is not dumb I hope is right thing to do in life
I hope I get in to college I hope my mom finds good guy beside jerks I hope who I am with doesn’t hurt me or break my heart like guys did with my mom I hope my brother leaves this girl that keep him away from his family I hope Amber will always be my best friend I hope Rusty doesn’t every leave me
I hope God helps find away for us to be together me and Rusty I hope my family is happy I hope my friends are happy and thankful for what they have in life I hope when Jennifer gets marriager it doesn’t be life her last one ended bad I hope everyone learns how good is to hope and pray for things you need. I hope everyone thankful and glad to be here in this world.
***
«Hope Is In The Seasons» by Makayla Fowler
Hope is in the spring time, When the first bird of the year chirps. When the first bud opens, And the sweet perfume of flowers is in the air.
Hope is in the summer time, When the sun shines bright in your eyes. When the lakes sparkle and shine under the sun, And when there’s laughter in the air.
Hope is in the fall time, When the leaves fall off the trees, And crunch under your feet when you walk on them. When birds fly away to find a warm place to stay.
Hope is in the winter time, When a blanket of white covers everything. When everyone’s happy and cheerful, And when you build forts, snowmen, and have snowball fights.
Hope is in the seasons, When the first bird chirps, When the sun is bright in your eyes, When the leaves fall off the trees, And when a blanket of white covers everything.
***
«Hope Is Not Lost» by Jessica Millsaps
When the desperation hit When the people cried in the streets When everything felt at loss Hope stayed, even though fleaing would be easier
When the eyes were full of tears. When kids and families were torn apart By that last desperate grasp Hope tried
When all else gave up When all else backed off When people lost all they had Hope flew
When they cried When the world was shocked with desperation and dispair When nothing seemed good Hope worked
When those four planes crashed When the buildings fell When the lives were lost Hope was there
Hope was only a tiny glimmer Hope was still there She ran to those who needed her She worked to help
When all else failed Hope didn’t She flew through us all Letting us know, we still had her We just needed to look hard enough
Hope was there Hope remembers
***
«Hope Is The Thing With Feathers» by Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard – And sore must be the storm – That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land – And on the strangest Sea – Yet – never – in Extremity, It asked a crumb – of me.
***
«Hope Never Slumbers Long» by Anna J. Granniss
Not even Hope can always soar and sing; Sometimes she needs must rest a willing wing. And wait in midst of her glad carolling.
Faint not, dear heart, though she rest over night – Her wings are swifter than the wings of light; They’re gaining strength for more enduring flight.
Fret not because her voice is sometimes still; It may be catching some new lilt or thrill; She’ll sing again, all of her own sweet will.
Perhaps when worn with pain, in darkened room. Denied the light, the beauty, and the bloom, You’ll see a little rift within the gloom;
Then hear a stir, as of unfolding wings; And low, sweet notes, as one who tries the strings In tender prelude just before he sings.
And wakened Hope, grown vigorous and strong. Will then surprise the silence with a song – Keep a brave heart, Hope never slumbers long.
***
«Hope On» by Charles Harpur
Power’s a cheat, success but trying, Even pleasure bears a sting; Still ’tis useless, useless sighing, Rather list to Hope replying— “The flowers must come again with spring; And in the trampled way we re going Streams of comfort yet are flowing— Hark! I hear them murmuring.” Fame’s a liar in the nation! Love hath oft a wayward wing;
Still, hence seek not for occasion To impugn Hope’s sweet persuasion— “The flowers will come again with spring; And in the world-wide way we re going Streams of pure good yet are flowing— Hark! I hear them murmuring.”
Friendship turns, itself denying Even Truth the heart may wring; Still, though trust be daily dying,
Listen still to Hope replying— “The flowers will come again with spring: And in the blasted way we re going There’s yet one healing current flowing— Hark! I hear it murmuring.”
***
«Hope Your Happy» by Jessica Anonymous
I hope your happy with your life I hope your happy with your wife I hope you see what you have done I hope you see that this is all wrong
I hope you realise that your not perfect I hope you see that money’s not worth it I hope you realise that family comes first I hope you see that my smile was rehearsed
I hope you see that your tearing me apart I hope you someday grow a heart I hope someday I will want to see you I hope someday I wont have to see you
I hope you suffer, but I dont want that I hope you die, but I dont mean that I hope someday your ‘love’ will be real I hope someday you will ‘feel’
I hope you realise that money cant heal I hope someday you’ll feel, what I feel I hope that before you die I hope to tell you, I wont cry
I hoped you would be a good dad I hoped you wouldnt make me mad But all my hopes from before are gone just like the love you had for their mom
I hope that I see you one last time I hope I get to tell you this: ‘I wish I never knew you because of you….I wish I didnt exist….’
***
«Hope, Answers» by Sophia White
Listen! He is calling you. The voice you have heard many times in the silence… Listen.
You have seen trouble, dear one, and pain. You have walked the trail of tears again and again. You have been looking, haven’t you, for hope? He is holding it out for you to take. You have long been confused, have you not?
Looking for answers in a world gone dark. You have searched your every desperate thought For a glimmer of hope, a shard of truth. Truth, my beloved, is found not in Man. You are lost in a desolate land, Hopeless, and weary, wanting rest. Come lay your head on His breast And enter into Love, wandering one. You have heard his voice often in the night When the world is asleep, or in the pale dawn.
Truth. Answers. Hope. Love. Only One Can give them to you and only His will last. Take His hand and hear his voice, dear heart, And in His arms and sight be blessed.
***
«Hope, Blessed Hope» by John Sensele
Hope warmed my heart this morning Whispering words I longed to hear Words and meanings in my awakening
From every distance, far and near As my heart leaped with joy Driving away every trace of fear
That couldn’t scare the lifebuoy I welcome in blessed hope, the balm
I long with frenzy to deploy
As hope my nerves made calm Releasing tonnes of tension I felt From my brain, heart and palm
When pressure chooses to melt Droves of doubts and pouts from my soul While on bended knees hope spelt Her faster motion to my greater goal.
***
Give Us Hope To Live by Peter S. Quinn
There will be a time when time will go Through darkness of years and dying Like footsteps lost into winter’s snow And rain from the cloudy sky crying
No day will rise to a new born bloom Or a blue sky fore a darkish evening For life on earth shall all be doom Without hope or nightingales singing
Eternally on the darkness will come With dust of the earth and killing Be there for years hundredth more some Never to leave it’s death empty filling
Listen to the wind no ears will hear Only the empty gardens and space Life’s then lost and dried every tear Only the silence and desolation days
Give us hope to live here for years Turn to every hope that you make We need resources and peace that cares Into your future be more awake
Every hour is important from now on We get closer to our own destruction Before you know earth’s beauty is gone Never return to a safe course reduction
***
«I Hope» by Sara Magana
I hope you surf the waves in form the ocean, Big and small. I hope you watch the sunset, From a mountain straight and tall.
I hope you can sing a song to all the angles, Loud and clear. I hope you will try new things, Never giving into fears.
I hope you fall in love, With one who makes your world go around. I hope that if you fall out, Your feet will stay on the ground.
I hope that you can understand, That true love waits for you. That you may have to wait a while, But when it comes it will be true.
I hope you find a rainbow, And realize it was worth the rain. I hope through you journey, You will learn to balance smile with pain.
I hope that you realize, Life isn’t always on your side. I hope you know when hope is lost, In me you can confined.
I hope that your glowing smile, Brings someone out of gloom. I hope you taste your life, With more than just a spoon.
I hope that when you are lost, You are also one to find. And I hope that you hand, Never grows too big from mine.
I hope watch the stars shoot by, Upon a grassy hill. I hope you know that I love you, Always have and always will.
***
«I Hope» by Lana Andrews
I hope That a friend in need Is a friend indeed And i hope That the skies stay blue And my friends Are the same friends that i knew And i hope That this earth is still round And that i will be found
And i hope That my dreams are so clear And when i wake up my eyes have no tears And i hope That ur hand is in mine And with love theirs no time And i hope That i will survive A broken heart this time And i hope
And i hope
***
«If Only» by Petra Sheane
If Only… A prayer was held in our nation, Beauty was seen in more ways than one, Children who are lost could find their salvation, Death was slain and torture was done.
If Only… Earth was awakened after years of endurance, Forgotten feelings were rekindled anew, God was man’s only path and assurance, Hope was the foundation of the world we knew.
If Only… I knew more stories than those that were told, Joy was a plague, and peace a disease, Knowledge was worth more than silver and gold, Love was sacred and endless as the seas.
If Only… Miracles were seen more than daylight, Never was replaced with forever, Our eyes could see through the dark of the night, Passion lived in us more than ever.
If Only… Questions were answered, and answers were questioned, Roses were pure and without thorns, Sadness received only love and affection, The empty knew why it was they were born.
If Only… Us as a nation would join hands in song, Victory was a gift to the humble, When tears were shed, the earth felt strong, Exalted men would fall and crumble.
If Only… You and I would last forever.
If Only…
***
«In Good Time… » by Abimbola T. Alabi
Life can seem an endless maze, The twists and turns, lulls and delays, But things always fall into place… In good time.
Friends will sometimes go away. Some may disappoint or others betray, But new ones will come to stay… In good time.
The hurt of getting something wrong, And the lesson it often brings along Are there, you see, to make you strong… In good time.
Kindness freely given away, Unnoticed now, will somehow find its way Back to you and come to stay… In good time.
Efforts seem not to pay to plan? Forge on friend, doing the best you can. Fortune will find the deserving man… In good time.
Life can be tough, there’s no doubt, But hope is the thing we can’t do without. Right things with joy will come about… In good time.
***
«Is There A Hope In A Wish? » by Peter S. Quinn
Is there a hope in a wish? A moment, a place to be free, Somewhere, where love is a bliss And your dreams I can see. Being together, is a beautiful way, Someplace, in time we met; In another place, in another day, No words there need to be said. Is there a hope in a wish? A wish in a hope that we share?
Something, somewhere, in all this, That we both know is all here.
To sing and play, yes to play, Give each fancy, its own place; To feel more day, yes by day; In the long run it all pays. To wish for more than you know, For hope will then come along And give some, when you are low,
So you will then no more long. To sing and play is just fun, We could have it all here with us And when there is no more sun, It wouldn’t be such a loss.
***
«Just Wait For The Sun» by Lisa Marks
When everything’s darkness And you feel so alone, When the rain doesn’t stop And you can’t make it home, When it feels all is lost And you just want to run, It can’t rain forever. Just wait for the sun.
When family is pain, When friends can’t be found, When you just want to scream But you can’t find the sound, When it’s all your fault, And you feel like you’re done, Just wait for the sun. The sunshine will come.
The storm always passes. It won’t last forever. The rain always stops and gives way to good weather. The brightest and warmest of days still to come. Please wait for the sun. The sunshine will come.
People who need you, People who still love you Can warm up your soul like the sunshine above you. You’re never alone, No matter what’s done. Wait for the sun. Just wait for the sun.
Dark clouds always pass. I promise you, hun. We’re all waiting with you. Just wait for the sun.
***
«Like A Fair Pearl» by Mary C. Ryan
Like a fair pearl within its shell, A sweet hope lies within each breast; Far, far below the billow’s crest. Below each varying tidal swell
Though dark the tide ‘neath stormy skies, Or bright the gleam from moonlit waves, Alike serene in ocean caves, The perfect jewel hidden lies.
Thus through each scene of joy and woe, Life’s sweet hope e’er remains the same, Unchanged by time and fickle fame, Its genial rays in all hearts glow.
But as rough shells from the dark sea, Disclose their treasures in the light, Eare gems reflecting sunbeams bright. In crowns of kings honored shall be.
Lifted by God from depth of night, The ransomed soul as changed shall be, From cumbrous earthly shells set free, Ever to bask in Heaven’s light.
For in a brighter world than this, Life’s hope at last will be revealed, The longing soul be satisfied, Resplendent in eternal bliss.
***
«Lively Hope And Gracious Fear» by William Cowper
I was a grovelling creature once, And basely cleaved to earth: I wanted spirit to renounce The clod that gave me birth.
But God hath breathed upon a worm, And sent me from above Wings such as clothe an angel’s form, The wings of joy and love.
With these to Pisgah’s top I fly And there delighted stand, To view, beneath a shining sky, The spacious promised land.
The Lord of all the vast domain Has promised it to me, The length and breadth of all the plain As far as faith can see.
How glorious is my privilege! To Thee for help I call; I stand upon a mountain’s edge, O save me, lest I fall!
Though much exalted in the Lord, My strength is not my own; Then let me tremble at His word, And none shall cast me down.
***
«Love, Faith And Hope» by Bob Gotti
Love is one identifying mark that sets Believers and others apart. Men will know us from others when we have love one for another. Love covers a multitude of sin, when you have Christ’s love within. It was Christ’s love on the cross that covered the sins of the lost.
No greater love to comprehend than giving one’s life for a friend. In His love, God did condescend, saving sinners like us, my friend. We display the love of Christ, when we become a living sacrifice. It’s a reasonable service to Him; As His Love washed away our sin.
If in your life you give God His place, He will then fill you with faith. This Faith centers upon Him; as Christ turns you from a life of sin. Faith becomes your foundation, the moment you receive Salvation. Friend in your newly found Faith, you will be led by God’s Grace.
And friend your Faith is assured, as you put your Hope in The Lord, Not in your life or other men but Hope in the One who God did send. For Christ is The Hope of all men, He is The Beginning and The End, As Christ is The Hope of certainty, that goes on well into Eternity.
My friend, Faith, Hope and Love, they are all gifts from God up above, And if you glean from up above, you will see that the greatest is Love. God’s Love produces in us a Faith that helps us point to God’s Grace. Grace appeared to all then, and Christ remains The Hope of all men
***
«My Friend Hope» by Krutika H. Deshpande
I have an invisible friend Who guides me through dark and pain. She always tells me not to give up As she believes my efforts will never go in vain.
When the paths are not clear And I am surrounded by fear, She holds my trembling hands and says, “Oh dear, don’t you worry, good days are near!”
So one day I finally asked her, “How can be you so optimistic about everything?” Smiling at my naive face she said, “Just like after gloomy night comes bright day, Just like after every storm comes the calm, Through ups and downs, life always goes on.”
She made me believe in miracles, Gave strength to my wings. No matters how impossible they may seem, I can now fly high and achieve my dream.
She is the reason I always smile. I never give up, I never blame Because I have an invisible friend, And Hope is her name!
***
«My Weakness» by Greta Zwaan
In my weakness I am strong, for it is not I; What I have I do not own, even should I try. Born a pauper, not born free – having no control; No concept of whom I am, searching in my soul.
Weary of my constant toil, what do I achieve? Daily it’s the same routine; hardships never leave. Life is puzzling at its best, nothing is secure, All my efforts seem in vain; trials to endure.
Why I do the things I do I can’t understand, Unseen powers are my source, I’m at their command. Still small voices in my head, prod me, drive me on: There’s a purpose in your life, hope is never gone.
Remember now, in days of youth, you are not your own; Tread in paths of righteousness, never walk alone. All my strength is still minute if God does not bless, If I prosper, by His grace, then I must confess:
God is sovereign, God is just, I am but of clay, Daily I rely on Him, He’s my hope and stay.
***
«Never Let Go of Hope» by Jancarl Campi
One day you will see that it all has finally come together.
What you have always wished for has finally come to be.
You will look back and laugh at what has passed and you will ask yourself, “How did I get through all of that?”
Just never let go of hope. Just never quit dreaming. And never let love depart from your life.
***
«Now Let No Charitable Hope» by Elinor Morton Wylie
Now let no charitable hope Confuse my mind with images Of eagle and of antelope: I am by nature none of these.
I was, being human, born alone; I am, being woman, hard beset; I live by squeezing from a stone What little nourishment I get.
In masks outrageous and austere The years go by in single file; But none has merited my fear, And none has quite escaped my smile.
***
«Now You’ve Recovered» by Charles A Cino
When you recover, what will you do? When you recover, will you still be you? Will you be stronger, will you be new, When you recover from what you’ve been through?
Can life get better than it was before? Will you realize your dreams and improve your score? Will people still remember your name, Or will they forget you because they’re ashamed?
Life in recovery may not be the same. The rules may have changed in this brand new game. You can pick up the pieces and make a new start, And courage and hope keep you from falling apart.
The world all around you seems different and changed. Things that once were now seem out of range, But you can recapture your life and fulfill The dreams that were lost when you took ill.
The journey to wellness takes time and is long, And those that get well are exceptionally strong. For depression can kill, but you have survived. Your goal to recover has kept you alive.
Now you’re recovered, what will you do? You suffered and conquered and saw it through. Back from the black and abyss of despair, It is time to move on; it is time to care.
***
«Of History and Hope» by Miller Williams
We have memorized America,
how it was born and who we have been and where.
In ceremonies and silence we say the words,
telling the stories, singing the old songs.
We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.
The great and all the anonymous dead are there.
We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.
The rich taste of it is on our tongues.
But where are we going to be, and why, and who?
The disenfranchised dead want to know.
We mean to be the people we meant to be,
to keep on going where we meant to go.
But how do we fashion the future? Who can say how
except in the minds of those who will call it Now?
The children. The children. And how does our garden grow?
With waving hands—oh, rarely in a row—
and flowering faces. And brambles, that we can no longer allow.
Who were many people coming together
cannot become one people falling apart.
Who dreamed for every child an even chance
cannot let luck alone turn doorknobs or not.
Whose law was never so much of the hand as the head
cannot let chaos make its way to the heart.
Who have seen learning struggle from teacher to child
cannot let ignorance spread itself like rot.
We know what we have done and what we have said,
and how we have grown, degree by slow degree,
believing ourselves toward all we have tried to become—
just and compassionate, equal, able, and free.
All this in the hands of children, eyes already set
on a land we never can visit—it isn’t there yet—
but looking through their eyes, we can see
what our long gift to them may come to be.
If we can truly remember, they will not forget.
***
«On Hope’s Broken Wing» by Mary C. Ryan
On hope’s broken wing my spirit once fell. From joy’s sunny heights to great depths of woe; And music’s sweet strains in sadness did swell, Life’s garden of flowers was covered with snow.
But a bright little bird sang of God’s love, “I, even I, to the ground can not fall, Without the care of the Father above;, He careth for me, for He loveth all.”
My eyes then beheld a lily in bloom; From her heart of gold she whispered to me: “I sow and reap not, I dread not the tomb, The hand of my God provideth for me.”
My soul then, in prayer, sought peace with its God, The snow on life’s garden melted away: And my new heart seemed a beautiful sod Where a sweet hope bloomed that ne’er will decay.
***
«Positive Hope» by Catherine Pulsifer
We can lose many things in life We may find we have had our share of strife But the one thing you never want to loose Is your hope, you get to choose.
You can stay focused on the negative today You can blame others in every way But at the end of it all, Our hope will prevent us from a fall.
You see focusing on things will get better Will keep our lives centered To look forward with positive hope Rather than sit around and mope.
***
«Psalm 150» by Jericho Brown
Some folks fool themselves into believing,
But I know what I know once, at the height
Of hopeless touching, my man and I hold
Our breaths, certain we can stop time or maybe
Eliminate it from our lives, which are shorter
Since we learned to make love for each other
Rather than doing it to each other. As for praise
And worship, I prefer the latter. Only memory
Makes us kneel, silent and still. Hear me?
Thunder scares. Lightning lets us see. Then,
Heads covered, we wait for rain. Dear Lord,
Let me watch for his arrival and hang my head
And shake it like a man who’s lost and lived.
Something keeps trying, but I’m not killed yet.
***
«Seamstress Of Hope» by Patricia Gale
Angel of hope come to me Mend my heart with golden thread Weave your healing all around In and out through my soul
Patches of love to cover the void Made from the finest in the land Tenderly spin me a new dream One of love and hope in between
Cradle my heart In finest silk Softly and sensual to the touch But strong for many years of wear
Show me with pride Give me to one who will cherish A slightly used but still useful heart One that will keep them warm with love forever more
***
«Since Thou Hast Given Me This Good Hope» by Robert Louis Stevenson
SINCE thou hast given me this good hope, O God, That while my footsteps tread the flowery sod And the great woods embower me, and white dawn And purple even sweetly lead me on From day to day, and night to night, O God, My life shall no wise miss the light of love; But ever climbing, climb above Man’s one poor star, man’s supine lands, Into the azure steadfastness of death, My life shall no wise lack the light of love,
My hands not lack the loving touch of hands; But day by day, while yet I draw my breath, And day by day, unto my last of years, I shall be one that has a perfect friend. Her heart shall taste my laughter and my tears, And her kind eyes shall lead me to the end.
***
«Stallions Hope» by Sandra Osborne
I believe that horses can heal, I believe that their hearts feel all that we feel, I believe that the joy from riding is real, I believe that horses really can heal.
I see children riding and smiling with joy, I see happy healthy girls and boys, I see hope for life and wonder renewed, I see love for the children coming to you.
I see dreams for the kids, who once were lost, I see helping hands, no matter the cost, I see friends for kids, who once were tossed, I see children laughing and no longer lost.
I do believe that horses can heal, I believe that horses make recovery real, I believe being sober is a much better deal, I really believe that horses can heal.
And I know that this land, its buildings and stones, Insures that our children are never alone, Insures that our horses and children are one, Insures that their lives will finally be won.
Yes I do believe that horses can heal. That recovery hope and dreams are real, That God and love can make a child whole, That all of this is the Stallions Hope role.
***
«Stand Up» by Frances Joy T. Chaves
In every walk you take There will always be a bad day. When tears kept flowing From failures and disappointments, From sufferings and broken heart, It’s okay; no worries. Everyone finds it tough. Even if living is hard, You’ll survive and you’ll remember How you’ve fought and not how it hurts. Breathe in the laughter and cherish the tears, For tomorrow may be the best day, And today is only the beginning. Just hang on and keep going. Cry if you must, and whine you can’t, For every master is once a disaster, So don’t give up. Be brave and believe, For you are strong and you will fight. Be the champion of yourself, For you deserve nothing but the best. Start living today and leave the past behind. Say goodbye to sorrowful tears. Keep going without hesitation. You’ll pull it off, just wait and see. One more time, one more try. You’ll see the light. Wake up, stand up, and live life!
***
«Star Of Hope» by Lillian E Curtis
We look o’er the dark clouds that hover around, To greet a ray of light visible afar, And tho’ trials and troubles are dense and profound, We would look for Hope’s radiant star.
Dark days we know must come unto all, But we ne’er should give up to despair, While we can look o’er the fierce waterfall, To a star that’s so bright and so fair.
The tempest of life is a fierce, howling blast, Yet sweet, hidden joys it may bar, The sweeping tide fair gems may o’ercast, Bro’t to light by Hope’s radiant star.
Let’s not frown on what misfortunes have severed, Not their fair inherent beauties mar, By omitting the value there is to be gathered, By looking at Hope’s wondrous star.
***
«Still A Belief In Mystical Hope» by Uriah Hamilton
I’m searching the expansive, azure sky For a woman’s anodyne brown eyes That escaped from her face To watch this place, Keep my heartbeats and breaths in view, Saying enlightened prayers Into the compassionate air Of God’s loving universe.
Everything is going to work
And ease the hurt From a thousand wounds Inflicted by yesterday’s knife. The future is a healing balm And a good luck charm Against the darkness and disaster Still looming in childhood Gloomy clouds and unhappy nightmares.
***
«The Birth Of Hope» by Douglas Malloch
Last night the path of life was drear And dead leaves shivered in the breeze. Last night the world was bleak and blear. And want and sorrow, pain and fear, Lurked in the shadows of the trees.
Dead leaves, dead leaves of other days. Touched by the frost of fate unkind, Lay clustered deep in woodland ways Or hurried over frozen bays, Urged by an unrelenting wind.
But lo! the new year and the morn Came with the passing of the night. Another life and world were born — The sable curtains, rent and torn. Revealed a vista fair and bright.
The trees, new-leaved, are filled with bloom — The buds of new and happy hours. Gone are the midnight and the gloom, And golden shafts of light illume Hope’s fragrant pathway strewn with flowers.
***
«The Hope Of The Resurrection» by Vachel Lindsay
Though I have watched so many mourners weep O’er the real dead, in dull earth laid asleep— Those dead seemed but the shadows of my days That passed and left me in the sun’s bright rays. Now though you go on smiling in the sun Our love is slain, and love and you were one. You are the first, you I have known so long, Whose death was deadly, a tremendous wrong. Therefore I seek the faith that sets it right Amid the lilies and the candle-light.
I think on Heaven, for in that air so dear We two may meet, confused and parted here. Ah, when man’s dearest dies,’tis then he goes To that old balm that heals the centuries’ woes. Then Christ’s wild cry in all the streets is rife:— “I am the Resurrection and the Life.
***
«The Instinct Of Hope» by John Clare
Is there another world for this frail dust To warm with life and be itself again? Something about me daily speaks there must, And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain? ‘Tis nature’s prophesy that such will be, And everything seems struggling to explain The close sealed volume of its mystery. Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace As seeming anxious of eternity, To meet that calm and find a resting place.
E’en the small violet feels a future power And waits each year renewing blooms to bring, And surely man is no inferior flower To die unworthy of a second spring?
***
«The Light Of Hope» by Rachel Slimm
Endless dark – or so it seems, life is shattered, with all our dreams of joy and hope, the fading light, and darkness, darkness for all in sight.
No words can speak of pain that’s borne, or fears unfounded, the sharpest thorn, deserted mind, with heart and soul, the wish of death, the bell will toll.
A mind of riddles, flesh we scorn, and hope for day, the light of dawn. The night is long, the darkness set, the hope of morn, existing yet?
But morn will be, and dark will fade, the light of hope, the desert shade, the winter’s comfort, summer’s breeze, as blooms of spring, the sun appears,
a welcome friend, the silence broke, my soul returns, my demons choke, faith and hope I once more find, in shadows of my heart and mind.
Reason warped by darkness’ might, arights in friendship’s glorious light, survival comes from God’s own power, endurance through my darkest hour.
***
«The Myth Of Surrender» by Christopher Ames
Across a scarlet sunset I will be watching. Flowers turn in vain to face the falling sun, But drinking in the moonlight of defeat, In the darkness their failures will dawn, And the worst emerge from hiding. We have all become chasers Of things we know must end. It never stops us. We can’t help but Defy fate.
On a lone old wooden bench I will be waiting, The last stronghold of nature in the city. Now towers grow like trees in the summer, Standing as shepherds of our downfall. The stars burn themselves out slower. When nothing can be salvaged, Hope is all we have left. It’s never enough, But we still try, Even now.
Each tired Sunday morning I will be wasting Some little amount of the time we have left, Praying to some god to make it all right. When church is as silent as mourning. We have been abandoned in turn, Lost as a chick returning. The nest isn’t empty; It was never there. We build alone All the same.
From the heart of disaster I will be wanting, For somehow everything to come to an end, And spare us the agony of waiting. The race itself is against madness. You don’t win prizes for trying, Only perception changes. The game’s rigged; then it’s done. Even knowing this, Nothing differs. We still fight.
In a place all to myself I will be wishing That I saw the reason for futility. Others think to hold back death with laughter. If clowns were angels we would be saved, But I deny the sun its light, For what I see in the day. But who would dim the stars? And even in this Ironically I, too, strive.
On the curb outside your house I will be weeping. Through a broken heart all things seem a drama, And if the world won’t end it feels that way. Doomed from the start, but I still want you. Out of sight is not out of mind, For the night kisses the day And still the faithful pray. They were all right, though I won’t give up, Not this time.
***
«The Rainy Day» by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; My thoughts still cling to the moldering past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
***
«The Wind» by Alissa Sanders
My thoughts lay printed on sheets of paper, Stored in the drawer of my mind. They are organized, neat, Nothing out of place.
They can’t be touched by outside strangers, Filled with dangers and cruel intentions. I’m the only one with the key, To this infinite drawer with ideas.
But sometimes a foreign gust of wind comes, It rattles and shakes the knob to this drawer. Each day getting stronger and stronger, Closer and closer to freeing those papers.
The enemy, the wind is a master of uncovering. Of daintily plucking out my papers Like dandelions on a vast field, To blow and disperse the seeds to unknown areas.
It does it so discreetly, that I don’t realize its actions Until that very last moment When the wind turns into a hurricane And the drawer is finally broken into.
My papers fly out to this hurricane. Crinkling, tossing, turning. A complete mess of black and white figures, Soaring at high speeds in the whirlwind.
I’m stuck in the eye of the hurricane. Huffing and puffing, jumping and reaching, To retrieve my sacred papers. Although I know it’s impossible.
I must wait for it to move on, And pick up each paper, piece by piece. Eventually I’ll find most of my thoughts, To put back in the drawer, for the wind to come again.
***
«There Is Always Hope» by Jeff Fleischer
There are times when I feel sad and frustrated. Life is not working out the say I want it to be. I am feeling low instead of high. The sky is a dark cloud hanging over my head. I spend my spare time feeling sorry for myself. Then, all of the sudden, I stop feeling sad. I start to feel better and think that life is not so terrible. The sky looks cloud free and light blue. I no longer feel sorry for myself. ‘Cause there is always hope for a brighter tomorrow.
***
«Tiny Shred Of Love» by Swetha Baskaran
Floating, heart askew In the dark, deep tunnel of nothing Claw with every cell of me Reach out for anger, greed, sorrow Not the alone, gray, empty Tiny shred of light I wait for, hope for A delusion there to help Hold my hand tighter Around the severing rope My only tie to the world A better life, twinkle dust Of joy, love, a home No more tears, aching soul For a touch to hold on Until then hope for, wait for The tiny shred of love.
***
«To Hope» by John Keats
WHEN by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my “mind’s eye” flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head!
Whene’er I wander, at the fall of night, Where woven boughs shut out the moon’s bright ray, Should sad Despondency my musings fright,
And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away, Peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof, And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof!
Should Disappointment, parent of Despair, Strive for her son to seize my careless heart; When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air, Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart: Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright, And fright him as the morning frightens night!
Whene’er the fate of those I hold most dear Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow, O bright-eyed Hope, my morbidfancy cheer; Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow: Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head!
Should e’er unhappy love my bosom pain, From cruel parents, or relentless fair; O let me think it is not quite in vain To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air! Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head!
In the long vista of the years to roll, Let me not see our country’s honour fade: O let me see our land retain her soul, Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom’s shade. From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed— Beneath thy pinions canopy my head!
Let me not see the patriot’s high bequest, Great Liberty! how great in plain attire! With the base purple of a court oppress’d, Bowing her head, and ready to expire: But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the skies with silver glitterings!
And as, in sparkling majesty, a star Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud; Brightening the half veil’d face of heaven afar: So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed, Waving thy silver pinions o’er my head!
***
«Try to Praise the Mutilated World» by Adam Zagajewski
Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June’s long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of rosé wine.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You’ve seen the refugees going nowhere,
you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the gray feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.
***
«With Faith And Hope» by Ernestine Northover
The tears fall, but no one’s there to heed them, The heart it mourns, but no one sees the hurt. An emptiness has seeped into the brainstem, One’s feeling dazed, and no longer alert.
Such desolation haunts one’s whole persona, What can one do, and just where can one go, You feel as if you’ve now become a loner, How droplets, when they’re prompted, freely flow.
To cry can be a painful kind of action, One weeps for someone one has loved so well, Yet grieving gives release, if just a fraction, Which heals the ache and lets sadness dispel.
Only time will ease such utter sorrow, That comes from losing someone Oh, so dear, But with the dawning of each new tomorrow, With faith and hope you’ll find a panacea.
Halloween is the oldest holiday in the English-speaking world, second only to Christmas. Many of us celebrate the eve of All Saints’ Day without knowing the origins of the holiday. People used to ask their ancestors’ spirits to help them to get a good harvest in the coming year through placating with treats and gifts. However, if we do not go back in history, now it is quite a cheerful holiday.
«A Halloween Poem For Children» by Kevin Greenwood
No one heard the old Gal make a word A sound or noise any Christian ever heard As she walked through the village once every moon To buy some few vittles and leave none too soon.
Her purchases gripped in a dark burlap sack Which she’d owned forever and fit ‘cross her back. Town folk would glance up from their every town’s chore In hope this time they’d see her no more.
Now a young girl called Mattie, a postal clerk’s lass Sat curly and giddy as the yon harridan passed Unlike her town folk whose fear made them shy She stood next to the mile marker and caught the hag’s eye.
“Go home my plum lassie, you’ve nothing with me,” Spoke the old woman coarsely as she turned round a tree But Mattie had studied about a reply And was soon to speak it when a trick caught her eye.
For the old tree was rotten and hollow inside Mattie thought the old woman crawled in it to hide With her eyes wide as saucers she peeked curiously within Two wrinkled arms grabbed her and she was not seen again.
***
«A Rhyme for Halloween» by Maurice Kilwein Guevara
Tonight I light the candles of my eyes in the lee
And swing down this branch full of red leaves.
Yellow moon, skull and spine of the hare,
Arrow me to town on the neck of the air.
I hear the undertaker make love in the heather;
The candy maker, poor fellow, is under the weather.
Skunk, moose, raccoon, they go to the doors in threes
With a torch in their hands or pleas: “O, please . . .”
Baruch Spinoza and the butcher are drunk:
One is the tail and one is the trunk
Of a beast who dances in circles for beer
And doesn’t think twice to learn how to steer.
Our clock is blind, our clock is dumb.
Its hands are broken, its fingers numb.
No time for the martyr of our fair town
Who wasn’t a witch because she could drown.
Now the dogs of the cemetery are starting to bark
At the vision of her, bobbing up through the dark.
When she opens her mouth to gasp for air,
A moth flies out and lands in her hair.
The apples are thumping, winter is coming.
The lips of the pumpkin soon will be humming.
By the caw of the crow on the first of the year,
Something will die, something appear.
***
«Autumn Offering» by Judith A. Lawrence
I shall be Autumn this Halloween, with leaf draped skirt, and folds of boysenberry velvet wine flowing to the ground.
Brown stained face, eyes rimmed in gold, nails dripping sunset, a crown of twigs to cover my head.
You may gather from me the spring of my youth, my summer of maturity, and hold onto with me, the solace of these days of remembering before the frost.
***
«Beyond The Last Lamp» by Thomas Hardy
While rain, with eve in partnership Descended darkly, drip, drip, drip Beyond the last lone lamp I passed Walking slowly, whispering sadly Two linked loiterers, wan, downcast: Some heavy thought constrained each face And blinded them to time and place.
The pair seemed lovers, yet absorbed In mental scenes no longer orbed By love’s young rays. Each countenance As it slowly, as it sadly Caught the lamplight’s yellow glance Held in suspense a misery At things which had been or might be.
When I retrod that watery way Some hours beyond the droop of day Still I found pacing there the twain Just as slowly, just as sadly Heedless of the night and rain. One could but wonder who they were And what wild woe detained them there.
Though thirty years of blur and blot Have slid since I beheld that spot And saw in curious converse there Moving slowly, moving sadly That mysterious tragic pair Its olden look may linger on – All but the couple; they have gone.
Whither? Who knows, indeed … And yet To me, when nights are weird and wet Without those comrades there at tryst Creeping slowly, creeping sadly That lone lane does not exist. There they seem brooding on their pain And will, while such a lane remain.
***
«Black Cats, Beware!» by Melissa A. Herod
To all black cats, please listen keen! Do fight the urge to see, be seen. Tonight, avoid all humans mean. My dears: Stay in on Halloween!
Resist the call to go outside! Best inside your house to hide! Resist the siren call of night And ponder on the firelight.
Sit by the hearth and warm your toes, Whilst evil comes and evil goes. Resist temptation on this night. Avoid a dark, nightmarish fright!
Your human knows to keep you safe. Against her will, please do not chafe! Curl up beside her, let her know There’s no place else you’d rather go!
And while she strokes your raven mane, Please calm your wild and keep your sane. For danger lurks on such a night, From humans who are human blight, Who must do wrong, and ne’er do right. And search for victims till the light– Black cats they seek, and not the white!
For they believe the ancient tales Of witches and their potent ales, Of feline consorts, black as coal, Whose green eyes mask an evil soul.
And even in these modern times, Those gothic bells of fear still chime. Those ancient fools of superstition Tell modern ghouls: Fulfill your mission!
And what if you are all alone? My dear black cat, and have no home? Are homeless night and homeless day, No bowls for you, you hunt your prey. And pray you find a home someday.
Dry bags and garbage for your bed, Each night to rest your weary head. You too must hide and seek the safe– Oh, heed my plea, dear feline waif!
To all beloved felines black, Stay safe this night and watch your back! For Halloween will soon be o’er, And you are safe for one year more!
***
«Black Hood» by Amy Pan
You know you’ve seen it around before Tailing your car to the grocery store. Just out of sight from where you stood That fleeting and unforgettable black hood.
From the back of the line in the coffee shop To the streets, hidden behind a bus stop. ‘It’s following me,’ you decide for good. That evasive and eerie black hood.
Taunting you, holding a bouquet of flowers A haunting feeling you remember for hours Frightening you more than it should, That ominous and daunting black hood.
Jolting awake in the middle of the night It’s outside of your window; your fear ignites. Losing more sleep than you ever thought you could, That sinister and possessive black hood.
Now you can’t even walk down the hall Without panicking; it’s everywhere…yet nowhere at all Your crutch is the wall and its sturdy wood That terrifying and ubiquitous black hood.
It’s paralyzed you, with fear and uncertainty Snatching your thoughts and seizing your clarity If you knew a way to stop this, you would That uncontrollable and engrossing black hood.
Today is Halloween, the day of the dead. Trudging home with feet heavier than lead, You hear footsteps behind you, so you stop in your tracks. You’re shaking with terror, that feeling is back.
But this time, it’s different; something’s wrong. Though your fear is the same, ever so strong, Now it’s closer, behind you, there’s a knife at your back! The last thing you see before the world turns black… is a Hood.
***
«Black Trees, Ghosts, And Bumble Bees» by Coral Leffew
Lying on your bed just like every other night, There is something that’d give grown men fright, There’s a black figure stalking in the night, And it won’t go away until dark turns to light, It’s the very thing that we all give up breathing, It’s the latest toy it’s a werewolf being, It’s so scary and it’s breathing in the night, The creature jumps off and it takes to flight,
You can scream all you want to but that won’t scare, Too small for a dragon but too large for a bear, Leave your lights turned on and turn up your favorite song, Call in your parents but they won’t help you now, You’ve gone too far so you can’t get back out, It’s not that silly monster in your closet, Your Aunt’s picture in your heart shaped locket, No old black magic or any trick of the mind, It pulls you in and soon you’re entwined
***
«Fearful, Foggy Night» by Patricia L. Cisco
Damp darkness befalls as gray fog settles in. Frightening shadows lingering within.
Footsteps echo through the black, eerie night With scrapings and rustlings, yet nothing in sight.
Misty clouds floating across the dull moon. Heart stopping feelings of horror and doom.
Howling squeals pierce the smoggy air. My heart pounding harder in panicky fear.
The faster and faster I try to race, My shaky, weak legs won’t keep up the pace.
A scary, awful blood-curdling scream. I feel so faint, as if in a dream.
Ghostly eyes glowing in bushes distant, Getting closer and closer in an instant.
Frozen stiff, I shut my eyes tight, Holding my breath with all my might.
Then swishing past in the chilly breeze, Opening one eye, I suddenly breathe.
Finally putting my fears at ease. Oh, it’s just Trick or Treaters on All Hallows’ Eve!
***
«Field of Skulls» by Mary Karr
Stare hard enough at the fabric of night,
and if you’re predisposed to dark—let’s say
the window you’ve picked is a black
postage stamp you spend hours at,
sleepless, drinking gin after the I Love
Lucy reruns have gone off—stare
like your eyes have force, and behind
any night’s taut scrim will come the forms
you expect pressing from the other side.
For you: a field of skulls, angled jaws
and eye-sockets, a zillion scooped-out crania.
They’re plain once you think to look.
You know such fields exist, for criminals
roam your very block, and even history lists
monsters like Adolf and Uncle Joe
who stalk the earth’s orb, plus minor baby-eaters
unidentified, probably in your very midst. Perhaps
that disgruntled mail clerk from your job
has already scratched your name on a bullet—that’s him
rustling in the azaleas. You caress the thought,
for it proves there’s no better spot for you
than here, your square-yard of chintz sofa, hearing
the bad news piped steady from your head. The night
is black. You stare and furious stare,
confident there are no gods out there. In this way,
you’re blind to your own eye’s intricate machine
and to the light it sees by, to the luck of birth and all
your remembered loves. If the skulls are there—
let’s say they do press toward you
against night’s scrim—could they not stare
with slack jawed envy at the fine flesh
that covers your scalp, the numbered hairs,
at the force your hands hold?
***
«From The City Of Dreadful» by James Thomson
The City is of Night, but not of Sleep; There sweet sleep is not for the weary brain; The pitiless hours like years and ages creep A night seems termless hell. This dreadful strain Of thought and consciousness which never ceases Or which some moments’ stupor but increases This, worse than woe, makes wretches there insane.
They leave all hope behind who enter there: One certitude while sane they cannot leave One anodyne for torture and despair; The certitude of Death, which no reprieve Can put off long; and which, divinely tender But waits the outstretched hand to promptly render That draught whose slumber nothing can bereave.
***
«From The Lady Of The Manor» by George Crabbe
Next died the Lady who yon Hall possessed; And here they brought her noble bones to rest. In Town she dwelt:- forsaken stood the Hall: Worms ate the floors, the tapestry fled the wall: No fire the kitchens cheerless grate displayed;
No cheerful light the long-closed sash conveyed; The crawling worm, that turns a summer-fly, Here spun his shroud and laid him up to die The winter-death:- upon the bed of sate, The bat shrill-shrieking wooed his flickering mate; To empty rooms the curious came no more, From empty cellars turned the angry poor, And surly beggars cursed the ever-bolted door.
***
«From The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner» by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The loud wind never reached the ship Yet now the ship moved on! Beneath the lightning and the Moon The dead men gave a groan.
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream To have seen those dead men rise.
The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; Yet never a breeze up-blew; The mariners all ‘gan work the ropes Where they were wont to do; They raised their limbs like lifeless tools – We were a ghastly crew.
The body of my brother’s son Stood by me, knee to knee: The body and I pulled at one rope But he said nought to me.
“I fear thee, ancient Mariner!” Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest! ‘Twas not those souls that fled in pain Which to their corses came again But a troop of spirits blest:
For when it dawned – they dropped their arms And clustered round the mast; Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths And from their bodies passed.
***
«Ghost Bus» by Joe Wayman
Underneath the lamp post, In the middle of the night, A ghost bus make a silent stop, A strange and fearful sight.
At the bus top at your corner, Something big and green climbed down. It’s looking for your bedroom, And it has searched all over town.
You thought it couldn’t find you, That you were safe and you were sound. You thought that you could hide, Where you never could be found.
But now it’s almost here, You know it loves the dark of night. There’s only one thing you can do, Quick! Turn on the light!
Whew!
***
«Hallowe’en» by John Kendrick Bangs
Bring forth the raisins and the nuts – To-night All Hallows’ Spectre struts Along the moonlit way. No time is this for tear or sob Or other woes our joys to rob But time for Pippin and for Bob And Jack-o’-lantern gay.
Come forth, ye lass and trousered kid From prisoned mischief raise the lid And lift it good and high Leave grave old Wisdom in the lurch Set folly on a lofty perch Nor fear the awesome rod of birch When dawn illumes the sky.
‘Tis night for revel, set apart To reillume the darkened heart And rout the hosts of Dole. ‘Tis night when Goblin, Elf, and Fay Come dancing in their best array To prank and royster on the way And ease the troubled soul.
The ghosts of all things past parade Emerging from the mist and shade That hid them from our gaze And, full of song and ringing mirth In one glad moment of rebirth And again they walk the ways of earth As in the ancient days.
The beacon light shines on the hill The will-o’-wisps the forests fill With flashes filched from noon; And witches on their broomsticks spry Speed here and yonder in the sky And lift their strident voices high Unto the Hunter’s Moon.
The air resounds with tuneful notes From myriads of straining throats All hailing Folly Queen; So join the swelling choral throng Forget your sorrow and your wrong In one glad hour of joyous song To honor Hallowe’en!
***
«Halloween Chills» by Denise M. Cocchiaro
On this night of spooks and gnomes Of swooning leaves and cringing crones Of legends told from ear to ear Of shrieking cats that grin and sneer
Over the hill and past the tree A haunted house there said to be With chill and mist to pierce your soul And whispering winds to keep you cold
Heed the whispers straight from hell To keep you safe from witchy spells For through this night of devilish play All who tread will rue the day
***
«Halloween Eyes» by Larry E. Myers
Elegant in burnt orange afterglow, Sparkling darkness opens the show. Strangers arriving from all around; Some even, from the bad side of town.
They come afoot and driven by car; Toddlers in strollers, they can’t walk far. Mothers shouting orders to stay in sight, Transgressors will rightly rue this night.
Flickering lights and untied laces; Stomping feet going through their paces. Scampering legs are willing accomplices, To smiling eyes and hideous faces.
Through the gauntlet of terror they swarm; Decked to play in pillaging uniform. Tree and flower tremble and waiver; Bumped and trampled in their fervor.
Garish masks obscure excited grins. Shrieks of joy emanate from within. Ghostly spirits from the bowels of earth, Hang from limbs, grinning in ghoulish mirth.
Silken chains embracing all who stray, Beckons the widow to her frightened prey. Garnished by howling cries of certain demise; Steaming cauldrons await their fleshy prize.
Engraved heads from the garden of Hades, Impotent charms to appease candied fantasies, Festooned arches bedecked in orange and black, Ornate ornaments to win the neighborhood plaque;
Hostiles charitably looting town; Sacks of booty slowing them down. With bulging bags filled with plunder, The advancing hordes scatter asunder.
Like tocks from a clock they continue to arrive, Will the morrow find villagers still alive? Spades of woe befall each who rashly ignore, Ominous omens glued to shop window and door.
Pass me by, to my neighbor grace his stage; Assuage with him your gluttonous rage. Rapacious hands swaying in ritual dance; Exuberance untethered in blitzing advance.
Eyeing my castle the motley mobs charge in, Guarded but by growlin’ dog an’ smilin’ pumpkin; Upon my stoop they brazenly climb, My breath on hold, I hear the chime;
My time I fear is near at hand, My blood or treasure they demand; Hunkered down and hidden from sight, No mercy presented for my plight;
With sweaty palms and pounding heart, Please Lord I pray, make them depart; For a shot of Scotch I silently scream, Cuz I forgot the candy on Halloween!
***
«Halloween in the Anthropocene» by Craig Santos Perez
Darkness spills across the sky like an oil plume.
The moon reflects bleached coral. Tonight, let us
praise the sacrificed. Praise the souls of black
boys, enslaved by supply chains, who carry
bags of cacao under West African heat. “Trick
or treat, smell my feet, give me something good
to eat,” sings a girl dressed as a Disney princess.
Let us praise the souls of brown girls who sew
our clothes as fire unthreads sweatshops into
smoke and ash. “Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me
something good,” whisper kids disguised as ninjas.
Tonight, let us praise the souls of Asian children
who manufacture toys and tech until gravity sharpens
their bodies enough to cut through suicide nets.
“Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me,” shout boys
camouflaged as soldiers. Let us praise the souls
of veterans who salute with their guns because
only triggers will pull God into their ruined
temples. “Trick or treat, smell my feet,” chant kids
masquerading as cowboys and Indians. Tonight,
let us praise the souls of native youth, whose eyes
are open-pit uranium mines, veins are poisoned
rivers, hearts are tar sands tailings ponds. “Trick
or treat,” says a boy dressed as the sun. Let us
praise El Niño, his growing pains, praise his mother,
Ocean, who is dying in a warming bath among dead
fish and refugee children. Let us praise our mothers
of asthma, mothers of cancer clusters, mothers of
miscarriage — pray for us — because our costumes
won’t hide the true cost of our greed. Praise our
mothers of lost habitats, mothers of fallout, mothers
of extinction — pray for us — because even tomorrow
will be haunted — leave them, leave us, leave —
***
«Halloween Is Here» by John P. Read
Dark and mysterious creepy night. Pumpkin masks shining bright. Scary monsters, witches’ brew. Trick or treat you have to choose.
Some dark stranger knocking at my door. Is he the devil? I’m not too sure. All I can see is hiss silhouette. I’ve never believed in ghosts, yet still I sweat.
Yes, Halloween’s arrived; there’s no place to hide When ghosts and demons come alive. Halloween night has lost its way. Too many crazy people now come out to play.
So, I’ll close my curtains, Switch off the lights. They’ll be no Trick or Treat For me this night.
***
«Halloween Night» by Denise M. Cocchiaro
When days grow short and nights get cold And autumn trees turn red and gold, Move, we may, through sun drenched days ‘Midst leaves and berries and bales of hay.
In our hearts we feel the lure Toward darkness, shivers, and things not pure, While ghostly shadows creep slowly by, Spying on witches and brooms that fly.
Icy fingers that grab their prey And do bad things ’til night turns to day. Heed this plea to stay inside. Find covers and blankets and sheets to hide.
Slowly this night will fade to day And fiends and monsters will crawl away. Once a year, on this dank night, We’ll shake and shiver ’til morning light.
***
«Halloween Night» by Charlotte Bancroft
Halloween night is not what it seems; Ghosts and ghouls haunting your dreams.
I walk among the spooky, old shack. Clenching my fists, I am ready for attack.
A witch flies by on her broomstick, Trying to steal my candle’s wick.
Leaving me in the dark, Hearing only the echo of a bark.
The wolves howl, As the black cats prowl.
Zombies rise from the ground, Buried graves cannot be found.
These things may give you a fright, But it is only the beginning of Halloween Night.
***
«Halloween Party» by Kenn Nesbit
We’re having a Halloween party at school.
I’m dressed up like Dracula. Man, I look cool!
I dyed my hair black, and I cut off my bangs.
I’m wearing a cape and some fake plastic fangs.
I put on some makeup to paint my face white,
like creatures that only come out in the night.
My fingernails, too, are all pointed and red.
I look like I’m recently back from the dead.
My mom drops me off, and I run into school
and suddenly feel like the world’s biggest fool.
The other kids stare like I’m some kind of freak—
the Halloween party is not till next week.
***
«Halloween Passes Us By» by Alice Mae
Each nose is twitching, excitement is itching. Bats in our belfry are shy. The hour of witching is rather bewitching Halloween will soon pass us by
Dressed as a witch, in a pin and a stitch, Hoping to fly over the sky. Inspired with fun, Halloween has begun, But soon it will pass us on by.
The flying broom skips out of the room Where black birds catch up on the fly. Owls run away when sun breaks the day Before Halloween passes us by.
Scarecrows and witches with patches on britches, Wild corn grown hang on the husk. Children all happy in costumes so snappy With parties and dress ups till dusk.
Boil and bubble a pot of fun trouble. Halloween pumpkin pie. From out of the rubble, excitement will double Before Halloween passes on by.
***
«Halloween Scream» by Jeff Opperman
One ghostly ghoul, one green eyed goblin The headstones say; You got a problem To venture on my porch tonight Might want to hold your mummy tight Lit with jack-o-lantern heads And zombies that we haven’t fed The bushes sing with raven calls Behind the webs the spiders crawl The lab that’s in the basement lit Where Dracula and Wolf man sit With Frankenstein just playing cards While mother hangs out in the yard Now candies dandy, but a tricks a treat Oh I love the sound of running feet
***
«Halloween Sonnet» by Paul Cleere
When leaves start turning orange and golden-brown, Kids start to dress in costumes so dandy. For one day a year, all throughout the town It’s time for kids to amass some candy.
Every fun boy and girl shall don the mask, and with happiness, shall knock on the door. They all know what question they are to ask Trick or Treat? I want candy! Give me more!
Up in the sky, with the orange moon so full, A witch is joined by her fuzzy black cats. A scarecrow is leaning against a pole. The silence is broken by shrieking bats.
Halloween is not always full of fright, for anyone can be a kid that night.
***
«Halloween» by Ronald Doe
Halloween, blood gurgling scream Little children run and hide Ghost costumes and flying brooms On which evil witches ride
Haunted house, a shredded blouse A scarecrow in the backyard Graveyard love, vampire’s blood Can make this night seem so hard
Halloween, enchanted scene A night filled with pure terror Freddy Krueger, plastic Luger There is no room for error
Rotten eggs, a neighbor begs “Please don’t use toilet paper.” Pranksters prey and run away Like they just pulled a caper
Halloween, big eyes of green A black cat is hissing loud Ghosts say “Boo” and Mom warns you “Don’t stray too far from the crowd.”
Trick or treat, a candy sweet Also calories galore Get off track and circle back Maybe you will get some more
Halloween, number thirteen A night of goblins and ghosts Pumpkin patches, bag snatchers And a Jack-O-Lantern host
Pitch black night, kids filled with fright Enchanting and scary scene A full bag will make them brag And long for next Halloween
***
«Hallowe’en» by Joel Benton
Pixie, kobold, elf, and sprite
All are on their rounds to-night,—
In the wan moon’s silver ray
Thrives their helter-skelter play.
Fond of cellar, barn, or stack
True unto the almanac,
They present to credulous eyes
Strange hobgoblin mysteries.
Cabbage-stumps—straws wet with dew—
Apple-skins, and chestnuts too,
And a mirror for some lass
Show what wonders come to pass.
Doors they move, and gates they hide
Mischiefs that on moonbeams ride
Are their deeds,—and, by their spells,
Love records its oracles.
Don’t we all, of long ago
By the ruddy fireplace glow,
In the kitchen and the hall,
Those queer, coof-like pranks recall?
Every shadows were they then—
But to-night they come again;
Were we once more but sixteen
Precious would be Hallowe’en.
***
«Hallowe’en» by John Kendrick Bangs
Bring forth the raisins and the nuts—
To-night All Hallows’ Spectre struts
Along the moonlit way.
No time is this for tear or sob,
Or other woes our joys to rob,
But time for Pippin and for Bob,
And Jack-o’-lantern gay.
Come forth, ye lass and trousered kid,
From prisoned mischief raise the lid,
And lift it good and high.
Leave grave old Wisdom in the lurch,
Set folly on a lofty perch,
Nor fear the awesome rod of birch
When dawn illumes the sky.
‘Tis night for revel, set apart
To reillume the darkened heart,
And rout the hosts of Dole.
‘Tis night when Goblin, Elf, and Fay,
Come dancing in their best array
To prank and royster on the way,
And ease the troubled soul.
The ghosts of all things, past parade,
Emerging from the mist and shade
That hid them from our gaze,
And full of song and ringing mirth,
In one glad moment of rebirth,
Again they walk the ways of earth,
As in the ancient days.
The beacon light shines on the hill,
The will-o’-wisps the forests fill
With flashes filched from noon;
And witches on their broomsticks spry
Speed here and yonder in the sky,
And life their strident voices high
Unto the Hunter’s moon.
The air resounds with tuneful notes
From myriads of straining throats,
All hailing Folly Queen;
So join the swelling choral throng,
Forget your sorrow and your wrong,
In one glad hour of joyous song
To honor Hallowe’en.
***
«Hallows Eve» by Shelly Kuhn
Trees die and bleed onto the earth an ocean of orange, yellow and red Whilst you lay comfortably in your bed. The atmosphere thins, energy levels decrease. Souls emerge from the deceased To snack on your children’s sugary feasts. Little Joey pumped full of Hershey Kisses, Tootsie Rolls and candy corn. Never knowing they had been sucking the life out of him since the day he was born. They creep up from their graves each hallows eve. They have until sunrise before they have to leave. They come as shadows on the wall. Some are three inches and some are six foot tall. They wait until you are fast asleep. To the foot of your bed they begin to creep. With hallowed eyes and a hallow nose, They bend over to smell your toes. The aroma of your sugar hunt stirs up their deadly appetite. They feast on you all night. When the sun light peeks through the trees They are back to their resting place in a breeze.
***
«Haunted Houses» by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
All houses wherein men have lived and died Are haunted houses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors.
We meet them at the door-way, on the stair, Along the passages they come and go, Impalpable impressions on the air, A sense of something moving to and fro.
There are more guests at table than the hosts Invited; the illuminated hall Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts, As silent as the pictures on the wall.
The stranger at my fireside cannot see The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear; He but perceives what is; while unto me All that has been is visible and clear.
We have no title-deeds to house or lands; Owners and occupants of earlier dates From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands, And hold in mortmain still their old estates.
The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapoursdense A vital breath of more ethereal air.
Our little lives are kept in equipoise By opposite attractions and desires; The struggle of the instinct that enjoys, And the more noble instinct that aspires.
These perturbations, this perpetual jar Of earthly wants and aspirations high, Come from the influence of an unseen star An undiscovered planet in our sky.
And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud Throws o’er the sea a floating bridge of light, Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd Into the realm of mystery and night,—
So from the world of spirits there descends A bridge of light, connecting it with this, O’er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends, Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.
***
«I Wouldn’t Live In A Haunted House» by Rick W. Cotton
I wouldn’t live in a haunted house; It’s something I just wouldn’t do. Not in creepy haunted house. Not with me or even with you.
There’s ghosties that hide in the shadows, And spiders spin webs down the walls. Things going bumpety all night long, And footsteps go stomping down halls.
Voices that whisper when nobody’s there And shadows abound in the nighttime. And just when you think all the ghouls have moved out, They return for some serious fright-time.
They’ll give you a poke on the back of your neck, Or someone unseen tugs your hair. You just know there’s someone standing behind If you dare to look…nobody’s there.
I wouldn’t live in a haunted house, But on the last of October, I might drop in for a quick little stay And bring all my candy right over.
When the sun goes down at the edge of town And the moon rises glorious yellow, There’s something in Halloween’s glowing time That makes all the ghosties quite mellow.
Then little ones come, dressed in costumes galore. A haunted house might be just dandy For you and I, Love, to spend our Halloween On our haunted porch, handing out candy!
***
«In Darkest Woods He Wandered» by Steve Mckee
In darkest woods he wandered, one moonless stormy night. The tree limbs made him shiver reaching out through lightning’s light.
The thunder rumbled its deep warning and spoke of dreadful things; for he was out on Halloween with all its dark heart brings.
His path led through the woods for miles and eyeballs watched him travel; He could feel their wicked smiles while trying hard not to unravel.
Would he live another hour or would dark forces take him down? Would they this traveler overpower? Did he hear hoof beats on the ground.
The thunder clapped the lightening flashed. The tree limbs reached to slap at him; He heard the evil cackle while all his senses seemed to dim.
The rain was in his face now as the storm just seemed to grow; he was lying on his back and how, he didn’t know.
The fear engulfed his total being he couldn’t even speak and all the evil he was seeing only served to make him weak.
He jerked awake and saw beside him another frightened form. Somehow they both were now together in this awful storm.
He looked at her beside him and said with eyes quite wide; I don’t feel like sleeping out, I think I’ll go inside!
***
«Macbeth, Act IV, Scene I» by William Shakespeare
The three witches, casting a spell
Round about the cauldron go; In the poison’d entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights hast thirty one Swelter’d venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse, Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-deliver’d by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron, For the ingredients of our cauldron.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
***
«Mermaid» by Jeff Opperman
I bought a mermaid costume. Somehow I lost the scales. Wore it Halloween night And looked just like a whale.
Thought I’d dress as Dracula, On my face a little blood. Tripped on a cape that’s too long And now my name is mud.
White curly locks like Bo Peep, A staff there in my hand. All the old men gave me Snicker As down the street I ran.
Dressed as Richard Simons Right down to the shorts. All I got was fruit And exercise of course.
Dressed up like the king, And you thought Elvis dead. Of course I couldn’t sing. Just shook my booty instead.
Dressed up as a turkey Last Thanksgiving Day. Missed Halloween completely. What else can I say?
So have a happy trick-or-treat. Use your imagination, But when it comes to costumes, I’m thinking ramification.
***
«Monster» by Richard Maxson
Love was in the hopelessness of you, each word a part of how you would be.
Imaginings have a way of forming themselves from a wish for light, a wager to conceive a ghost.
This is how you were born from her, barely born herself. You, created twice, a story and a story’s child.
A god less knowing watched her write each page, the glory and the fear that was your life,
rising out of her desire, rising from a myth before her eyes, piece by piece, from dream to fire.
***
«Mr. Macklin’s Jack O’Lantern» by David McCord
Mr. Macklin takes his knife
And carves the yellow pumpkin face:
Three holes bring eyes and nose to life,
The mouth has thirteen teeth in place.
Then Mr. Macklin just for fun
Transfers the corn-cob pipe from his
Wry mouth to Jack’s, and everyone
Dies laughing! O what fun it is
Till Mr. Macklin draws the shade
And lights the candle in Jack’s skull.
Then all the inside dark is made
As spooky and as horrorful
As Halloween, and creepy crawl
The shadows on the tool-house floor,
With Jack’s face dancing on the wall.
O Mr. Macklin! where’s the door?
***
«My Friend Jack» by Rick W. Cotton
Jack comes every year to visit me, And his grin just makes me smile. Nearly toothless, he doesn’t care. He happily laughs all the while.
Eyes glowing in mirth and merriment, He makes this time of year happy, Though he’s not much in conversation, And he has no repartee snappy.
Jack just stays for a few weeks Every year when the leaves turn yellow. He’s as welcome as he could possibly be. He’s quite the fun old fellow.
Now the sun goes down and the moon comes up, And the costumed monsters come calling. Light a candle to get Jack going! Fast! The eventide’s falling!
All Halloween night he sits with me, Grinning to greet the neighbors ‘Til his candle’s gone and he goes to sleep. These are hours that I truly savor.
So long old Jack, tomorrow’s November! We’ll see you again next year! When you come to visit from the pumpkin patch, We will all be waiting right here!
***
«Mystic Magination Night!» by Patricia L. Cisco
On one mystic, magic night, Jack O Lanterns glowing bright, kids with bags of candy sweet, roam door to door and street to street, all dressed up for trick or treat!
Wizards with wands, pirates with hooks, monsters and clowns with spooky looks,
kings and queens with capes and crowns, a princess in her royal gown,
witches with warts and fairies with wings movies stars with sparkling rings,
vampires with fangs that bite, ghost that boo all dressed in white.
Imaginations taken flight, on that one mystic, magic night.
Oh, the fun of Halloween, be young or old or in between!
***
«One Good Scare» by Patricia A. Fleming
I saw a shadow passing by, Thinking it just a trick of the eye. I turned on the light, but no one was there, Though I noticed a fragrance, thick in the air.
Convinced all was well, I lay myself down, But then, without warning, came a frightening sound. I could hear right beside me, so crystal clear, Someone was breathing right in my ear.
I turned on the light and jumped out of my bed, This time I was certain it was not in my head. The quiet that followed seemed abnormally loud, And there, in the doorway, I saw a dark cloud.
It floated right toward me as fast as could be, And then it just stopped, quite suddenly. And there I could see an old woman’s shape, Dressed in a flowing, black, hooded cape.
Slowly her eyes looked straight into mine, I felt locked in her stare for what seemed a long time. But then she just smiled a sick, toothless grin. As she lapsed into a wild and swift, twirling spin.
I felt mesmerized by this terrible sight, Unable to move, paralyzed with fright. And then once again came that sweet, sickening smell, Perhaps, I was smelling the doorway to hell.
A sinister cackling filled up the room, She sounded like a murderous, malevolent loon. She reached out her hands with black, claw-like nails, And then from her mouth came a torturous wail.
Her spinning slowed down and came to stop, Just like a child’s toy, spinning top. And then she was gone, she just disappeared. But I sat there unmoving, still lost in stark fear.
Then I crawled back to bed and curled up by the light. Grasping my Bible with all of my might. Praying and praying with heartfelt concern, That this monstrous spirit might make a return.
I watched as the clock ticked the long night away, Longing for the light of a brand new day. And over and over, I relived what I’d seen, And then suddenly remembered, it was Halloween.
Well it gave me relief; I now lay there quite calm, The horror I felt was suddenly gone. That crazy old woman was supposed to be there, On this day, above all, I deserved one good scare.
Well I felt like a load had been lifted from me, And as I relaxed I fell quickly to sleep. But I never forgot what that night I had seen, And when I was treated to a true Halloween.
***
«Pumpkin, Oh Pumpkin» by Christopher R. Riddels
Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, Your candle light’s bright. Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You shine bright through the night.
Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You sit on the porch. Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You’re a decorative torch.
Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, Your teeth so messed up, As you smile at the kids, As cute as a buttercup.
Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You bring me much joy. Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You make the children overjoyed.
Pumpkin, oh Pumpkin, You’re really a Jack-O’-Lantern
***
«Some One» by Walter de la Mare
Some one came knocking At my wee, small door; Some one came knocking, I’m sure—sure—sure; I listened, I opened, I looked to left and right, But nought there was a-stirring In the still dark night; Only the busy beetle Tap-tapping on the wall, Only from the forest The screech-owl’s call, Only the cricket whistling While the dewdrops fall, So I know not who came knocking,
At all, at all, at all.
***
«Song of the Witches: “Double, double toil and trouble” » by William Shakespeare
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Cool it with a baboon’s blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
***
«Song Of The Witches» by William Shakespeare
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. Harpier cries “‘Tis time, ’tis time.”
Round about the cauldron go; In the poison’d entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Swelter’d venom sleeping got Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.
Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog Wool of bat and tongue of dog Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing For a charm of powerful trouble Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
Cool it with a baboon’s blood Then the charm is firm and good.
By the pricking of my thumbs Something wicked this way comes.
***
«St. Mary’s Cemetery in Missoula» by Anne M. Doe Overstreet
Richard walks among the stones his own ghost surely meets him there.
Some tilt or sag, others deeper sunk slink or have slunk beneath the yew to hear its hiss.
He scrolls the names, wets his lips, begins again reciting the dead and dying, giving each
a living sound. The tongue can honor bones long after they are dust. The pool of an eye fills up,
the ear crackles with static exhaled from that strange conversion back to stone and soil. From there,
mouth full of German women, he prays. Among their conscious breath’s small ceasings
his lovers, students, compose their forms for sleep, exhale a last and incoherent I am.
***
«The Apparition» by John Donne
When by thy scorn, O murd’ress, I am dead And that thou think’st thee free From all solicitation from me Then shall my ghost come to thy bed And thee, feign’d vestal, in worse arms shall see; Then thy sick taper will begin to wink And he, whose thou art then, being tir’d before Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think Thou call’st for more And in false sleep will from thee shrink; And then, poor aspen wretch, neglected thou Bath’d in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lie A verier ghost than I. What I will say, I will not tell thee now Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent I’had rather thou shouldst painfully repent Than by my threat’nings rest still innocent.
***
«The Ghost» by Richard Jones
I live in a house with no windows a black curtain hangs on my door. The voices of conscience torment me I live in a room with no floor.
There’s dirt in the corner I can’t see there’s water that runs down the wall. There’re mice in the attic above me and rats playing games in the hall.
I live in a house with no windows and sleep in a room with no heat. The darkness of life that surrounds me Keeps out the sounds of the street.
I wake when the shadows have fallen and walk when the memories cease. When purpose in life has no meaning and only the wicked find peace.
Each night you sense that I’m by you you feel my breath as you sleep. You hear the faint creak of the floorboards as out from the shadows I creep.
I live in a house with no windows I live in a house that’s now yours It’s my voice you think that you’re hearing for I died in this room with no doors.
***
«The Hag» by Robert Herrick
The Hag is astride This night for to ride; The Devill and shee together: Through thick, and through thin Now out, and then in Though ne’r so foule be the weather.
A Thorn or a Burr She takes for a Spurre: With a lash of a Bramble she rides now Through Brakes and through Bryars O’re Ditches, and Mires She followes the Spirit that guides now.
No Beast, for his food Dares now range the wood; But husht in his laire he lies lurking: While mischeifs, by these On Land and on Seas At noone of Night are working.
The storme will arise And trouble the skies; This night, and more for the wonder The ghost from the Tomb Affrighted shall come Cal’d out by the clap of the Thunder.
***
«The House of Ghosts» by Margaret Widdemer
The House of Ghosts was bright within, Aglow and warm and gay, A place my own once loved me in, That is not there by day:
My hound lay drowsing on the floor: From sunken graves returned My folk that I was lonely for Sat where the hearth-fire burned.
There was no lightest echo lost When I undid the door, There was no shadow where I crossed The well-remembered floor.
I bent to whisper to my hound (So long he had been dead!) He slept no lighter nor more sound, He did not lift his head.
I brushed my father as I came; He did not move or see— I cried upon my mother’s name; She did not look at me.
Their faces in the firelight bent, They smiled in speaking slow Of some old gracious merriment Forgotten years ago.
I was so changed since they had died! How could they know or guess A voice that plead for love, and cried Of grief and loneliness?
Out from the House of Ghosts I fled Lest I should turn and see The child I had been lift her head And stare aghast at me!
***
«The New House» by Edward Thomas
Now first, as I shut the door I was alone In the new house; and the wind Began to moan.
Old at once was the house And I was old; My ears were teased with the dread Of what was foretold,
Nights of storm, days of mist, without end; Sad days when the sun Shone in vain: old griefs and griefs Not yest begun.
All was foretold me; naught Could I foresee; But I learnt how the wind would sound After these things should be.
***
«The Night Of Halloween» by Sandi VanderSluis
The Harvest moon fills the sky A wicked witch goes flying by
Ghosts and goblins..skeleton’s too. Moaning and groaning, waiting for you
Black cats prowl the graveyard plots Witches cook in cauldron pots
Cemetery ghouls roam the ground Not one unopened grave is found
Tombstones are an eerie sight Shadows dance in full moon light
The haunted house on the hill Walk in there and you get a chill
Jack-o-lanterns eyes so bright Trick or Treaters scream in fright
It’s a time like you’ve never seen Tonight’s the night of Halloween
***
«The Poor Ghost» by Christina Georgina Rossetti
“Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me With your golden hair all fallen below your knee And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?”
“From the other world I come back to you My locks are uncurled with dripping drenching dew. You know the old, whilst I know the new: But to-morrow you shall know this too.”
“Oh not to-morrow into the dark, I pray; Oh not to-morrow, too soon to go away: Here I feel warm and well-content and gay: Give me another year, another day.”
“Am I so changed in a day and a night That mine own only love shrinks from me with fright Is fain to turn away to left or right And cover up his eyes from the sight?”
“Indeed I loved you, my chosen friend I loved you for life, but life has an end; Through sickness I was ready to tend: But death mars all, which we cannot mend.”
“Indeed I loved you; I love you yet If you will stay where your bed is set Where I have planted a violet Which the wind waves, which the dew makes wet.”
“Life is gone, then love too is gone It was a reed that I leant upon: Never doubt I will leave you alone And not wake you rattling bone with bone. “
“I go home alone to my bed Dug deep at the foot and deep at the head Roofed in with a load of lead Warm enough for the forgotten dead.”
“But why did your tears soak through the clay And why did your sobs wake me where I lay? I was away, far enough away: Let me sleep now till the Judgment Day.”
***
«The Unreturned» by Wilfred Owen
Suddenly night crushed out the day and hurled Her remnants over cloud-peaks, thunder-walled. Then fell a stillness such as harks appalled When far-gone dead return upon the world.
There watched I for the Dead; but no ghost woke. Each one whom Life exiled I named and called. But they were all too far, or dumbed, or thralled And never one fared back to me or spoke.
Then peered the indefinite unshapen dawn With vacant gloaming, sad as half-lit minds The weak-limned hour when sick men’s sighs are drained. And while I wondered on their being withdrawn Gagged by the smothering Wing which none unbinds I dreaded even a heaven with doors so chained.
***
«The Vampire’s Kiss» by Jim Ellis
Beware the kiss of the living dead. It will leave you wanting. Hunger delays once he’s fed But soon restarts the hunting.
Daylight breaks and brings the night As deadly sleep takes over, And when the moon renews its light The corpsed shell grows colder.
A woman walking down the street, An invitation to dinner. She never hears the silent feet That carry the deadly sinner.
And as the fangs sink down deep, The hunter takes his prey. He prays the Lord her soul to keep Then slowly backs away.
Beware the kiss of the living dead. It will leave you wanting. Hunger delays once she’s fed But soon restarts the hunting.
***
«The Vampiress» by Stephannie Mossiah
Seduction, leaks off her flesh, attracting men, like bees to honey. With her long black hair shinning with smoothness, and a sexy snake-like body.
Her eyes, they pierce through you, with that unearthly beauty. Blood red they glow, magnificent hue, as they stare with a look; predatory.
Slim corpse-like fingers, caress the face of her testosterone filled meal. The smell of blood on her body lingers, making any man, a slave to her deadly appeal.
She smiles sinisterly, her face slightly distorted. Every move she makes is bewitchingly sexy, a glamor dance, readily accepted.
Fingers nails, as fast a lightening, cut through her prey’s throat like hot knife to butter. With outrageous moaning and groaning, she drinks the dark gore as it sputters.
She swallows the warm thick liquid to quench her insatiable thirst. Gaining strength from the fluid, and finally pops the head of first.
Her elongated canines, stained with the breath of life. She alone dines, on this unlucky soul, late tonight.
With the sun, her immortal enemy, In her world, behold the Dark Impress. Kneel before this heartless Queen, surrender your blood, to the Vampiress.
***
«The Witch Has Told You a Story» by Ava Leavell Haymon
You are food.
You are here for me
to eat. Fatten up,
and I will like you better.
Your brother will be first,
you must wait your turn.
Feed him yourself, you will
learn to do it. You will take him
eggs with yellow sauce, muffins
torn apart and leaking butter, fried meats
late in the morning, and always sweets
in a sticky parade from the kitchen.
His vigilance, an ice pick of hunger
pricking his insides, will melt
in the unctuous cream fillings.
He will forget. He will thank you
for it. His little finger stuck every day
through cracks in the bars
will grow sleek and round,
his hollow face swell
like the moon. He will stop dreaming
about fear in the woods without food.
He will lean toward the maw
of the oven as it opens
every afternoon, sighing
better and better smells.
***
«The Witch’s Song, from Macbeth» by William Shakespeare
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Cool it with a baboon’s blood, Then the charm is firm and good.
***
«The Witch» by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
I have walked a great while over the snow And I am not tall nor strong. My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set And the way was hard and long. I have wandered over the fruitful earth But I never came here before. Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
The cutting wind is a cruel foe. I dare not stand in the blast. My hands are stone, and my voice a groan And the worst of death is past. I am but a little maiden still My little white feet are sore. Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
Her voice was the voice that women have Who plead for their heart’s desire. She came – she came – and the quivering flame Sunk and died in the fire. It never was lit again on my hearth Since I hurried across the floor To lift her over the threshold, and let her in at the door.
***
«Theme in Yellow» by Carl Sandburg
I spot the hills With yellow balls in autumn. I light the prairie cornfields Orange and tawny gold clusters And I am called pumpkins. On the last of October When dusk is fallen Children join hands And circle round me Singing ghost songs And love to the harvest moon; I am a jack-o’-lantern With terrible teeth And the children know I am fooling.
***
«This Place Is Haunted» by Richard Jones
In screaming woods and empty rooms or gloomy vaults and sunken tombs; Where monks and nuns in dust decay and shadows dance at close of day.
Where the bat dips on the wing and spectral choirs on breezes sing; Where swords of ancient battles clash and shimmering shades for freedom dash.
Where raging storms at midnight howl and distant rolls of thunder growl. Where the hounds of hell take flight and ghost clouds race across the night.
Where silver webs of spiders weave and star-crossed lovers take their leave. Where curses lay the spirits low and mortal footsteps fear to go.
Where death holds life in grim embrace its lines etched on the sinner’s face. Where e’er the march of time is flaunted voices cry – “this place is haunted.”
***
«Trick Or Treat» by Jim Ellis
Candy, candy in the bag. It’s that time of year. Funny clown, witchy hag. Another house is near.
Popcorn balls and tootsie rolls. A handful is the best Taken from the biggest bowls At homes that pass the test.
Ding dong, ring the bell. Trick-or-treat is said, And if it does not go so well, Then mark the first word said.
Trees draped in toilet paper, Fecal bags on fire. Dressed like an undertaker, The trick was their desire.
Midnight comes, all bags are full. Time to count the bounty. The night is done; we’ve played our role All throughout the county.
Enjoy this yearly fun-filled night, Feast upon its riches From the first and final bite Of Hugs and Hershey Kisses.
***
«Witches’ Moon» by Rod I. Eaton
On ‘Tober nights ere Witches’ Moon, spirits sway and creatures croon. As darkness falls and shadows grow, haints and haunters fain to show.
Dry bones rise up to join the fun, clink and clacking as they run. A straggly scarecrow ‘stride a broom. rides beside her ghastly groom.
And long before faint daylight comes banshees beat upon their drums. Well shivers creep along your spine, wolves and wildies woof the time.
Then ghosties in the woods do soar, shrieking loudly with a roar. A caterwauling in the gloom, wailing at the Witches’ Moon.
With all the ghoulish guests now here, time to dine, since dawn is near. Please pass the wildroot, pass the cake. Plates begin to levitate.
Now pale light creeps across the sky. Morning’s nigh, ’tis time to fly. So with a whimper, not a bang, vampyre bares his single fang.
Pale zombies pass the graveyard gate with their clumsy, stumbly gait. And with a quiver and a moan howling dogs slink home alone.
Your heart slows down within your chest. Beastie souls lie down to rest. As spirits sway and creatures croon, bid goodnight, wan Witches’ Moon.
May the grace of Christ bring you hope and joy, and may the peace of Christ be yours. May Jesus, the Lord, the miracle of God, fill your heart with Christmas love.
May you hear the songs of the angels this morn’. May you feel the joy that Jesus Christ is born. May the beauty of Christmas surround you today. May you find joy this Christmas Day.
May you thank the Lord for the hope that He brings. May you know the love of Jesus Christ, the King. May you always believe that Christ came to save. May you find hope this Christmas Day.
May the peace of Christmas bring joy with no end. May you feel the love of family and friends. May the wonder of Christmas surround you today. May you feel peace this Christmas Day.
May you share this day with our Jesus in prayer. May you share this day and show all you care. May you gather together with loved ones this day. May you find Christ this Christmas Day.
By Marcia A. Newton
A Christmas Miracle
It was six months ago, and a day, when her husband passed away. The doctors said there’s no more to do, so she quit her job to help him through. The child was sleeping when his father died, to tell her son, oh how she tried. The little boy cried that night, full of fear, full of fright. And on that night she lost her faith, never to believe in the “Pearly Gate”. She made a vow to never pray, it meant nothing now, anyway. At the funeral, he could only stare, wishing that his Dad were there. Tears were filling people’s eyes, saddened by the young boy’s cries. As the months went by, things got rough, she went back to work, but it wasn’t enough. With no food, no money, and bills to pay, she just couldn’t bring herself to pray. Before she knew it, it was Christmas Time, and she wasn’t able to save a dime. She felt so bad that she had no tree, for all her son’s friends to see. On Christmas Eve, they slept together, she promised her son, she’d be there forever. He asked her if Santa was coming tonight, she whispered no, with tears in sight. Her son would sulk, it wasn’t fair, she hated to see him in despair. She wanted to give her son some joy, oh how she wished she had a toy.
THEN: The mother got to her knees to pray, asking the Lord to hear her say. She asked for help to return a smile, to the face of her little child. On Christmas Morning, the boy was screaming, she saw his eyes were wide and gleaming. At the door were games, toys, even a bike, and a card that said “for the tyke”. With a great big smile and eyes so bright, he kissed his mom as he held her tight. She learned that a charity heard of her plight, and frantically scrambled through the night.
THEN AGAIN: The mother got to her knees to pray, thanking the Lord for hearing her say. She thanked the Lord for returning a smile, to the face of her little child.
By Paul R. MacPherson Somerville
A Christmas Poem
October’s old witches and goblins have gone The turkey and stuffing are done The wind brings a chill as December arrives The tree lights all twinkle as one
The icicles hang from the roof-tops in town As the rain and the snow starts to fall The storefronts light up with Christmas displays And Santa arrives at the mall
As presents are bought and presents are wrapped For those that we love and adore A small child’s eyes, so young but so wise Wants one more trip to the store
The video game, the doll or the train Santa must know I’ve been good I’ll stay up all night, and help him unload And get all the gifts that I should
Yes, Christmas is here, the laughter and joy And all that goes with it, you see But when it is gone, our friendship goes on You make every day Christmas for me…
By Mike Kimes
A Christmas Wish
I wish I could go back to the past, of Christmases long ago. I wish I could see my loved ones who have passed on long ago.
I’d love to be that child again who sat on Santa’s knee. Yes, all these memories that I have decorating the tree.
I wish I could wake Christmas morn to see Daddy baking ham. And to see my mamma making her yummy famous candy yams.
I wish I could go to Grandma’s house; her cookies were the best. The pies and cakes that she would bake, she kept them in a chest.
Her house would smell like ginger, with a hint of Balsam Pine. She’d decorate the house with lights, and it would surely shine.
All these Christmas memories, it seems like yesteryear. I’d love to go back to the past. This is my Christmas prayer.
By Debra L. Brown
A Christmas Wish
A time of year To think of love and sharing A time of peace For the whole world to cherish A time to be with all your friends and family And wish them all A Merry Christmas
Making angels in the snow or sliding down a hill roasting chestnuts on the fire takes away the chill Candy canes and mistle toe and grand-ma’s home made pie Ginger bread and hot co-co You know it’s Christmas time
Seasons come and seasons pass but we still remember the joy we shared on Christmas last looking forward to next December Flowers bloom, then pumpkins grow, then suddenly it starts to snow. Then our hearts are young again You know it’s Christmas time.
On Christmas eve Santa will soon be coming with lots of toys for girls and boys to play with. To see their eyes sparkle like stars above is all we need for a Merry Christmas…. So live your life with kindness and love in your heart and you’ll always have a merry Christmas.
By Philippe Brisebois
A King
Christmas, a time of wonder and joy, A time to celebrate the birth of a baby boy.
A child innocent and true, A child sent as a gift to save me and you.
This wondrous story has reached all corners of this globe. A king is born but one who doesn’t wear a royal robe.
He will grow to teach and to love. He will spread the word of his father above.
His gentle ways and his touch will turn water to wine. This newborn child is wondrous and divine.
His word will be placed in a book for all to read. His words will help heal all those who are in need.
This is the gift, no price to ever be given, And even after death he will be risen.
His cries can be heard by all living things. This beautiful baby will grow to be king.
By Sandra Hearth
A Merry Christmas Wish for You
While you enjoy the gifts, food, sparkle of ornaments and lights, feasting on favorite foods, I wish this Christmas would envelop you in the special warmth and rich contentment the season brings.
I wish friends, family, all those who love you let you know how much they care, so that you feel happily wrapped in their affection.
I wish this Christmas would be one you never forget, a shining beacon in your memory to light all of your days.
By Joanna Fuchs
A Search This Christmas
Christmas looms near. People pass by, singing and smiling, and giving good cheer. I look at their faces, and strain to find a clue or a hint of some pain close to mine. I see bright, shiny eyes that seemingly smile, and a nod of greetings while they’re all passing by. I continue to watch, amazed at their will to go on with lives while mine’s lying still. Shops all amassed with holiday mirth, celebrating our one true Christ Savior’s birth, but there are those of us looking, no matter how mild, for another soul getting through Christmas without their sweet child.
By Leslie C. Boren
A Sunny Christmas
Every year at Christmas time There’s not a sign of snow. Instead we spend our yuletide days In the sun’s warm cheery glow.
We have the best of Christmas things, The lights, the gifts, the bells, (And “snowbirds” who arrive en masse To fill our beach hotels.)
The glorious weather fits right in With our happy Christmas mood, And we can also walk and run Without having to be snowshoed.
So don’t feel bad for your (location) friends Who have no snow or ice. We think our sunny Christmas here Is a holiday paradise!
By Joanna Fuchs
Angel With A Gold Bow
The boys sit down in the park beneath the tree, Praying that their parents could look down and see. The beautiful angel on top with the pretty gold bow, And all of the presents that lay wrapped below. Christmas at their house had been full of smiles, Now a smile can’t be seen for miles. When their dad went away everything went wrong, It’s been a few months but it has seemed so long. A woman walked by and saw the boys, And handed them two carefully wrapped toys. She found the local orphanage from which they ran, And nearly cried when she spoke to the man. On Christmas Eve she adopted the boys, And took them home to see all the toys. They had bought an angel for the top of the tree, It was tall enough for heaven to see. Soon their parents would surely see The angel with the gold bow on top of their tree.
By Virginia A. Parks
At Christmas
A man is at his finest towards the finish of the year; He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season is here; Then he’s thinking more of others than he’s thought the months before, And the laughter of his children is a joy worth toiling for. He is less a selfish creature than at any other time; When the Christmas spirit rules him he comes close to the sublime.
When it’s Christmas man is bigger and is better in his part; He is keener for the service that is prompted by the heart. All the petty thoughts and narrow seem to vanish for awhile And the true reward he’s seeking is the glory of a smile. Then for others he is toiling and somehow it seems to me That at Christmas he is almost what God wanted him to be.
If I had to paint a picture of a man I think I’d wait Till he’d fought his selfish battles and had put aside his hate. I’d not catch him at his labors when his thoughts are all of pelf, On the long days and the dreary when he’s striving for himself. I’d not take him when he’s sneering, when he’s scornful or depressed, But I’d look for him at Christmas when he’s shining at his best.
Man is ever in a struggle and he’s oft misunderstood; There are days the worst that’s in him is the master of the good, But at Christmas kindness rules him and he puts himself aside And his petty hates are vanquished and his heart is opened wide. Oh, I don’t know how to say it, but somehow it seems to me That at Christmas man is almost what God sent him here to be
By Edgar Guest
Be My Christmas Gift
If you sat beneath the Christmas tree, You’d sure add to the décor, But even if you were gift wrapped, dear, I couldn’t love you more.
You have to know that if I had you, I’d have the gift I’d most adore, Better than any expensive gift I could purchase in a store.
If you hug me tight, you wonderful thing, And be my Christmas gift, You’ll brighten my days forevermore And give my heart a lift.
By Karl Fuchs
Blessings And Good Tidings
Rows of houses blanketed with snow. Christmas lights lucent and aglow. A reindeer, a sleigh, like artwork on display. Stories unraveling, brass bells ringing, Smiles and laughter and joyful singing. Come, gather ’round the table tonight!
Cold is the winter. Warm is the fire. Blessings, good tidings to all of your days.
‘Tis the season to celebrate! Sheath your swords of anger and hate. A candle, a wish, the flickering of a flame, Love everlasting, love never ceasing, Peace and rest to ease our breathing. Come, gather ’round the table tonight!
Cold is the winter. Warm is the fire. Blessings, good tidings to all of your days.
By Charissa K. Cheuk
Candlelit Heart
Somewhere across the winter world tonight You will be hearing chimes that fill the air; Christmas extends its all-enfolding light Across the distance…something we can share.
You will be singing, just the same as I, These familiar songs we know so well, And you will see these same stars in your sky And wish upon that brightest one that fell.
I shall remember you and trim my tree, One shining star upon the topmost bough; I will hang wreaths of faith that all may see — Tonight I glimpse beyond the hear and now.
And all the time that we must be apart I keep a candle in my heart.
By Mary E. Linton
Cherish His Christmas
Christmas brings such a time of love Each tender heart holds so much of Unselfishness thrives, trust is strong The purpose to give, send love along.
A time of pleasantries, patience too Good wishes to all, all feelings true Thankfulness follows each fine deed Gifts from our God, never from greed.
Great the rewards that joy does bring Like the beauty in hearing angels sing We pray for our loved, each so dear Especially those who can’t be near.
Many leave home to bravely serve All freedoms we have, they preserve Do pray for our troops, as we should And their families too, if you would.
Give thanks to our Lord, His only Son And cherish His Christmas, everyone.
By Roger J. Robicheau
Christmas
December is here and there’s ice all around. All the leaves are gone and the soil has hardened on the ground.
Icy breath as you exhale, Waiting for wrapped parcels to be delivered in the mail.
Baubles and tinsel and candy canes, Snow now settling on the window panes.
Trees all a glitter as we pass by. Hot cups of chocolate and homemade mince pie.
Smells of puddings, cakes and all things good, Crackling fires as we burn more wood.
Carols heard from across the park. Lights all glistening as they brighten up the dark.
Families gather to spend this day as one, Hugging, talking, putting right all that’s wrong.
But much more than all of this above, This is a time for forgiveness and love.
It’s Christmas and a time of joy. It’s the birthday of a special baby boy.
It’s about a story that’s lasted throughout the ages of time, About a man who turned water into wine.
He helped and he protected all in need, And the poorly he healed and the hungry he did feed.
A gift above gifts, for all of mankind. So perfect, so gentle, so divine.
A time to celebrate on the 25th of December. A time to be grateful and a time to remember.
With thanks and gifts they did bring. It’s time once again to rejoice the birth of a king.
By Sandra Hearth
Christmas
It is seven a.m., And the snow is falling As I look outside At the carolers calling.
I wake up my parents And rush to the tree To find a room full of presents Just for me.
The hot chocolate is stirring, And the food is being made As we head to my grandma’s To visit and stay.
As I see my family gathered And laughing away, I think to myself, How I love Christmas Day.
By Kolton Myatt
Christmas As A Holiday
Christmas is a holiday for friends, However, they may be, or not, related. Remember that the three wise kings were strangers In search of one remote, uncanny dream. So may we all be far more than we seem, Together bound for dark and haunting changes, More lovely for the loves we have created Along the lonely paths from means to ends, Stumbling towards that star of Bethlehem.
By Nicholas Gordon
Christmas Bells
I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till ringing, singing on its way, The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, A chant sublime Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannon thundered in the South, And with the sound The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent The hearth-stones of a continent, And made forlorn The households born Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head; “There is no peace on earth,” I said; For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men.”
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Christmas Bells
I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till ringing, singing on its way, The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, A chant sublime Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannon thundered in the South, And with the sound The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent The hearth-stones of a continent, And made forlorn The households born Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head; “There is no peace on earth,” I said; “For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men.”
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Christmas Carol
The kings they came from out the south, All dressed in ermine fine; They bore Him gold and chrysoprase, And gifts of precious wine.
The shepherds came from out the north, Their coats were brown and old; They brought Him little new-born lambs— They had not any gold.
The wise men came from out the east, And they were wrapped in white; The star that led them all the way Did glorify the night.
The angels came from heaven high, And they were clad with wings; And lo, they brought a joyful song The host of heaven sings.
The kings they knocked upon the door, The wise men entered in, The shepherds followed after them To hear the song begin.
The angels sang through all the night Until the rising sun, But little Jesus fell asleep Before the song was done.
By Sara Teasdale
Christmas Carol
Ring out, ye bells!
All Nature swells
With gladness at the wondrous story,—
The world was lorn,
But Christ is born
To change our sadness into glory.
Sing, earthlings, sing!
To-night a King
Hath come from heaven’s high throne to bless us.
The outstretched hand
O’er all the land
Is raised in pity to caress us.
Come at his call;
Be joyful all;
Away with mourning and with sadness!
The heavenly choir
With holy fire
Their voices raise in songs of gladness.
The darkness breaks
And Dawn awakes,
Her cheeks suffused with youthful blushes.
The rocks and stones
In holy tones
Are singing sweeter than the thrushes.
Then why should we
In silence be,
When Nature lends her voice to praises;
When heaven and earth
Proclaim the truth
Of Him for whom that lone star blazes?
No, be not still,
But with a will
Strike all your harps and set them ringing;
On hill and heath
Let every breath
Throw all its power into singing!
By Paul Laurence Dunbar
Christmas Day
Across a white December night, Each home is filled with candle light. The moon shines brightly in a golden sky. Stars are twinkling way up high.
The cool, still air, a glistening frost, Smoking chimneys on white rooftops. The Christmas tree, the mistletoe, Christmas carols, our loved ones at home.
Christmas is a time for merriment and cheer. It’s also a time to thank God we’re here. So when we wake on a bright Christmas morn, Remember the reason we celebrate. It’s the day our Saviour was born.
John P.
Christmas Eve
A frosty Christmas Eve
when the stars were shining
Fared I forth alone
where westward falls the hill,
And from many a village
in the water’d valley
Distant music reach’d me
peals of bells aringing:
The constellated sounds
ran sprinkling on earth’s floor
As the dark vault above
with stars was spangled o’er.
Then sped my thoughts to keep
that first Christmas of all
When the shepherds watching
by their folds ere the dawn
Heard music in the fields
and marveling could not tell
Whether it were angels
or the bright stars singing.
Now blessed be the tow’rs
that crown England so fair
That stand up strong in prayer
unto God for our souls
Blessed be their founders
(said I) an’ our country folk
Who are ringing for Christ
in the belfries to-night
With arms lifted to clutch
the rattling ropes that race
Into the dark above
and the mad romping din.
But to me heard afar
it was starry music
Angels’ song, comforting
as the comfort of Christ
When he spake tenderly
to his sorrowful flock:
The old words came to me
by the riches of time
Mellow’d and transfigured
as I stood on the hill
Heark’ning in the aspect
of th’ eternal silence.
By Robert Bridges
Christmas Eve
Straight thro’ a fold of purple mist
The sun goes down—a crimson wheel—
And like an opal burns the sea
That once was cold as steel.
With pomp of purple, gold and red,
Thou wilt come back at morrow’s dawn…
But thou can’st never bring, O Sun,
The Christmas that is gone!
By Ella Higginson
Christmas Feelings
That cheerful feeling In the air With a bit of love All around
The food is on the table And the presents under the tree Dinner is ready So come on, let’s eat
Everyone is at the table Eating their Christmas meals Because it’s the most Wonderful time of the year
Look out your window Thank God for letting it snow It’s the best time of the year To spend it with the family
The night has passed And the day has come There are presents to open And more fun to come
But it’s not about presents It’s not about food It’s about family time That’s Christmas time
By Maria Carrion
Christmas for My Sweets
There’s no better Christmas gift in my whole life Than having you as my wonderful wife. I’m blessed each day when I see your smile, And I hope it keeps shining for quite a long while.
So on this wonderful Christmas day, Hope for your happiness is what I pray. I love you a lot, my Sweets, my wife. I wish you’ll be happy for the rest of your life.
By Karl and Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Greeting
C- Christmas Day, the church bells ring H- Holy night, the angels sing R- Rejoice and praise I- In Christ our King S- Sacrificed for all our sins T- Through faith and love we worship Him. M- Merry Christmas, everyone A- Amen, God bless S- Share your love, have fun.
By John P.
Christmas In Heaven
Santa, do you know where heaven is? Maybe your reindeer know the way. For I have a special present I need delivered on Christmas day.
For Christmas is a time for sharing With those we hold so dear. Please take this gift, with all my love For an angel who’s no longer here.
It’s wrapped up in all our memories We once shared from the past. The ribbons and bows are all our dreams. Inside there’s a broken heart.
It’s such a special parcel. Please Santa, don’t delay. I would love it to be in heaven In time for Christmas day.
By John P. Read
Christmas In My Eyes
People saying, “Ho, Ho, Ho” Lovers kissing under the mistletoe Children playing in the snow
Families making homemade treats Teens with fuzzy socks on their feet Dogs and cats sitting by the fire heat
Shoppers looking for the best gift Employees working on their last shift Students getting home before the snow drifts
Choirs singing, “Noel, Noel, Noel!” Volunteers ringing little bells Candles with winter smells
Reindeer flying through the skies Everyone waking up to a surprise That’s what Christmas is in my eyes
By Ella J. Phillips
Christmas Is Here
Cold days and hard long nights. Trees shimmed with tiny lights, Their branches pointing ever high, Reaching for the midnight sky. Christmas is here!
Delicate snowflake dancing down, Piling high across the town. Children running ’round and ’round While parents watch in the background. Christmas is here!
Warming cold hands by the fire, Listening to singing by the choir. Stockings hanging in a row, Wishing not to go so low. Christmas is here!
As children climb into bed, Santa arrives with his sled. Mince pies stuffed in his mouth, As he shouts: “HO, HO, HO, Christmas is here!”
By Abundance Nwosu
Christmas Joys
Evergreen boughs that fill our homes With fragrant Christmas scents, Hearts filled with the loving glow That Christmas represents;
Christmas cookies, turkeys stuffed, Festive holly berry, Little faces bright with joy, Loved ones being merry;
Parties, songs, beribboned gifts, Silver bells that tinkle, Christmas trees and ornaments, Colorful lights that twinkle;
Relatives waiting with open arms To smile and hug and kiss us; These are some of the special joys That come along with Christmas.
By Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Long Ago
Frosty days and ice-still nights, Fir trees trimmed with tiny lights, Sound of sleigh bells in the snow, That was Christmas long ago.
Tykes on sleds and shouts of glee, Icy-window filigree, Sugarplums and candle glow, Part of Christmas long ago.
Footsteps stealthy on the stair, Sweet-voiced carols in the air, Stocking hanging in a row, Tell of Christmas long ago.
Starry nights so still and blue, Good friends calling out to you, Life, so fact, will always slow… For dreams of Christmas long ago.
By Jo Geis
Christmas Love
At Christmastime I think of all the gifts That bring me great delight and sweet surprise, But nothing in this world can bring such joy As you do, when you look into my eyes.
And when I contemplate what Christmas means, The caring and the giving–I confess, You’ve given me the things I want the most: Your love, your touch, your kiss, your warm caress.
The Christmas tree reminds me, with its lights That just the thought of you sets me aglow; You light me up from deep within my heart, Because I cherish you, and love you so.
With you it’s Christmas all the time, sweetheart. I treasure every hour and every minute. Your love is all I’ll ever want because, My life is so fulfilling with you in it.
By Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Magic
Are we too grownup to feel a thrill As we light the Christmas tree? Are we immune to cookies, Christmas cards and Christmas glee?
Are we too adult to “Ooh” and “Aah” At the Christmas candle’s glow? Are we blasé about our gifts; Do we shun the mistletoe?
Are we too mature for carols, For merry or for jolly? Do the decorations leave us cold, The ornaments and holly?
Fat chance! We’ll never grow too old To love the Christmas magic. A year without a Christmas Would be boring, even tragic.
So bring it on! The candy canes, The feasting and good cheer; O Christmas, lovely Christmas, You’re the highlight of the year!
By Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Memories
It’s such a warming Feeling Being surrounded by Christmas Expectation fills the Air. The sparkle the Glitter Presents under the Tree With loved ones our dreams we Share.
The sound of Christmas Carols Choirs singing silent Night. A time to Reflect And thank God Above As we herald the most holy Night.
A time to remember loved Ones Who we have lost along the Way. Grief is a heavy Burden Much more Poignant Come Christmas Day.
As a child I believed in Santa And that there was a God Above. And as a Kid They never once let me Down Ahh! If only they could bring back the ones I love.
All those Christmases spent Together Now a family torn Apart. A home now bathed in Silence With only memories to warm the Heart.
By John P.
Christmas Now And Then
Well, it is December, and Christmas is almost here Another happy Christmas for family and good cheer There will be tables loaded with turkeys, hams and sweets We know there will be more than we could ever eat
There will be a big tree shining so bright With beautiful decorations and pretty shiny lights Under that tree there will be presents galore So many you would wonder how there could be anything left in the store
Christmas now is really so much fun But gosh there is just too much for everyone My thoughts go back to a cold Christmas long ago To a family not blessed with riches and gold
Our little tree was kind of skimpy, with some ribbons and a few shiny balls But to us it stood magnificent, the greatest of them all Under that tree was a present for Raye, a present for Sister and a present for me And we could hardly wait as we would open them with glee
There was not a lot of fancy food on that table, times were kind of tough But we were all happy, and for us it was enough We were so thankful as we thanked the Lord above We knew what we had was paid for with Daddy’s hard work and Mama’s love
I’m thankful that we now have so much and our blessings are many And it is good to live in this great land of plenty But I would gladly give every material thing that I own To have one more Christmas with Mama and Daddy and my two sisters at home
By Wayne Baggerly
Christmas Past, Present And Future
Christmas Past, Present & Future….
Present
Each morning as I lie awake, I pray my soul the Lord to take. For memories are far too deep to pray the Lord my soul to keep.
Good memories when you were here to fill us all with Christmas cheer, but God above was all alone and took you for his very own.
And though we know that you are near, each Christmas we are filled with fear. How will we cope without you there? We’re left staring at an empty chair.
Past
But cope we do – we all survive We remember when you were alive, knelt down by the glistening tree, shaking presents trying to see.
On Christmas morn you’d wake to find those presents Santa left behind. These memories all bring a tear for you held Christmas time so dear.
Future
And now five Christmases unwind. Our memories are all enshrined, for in our hearts you’ll always be until God comes to set us free.
Then we can be together again. Forget heartache – forget the pain, but now until our time is due, Merry Christmas, we love you!
By Eric R. Harvey
Christmas Sensations
Christmas lights twinkle and shine as bright as the stars in the sky on a cold, clear night. The fresh blanket of fallen snow, it looks so pretty on the tree boughs. People bundled up so warm, rushing to and fro, don’t forget the mistletoe!
Child laughter, building snowmen, sled riding or ice skating, they are all patiently waiting. Quiet whispers and footsteps creeping, very soon you’ll hear paper crinkling. Keeping beat with the Christmas season are bells ringing, the rhythm and rhyme come from the carolers singing.
The turkey is stuffed and ready for roasting, the bread has risen and ready for toasting. The soft glow of a cinnamon scented candle is fine, the Christmas tree that smells like pine. Pumpkin pie, apple pie and all the cookies you can eat, a cup of cocoa and a candy cane sure are sweet.
Most important is family, friends and lots of caring, cuddles, kisses and hugs for sharing. Grab your slippers and a cozy robe and come sit by the fire, hurry along before Grammy retires. Let me read you a story and you stay awhile, your children and their children all smile!
By Arlene Blessing
Christmas Time
At Christmas, lights burn brighter, and friendly hugs get even tighter. The spirit of Christmas fills the air, and people seem to really care.
Merry hearts are filled with cheer. Families and friends all draw near. The streets around are all filled despite the cold winter chill.
Everywhere there’s smiling faces, giving and receiving warm embraces. And for a time, sadness disappear. Peace, joy and hope replaces fear.
All because God’s love came down and filled the earth all around. So we celebrate at Christmas time our Savior and Lord, holy, divine!
We honor Jesus throughout the year so the Christmas spirit will linger near. For the story of His birth is ours to tell – that Jesus became our Emmanuel
By Lenora McWhorter
Christmas Time
Christmas time is finally here. It only comes but once a year, And it’s a time to spread good cheer To those we love and hold so dear.
Christmas time is a time of glee, A time when peace and love run free, A time for those like you and me To sit beneath the Christmas tree.
Christmas time is a time of joy, A time to sit back and enjoy The smile on each girl and boy, As they play with a Christmas toy.
Christmas time is a time to share The passing of another year. Birth of Jesus, a joyful prayer, To show loved ones how much we care.
Christmas time is a time for song, A time for us to get along, To make us feel Lord Jesus strong, Forgive all those who did us wrong.
Christmas time is a time to pray, Put love and kindness on display, Show compassion along the way. Christmas time should be every day.
By Ronald Doe
Christmas Time Together
For most, this time of year Is ornaments, lights and gifts. People are out to shop, Though snow may mass in drifts.
For me this time is different From what others feel and see; For me it’s just more happiness Full of you and me.
You fill my life with joy Each moment that we share. I’m thankful for time with you; Nothing can compare.
I want to make life good for you In every way I can. You’ve been my own true love Since our relationship began.
So I’m writing you this poem To help you to feel my love; We can be this way forever, With help from up above.
By Karl and Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Tree Poem
Christmas tree, sparkling bright, Filled with baubles, warmth and light, Precious symbol of our affection For Christmas time and its perfection, Show each night your radiant glory For “oohs” and “aahs” obligatory.
Christmas tree, don’t let us down; Show something special at your crown, An angel, star, or splendid piece To make our holiday joy increase, An icon, pure, ideal, complete, For Christmas memories fond and sweet.
Glitter and glisten, gleam and glow, Oh Christmas tree, we love you so!
By Joanna Fuchs
Christmas Wishes For You
May peace dwell with you, may prosperity huddle near. May family gather together without heartache or tear.
There is a star shining in the night sky … just there. It is for you to wish upon to keep you safe from care.
May everything you need be yours to have and proclaim as you’re due; just close your eyes and ask it in His precious name.
Merry Christmas to you, friend. Let your season be a blessed one filled with love and cheer and more. Smile, laugh, and enjoy the fun.
By Sherry Asbury
Christmastide
Love came down at Christmas, Love all lovely, Love Divine; Love was born at Christmas, Star and Angels gave the sign.
Worship we the Godhead, Love Incarnate, Love Divine; Worship we our Jesus: But wherewith for sacred sign?
Love shall be our token, Love be yours and love be mine, Love to God and all men, Love for plea and gift and sign.
By Christina Rossetti
Christ’s Advent
Silent soft snow descends. Lights reflect into the night. The world seems to wait, Hushed before Christmas’s delight.
The days creep gradually shorter. Children feel the magic grow. Oh when will Christ’s birth come? “Soon,” whispers the silent snow.
Cookies baked, trees trimmed. The world builds anticipation, Yet the manger is missing the Christ, The Source of this festive sensation.
Coloured lights keep vigil. Garlands and trees emerge. Cards get mailed to kin. “Come Christmas,” children urge.
Then one night, the 25th, A bell, a soft bell rang. Then angels came and proclaimed Christ is born, they sang!
The people sitting in darkness Heard the joyful song. They rang their bells and rejoiced. Come, let’s sing along!
Now, in this Christmas season May Christ’s joy rest every fear, And may your heart grow younger In the coming New Year!
By Michaela Hart
Dear Santa
Dear Santa,
For Christmas this year I would most love to see Two plane tickets to Arizona placed under my tree.
You see, my Aunt had a baby and my Nannie’s real ill I haven’t the money to send both my sister and I, unless you will.
You can send us the cash, you can take us yourself We can even fly there with your most responsible elf.
Oh please Santa, get us both there somehow. We could wait until later, but it’s best to go now.
Nannies going through surgery, we’re not sure if she’ll live, And well, this is the season for everyone to give,
I only want to see her, yes, this is all I ask. Is my Christmas wish such a difficult task?
When you get this and read it, think it over a time or two. I know this is a hard decision, but I’m positive you’ve had a few.
Even if one ticket is all you can give, Don’t worry. I’ll send my sister and pray that dear Nannie will live.
I’m sorry I’ve been bad, next year I’ll try to be better. You have a big job, so I oughta end this letter. Have a Merry Christmas Santa, tell the elves and Mrs. Claus I said hi. Thank you for your time Sir, now I must say good bye.
P.S. The milk is in a glass and the cookies on a tray. You know where I live, so nothing more shall I say.
By Shandelle Sioch
December 23rd
Today, December 23rd, another Christmas nears. I try to keep tradition up while holding back my tears.
I know I have been blessed for all the many years of love and joy and family and times we had to share.
The presents wrapped, the tree is lit, the wreath upon the door, but pondering all the Christmases past and tears begin to fall.
This Christmas will be different, for some very special loved ones have received God’s final call.
Then I dry my tears and say a special prayer. Dear God, my gift to you is that soul I loved so dear.
I thank you for their life and love I was so blessed to share.
Now all that I can ask of you is to keep them in your care! I also want to offer you my each and every tear.
Now I promise to make Christmas joy for those I still have here and put a smile upon their face while we have time to share.
Amen
By Patricia L. Cisco
Dreading Christmastime
I’m dreading Christmastime this year Because I have so much to fear:
An empty space beside my chair, No gentle caress upon my hair,
No Christmas card from him to read, No loving kiss upon my cheek.
The mistletoe will be unused, And songs will make my heart feel bruised.
My heart is heavy, my pain is great. There’s nothing left to celebrate.
For my love has gone beyond the veil, And all I want to do is wail:
“Christmastime, leave me alone!” Happiness has left my home.
By Victoria L. Thomas
First Christmas Without You
The nights are long and cold; the sun is hardly around. Christmas time is approaching, and snow will soon cover the ground. Trees and lights are twinkling; stockings are being hung. The Christmas spirit is all around as carols are being sung. This year Christmas is not the same, just a yearly memory. This house is not a home anymore because you are not here with me. There will be sadness; there will be tears when we wake up on Christmas day, For this will be the first without you; oh, how I wish heaven was just a mile away. As we sit around the Christmas tree, emotions will be sad. Gifts for them, gifts for me, but none of them will say DAD. All I want for Christmas is to see your smiling face. I know it cannot happen because you are in a better place. Please…DAD ring a bell for me on Christmas day So I will know you got your wings and that you are okay. I am not looking forward to Christmas, but I know it’s something I have to live through. I hope there is Christmas in heaven, because it is not the same here without you.
Jamie A. Cirello
For My Teacher At Christmas
Christmas vacation is great; My time is mine to spend; I can be with friends or watch TV; I wish it would never end.
I don’t miss school or homework; I really like to be free; But I’ll miss you when I’m gone from school; You’re just what a teacher should be.
So have a perfect Christmas; Be sure to have lots of fun; I look forward to seeing you again, When Christmas vacation is done.
By Joanna Fuchs
Forever And A Day
If I had one Christmas wish For family and friends this year, We would take the opportunity to strengthen values and beliefs We hold so dear.
We would make time to sit at the table, Break bread with those we love, Fold our hands and bow our head, Giving thanks to our Father above.
Read a book to the children, Try to make the moments last. Talk to them about family traditions, Connecting with members of family past.
We would indulge in enjoyable stories, Talk about our role models that paved the way, Take comfort in the traditions that bring us together, Creating a lasting bond, forever and a day.
By Annette R. Hershey
From Us To You
It’s Christmas time, And I wish you well. May the Lord bless you With the best of health.
I hope the stockings are hung And you’re filled with wonder. There are so many surprises For you to ponder.
May your children be merry When Santa brings toys. Some for the girls And some for the boys.
I pray you have food And plenty to eat: Turkey and gravy And lots of sweets.
I hope your family’s there, Friends and neighbors, too. So merry Christmas From all of us to all of you.
By Dusty Kallembach
Gift Of Magic And Love
‘Tis the season for warmth and cheer, To be with our family and those we hold dear. But what if we are miles away? What if we can’t be there on Christmas day?
We could send a beautiful Christmas card, A glittery ornament that shines like a star, A tin of cookies so warm and sweet, But there’s only one gift that makes it complete.
It’s sent through the snowflakes in the air, Through an angel’s peaceful and heavenly prayer, Through the verdant Christmas tree, Through the Holy Babe, sleeping peacefully.
This gift is magical in every way. It only comes on Christmas day. It’s what makes us truly rich; A heartfelt, loving Christmas wish.
It’s bright and big like the Bethlehem star. It stretches wide and travels far. It’s the first snow of Christmas day. It’s the sun’s warm and hopeful ray.
This precious gift I gladly send. It’s a Christmas wish to my family and friends: May love, peace, and joy in your lives stay, And may you have a Merry Christmas – always!
By Ciana R. Geckle
Greatest Gifts
It’s not all about presents Laying under the tree. Trinkets made of gold Mean nothing to me.
It’s not all about money. What joy can it bring? It’s being wanted and loved, Not material things.
Possessions can’t hug you Or give you a kiss. Christmas with loved ones Is what I miss.
Christmas presents are just temporary. Their joy is short lived. Only love and loved ones Are the greatest of gifts.
By John P.
Help Wanted
Santa needs new reindeer. The first bunch has grown old. Dasher has arthritis; Comet hates the cold. Prancer’s sick of staring at Dancer’s big behind. Cupid married Blitzen and Donder lost his mind. Dancer’s mad at Vixen for stepping on his toes. Vixen’s being thrown out— she laughed at Rudolph’s nose. If you are a reindeer we hope you will apply. There is just one tricky part: You must know how to fly.
By Timothy Tocher
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
…So he paused. And the Grinch put his hand to his ear. And he did hear a sound rising over the snow. It started in low. Then it started to grow. But the sound wasn’t sad! Why, this sound sounded merry! It couldn’t be so! But it WAS merry! VERY! He stared down at Whoville! The Grinch popped his eyes! Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise! Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small, Was singing! Without any presents at all! He HADN’T stopped Christmas from coming! IT CAME! Somehow or other, it came just the same! And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow, Stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could it be so?” “It came with out ribbons! It came without tags!” “It came without packages, boxes or bags!” And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before! “Maybe Christmas,” he thought, “doesn’t come from a store.” “Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!”…
By Dr. Suess
In the Bleak Midwinter
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,
Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.
Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.
By Christina Rossetti
It’s Nearly Christmas
I write this in September And I can already see my breath Because the temperature is falling To fifty degrees or less; There are frosted mornings And skies are turning gray; Next thing, there’ll be snowdrifts Fit for a sleigh.
In stores, they’re gearing for Halloween With pumpkins on display; After October 31, we’ll count the days To shop til Kris Kringle Day; Just when I thought the craze was over And the presents were put away, Alas! I hear Santa “ho-hoing”, It’s nearly Christmas Day.
Christmas is a magical time, Is there any doubt? But I’m going to need a psychotherapist To get my anxeties out! The sugarplums might be dancing, But they’re messing up my mind; The silver bells aren’t doing much To help me unwind.
September comes and October goes, November is just a glance; Once again, there’ll be invitations To another holiday dance; I’ll decorate the Christmas tree With icicles, stars, and lights, But I’ll need a ton of eggnog To get me through this night!
By Joel Bjorling
It’s Christmas Time
Put your problems on probation Run your troubles off the track, Throw your worries out the window Get the monkeys off your back. Silence all your inner critics With your conscience make amends, And allow yourself some happiness It’s Christmas time again! Call a truce with those who bother you Let all the fighting cease, Give your differences a breather And declare a time of peace, Don’t let angry feelings taint The precious time you have to spend, And allow yourself some happiness It’s Christmas time again! Like some cool refreshing water Or a gentle summer breeze, Like a fresh bouquet of flowers Or the smell of autumn leaves, It’s a banquet for the spirit Filled with family, food and friends, So allow yourself some happiness It’s Christmas time again!
By Bob Lazzar-Atwood
It’s Still About Jesus
For every Christmas carol we sing, For every present under the tree, For every child that smiles with glee, It’s still about Jesus.
For all the joy the season brings, For every shiny, glowing thing, For every Christmas light that shines without, It’s still about Jesus.
As the joy of giving is in the air, Also, the bounty of many blessings with much to spare, With food beyond measure in which we shall feast, The rejoicing of precious life makes it all complete.
Giving thanks through prayer is a timely pleasure, For the birth of our Savior is the greatest treasure.
For with hope and grace in which we are so faithfully bound, For it is the love of our Lord God in which we were found.
Brings to my remembrance of how Christmas began, A King was born to save the souls of all men.
By Paul Felix
Jesus Is The Reason
In Bethlehem, God gave to us The source of Christmas joy; A star shown on a miracle: The virgin birth of a boy.
He was born both God and man, A Savior for us all, The way to get to our heavenly home, If we just heed His call.
So as we shop and spend and wrap And enjoy the Christmas season, Let’s keep in mind the sacred truth: Jesus is the reason.
By Joanna Fuchs
Listening For Santa
A squeak on the stairs. Could Santa be here? Better pull my blankets Up to my ears.
He comes down the chimney, That’s how he gets in. Santa uses magic To make himself thin.
I better keep still, Can’t make a peep. He doesn’t leave toys, Unless you’re asleep.
My door just opened. Someone’s by my bed. It wasn’t Santa after all, ‘Cause Mom just kissed my head.
By Annabel Sheila
Little Tree
little tree little silent Christmas tree you are so little you are more like a flower who found you in the green forest and were you very sorry to come away? see i will comfort you because you smell so sweetly i will kiss your cool bark and hug you safe and tight just as your mother would, only don’t be afraid look the spangles that sleep all the year in a dark box dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine, the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads, put up your little arms and i’ll give them all to you to hold every finger shall have its ring and there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy…
By E.E. Cummings
Love Came Down at Christmas
Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love Divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.
Worship we the Godhead,
Love Incarnate, Love Divine;
Worship we our Jesus:
But wherewith for sacred sign?
Love shall be our token,
Love be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign
By Christina Rossetti
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
We’re wishing you a Christmas Full of laughter, love and light, With delicious holiday foods To excite your appetite.
We’re hoping you receive Delightful gifts to make you smile, With family and friends To love you all the while.
We wish you a Merry Christmas; May your Christmas dreams come true, And when Christmas is over, Happy New Year, too!
By Joanna Fuchs
Merry Christmas Daddy
The Christmas lights twinkle and reflect in my tears, as I suddenly realize it’s been almost a year.
My daddy left us and his earthly home. He’s off in the heavens to eternally roam.
As luck would have it, he left his best in me; from his sarcastic wit to his “evil eye” gene.
My sons’ didn’t know much of my dad. Still they cherish what little time that they had.
But long before leaving his home here on earth, we all gained from his values of pride and self-worth.
So my happy memories Must dull the pain, and soothe my soul ’til I’m with daddy again.
By Frederick Herman Tegtmeier
Merry Christmas, Mom
For all of the presents You put under the tree, For all of the times You picked up after me…
For all of the times That you tucked me in tight And we stayed up to talk Long into the night
For all of the days I was feeling so down And the times that you turned To a smile my frown
For the cookies you baked And the stockings you stuffed, For the cuts that you healed And the pillows you fluffed…
For the time that you took Off the training wheels For the nights that you made me My favorite meals
For the years throughout Elementary school For knowing the right thing Isn’t always what’s cool
For putting up with Those preteen years For making it through All the laughs and the tears
For all of the days That you loved me so much Even during the times That I made it so tough…
For all of the memories We have already shared For the future for which We cannot be prepared
For being there for that one-year-old boy Who sat in the house and sucked on his thumb For working so hard at being his mom And making that boy into the man I’ve become Look back on all that we have been through And look at me now mom, how far I have come
For all of the times I’ll never forget Merry Christmas to you, Mom Here’s to the memories We haven’t had yet
Merry Christmas…Love, Nick
By Mary Butto
Message From Santa Claus
If it were in my powers, I would bring peace and love, To this world of ours, But I don’t have magic enough, I can cross the sky, and pass by the stars, But I can’t seem to stop, Any of hatred’s wars, I see children on the street, With no hope left, in the eyes. So many homeless people with no where to sleep. And my heart cries. I can’t give the things they need, Oh But God I would try. I’m only a fantasy, that once took wings to fly, Some are deceived, by the gifts that money can buy, But those who truly believe, see the gift with the heart, not with the eye, I sometime stop and go to my knees, and pause, and I too always pray, That we will find a end to wars, and live in peace one day. For all those who believe in me, I will continue my cause, Across the stars, over the wars, On Christmas Eve, For the hearts that still believe, In Santa Claus
By Judy Arline Puckett
Minstrels
The minstrels played their Christmas tune To-night beneath my cottage-eaves; While, smitten by a lofty moon, The encircling laurels, thick with leaves, Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen, That overpowered their natural green.
Through hill and valley every breeze Had sunk to rest with folded wings: Keen was the air, but could not freeze, Nor check, the music of the strings; So stout and hardy were the band That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.
And who but listened?—till was paid Respect to every inmate’s claim, The greeting given, the music played In honour of each household name, Duly pronounced with lusty call, And “Merry Christmas” wished to all.
By William Wordsworth
Music on Christmas Morning
Music I love - but never strain Could kindle raptures so divine, So grief assuage, so conquer pain, And rouse this pensive heart of mine - As that we hear on Christmas morn, Upon the wintry breezes borne.
Though Darkness still her empire keep, And hours must pass, ere morning break; From troubled dreams, or slumbers deep, That music kindly bids us wake: It calls us, with an angel’s voice, To wake, and worship, and rejoice.
By Anne Brontë
My Christmas Wishes
I wish for my lost loved ones to spread wings So they’d fly back and share all Christmas things, Just as they did back in their days on earth And the holy birth was a source of great mirth.
Then they’d see snowflakes fall softly to the ground, Hear carol singers make beautiful sounds. Children excited for Santa to arrive, Christmas trees aglow and blazing firesides.
Church bells chiming to announce the new King, Born as a host of Angel voices sing. In humble conditions came Mary’s boy. Unto the world a sweet bundle of joy.
Thoughtful tokens handed out as a gift. Times may have been hard, but love made us rich. Games and charades when there was no TV. Fish paste sandwiches and jelly for tea.
But it’s unlikely my wishes come true. I’ll send love in a prayer, I usually do, And ask God to share my heart all around For peace on earth that knoweth no bounds.
By Beryl L Edmonds
My Dad Would Like To Be Santa
His belly’s getting bigger, And his hair is turning white. His eyes shine and sparkle Like the stars on Christmas night.
He couldn’t fit down chimneys When he can just fit through a door. One mince pie would never do He’d only ask for more.
He likes a nip of brandy; It sets his cheeks aglow. When he forgets the words to carols, He just shouts Ho, Ho, Ho.
He hasn’t got a reindeer That runs silently through space, But his car is Eco Friendly And could beat Rudolph in a race.
He can’t afford a new red suit With boots and matching belt, But his smile is warmer than the sun That can make the snow tops melt.
My dad would like to be Santa And fill the world with glee, So until they advertise the job, He’ll give all his love to me.
By Graham Craven
My Wish For This Christmas
Christmas is a happy time for friends and family, The children are excited as they unwrap presents around the tree.
Carols are sung and lights twinkle in the night. Jack Frost glistens on the windows, and the snow sparkles from the winter moonlight.
Christmas is such a joyous time to appreciate the ones we love. This Christmas I want to send wishes to those we lost up above.
To some, Christmas is not the same because a loved one passed away, And the grief is overwhelming each and every day.
When the holidays approach, we miss them even more, Traditions never feel the same, and memories are all we have left to adore.
We will always remember their name and never forget their faces, And as long as we keep them in our hearts, they can never be erased.
So this Christmas, my wish is for everyone who is feeling a little blue To find some peace, joy, and comfort with everything you do.
Christmas isn’t just a season; it’s a feeling, and the magic never ends. One of its greatest gifts is to cherish family and friends.
Merry Christmas to all our special angels up above. Merry Christmas to you all. I send you all my love.
By Jamie A. Cirello
Night Before Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas. The smell of pine Filled up the family room While watching the star blink At the tip top of the tree. My dad began to read Just after snuggling My mom and me All together on the couch. No one spoke; The only sound was the fire cracking. While listening, I smelled hot cocoa And our big Christmas tree. The Steelers blanket held me so tight. That is one of my favorite winter nights. As he finished, we all read And to all a good night.
By Allie Henderson
O Christmas Tree
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, You truly are a beauty. I used to love to put you up, Now it’s a dreaded duty.
Lugging you out from storage Gets more strenuous each year, And assembling all your branchy parts Does not fill me with cheer.
Then each and every little stem I tediously unflatten. Your artificial symmetry, It doesn’t…just…happen.
Next challenge is your tree lights, Which I always have to wrangle. No matter how I’ve coiled them, They unwind in a tangle.
A few choice words escape me As I clear the final knot, Then turn to find the other end Has formed another clot.
I string them from your branches, Draping with the greatest care, To find that I’ve run out of lights, Your bottom third still bare.
After some more botched attempts They’re artfully arranged. Your lights are nice and even Though I’m feeling quite deranged.
These days the decorating Doesn’t hold the same appeal. Now that the kids are all grown up, It’s left for me to deal.
I miss the days when they were young, We’d trim your boughs together. With Christmas carols playing, They are memories I treasure.
Your ornaments now look just right From every viewing angle, But at your back against the wall, The not so nice ones dangle.
At long last the job is done. It’s taken me all day; Too worn out to appreciate Your beautiful display.
On Christmas Day you play your part, All twinkling in resplendence, With family all gathered round And opening their presents.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, A sight extraordinary; Must steel myself to pack you up, It’s almost February!
By Cynthia C. Naspinski
Ode To A Holiday
Upon us now is that time of year again When we think a lot about our family and friends.
The days are short and the nights are cold, But our hearts are warm, which brightens our soul.
We endure the crowds to shop at the store. It’s worth it to us to find the perfect gift to give someone we want to buy for.
We put up lights and decorations all over the place. Sometimes we put up so much we run out of space.
The kids are excited to go for a night ride, To see all of the light displays people have created outside.
There are parties and dinners and food galore. Everyone eats, drinks, and stuffs themselves ’til they can’t eat anymore.
To some people, however, it’s just another day, Back in their box or alley or wherever they stay.
They see people shopping and eating and the lights all over town, But that’s not part of their world, as somewhere along the way the world has let them down.
They curl up to keep warm as the cold wind bites through their clothes. Long forgotten are the days of presents with bows.
And others lie in a bed attended by a nurse. Getting well and going home is what they are thinking of first.
All of the family get-togethers and eggnog will pass them by this year. The doctors and nurses will be their holiday cheer.
Those who protect us abroad and will not be home, They have to stay out there since the world’s political views aren’t monochrome.
So when we celebrate, we’ll hold up a glass and toast them each year, And hope the next holiday they will be near.
Hug your kids and keep them safe, As some have never experienced that being a waif.
Enjoy your holiday and celebrate this season, And when you toast, remember the others and maybe toast…for a greater reason.
By Mark Weismantel
Recipe for Christmas All Year Long
Take a heap of child-like wonder That opens up our eyes To the unexpected gifts in life— Each day a sweet surprise.
Mix in fond appreciation For the people whom we know; Like festive Christmas candles, Each one has a special glow.
Add some giggles and some laughter, A dash of Christmas food, (Amazing how a piece of pie Improves our attitude!)
Stir it all with human kindness; Wrap it up in love and peace, Decorate with optimism, and Our joy will never cease.
If we use this healthy recipe, We know we will remember To be in the Christmas spirit, Even when it’s not December.
By Joanna Fuchs
Ring Out, Wild Bells
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die…
Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Santa’s Gift
The laughter of eternity’s children Resides in the glint of his eyes, And his joyous laugh, which surrounds us all, Leaves an echo that never dies.
The good will he sows so generously Wraps us warmly in blankets of cheer, And the words that he speaks bring great hope and joy To small angels far and near.
To see a child’s hopeful excitement As he rests upon Santa’s knee Or the look of wonder on her face When she encounters the magical tree
Overwhelms my heart with tenderness And brings me lightness of mind. Santa is here to spread his gift Of peace to all mankind.
By Elaine P. Keefe
Sleigh Ride
Sleighing through the forest On a late December evening, To my sister tightly clinging In our flying wintry bed.
Father briskly leading The pampered horses heaving, Beneath the heavens reeling Round the pole star we are led.
Faster, ever faster O’er the crunching, steely ice, Tucked in warm and cozy Like some picture postcard mice.
The mighty forest bows before us Beneath its weight in snow, A shimmering palace of ice crystals Bathed in moonlight’s glow.
Wind ascending, Sleep descending, As homeward bound we go.
By Anne Pollock
So Lucky Are The Angels
Since you’re gone, Christmas time will never be the same. When asked what I wish for, I can only speak your name. The only gift I ever want at Christmas time for me Is my precious, loving son beside my Christmas tree, And as the world rejoices with songs of Christmas cheer, I’ll gently hold your memories close and wipe my Christmas tear. So lucky are the angels to have you up above, Right beside their Christmas tree; my son’s their gift to love!
By Patricia L. Cisco
Sweet Jesus Is Born
Today is born sweet Jesus, the Lord. Let us be glad, let us rejoice. Today is born sweet Jesus, the Lord. Let us be glad, let us rejoice.
Sweet Jesus is born, great joy does He bring. Let trumpets sound and church bells ring. The gifts He brings this holy night are peace, hope, and joy, and love’s pure light.
Quiet your heart and hear the Lord’s name. Sweet Jesus the Lord, this night He came. He came to be with us on Earth. The Heavens and Earth rejoice His birth.
Sweet Jesus is born. His birth was foretold. God’s only Son is to behold. On bended knee we come to adore Sweet baby Jesus, Christ the Lord.
Love is the heart of Jesus the Lord. His birth opened up God’s heavenly door. The joy and hope that sweet Jesus brings will live in the hearts of those who believe.
By Marcia A. Newton
The Best Gift
As Christmas time arrives, We think of you and smile; Your friendship is the gift We think most worthwhile.
The packages are pretty Underneath the tree, But what we value most Is your ability
To bring joy to our lives In everything you do, Enriching time together Just by being you.
By Joanna Fuchs
The Christmas Gift of Knowing You
The Christmas season fills our hearts with joy; Bright, happy days bring special kinds of pleasure. We’re wrapped in the excitement of it all, The sights, the sounds, the smells, the tastes we treasure.
Yet when we have some quiet time to think About our finest blessings all year through, We focus on our family and our friends, And appreciate the gift of knowing you!
By Joanna Fuchs
The Christmas Holly
The holly! the holly! oh, twine it with bay—
Come give the holly a song;
For it helps to drive stern winter away,
With his garment so sombre and long.
It peeps through the trees with its berries of red,
And its leaves of burnish’d green,
When the flowers and fruits have long been dead,
And not even the daisy is seen,
Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly,
That hangs over peasant and king:
While we laugh and carouse ’neath its glitt’ring boughs,
To the Christmas holly we’ll sing.
The gale may whistle, and frost may come,
To fetter the gurgling rill;
The woods may be bare, and the warblers dumb—
But the holly is beautiful still.
In the revel and light of princely halls,
The bright holly-branch is found;
And its shadow falls on the lowliest walls,
While the brimming horn goes round.
Then drink to the holly, &c.
The ivy lives long, but its home must be
Where graves and ruins are spread;
There’s beauty about the cypress tree,
But it flourishes near the dead:
The laurel the warrior’s brow may wreathe,
But it tells of tears and blood.
I sing the holly, and who can breathe
Aught of that that is not good?
Then sing to the holly, &c.
By Eliza Cook
The Christmas Story
An angel called to Mary one day. “You will have a baby,” she heard him say, Now not yet married was Mary – however The obedient girl just said, “Whatever.”
Now the trip to Bethlehem was long and tiring. The poor old donkey was sure perspiring. ‘Twas a nasty burden upon their backs That compulsion to pay a Roman tax!
A dirty stable with mouldy hay ‘Twas a dismal place to end the day. Of simple comforts there was a dearth And no wise midwife to help give birth.
God’s son in a manger, Can anything be stranger? A truly odd place for a baby to sleep. A feeding trough for a cow or a sheep!
An angel came to shepherds that night. It’s not surprising – they were filled with fright “No need,” said he, “for such behaviour, ‘Cause tonight for you is born a Saviour!”
When the shepherds got there, this they found A babe in a manger and straw on the ground. Maybe they wondered, it’s obvious since He didn’t look much like a royal prince!
Some wise men came from far away With gifts for a king they wished to convey. They called with Herod – an evil king But rival monarchs were not his thing!
When the wise men came, they entered the house, Found Jesus, Joseph and Mary, his spouse. Presented their gifts, most precious we’re told Frankincense, myrrh and a casket of gold.
His birth was humble, His death was tragic, But the rest of His story was more than magic. Though buried on Earth, He rose up to the sky As our Lord in Heaven, never more to die.
By William Holmes
The Christmas Wreath
Oh! Christmas wreath upon the wall, Within thine ivied space I see the years beyond recall, Amid thy leaves I trace The shadows of a happy past, When all the world was bright, And love its magic splendour cast O’er morn and noon and night.
Oh! Christmas wreath upon the wall, ’Neath memory’s tender spell A wondrous charm doth o’er thee fall, And round thy beauty dwell. Thine ivy hath the satiny sheen Of tresses I’ve caressed, Thy holly’s crimson gleam I’ve seen On lips I oft have pressed.
Oh! Christmas wreath upon the wall, A mist steals o’er my sight. Dear hallow’d wreath, these tears are all The pledge I now can plight To those loved ones whose spirit eyes Shine down the flight of time; Around God’s throne their voices rise To swell the Christmas Chime!
By Anna de Brémont
The Eve Before Christmas
‘Twas the eve before Christmas. I left it too late. The shelves are all bare. Oh, why did I wait?
I swore I’d shop early, I clearly remember, And be done with it all By the first of December.
But now here I am With picked-over stock. The boxes are crumpled On the Marvel knockoffs.
Sweaters too big, Slippers too small. The pushing the grabbing, Get me out of this mall.
I will stop at the drug store And purchase a card And fill it with money. Why make life hard?
It always fits And suits everyone’s taste. No need to wrap it. That’s just a waste.
But should you not like it, Dear, have no fear, If you’d like to return it, My pocket’s right here.
By Linda J. Doucett
The First Christmas
It never snows at Christmas in that dry and dusty land.
Instead of freezing blizzards, there are palms and drifting sands,
and years ago a stable and a most unusual star
and three wise men who followed it, by camel, not by car,
while, sleepy on the quiet hills, a shepherd gave a cry.
He’d seen a crowd of angels in the silent starlit sky.
In the stable, ox and ass stood very still and calm
and gazed upon the baby, safe and snug in Mary’s arms.
And Joseph, lost in shadows, face lit by an oil lamp’s glow
stood wondering, that first Christmas Day, two thousand years ago
by Marian Swinger
The First Christmas
This very first Christmas It’s just like before It’s the first in this new Century and there will be more The only difference we will see and at first does not seem true why the tree getting shorter and what happened to you?
Each year we get wiser, the older we get we still think of Santa, and we are not finished with him yet. we still get excited, Like we did Christmas’s before You see there is no difference, it’s just your height in the door. So we take a moment this time far and near to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new Year Merry Christmas Year 2000
By Keith Davies
The House of Christmas
…This world is wild as an old wives’ tale, And strange the plain things are, The earth is enough and the air is enough For our wonder and our war; But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings And our peace is put in impossible things Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings Round an incredible star.
To an open house in the evening Home shall men come, To an older place than Eden And a taller town than Rome. To the end of the way of the wandering star, To the things that cannot be and that are, To the place where God was homeless And all men are at home.
By G.K. Chesterton
The House of Hospitalities
Here we broached the Christmas barrel, Pushed up the charred log-ends; Here we sang the Christmas carol, And called in friends.
Time has tired me since we met here When the folk now dead were young. Since the viands were outset here And quaint songs sung.
And the worm has bored the viol That used to lead the tune, Rust eaten out the dial That struck night’s noon.
Now no Christmas brings in neighbours, And the New Year comes unlit; Where we sang the mole now labours, And spiders knit.
Yet at midnight if here walking, When the moon sheets wall and tree, I see forms of old time talking, Who smile on me.
By Thomas Hardy
The Hush Of Christmas
Have you observed this Christmas thing? How shoppers shop and sleigh bells ring, And children wrapped in muffs and cuffs Are trying out their newfound stuff.
Have you observed how fast it comes, Overtakes, invades our homes? How life takes on that quickened pace That makes each day another race.
But have you noticed how the rush Is stayed with times of holy hush? And no one ever seems to know From where they come or where they go.
A pause upon a Christmas stage, A costumed, bearded ancient sage, Points to a distant tinseled sky, And all at once the Christ is nigh.
Or at a time when by the tree The children watch so eagerly, As shining bells are put in place And wonder fills each tiny face.
Or by the fire when children sleep And parents whisper so to keep, The stillness of the fading day As treasures in their hearts to stay.
Or when amidst the candlelight The choir begins, “Oh, Holy Night,” And lives so filled with busyness Are wafted to a quiet bliss.
So as the season comes your way For you and yours, we humbly pray That in this time of Christmas rush You will find that holy hush.
By Carl F. Verge
The Last Present Under The Tree
There is one last present under the Christmas tree, I wonder whose it is? Is it for the little girl with the rocking horse, Or is it for Grandma or Aunt Liz? It looks so lonely, Sitting there by itself; It’d certainly be an awesome addition On “somebody’s” shelf.
The ribbon is gold, The paper is paisley red; “Who does it belong to?” Keeps rattling in my head; I decided to snatch a peek, And see whose name is on the card; It’d only take a second, It won’t be very hard.
When no one was looking, I reached under the tree, Carefully handling the package, “Who knows, it may be for me!” But when I read the card, I thought it was extraordinarily odd, Because the message read, “Love and blessings,” God.
By Joel Bjorling
The Miracle Of Christmas
Mary was chosen; how could this be true? A young girl and virgin was who they all knew. Cousin Elizabeth, too, six months was she. Her son was John, a “forerunner” he would be, Lept in her womb when the news was told. The King Mary carried they would all soon behold. Not in a great palace but a stable he’d lay. Not on fine linens but a manger with hay. An angel told shepherds the glad news they’d sing, A star led the Wise Men, their gifts they would bring. When he heard of the birth, King Herod would seek, But God up above Jesus’ safety would keep So that you and I could know His great love, And one day be with Him in Heaven above. So remember that Christmas is not “going all out.” It’s a season of miracles…THAT’S what it’s about.
By Elaine G. Brock
The Most Wonderful Gift
The most wonderful gift ever given to me Isn’t one to be found by a Christmas tree. It’s you, my treasure, my wonderful wife, The most beautiful, glorious thing in my life.
You are caring and warm, in truth, a delight, A most wonderful prize whose love still shines bright. I shudder to think how bare life would be, If the gift of your love weren’t given to me.
You are Christmas delights all wrapped into one, And those joys still go on when Christmas is done!
By Karl and Joanna Fuchs
The Old Christmas Card
I found a little Christmas card. ‘Twas in a box of stuff. I opened it and read it. Its verse was written thus.
“Season’s greetings and salutations. Best wishes and all the best. Happy New Year and live long, And may you be God blessed.”
There was something written Below this little verse. It was written in your writing, Just like we would converse.
I felt the love in those words Written by your shaky hand. Tears filled my eyes, As you can understand.
I love that little Christmas card. My heart strings are all a strum. That little card means so much Because it’s signed, “Love, Mum.”
By Raelene J. Elliss
The Real Meaning of Christmas
Two thousand years ago the King of Kings was born. ‘The Lamb of God’ later made to feel the thorn, If his words are accepted and not scorned, They will make us all reborn.
Though God’s grace, Joseph and Mary presented A gift to the world that day, which we can all repay, by living the ten commandments each and every day.
Try to remember and keep in your heart and mind Jesus’s gospel while here on Earth, Redemption not a life lived in constant mirth. Peace on Earth, good will toward man Everyone should try it, whenever they can.
The Lord gave us the option and choice of ‘free will,’ Now it’s up to us to fit the bill.
So when you’re Christmas shopping for family and friends, and money is tight at both ends, Remember that the greatest gift of all, Is your love of Jesus in the manger stall.
By Joseph P. Martino
The True Meaning Of Christmas
In todays’ day and time, it’s easy to lose sight, of the true meaning of Christmas and one special night.
When we go shopping, We say “How much will it cost?” Then the true meaning of Christmas, Somehow becomes lost.
Amidst the tinsel, glitter And ribbons of gold, We forget about the child, born on a night so cold.
The children look for Santa In his big, red sleigh Never thinking of the child Whose bed was made of hay.
In reality, When we look into the night sky, We don’t see a sleigh But a star, burning bright and high.
A faithful reminder, Of that night so long ago, And of the child we call Jesus, Whose love, the world would know.
By Brian K. Walters
The Waits
At the break of Christmas Day,
Through the frosty starlight ringing,
Faint and sweet and far away,
Comes the sound of children, singing,
Chanting, singing,
“Cease to mourn,
For Christ is born,
Peace and joy to all men bringing!”
Careless that the chill winds blow,
Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,
Noiseless footfalls in the snow,
Bring the happy voices nearer;
Hear them singing,
“Winter’s drear,
But Christ is here,
Mirth and gladness with Him bringing.”
“Merry Christmas!” hear them say,
As the East is growing lighter;
“May the joy of Christmas Day
Make your whole year gladder, brighter!”
Join their singing,
“To each home
Our Christ has come,
All Love’s treasures with Him bringing!”
By Margaret Deland
Three Empty Chairs
There are now three empty chairs at the Christmas table. It’s a time I find difficult, even unable
To find joy on this family day. We are so lost since you went away.
Our lives have less joy and our days are sad. I cry when I remember all that we had.
Christmas day was that special day of the year Where we gathered around with festive cheer.
A time of love, smiles and joy, A time to watch the children open their gifts, play with their toys.
The turkey cooking and puddings to be made, All the excitement and noise and a beautiful table we laid.
But once again we feel a loss of someone special we love, And once again we cry and turn our look to above.
Heaven holds all three of you now, And our loss and pain is too much, oh wow.
My mum, dad, and brother, now all gone. It hurts, this loss; it feels so wrong.
There are now only our memories that we can hold dear. And as we say Merry Christmas, we also shed a tear.
As we look upon the three empty chairs, I will raise my glass as we toast and share.
We miss you all so very much; now you’re in heaven above. To all of you, my family, with all our hearts, we send our love.
By Sandra Hearth
Tiny Wooden Figures
Over in the corner, ‘neath the Christmas tree’s green, Are the tiny wooden figures, our Nativity scene. Each tells a story, each plays its part. Each holds a special place here in my heart.
Down from the attic, unwrapped with great care, It just isn’t Christmas if they’re not there. They’re faded and dented, their paint chipped away, But the love they stand for is as fresh as today.
And as the years go by and our days grow few, Outside we grow older, inside we grow new, And the tiny wooden figures are a symbol of love, Of the grace and the peace of our God above.
By the side there stands Joseph, keeping watch in the night The smile on his face, a reflection of light In the hay kneels sweet Mary, so gentle and mild So willing to sacrifice, all for her child.
And as the years go by and our days grow few Outside we grow older, inside we grow new, And the tiny wooden figures are a symbol of love Of the grace and the peace of our God above.
In the hay, Baby Jesus, His arms opened wide. The same way He lived, the same way He died. Now He stands up in Heaven, and He holds the door wide, And He says, “Welcome children! Welcome inside!”
And as the years go by and our days grow few Outside we grow older, inside we grow new, And the tiny wooden figures are a symbol of love, Of the grace and the peace of our God above.
Over in the corner, ‘neath the Christmas tree’s green, Are the tiny wooden figures, our Nativity scene. Each tells a story…each plays its part. Each holds a special place….here in my heart
By Rick W. Cotton
‘Tis The Season For Lots Of Love
‘Tis the season for lots of love. Gather all friends and family And celebrate the joys from above.
Plan a feast and wrap gifts happily. Distribute it all around. Gather all friends and family.
Add the carols to make it sound As it adds love to spirit. Distribute it all around.
Enjoy the decorations as you share it. Bask in the smiles of the season As it adds love to spirit.
Friends and family are good reason To spread warmth and cheer. Bask in the smiles of the season.
Christmas! Celebrate with all who are dear! ‘Tis the season for lots of love To spread warmth and cheer And celebrate the joys from above.
By Astrid Hardjana-Large
Toy Escape
Late Christmas Eve, when all was still, And the room was dark as night, The Christmas tree lit magically; It was a fantastic sight!
Then from around the tree trunk came, A strange and funny sound, As gifts began to unwrap themselves, And toys jumped out all around.
The music box began to play, And in a crazy trance, The candy canes jumped off the tree To do a silly dance.
The big stuffed bear leaped to his feet, To see what he could see; He rode a shiny, bright red bike Around the Christmas tree.
The new toy kitchen started to cook, And before you could blink an eye, The oven door opened, and from inside Came a tiny pizza pie.
A squirt gun squirted everything; It knew what it was for; By the time that it was emptied out, A big puddle lay on the floor.
A beautiful doll with golden hair Was searching for a friend; A toy soldier marched up and took her hand; They were a perfect blend.
In the bedroom were a boy and girl, Asleep in Christmas dreams; The soldier saluted; the doll gave a kiss; At least that’s the way it seems.
Now everything began to tire; The toys went back in place; But when mother woke in the morning, You should have seen her face.
The tree was fine; the gifts were there, Yet mother gave a roar; She looked at her wet shoes and yelled “What’s this puddle on my floor?”
By Joanna Fuchs
Twas the Night Before Christmas
…And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow…
By Clement C. Moore
Twas The Week Before Christmas
‘Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was hurrying, not even the mouse. The festivities have been chosen with intention and care, So that even this mama could get out for some air.
Expectations were lowered; it’s clear in her head, That simpler traditions require less meds! This mama, in her wisdom, has built in a gap Into her daily schedule to enjoy a quick nap.
Where once there was hurry and stress and commotion, She began to take stock of her own real emotion. She noticed her crabby and downright bad mood, Which at first she would blame on her kids’ attitude!
Enough was enough with all of the fluff, Time to pare down and sort out all this stuff! Gift exchanges and parties and neighbor treats too, Can make this last month feel more like the zoo!
With a few well-asked questions, she took this huge chore, And turned it around to make her heart soar! “Why do I do this, and who’s it really for?” “What value, what sacrifice, will this cost at its core?”
“Could it be done simpler, be honest with yourself, Do you really need that Elf on the Shelf?” Because how will you feel, and how will you deal, When you wind up so sick from way too much zeal?
The joy of this season was meant for you too. That tradition ain’t worth it if you feel like hot poo. So learn from this mama, who wore busy like an honor, But with some real work, made that mindset a goner.
‘Cause it really comes down to how you will choose To cut back and take back; you simply can’t lose. And off in the distance, was heard joy and elation, For each Christmas time is a real celebration,
A time to remodel and live out our lives, In a way that is sane; remember, “Be wise!”
by Arianna Rees
Two Letters To Santa
I wrote a letter to Santa To make sure he would know It’s only two weeks until Christmas And we still don’t have any snow.
Just didn’t want his reindeer To have to work too hard. I was afraid they might get stuck In the mud outside in our yard.
I mailed my letter on Monday, Only two days ago. As I dropped it in the mailbox, It slowly started to snow.
It’s been snowing ever since, More as each day goes by. I’m getting kind of worried now That Santa will think I lied.
I’ll write another letter And mail it off today. Tell Santa not to worry, There’ll be lots of snow for his sleigh.
By Annabel Sheila
Wartime Christmas
Led by a star, a golden star,
The youngest star, an olden star,
Here the kings and the shepherds are,
Akneeling on the ground.
What did they come to the inn to see?
God in the Highest, and this is He,
A baby asleep on His mother’s knee
And with her kisses crowned.
Now is the earth a dreary place,
A troubled place, a weary place.
Peace has hidden her lovely face
And turned in tears away.
Yet the sun, through the war-cloud, sees
Babies asleep on their mother’s knees.
While there are love and home—and these—
There shall be Christmas Day.
By Joyce Kilmer
What Can I Give?
I went to church on Christmas morn to hear the angels sing. My heart was lifted with every chorus; the rafters, they did ring. I sang along with joy in my heart, the greatest sound I’ve ever heard. From “O Holy Night” to “What Child is This?” I cherished every word.
I celebrated the King’s lowly birth; I shouted and danced about. Then came along a “Little Drummer Boy,” and I knew I was without. What had I given the babe this year? A panic crossed my mind. I tried to think of what I had given, but there was none to find.
Did I find a child and clothe him well? Did I seek a widow to bless? Did I go to someone sick in their bed and try to ease their death? Did I ask a sinner to say a prayer or tell him the Good News? Did I give a beggar something to eat or at least buy him some shoes?
I bowed my head as the drummer boy played; my tears started to fall. I didn’t even give Him my best, let alone give Him my all. So this Christmas, Jesus, I bring you my drum, the very beat of my heart. I ask Your forgiveness, for things undone; it’s the only place I can start.
By Fran Peck
What Christmas Is About
The prophets announced Christ’s birth that He would one day come to earth. He was sent by the Father to pay a price, and He became the living sacrifice.
God took a good look across the land, but sadly enough He found no man. Not one was righteous that could die for sinful souls such as you and I.
So God Himself had a perfect plan, and because of His great love for man, God became flesh and came to earth to die for mankind, to give us worth.
The sin debt was paid on the cross so all could be saved and none lost. Satan is defeated in the story we tell and Jesus became our Emmanuel.
Now Christmas comes to one and all to celebrate by those who answer the call. It’s all about Him, the Lord Jesus Christ, who came to offer us the gift of life.
By Lenora McWhorter
What Christmas Means
Christmas is a time when everyone gathers together To share love and bring hope of a light that will last forever. At a time like this, there’s no such thing as being alone. When you’re with the ones you love, you’ll then learn to grow.
Nothing can be more comforting than the love you share. Your family should tell you there is someone who always cares. Everyone is entitled to abundant joy and happiness Because this blessing is a Christmas gift you should never forget.
As long as you’re surrounded with those who love you, We should not despise each other, for love is the ultimate truth. If Jesus Himself said to help and love one another, Then we need to form a fellowship and be there for each other.
This season, we should be able to put aside our differences And stop choosing whom to love based on preferences. Love should be beyond words this time of year, And forevermore, bringing songs of glorious cheers.
May this Christmas be a time of good will, Because love is a mission we all need to fulfill. Let our friendships and relationships have Christ in the center. Let this holiday season be a time of worship and prayer.
Christmas should be about giving and enjoying the good times. It may come once a year, but its impact should never die. Let’s not lose hope of what Christmas should come to be. Jesus came to love, and so should we.
By Edarly Edouard
What Christmas Means To Me
Imagine waking up to that cool winter air to see snow drifting and falling into your hair. To build snowmen and snow angels and get into snowball fights, and to snuggle in front of the fire that cool Christmas Eve night.
Imagine waking up to the hot chocolate and tea; the sweet aroma of cookies and baked goods fill you up with glee. Drinking and singing merrily, surrounded by family and friends, sipping on that chilled eggnog, hoping the night won’t end.
Imagine waking up to the sounds of children’s laughter as they sneak downstairs to get a good look at jolly Old Santa, only to find their parents standing underneath the mistletoe, sharing a sweet and gentle kiss and holding each other close.
Imagine the way you look when Christmas morn is finally here, with shiny gifts in shiny gift paper, teasing of the gifts they bear. As children rip into their presents, clothes, toys and gifts scattered around you could hear the carolers singing their lovely and beautiful sound.
Christmas is for family, happiness and smiles, Things that make the Christmas last all year round. Christmas is for the laughter, cheers and the songs, As we sing, dance, drink, and eat all night long!
Goshen Z. Rahming
When Christmas Is Blue
Seated comfortably, fulfilled yet not Emptiness resides within The reasons are clear Comfortable yet missing a lot
Missing the laughter, the company Longing for the hugs, the jokes Now it’s just the busy city Full yet it’s empty
Sunny and bright, the sun shines But it’s too dark to find The bright faces teasing me Bright yet so dim to find lines
The tune is jolly, yes it’s true But I can’t hear a genuine note Deafening loudness but silence lingers within Loud and jolly yet silent and blue
The table is full and blessed But there’s no one to share with Missing the thirteen pairs of hands used to hold pieces Delightful yet tasteless
Truly, what makes everything around you twinkle Is the source that defines their meaning What you treasure within your heart when not within reach Leaves you longing, making the heart crinkle
Eyes searching Ears waiting Lips pouting Nose running Hands reaching
Smile fades Heart aches Tears roll Wishing next Christmas… it won’t be fall
By Kit Dulay
When Santa Claus Comes
A good time is coming, I wish it were here, The very best time in the whole of the year; I’m counting each day on my fingers and thumbs — the weeks that must pass before Santa Claus comes.
Then when the first snowflakes begin to come down, And the wind whistles sharp and the branches are brown, I’ll not mind the cold, though my fingers it numbs, For it brings the time nearer when Santa Claus comes.
By Eugene Field
Winter Time
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; Blinks but an hour or two; and then, A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit To warm my frozen bones a bit; Or with a reindeer-sled, explore The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap Me in my comforter and cap; The cold wind burns my face, and blows Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod; Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; And tree and house, and hill and lake, Are frosted like a wedding-cake.
Sad poems are filled with universal sadness and tart bitterness. But sadness has hundreds of different shades and halftones in every poem. Sometimes it is an unbearable feeling that overwhelms the lyrical hero. Sometimes it’s comparable to a prolonged depression without any hope for a future. But in most cases, sad moments in the past will bring a smile to your face after a while.
«A Bit Of Sad, A Bit Of Grey» by Constance J. Livernois
A bit of sad, a bit of grey sorry for myself today
Not sure why, yet!, here it is a bad day that doesn’t fit
Its off kilter, out of sorts don’t quite know the cause
Can’t let it take me down time to lift off the ground
More aggressive, but not mean talk more and be at peace
Trust with caution, quell tears when there are trials to bear
Never give up, don’t walk alone sustain an inner calm at home
sorry for myself today a bit of sad, a bit of grey
***
«A Dog Has Died» by Pablo Neruda
My dog has died. I buried him in the garden next to a rusted old machine.
Some day I’ll join him right there, but now he’s gone with his shaggy coat, his bad manners and his cold nose, and I, the materialist, who never believed in any promised heaven in the sky for any human being, I believe in a heaven I’ll never enter. Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom where my dog waits for my arrival waving his fan-like tail in friendship.
Ai, I’ll not speak of sadness here on earth, of having lost a companion who was never servile. His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine withholding its authority, was the friendship of a star, aloof, with no more intimacy than was called for, with no exaggerations: he never climbed all over my clothes filling me full of his hair or his mange, he never rubbed up against my knee like other dogs obsessed with sex.
No, my dog used to gaze at me, paying me the attention I need, the attention required to make a vain person like me understand that, being a dog, he was wasting time, but, with those eyes so much purer than mine, he’d keep on gazing at me with a look that reserved for me alone all his sweet and shaggy life, always near me, never troubling me, and asking nothing.
Ai, how many times have I envied his tail as we walked together on the shores of the sea in the lonely winter of Isla Negra where the wintering birds filled the sky and my hairy dog was jumping about full of the voltage of the sea’s movement: my wandering dog, sniffing away with his golden tail held high, face to face with the ocean’s spray.
Joyful, joyful, joyful, as only dogs know how to be happy with only the autonomy of their shameless spirit.
There are no good-byes for my dog who has died, and we don’t now and never did lie to each other.
So now he’s gone and I buried him, and that’s all there is to it.
***
«A Dream Within A Dream» by Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
***
«A Fairly Sad Tale» by Dorothy Parker
I think that I shall never know Why I am thus, and I am so. Around me, other girls inspire In men the rush and roar of fire, The sweet transparency of glass, The tenderness of April grass, The durability of granite; But me- I don’t know how to plan it. The lads I’ve met in Cupid’s deadlock Were- shall we say?- born out of wedlock. They broke my heart, they stilled my song, And said they had to run along, Explaining, so to sop my tears, First came their parents or careers. But ever does experience Deny me wisdom, calm, and sense! Though she’s a fool who seeks to capture The twenty-first fine, careless rapture, I must go on, till ends my rope, Who from my birth was cursed with hope. A heart in half is chaste, archaic; But mine resembles a mosaic- The thing’s become ridiculous! Why am I so? Why am I thus?
***
«A Hero» by Robert W. Service
Three times I had the lust to kill, To clutch a throat so young and fair, And squeeze with all my might until No breath of being lingered there. Three times I drove the demon out, Though on my brow was evil sweat. . . . And yet I know beyond a doubt He’ll get me yet, he’ll get me yet.
I know I’m mad, I ought to tell The doctors, let them care for me, Confine me in a padded cell And never, never set me free; But Oh how cruel that would be! For I am young – and comely too . . . Yet dim my demon I can see, And there is but one thing to do.
Three times I beat the foul fiend back; The fourth, I know he will prevail, And so I’ll seek the railway track And lay my head upon the rail, And sight the dark and distant train, And hear its thunder louder roll, Coming to crush my cursed brain . . . Oh God, have mercy on my soul!
***
«A Legacy Of Love» by Anna Mckenzie
As darkness slowly seeps into the air The September Sun sinks further into the pillows That are made of mountains I feel drawn to the night Which I once so fiercely fought.
Velvety soft wings envelop me And my heart is full of you.
If tomorrow comes without me If the darkness should carry me softly away If I have heard my last dawn chorus, Seen my last bright sunrise, lived my last sweet day
Wrap my love around you like a blanket When winter comes, to keep you warm. And forgive me that I am not with you. Let my love carry you through the storm.
***
«A Letter For Michael» by Misty Rayne
Our lives were shared Until our teens And later, too, Our lives had been Intertwined and crossed The proper moves you taught A gift of defense you gave To save me from naivete’ Golden Gloves you once were Made you full of spunk and sure The boy you were, the man you became We shared our lives then, but not the same Know forever the love we shared Did not die when from us you erred The boy we knew and adored Lost to sadness we abhorred The choices of life open to all The paths we take, to rise or fall My heart is heavy for what is lost The road you took has been the cost For, the one I knew in memory Is now forever gone from me The life of the child is held within I ache for the life that should have been Now in your Mother’s embrace once more Unconditional love for you she bore Her beloved child without the pain She has taken you home to Heaven’s lane.
***
«A Place That Rekindles A Sad Memory» by Francis Duggan
The deep, deep emptiness of solitude That drives one to a melancholy mood I stand here on green bank of riverside With thoughts on recent victim of suicide.
A month ago on evening bright and cool He came here to this deep dark river pool And jumped in knowing well he couldn’t swim And not a soul around to rescue him.
He’d lost the will to live he chose to die In this lone place far from the public eye Depressive mood cruel form of mental pain For one so young had proved too much a strain.
Due to his crave for heroin and cocaine He’d brought upon himself unwanted shame And a life of crime the man was forced to lead And from others he stole for to satisfy his need.
I knew him well which makes it all more sad, He was good type in him there was no bad But far too many perverse types at large nowaday And drug pusher sent him going the wrong way.
A broken hearted widow still in tears For her only son who died aged twenty years But though heavy be the burden of her cross The passing of time will ease her pain of loss.
***
«A Sad Child» by Margaret Atwood
You’re sad because you’re sad. It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s chemical. Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll you need to sleep.
Well, all children are sad but some get over it. Count your blessings. Better than that, buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet. Take up dancing to forget.
Forget what? Your sadness, your shadow, whatever it was that was done to you the day of the lawn party when you came inside flushed with the sun, your mouth sulky with sugar, in your new dress with the ribbon and the ice-cream smear, and said to yourself in the bathroom, I am not the favorite child.
My darling, when it comes right down to it and the light fails and the fog rolls in and you’re trapped in your overturned body under a blanket or burning car,
and the red flame is seeping out of you and igniting the tarmac beside your head or else the floor, or else the pillow, none of us is; or else we all are.
***
«A Sad One Sided Story» by Guarded Heart
I am honored to have been your one and only To have been the love of your life But your so unfocused lately, that all i am is lonely Your busy with other things in your life And no matter where i stand, i’ll always be supporting But it’s all so hard on me, and it affects how you treat me The tone in which you talk to me and the way you ignore me Yes i still care for you, but right now i need someone who Can focus on me and appreciate me This all feels so strange, for we don’t part on bad ways And if you could only see the tears coming down my face, feel my pain If you walked into this room right now, i would forget it all And melt into you, take you away with me But your not here, and you can’t help it And we have a problem that may be beyond our solving I’m not mentally stable to take it all again Better stop now, while i’m beginning to go numb There are so many things here that remind me of you That old brown blanket, the strawberry incense, that sexy little outfit Eventually i’ll stop crying, i want you to be happy To many songs remind me of you or us The memories are overpowering I can still picture your face, when your sleeping As my tears splash on the page I know what is happening, i can feel my heart break Into a few more pieces, and i want you to know that you always had me And should have trusted me, because i was always there And i was always loving, always in love with you
***
«A Sad Return» by David Harris
There are many sad tales of trains taking people away, either to fight a war or just to runaway. As the train pulled into the station yesterday there disembarked a passenger who had been for a long time on far distant shores. Coming home to see his family after years of being away. He ran along to his door, tried to inser his key into the lock, but the key no longer fit. He knocked on the door. Strange faces answered it of people he did not know. He asked about his wife and son who used to live there not all that long ago. The couple looked at each other and offered him in for a cup of tea. When he was comfortable, they broke the sad news to him. His wife and son were no longer living because she could not live without him she took her own life and their son as well. He would find their graves in the cemetery at the bottom of the hill. As he places some flowers on their graves, he said a little prayer for God to look after them until he too would meet them at heaven’s door.
***
«A Sad Story» by Joyce Hemsley
The river flowed through meadows green I saw the wild rose, pink and serene. There came a voice from beyond the blue, An angel from heaven said – it was you.
Resting beneath the rays of the sun, I gazed at the sky to talk with my one. The breezes blew sweet whispers to me Across the mountain and waves of the sea.
The hymn you sang was ‘O Love Divine’ I heard your dear voice and you heard mine. But as the sun went down in the evening sky There was no sound…just your last goodbye.
***
«A Terrible Pain» by Janice M Pickett
Your Pain is really showing I have felt it in my heart I have something good to tell you although we’re worlds apart Please listen to this message I know my words are true Here they are so read them they are especially for you
Strength comes from within you Happiness is your right you do NOT have to feel the pain you do NOT have to fight Just hold your head up and be strong To yourself be true inside there is another girl the one you never knew She’s strong and really gorgeous She’s the one you need to see Remember to look and find her she will set your spirits free
Don’t forget to greet her and say a warm hello let her out and free her let your spirit grow She waits there in your being dormant for so long believe in what you’re seeing and sing a freedom song
The guilt you carry with you is holding you in chains it’s not your fault forgive yourself for the problem still remains you need to find your children you can’t do it if you’re low so lift yourself from the hell you feel You have to let it go Positive thinking and a plan will make your days feel better come on girl you can do it a fighter, a true go-getter for in that fight is victory something you have yet to learn then you will have the happiness for which you truly yearn
***
«Acquainted With The Night» by Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night
***
«All I Have Ever Known» by Ashley Bahr
It’s time for us to leave, But I wish that we could wait. This has been dreaded for too long, And I’m not ready for this pain.
But before we leave each other, Before we have to go, There’s something I must say, Some things you need to know.
You’re all I ever wanted, The one thing I needed, The only one who could find The very best in me.
The only one who saw My empty, broken heart And worked your way right in To fix the broken parts.
You are my everything, And I hope that you can see You’re everything I asked for, Just what I needed you to be.
I hope you’ll always know There is a special part Saved up just for you Right here in my heart.
Deep down, we both knew This ending would come at last, And now that it is here, It’s happening way too fast.
Everything we had Will soon be lost in time. The memories will fade, But I’ll remember this goodbye.
It breaks my heart to know I won’t see you ever again. These are our last moments, And they’re coming to an end.
If you don’t remember this, Then just before you go, Get this one last thing. This you have to know.
You’re the first one I let in And the first I’m letting go. I will love you always. Your love is all I’ve ever known.
***
«Alone» by Edgar Allan Poe
From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— Then—in my childhood—in the dawn Of a most stormy life—was drawn From ev’ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still— From the torrent, or the fountain— From the red cliff of the mountain— From the sun that ‘round me roll’d In its autumn tint of gold— From the lightning in the sky As it pass’d me flying by— From the thunder, and the storm— And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view—
***
«Alone» by Maya Angelou
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone I came up with one thing And I don’t believe I’m wrong That nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone.
There are some millionaires With money they can’t use Their wives run round like banshees Their children sing the blues They’ve got expensive doctors To cure their hearts of stone. But nobody No, nobody Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone.
Now if you listen closely I’ll tell you what I know Storm clouds are gathering The wind is gonna blow The race of man is suffering And I can hear the moan, ‘Cause nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone.
***
«Alone In The Dark» by Gillian Craig
I’ve never felt so alone. The tears stream down my face. I only want to feel you And lie there in my space.
I sit here in the darkness And long to hear your voice. There’s nothing I can do now; Perhaps you’ve made your choice.
My heart will always love you; You’ll always be the one. I won’t ever forget you. What more could I have done?
You used to call me Angel And comfort me while I’d cry. That is all I wanted. Instead, I heard goodbye.
***
«Among the Tranquil Graves» by Aaron Barth-Martinson
You walk among the tranquil graves To take away a piece of their peace, Swirling cheap but colorful wine, Sipping it thoughtfully quaint quite quietly.
I know you have songs sleeping deep in your heart, When you were young you wrote beautiful poems; Though I never read one, your steadfast gaze on your goals Says to me, just to me, soon you will slow down.
To envelop what you alone can engrave, To be present when you steal by those stone faces, To remove the golden stillness from their houses, To paint windows in the clouds with their silver etchings;
View the rain, before it pours—while it is stored. Witness thunder prior to the boom, Can you see the soundless scene within that room? Where everything you’ve done comes back to prove
The sequences of this world are not making you. Tell me you have not written a word since your neglected youth, But laugh with a smile stained red with wine, when you learn the truth. You are writing as you walk among the tranquil graves.
***
«An Irish Airman Foresees His Death» by William Butler Yeats
I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love; My country is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor, No likely end could bring them loss Or leave them happier than before. Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds; I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death.
***
«Angel Teardrops» by Kathleen Sheppard
My guardian angel, once careless and free, flew into the clouds and lost touch with me. Her tears were cold and wet, falling on my face. Her smile had left us without a trace.
Her angelic lips quivered, frozen and scared, I felt rain clouds visiting, and had to prepare. I knew that angels, often content, were very special presents that God had sent.
To see one so sad, so afraid, so alone, had made me weep while the cold winds had blown.
Her wings lost feathers, comforting and soft, falling from the stars, floating aloft.
Her pain was felt throughout the land, to feel true misery is impossible to stand. I prayed so that when her hurting stops, I’ll be able to taste the angel’s teardrops.
***
«Be A Memory» by Joanna Fuchs
My life is different now. I like it; some of it. Much more time, lots of freedom, but you keep wandering into my thoughts. I feel a pang, a little stab of pain, when I think of the good times, even the not-so-good times. I really want to own this new life. Could you just be a memory? Please?
***
«Because» by Ron Carnell
I write of love and loneliness, Amidst my years of emptiness, And wonder where the wonder went, Because these things I know.
I pen lost words of happiness, Found in the arms of loveliness, And wish my wish were never sent, Because she told me no.
I kneel below the loftiness, Enraptured by my dizziness, A victim of my swift descent, Because I fell so low.
My rhymes have all turned venomous, To twisted words of dreariness, I hate the hate I never meant, Because I hated so.
Yet still I write in artlessness, Of feelings felt in happiness, Of times past time I never lament Because I can’t let go.
***
«Believing» by Tess Templer
How could you think that l wouldn’t know, When we’re so close? The lies – The deception. How could you think they wouldn’t show?
So you want to live in a fantasy world? Go Ahead – I don’t care. Say the words you said were just for me, When some other girl is there?
Someone told me, but l didn’t believe it. Just bitchin’ – Wasn’t true. Discontentment and jealousy talking, Of the love l had for you.
So go on with the pretense, Babe. World’s a stage. We’re actors too. Go on believing your illusion, While l believe in my dream too.
***
«Bereft» by Misty Rayne
Within this burdened breast lies a heavy saddened heart, this weight tortures rest of it you were a part.
Now torn from my grasp, forever it would seem, this loneliness to never lapse so empty have I been.
Once more, your embrace I need to dispel this wretched grief. From it I must be freed, with your compassion my relief.
Come back and take my hand to comfort and to hold, end my devastation, if you can, and soothe my aching soul.
***
«Bored And Sad» by Mikhail Lermontov
It’s boring and sad, and there’s no one around In times of my spirit’s travail… Desires!…What use is our vain and eternal desire?.. While years pass on by – all the best years!
To love…but love whom?.. a short love is vexing, And permanent love’s just a myth. Perhaps look within? – The past’s left no trace: All trivial, joys and distress…
What good are the passions? For sooner or later Their sweet sickness ends when reason speaks up; And life, if surveyed with cold-blooded regard,- Is stupid and empty – a joke…
***
«Broken» by Debbie Dixon
I see me sitting sadly in the corner Knees drawn up tightly to my chest. Mind and body wreaked in sorrow As tears course down my face. I pray to a God I don’t believe in Yet I curse him in the same breath. I look at me with narrowed eyes Pitying the sorry creature I have become. I look into my wretched soul Cursing the emptiness inside. Emptiness put there by my own stupidity. As I stand over the huddling form of myself I see I have gotten what I deserved from life. I had no right to the beautiful love we shared When the love rightfully belonged to her. Sadly I watch the shell of myself slowly cracking Oozing out all the pain and misery within my soul. There on top of all the shattered pieces Lay my beating heart, all alone. I gently pick it up and place it where it belongs. May it rest in peace forever.
***
«Cheating And Lies» by Meagen Deitz
Would you care if we quit talking? Would you care if I went walking? I need to know how you feel So I know how to deal. I like it when you’re by my side. I hate it when you try to hide All the cheating and the lies Bring me one step closer to saying goodbye. I know the cheating is a fact because I’ve caught you in the act. I wish I had more trust in you, but it’s kinda hard when I busted you. Seems to me you wouldn’t care even if I weren’t there. I always wonder who you’re with, hoping it’s not another chick. I’m not saying I don’t believe you. Too many people have told me to leave you, but you are everything to me, which is why I want you me to always be. Believing you may be a mistake, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I really love you; always know I do, and remember there will always be a me and you.
***
«Circus In Three Rings» by Sylvia Plath
In the circus tent of a hurricane designed by a drunken god my extravagant heart blows up again in a rampage of champagne-colored rain and the fragments whir like a weather vane while the angels all applaud.
Daring as death and debonair I invade my lion’s den; a rose of jeopardy flames in my hair yet I flourish my whip with a fatal flair defending my perilous wounds with a chair while the gnawings of love begin.
Mocking as Mephistopheles, eclipsed by magician’s disguise, my demon of doom tilts on a trapeze, winged rabbits revolving about his knees, only to vanish with devilish ease in a smoke that sears my eyes.
***
«Complete Emptiness» by Amanda Rae M.
I had once thought that maybe this was life. No love, no hate, no feelings. My deepest feelings would never be shared. I was so frightened, I didn’t know what to do. Scared of this one man all my life. Face my fear, I told myself! But it’s so hard, so confusing. Do you know what it’s like to wonder in darkness? It never stops, never ends. It goes on like a story with no ending. Do you know how it feels to be afraid of something that you can’t do anything about? That you didn’t ask for or even think about? Do you know what it’s like? Do you know how it feels? It’s complete and pure emptiness.
***
«Confessions Of A Broken Heart» by John Laset
Pain… Tension… Fatigue… Depression… Anger, Aggression, Frustration. All these unwanted sensations – Burning, hurting, tearing. My heart alone, cold and fearing. Why won’t you let me sleep, let me rest, Let me forget To eradicate, eliminate, destroy all my regrets? These memories inside, swirling, twirling, unwilling to reside in the corner of my mind. Repeating, resisting, insisting – Refusing to be denied its recognition Of its position in my Frustration, Confusion, Delusion. Ah, to close my eyes and let time fly by, Because there’s so much to gain By forgetting these dreams driving me insane. Unfocused, unclear, out of control, My world spinning, spinning, spinning, My sanity flying through the door. My reason, my logic, oh, it’s tragic, Like fine sands running through my hands, I’m losing my mind.
***
«Daddy’s Indifference» by Amber Victoria
I thought I saw the child in you, Daddy. Don’t you know what it’s like to be all alone?
I got my first bike today. Oh, the stitches in my mouth…I’ll be okay
And did you know, I really like Patsy Cline.
About what that man did to me, Daddy.. Don’t you worry, I’ll be strong.
You never told me that not everyone would like me, Daddy. But, I guess I should have learned that from you
***
«Diving into the Wreck» by Adrienne Rich
First having read the book of myths, and loaded the camera, and checked the edge of the knife-blade, I put on the body-armor of black rubber the absurd flippers the grave and awkward mask. I am having to do this not like Cousteau with his assiduous team aboard the sun-flooded schooner but here alone.
There is a ladder. The ladder is always there hanging innocently close to the side of the schooner. We know what it is for, we who have used it. Otherwise it is a piece of maritime floss some sundry equipment.
I go down. Rung after rung and still the oxygen immerses me the blue light the clear atoms of our human air. I go down. My flippers cripple me, I crawl like an insect down the ladder and there is no one to tell me when the ocean will begin.
First the air is blue and then it is bluer and then green and then black I am blacking out and yet my mask is powerful it pumps my blood with power the sea is another story the sea is not a question of power I have to learn alone to turn my body without force in the deep element.
And now: it is easy to forget what I came for among so many who have always lived here swaying their crenellated fans between the reefs and besides you breathe differently down here.
I came to explore the wreck. The words are purposes. The words are maps. I came to see the damage that was done and the treasures that prevail. I stroke the beam of my lamp slowly along the flank of something more permanent than fish or weed
the thing I came for: the wreck and not the story of the wreck the thing itself and not the myth the drowned face always staring toward the sun the evidence of damage worn by salt and away into this threadbare beauty the ribs of the disaster curving their assertion among the tentative haunters.
This is the place. And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair streams black, the merman in his armored body. We circle silently about the wreck we dive into the hold. I am she: I am he
whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes whose breasts still bear the stress whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies obscurely inside barrels half-wedged and left to rot we are the half-destroyed instruments that once held to a course the water-eaten log the fouled compass
We are, I am, you are by cowardice or courage the one who find our way back to this scene carrying a knife, a camera a book of myths in which our names do not appear.
***
«Do I Know You?» by Kathy Michael
Hi Grandma, How are you today? Hello Honey, Do I know you? Yes Grandma, it’s me.
This is how we start each conversation and end it too. I’m sorry, do I know you? You used to ask about school. Now it’s, do I know you?
We use to discuss my future plans or the trips you and gramps would plan. Now I talk and on your response I can depend.
You were so active and full of joy. Now you seem sad and angry.
For my visits you were so glad. Now for the distraction you seem mad.
I too am mad at this disease that has us all so sad. I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’ll be going now. Excuse me, do I know you? Isn’t it sad?
***
«Do You Know» by Michelle Boyd
Do you know a life of loneliness and one filled with pain, living a life with nothing to gain, Surrounded by darkness, overwhelmed with shame. A life without peace with no one to blame.
Do you know of a place unseen, A place that holds only shattered dreams, A place filled with sorrow with no end in sight, I am given this gift each and every night.
Do you know of a place so cold, This is the place I call my soul, A place without hope or comforting dreams, A life not worth living wouldn’t it seem.
Do you know of a life that should have never been, And the feeling that today this life has to end. One more day of sadness is much too hard to bear, I am tired of living a life of heartache and despair.
Do you know a person with so much pain inside, Or the feeling of loneliness when no one hears your cries, Maybe when the tears are gone and I can clearly see, The only question left will be… DO YOU KNOW ME
***
«Don’t Be Sad My Darling» by Victoria Hughes
I woke up one day And you were gone. The clouds had turned to grey, I woke up and found You had moved on, No longer bringing sunshine my way.
I got up to a call At the news of your passing My breath caught in my throat, I answered the phone And heard you laughing ‘Don’t be sad my darling, don’t.
I am happy, the old gang’s back together, We are all as one, And when the time comes We’ll be there When it is time for you to move on.
***
«Each Passing Moment» by Simon Agamemnon
All at once I must return to the blue water, before so comforting and yet now strangely insufficient. The knowledge of you, too much to bear with you so far away.
I dread the leaving, and hate the coming distance, the start of the grieving for your love, for your love.
I return to our stars, my link to you and all they represented of you, and me, of ourselves. The scent of you incensing me further, with you not here today.
I dread the leaving and hate the growing distance, the start of the grieving for more love, of your love.
The time is almost upon me and leaving for even a moment, tears my heart in two with no hope of rejoining. The thought of you brings tears to my eyes, stinging, streaming down my face.
I dread the leaving and hate the cold distance, the start of the grieving for all of you and our love.
It’s here now, the time I now die a little inside. Like a flower denied his sunshine I cower in the shadow of hopelessness Waiting……Waiting for you. The thought of your warmth regenerates my petals anticipating your touch, your kiss and your grace.
I dread the maddening night, I hate the cloudy skies that deny me our stars and, the look of love from your eyes.
***
«Ephemera» by Hazel Hall
THERE is a woman who makes my eye A place of shadows, as now and then I see her dimly going by, And faintly coming back again.
She moves as many others move; There is no uttrance in her tread To tempt an echo, nor to prove What other footsteps have not said.
As often as she comes and goes She is forgotten, as now and then The wind is forgotten until it blows A blur of dust down the street again.
***
«Expectations» by Liza Marie
The burning feeling in my throat The pain almost amounts to what I feel in my heart But this time I inflicted this upon myself Hoping at the same time I’ll improve all my flaws that turned you away from me
I look upon myself in the mirror I still don’t like what I see in front of me I see the residue of you around my mouth The remains of your kisses on my cheeks
I can feel your breath whispering across my face It sourly reminds me of the harsh winter wind that struck my face the day you left The irritating memory of the scent of your clothes burn my nose They sting like the fumes that float off a just stricken match
I can still feel you uncaring arms around my waist I feel myself wrapped around your finger by your words Bound and tied down by the deceiving lies you spoke Paralyzed by the sweetness that captured my attention without a second thought
I can sense your presence over me Like a shadow that won’t go away I feel as if I have no way out No light to guide my path
I know that this won’t last forever Just until the day that I’m ready to let you leave my mind Obviously I’m not ready yet For you have lingered in my thoughts ever since the day you left
I still dream of the day where I can live up to what you want me to be The angel I never was The angel I’m determined to be Even though I know the day you’ll want me again is just a faint hope inflicted by my imagination
Until then I’m going to do my best, which might even be the worst thing I could ever do To become what I think that I am not, what I hope that I’m not Which is something I’ll later regret
***
«Failure» by Shawn Pearson
To try and try and yet come up short, to hang my head while giving report, not able to make anything right, turns brightest day to darkest night. Amidst thoughts of strength to find myself weak brings a gut-wrenching pain of which my heart cannot speak.
Failure has never been part of my plan. I curse times I don’t, when I know that I can. My standard, my goal, my hope is perfection, yet I am met with regret, rebuke and rejection. Failure is a companion I have grown to despise, its taunts and its laughs are not found in your eyes.
In you I can see love, understanding and more. You think me a winner regardless lifeis score. When Iive nearly given up, drowning in failure, you life my life, my sight, my plight to the Savior. A loving like yours in this life is most glorious, although I’m imperfect with you and Christ I’m victorious.
***
«Faithful, Unsure Love» by Shana Worthen
Through all the storms and struggles- All the fights and tussles, All the disrespect, and abuse, My love was always true.
When you made me cry, made me feel unloved, I was always there by your side. No matter what you did or what you said, I was proud to be your girl.
My love for you is greater than anything in this world. You know that no one can love you like I do. Everything we have been through, I was faithful to you and only you.
I was your girl, your boo; But all you ever did was treat me like garbage. You said, “Baby, you know I love you.” But true love doesn’t break my heart.
I tried and tried to look past it, But the more I tried, the more I saw the real you. All the lies, all the deceit, You must have thought you were slick.
To love you more than anything Would be ignorant on my part. I can’t image my life without you, But I can’t image my life with you.
I deserve more than what you give me, Better than what I have now. Growing up is something that you need to do. My love for you is always there…. But my heart is moving on to better things.
***
«Fallen Warriors» by James W. Richardson
What ghosts walk these hallowed hills, Where once the cry of battle reigned? Who are these smoky misty forms that By their blood this ground was stained?
Their cry of pain floats on the wind. Echoing from the ridge, Calling for aid and comfort, but alas, The spans too wide to bridge.
Only God can help these souls who have Fallen at the line, Build no monument to these men, this Ground shall be their shrine.
Let angels hover above the trees and Guard these men of yore, Kiss their cheeks and soothe their brow, For death shall be no more.
***
«Farewell My Love» by Joanna Fuchs
Is it really true our love is over now? Can it be time for us to say goodbye? Too soon, it’s much too soon, my love, for me; You smile with ease, but I can only sigh.
We’ve shared our lives and given so much love; I can’t believe we’re really going to part; You’re moving toward a new life without me; I’m left with scars upon my broken heart.
Go on now, if you must; I’ll get along; How much it hurts, I don’t want you to know. I’ll set you free without inducing guilt, But as you leave, the silent tears will flow.
I can’t be mad; I love you way too much; I’ll hide my sadness now, so you can’t tell. Sweet happiness is what I wish for you; Farewell my love, I hope that you fare well.
***
«Feeling Sad Ineptitude» by Margaret Alice
Anne Fine is my favourite author of all time, the way she explains life in “How To Write Really Badly”
Where a mentally impaired child, with only one exceptional gift for model- making, suffers through school
The way I did, having been born into a musical family; yet being unable to play musical instruments
Hating lessons, feeling inferior, never mastering the art I had to conquer to be acknowledged in our family
The permanent feeling of failure, the ever- present fear, knowing whatever I did would never be good enough
The feeling still with me even though giving up music ages ago – the feeling of sad ineptitude never leaving again…
***
«Flash» by Hazel Hall
I am less of myself and more of the sun; The beat of life is wearing me To an incomplete oblivion, Yet not to the certain dignity Of death. They cannot even die Who have not lived.
The hungry jaws Of space snap at my unlearned eye, And time tears in my flesh like claws.
If I am not life’s, if I am not death’s, Out of chaos I must re-reap The burden of untasted breaths. Who has not waked may not yet sleep.
***
«For Love’s Sake» by Susan Christensen
I’m so tired of this empty feeling. I’m so tired of being alone. I lay here staring at the ceiling, Waiting by the phone.
I jump when the phone rings. It brings a smile to my face. When he hangs up my heart stings, And I sink back into my lonely place.
I wish and I dream That we’ll be together soon. I can’t wait until we can look up hand in hand At the stars and at the moon.
I yearn for his kisses His touch – His embrace. I can’t wait for Thursdays When I get to see his face.
I’m flooded with thoughts of him In my heart, soul, and mind. I imagine his touch, So gentle and kind.
I try not to weep. I hope he doesn’t hear my cries, But I can’t stop the tears Falling from my eyes.
I cry a thousand tears And think – how much more can I take? But in my heart I know I’d wait a thousand years All for love’s sake.
***
«For my achondroplasic child» by Luciano R. Mendes
Your mother died of cancer, my child. She died slowy, without drama but with great agony. That’s the answer I gave you when you asked me why I never finished writing my first romance. You took your tiny and deformed hands to my face and touched my eyes with love and violence. I stood, I went away: it was time for your injection: growth hormons from men that are even more dead than me.
***
«Going To Be A Mother» by Ruwaida Van Doorsen
I face the future Already planned for me No nothing for me to expect There is nothing to wait and see
For my destiny has been mapped out I shall have no more youthful days I shall never feel the thrill again Of raucous, rebellious ways
I shall rear a child for eighteen years Maybe even longer For although I’m still a child myself I’m going to be a mother
***
«Gone Forever» by Dane Yule
I miss the times when you were here, Telling me to have no fear. To hold my head up high and strong, Add happy notes to my sad song.
I miss the way you look at me As if I were too blind to see. The path I’m on might hurt and scathe, But all goes well if you just have faith.
I miss the sound of your sweet voice, Through bitter times a saving noise That told me what was right and wrong But rang in my ears for far too long.
A caring person, you were such Who helped and hurt me, oh so much. You’d guide and mislead me through the day You left me lonely when I’d rather you stay.
Over things like that you had no control. A rock set in motion will continue to roll. No matter how hard you tug and heave, You were always pushed and forced to leave.
Then one day you never returned, My tears so hot they almost burned. Aware now about what I lack, But crying and mourning won’t bring you back.
For me to let out what I need to say. I can’t do much more than pray. No longer am I weak; my heart’s quite strong From adding a happy chorus to a sad, sad song.
***
«Good-Bye My Love» by Michael Beals
A thought we shared A life we lived A love we had together
Good times Bad times Nothing lasts forever
A broken heart A tear I shed Love can have much pain
For knowing you For loving you So much I have gained
God’s fairest child An angel I have known My soul you have touched
Good-bye my darling Cindy It’s over but always remember I had loved you so very much
***
«Happy & Sad» by Sumita Datta
Happy and Sad – never come together They are very different in nature,
Happy is very cute, always smiling Sad is just opposite, very depressing….
Sad is very jealous of Happy The moment sad is in, Happy feels unsteady…
When Happy is with me, I am also very happy But the moment Sad is in, I feel scared and shaky…
I just want to be alone, when I am with sad, Though I know that he is very bad….
I know I can’t escape from sad If I try to run away, I will go mad…
So, I try to react normal, irrespective of each other I know that one is going to come after another…
***
«Her Kind» by Anne Sexton
I have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night; dreaming evil, I have done my hitch over the plain houses, light by light: lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind.
I have found the warm caves in the woods, filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves, closets, silks, innumerable goods; fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves: whining, rearranging the disaligned. A woman like that is misunderstood. I have been her kind.
I have ridden in your cart, driver, waved my nude arms at villages going by, learning the last bright routes, survivor where your flames still bite my thigh and my ribs crack where your wheels wind. A woman like that is not ashamed to die. I have been her kind.
***
«Hope From Heart» by Tara Ong
I write this poem for you to read, with heartache that will forever bleed. I wish things were so different. Sadly, this is what you’ve made of me. I sit here alone day by day, realizing my life is better off this way. I admit I still hurt from all your lies, yet you’ll never hear my cries. You once made my world stand tall and proud. Now what’s left has crumbled down. Something good has come of this, One more chance to find true happiness. I guess this is goodbye, and so it shall be, wishing for your love was foolish of me. I will move on, which was too easy for you. I wrote this poem hoping you’d feel heartache too.
***
«How It Used To Be» by Melanie Edwards
I remember how it used to be when nothing else matter but you and me. Music, country roads, and future dreams.
I miss you, I wish you could see. Although you are here, I miss you and me.
I remember when you said how happy I made you, and you really meant it…now, it’s just a phrase you say without thinking.
I miss those days when you’d call just to say, “Hi,” or, “I love you.” Those days it was so hard just to say good-bye for a while.
I remember how wonderful it felt the first time you held me in your arms, and how after all those years you still made my heart melt.
I miss the old you and the old me, The old us that could just sit and talk for hours and never run out of things to say.
I remember when time simply stood still, when in each other’s arms was the only place we wanted to be…forever.
I miss us as I remember how it used to be… when nothing else mattered but you and me.
***
«How Sad» by Barry Van Allen
Away from me she runs, and after her I go, as reminders of the past are found again.
Sometimes it’s worth the walk, to stroll down memory lane, but mostly, it is just not worth the pain.
The loves my life has known are not forgotten, ‘nor are the lessons taught to me by those once dear, I have never known a love that’s just gone rotten, but, I’ve had many loves just die from simple fear.
So, who’s afraid today? is it you or is it me? or… is it both of us, and both refuse to see?
Within the recent past we’ve known the laughter, and now you know a slice of me that even I don’t, and yes, we ask ourselves ‘ Is this what we were after? ‘, and in the asking, have we doomed the love we’ve known?
It does not grow, so then we know it must be bad, we have misplaced the love that once we truly had, in a way we are together going mad, … Oh! , Dear – – – How sad!
***
«How Sad Can Be This Life» by Francis Duggan
I’ve often thought how sad can be this life The man is separating from his wife And she in hospital not feeling well For some ’tis rough and living can be hell.
Their little boy is only three years old And he’s autistic so i have been told And social workers of him taking care If there’s a God then he’s not always fair.
And it’s been said the mother well may die And if so what’s going to happen to the boy? He needs his mum more than he needs his dad Just thinking of it seems so very sad.
A little boy with blue eyes and blond hair Of sadness that surround him unaware He smiles and takes the social worker’s hand ‘He’s lucky he’s too young to understand’.
I often think how sad this life can be And sadness all around me i can see On a hospital bed an ailing young mother lie And worry for her baby as she die.
***
«I Cry» by Susan Christensen
I’m sitting on the porch, Wind blowing through my hair. The ducks are frolicking in the pond, But I just can’t seem to care.
Life goes on around me. I don’t participate. I go through all the motions, But what I really do is wait.
I dream about the day That you’ll come home to me. Nothing else is important. Why can’t people see?
I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to have fun. I don’t want to do a thing Until all is said and done.
They took you in the summer. Now fall is almost finished. Winter will be here very soon, And then the year will have diminished.
You have no idea how much I cry. I never let you know. It’s so hard out here without you, But I’m not allowed to let it show.
I must pretend all is fine. Everyone thinks all’s okay, But what I never ever tell them Is that I cry for you every day.
***
«I Dreamed That I Was Old» by Stanley Kunitz
I dreamed that I was old: in stale declension Fallen from my prime, when company Was mine, cat-nimbleness, and green invention, Before time took my leafy hours away.
My wisdom, ripe with body’s ruin, found Itself tart recompense for what was lost In false exchange: since wisdom in the ground Has no apocalypse or pentecost.
I wept for my youth, sweet passionate young thought, And cozy women dead that by my side Once lay: I wept with bitter longing, not Remembering how in my youth I cried.
***
«I Hide To Cry» by Veronica Ann Cech
I hide to cry because I have no where to call my own and “happily ever after” is a land too far away, just after once- upon- a- time; just this side of the rainbow
and no one really cares anyway
I hide to cry because I know I will never leave this place and dreams don’t really come true its just all make- believe
and it really doesn’t matter
I hide to cry because my weakness brings my tears and I have no one to hold me close no one here who loves me
and no one really cares anyway
I hide to cry because I embarrass the moon and she is my only friend but she’s too far away to hold my hand
and it really doesn’t matter anyway
I hide to cry because no one really cares anyway and is this pain even real it really doesn’t matter
and no one really cares anyway
I hide to cry because no one validates my pain and no one really cares so why should I
and it really doesn’t matter anyway
***
«I Love You And Goodbye» by Nadine Sandalo
Not once did I expect this to happen. Never in my wildest dream have I’ve fallen, For a boy who wasn’t my prince charming Nor to someone who is my friend.
It must have been your sweetness that melted my heart Or your gentle smile that could be the start. Whatever the reason for me to feel this way, One thing I know – this strange feeling grows stronger everyday.
All this time I’ve been praying For you to see and look at me as a lady. Every now and then I woke up dreaming That I could be your girl, not just a friend.
Then reality broke me into pieces It wounded me badly as it came to my senses That you belong to someone else, And I’m left alone with all this heartache.
A few might have a clue, But nobody knows the pain I’ve been through. They can’t guess the sleepless nights Nor count the tears I’ve cried.
My friends see me smiling and laughing, Yet deep inside there’s no place for denying. I know I have to surrender and let go – At least to cease and ease the misery.
Still I’d be happy, Because happiness means seeing you being one. And let me say this for once, I love you! But I love you more, so goodbye…
***
«I Measure Every Grief I Meet» by Emily Dickinson
I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, eyes – I wonder if It weighs like Mine – Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long – Or did it just begin – I could not tell the Date of Mine – It feels so old a pain –
I wonder if it hurts to live – And if They have to try – And whether – could They choose between – It would not be – to die –
I note that Some – gone patient long – At length, renew their smile – An imitation of a Light That has so little Oil –
I wonder if when Years have piled – Some Thousands – on the Harm – That hurt them early – such a lapse Could give them any Balm –
Or would they go on aching still Through Centuries of Nerve – Enlightened to a larger Pain – In Contrast with the Love –
The Grieved – are many – I am told – There is the various Cause – Death – is but one – and comes but once – And only nails the eyes –
There’s Grief of Want – and grief of Cold – A sort they call “Despair” – There’s Banishment from native Eyes – In sight of Native Air –
And though I may not guess the kind – Correctly – yet to me A piercing Comfort it affords In passing Calvary –
To note the fashions – of the Cross – And how they’re mostly worn – Still fascinated to presume That Some – are like my own –
***
«I Saw You» by Jodie Scheitel
I saw you last night With a girl In your car.
Did you see me? I wonder Did you see?
She was beautiful – Long, straight blonde hair Thin, beautiful.
As I stared into your car, Your eyes fixed on her, I prayed.
I prayed God would make a switch – Replace her with me.
Did you see me? I wonder, Did you see?
I knew, though, That God Would not answer that prayer.
I was not alone. I wished I was; I wished he would go away.
Did you see me? I wonder Did you see?
As the light turned green I took another look; I laughed uneasily.
I wished again For God to make a switch; To replace her with me.
Did you see me? I wonder Did you see?
I wished you would look at me The way you looked at her; I wished you still loved me.
I wished you would touch me The way you touched her; I wished you still loved me.
Did you see me? I wonder Did you see?
I know now – I guess I’ve always known; It’s over.
I’ll never feel your love; I’ll never feel your touch; I’ll never hold you in my arms The way I want to so much.
So, again I wonder As I sit here all alone,
Did you see me? I wonder Did you see?
***
«I Sing A Sad Song» by Dorothy Holmes
I sing a sad song for the cold, lonely Moments no one will admit to aloud.
I sing a sad song for all of the broken Promises, Wrought by circumstances beyond Anyone’s control.
I sing a sad song for the faces pressing Against the window panes in longing.
I sing a sad song for wild anticipation Of days that never come.
I sing a sad song for the telephone That never rings enough.
I sing a sad song for dreams woven of Hopeless illusions.
I sing a sad song for all of those who Waste time, singing sad songs!
***
«I Sit And Look Out» by Walt Whitman
I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame; I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with themselves, remorseful after deeds done; I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying, neglected, gaunt, desperate; I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer of young women; I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be hid—I see these sights on the earth; I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and prisoners; I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who shall be kill’d, to preserve the lives of the rest; I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like; All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out upon, See, hear, and am silent.
***
«I Still Miss You» by Angela Craig
This yearning in my heart This confusion in my mind The words left unspoken Haunts me all the time
Everyday I watch pass by With an emptiness in my life And a hole in my heart Where only you belong
There are nights I wake up crying And wishing you were here To hold me in your arms And kiss away my tears
There is something that keeps me holding on – What I’ll never know But one day things will go my way And I’ll have you in my arms
***
« I Tried So Hard» by Whitney Barton
I tried my best. I gave you my all, And now there’s nothing left.
You stole my heart Then tore it in two. Now I’m falling apart And don’t know what to do.
Divided by decisions, Burned by the fire, Confused by your words, Tempted by desire.
I’m living in the present. My mind is on the past. Not knowing what I’ll lose, Not knowing what will last.
Blinded by fear, Drowning in doubt, Struggling to be free, Looking for a way out.
***
«If I’d Never Met You» by Joanna Fuchs
If I’d never met you, I wouldn’t feel the pain Of losing your sweet love; I wouldn’t feel insane.
But if I’d never met you, I wouldn’t know the pleasure Of ecstasy’s warm gifts And memories to treasure.
Now moving on with life, I force a wistful grin, Questioning what went wrong, Wondering what might have been.
***
«If Only» by Joanna Fuchs
If only I had done the things That keep true love alive, I wouldn’t have to acknowledge now That our love cannot survive.
If only I had described to you The joy you brought to me, Instead of bringing you complaints, You wouldn’t have set me free.
If I had touched you, kissed you, Love, If I had loved you stronger, If I had appreciated you, We would have lasted longer.
If I had often said to you, “It’s you whom I adore,” Perhaps you’d still be with me now, If I had told you more.
If only I had treated you As if we were best friends, I wouldn’t be alone in grief, As our faded love finally ends.
If only I didn’t have to say, “If only, my love, if only,” I wouldn’t be all by myself So sorry, sad and lonely.
***
«If Raindrops Were Tears» by Joanna Fuchs
If raindrops were tears And it rained every day, The rain couldn’t wash My heartache away.
You’re still my ideal; My love never dies, But it cuts to the bone– What I see in your eyes.
You want me to stop; You want to be friends, But you’ll be my true love Until breath and life ends.
***
«If These Walls Could Talk» by Christelle Duvenage
If these walls could talk, you’d know my body is dead, my mind has been taken over, that’s why I am so scared, I can’t control it, anger is making me blind, I’ve been left here on my own chained to a hate of some kind. If these walls could talk.
If these walls could talk, you’d know about my fears, about all those nights I screamed for help, about all my fallen tears. You’d know about the demons haunting me at night, you’d be able to help me keep my fire alight, if these walls could talk.
If these walls could talk they would say that it’s all right, God sends His angels to look over me at night. They’d encourage me, say though I am alone it doesn’t mean I’m on my own. He watches me, from above and showers me with all His love, if only these walls could talk.
***
«In My Own Shire, If I Was Sad» by Alfred Edward Housman
In my own shire, if I was sad, Homely comforters I had: The earth, because my heart was sore, Sorrowed for the son she bore; And standing hills, long to remain, Shared their short-lived comrade’s pain. And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, Trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year: Whether in the woodland brown I heard the beechnut rustle down, And saw the purple crocus pale Flower about the autumn dale; Or littering far the fields of May Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay, And like a skylit water stood The bluebells in the azured wood.
Yonder, lightening other loads, The seasons range the country roads, But here in London streets I ken No such helpmates, only men; And these are not in plight to bear, If they would, another’s care. They have enough as ’tis: I see In many an eye that measures me The mortal sickness of a mind Too unhappy to be kind. Undone with misery, all they can Is to hate their fellow man; And till they drop they needs must still Look at you and wish you ill.
***
«In Valid Feelings» by Lloyd Klumpp
Within you was a burning need I could not satisfy. My broken seed would not allow The joining of our essence.
So we turned to science To find a way to mimic Or bypass natures tools, And give us new life.
High with hopes and full of love We learned of methods used. Of ova, sperm and embryo, Of ultrasound and drugs.
But soon reality crushed us. There was no excitement here. Instead of flesh and pleasure There was cold hard steel and pain.
I can’t erase the etching Scraped into my mind, Of the needles given to you, Some driven by my hand.
Your tears of pain were echoed In every part of me. Each stab a mortal wound To our unity once strong.
The spark was then rekindled When under the microscope We saw groups of cells, Clumped together, Fusions of you and I.
An agonizing wait, A nervous phone call made. Soaring hope came crashing down. Those tiny threads of life were no more, Lost, Gone.
Emptiness invaded us Shattering dreams of if. Grief pervading every breath Despite the briefness of that flicker.
We mourned the passing Of those tiny lives made of us, Then buried the remains Of all that once was ‘we’.
Your need remains unfulfilled. My guilt is justified.
***
«Is It Enough?» by Joanna Fuchs
When we converse, it’s just surface stuff; We say some words, but is it enough? We get along; we rarely fight, But where is the spark, the joy, the delight?
We’re settled into the same routine; Sometimes I’d like to flee this scene. Everything’s easy; we don’t have it rough, But sometimes I wonder: Is it enough?
***
«Is This What Love Is?» by Joanna Fuchs
Is this all we have together? Is this what love really is, Yelling through a quarrel And making up with a kiss?
Why can’t we get along? Why do we have to fight? We starve true love by day And feed lust all through the night.
I wish we’d settle down; I wonder where peace went. Why do we pick at each other; Why can’t we be content?
If this is what love is, If tenderness has flown, I’m thinking more and more, It’s better to be alone.
***
«It’s His Fault» by Amanda Grey
Why do you beat yourself up because you had the courage to love, gave all of yourself in hopes that he was the one?
Why do you beat yourself up when it was his choice to be unfaithful, his choice to hurt you?
Why do you beat yourself up, knowing that you had done everything for him, supported him, comforted him, loved him more than you loved yourself?
Why, after his lies and deceit, do you still love him and want him to love you? Why, after the repeat of hurt and trust being lost, do you think that he deserves a love as pure as yours?
Why do you beat yourself up over what you could have done better when you know deep down there was nothing?
What makes you search for answers as to why when they will not change the past nor mend your broken heart?
Why, when a man decides to cheat, do we blame ourselves? Why does it make us question every little detail about who we are, make us think that we are not worthy of love?
Why, when a man cheats, do we still long for him to change, realize how wrong he was, and fall in love with us again?
Why do you beat yourself up, when you deserve more, when all that you have done is loved someone completely?
Give yourself time, and the pain will subside, and the mourning will cease. You will see that you are still you, still wonderful, beautiful you
Nothing has changed except your experience in love and your determination to share love with another.
As you can never truly love someone until you learn to love yourself.
***
«It’s Sad How Things Come To An End» by Chanel Jackson
It’s sad how things Especially good things come to an end But they must So that we may start a new beginning Learn new lessons And enforce old ones Change the things we can And accept the things we cannot We need to move on In order to see The great things that may become of me And of you Trial after trial Error after error It is how we become anew Yet remain the same Because it is ourselves we stay true So although we may be sad to see it leave We must let it go for it has done its part And greet the new that will strengthen our heart
***
«January’s Sad Refrain» by Teresa Dearing
Gone, the last holiday, Another year passed away. Now our taxes we must pay, Cold and gray marks the day.
Barren trees and icy ground, Not much pleasure to be found, Winter holds us in its grip, As icy winds howl and rip.
Move with caution all a-round, Train whistles a lonly sound. If only I was half my age, I’d ride to warmth, with my wage.
But for now I will light the fire, And spin warm dreams as I retire, To dream of sun that burns like fire, Of heat and sweat that I’ll soon tire.
Oh, please just let the winter pass, For now I long to mow the grass. Human nature’s a fickle lass, We long for what we can not grasp.
We may wish this time to past, But life’s time moves much too fast. So look for joy, ignore the cold and pain, We all know January’s sad refrain.
***
«Let the Past Die» by William Ellery Leonard
Friends tell me (friends in life and books well read): ” Let your Past die with all its grief and riot. ” Let the Past die! — The past is never dead! Not at high noon! Not in the starry quiet! My Past is gesturing in this limp you pity, And whitens in this scar against the blast, And not a tree, a book, a song, a city, But has to-day its meaning from my Past. There is, good friends, scant wisdom in this ” letting ” ; I am my past so long as I am I; And in a brave reshaping, not forgetting, Is my one hope and action not to die: The Past that might have killed me if it could I sternly mold to art and hardihood.
***
«Letting Go» by Judy Burnette
How do you walk away from someone you love And take the road of friend; Can you reroute the course you have taken And start over once again?
I don’t really want to let you go But inside me I know I must; The times we’ve loved . . . the times you’ve left My heart says stay . . . but it’s my mind I must trust.
We have shared so much together Laughter . . . fun times . . . tears; Yet sometimes we can’t turn back time We must walk away, and allow ourselves to heal.
I know one day you will be happy And your soulmate you will find; I know we each have one out there Even if for now . . . only in our minds.
May life be gentle with you May God’s best come your way; And on some quiet tomorrow You will realize things were better this way.
***
«Lies» by Stanley Naber
Lies hurt more than the truth why do I live in self pity and expect disappointment more then optimism or does enjoyment lead me to new worlds which I can not live on the air is getting thin and I want to stay for some time too bad I can not live in my dreams for then utopia would be reached wouldn’t it
***
«Life Can Be So Sad» by Joyce Hemsley
More handsome than a movie star Your sepia portrait stands apart Affecting my life each morn and night imprinted upon this aching heart.
Silver hair caressing your face Eyes alive with magical glow Charm that could launch a thousand loves You were my darling. I loved you so.
Adored even more than you were before In the hidden gallery of my heart Where nobody goes ~ nobody knows That you are my secret work of art.
Your beautiful portrait will ever be Here at my bedside comforting me. But deep in my soul, I will always be Crying a river because I lost thee.
***
«Life Must Be Very Sad For Her» by Francis Duggan
Life must be very sad for her so feeble, old and gray From her bed helped to her wheelchair her life’s hours tick away A drive in the nursing home bus once a week with her elderly mates she does look forward to She can only live for as long as she can but then that’s all we all can do, In her mid nineties she must be near the twilight of her life For fifty years to a hard working man she was a devoted wife He died some twenty years ago soon with him she will lay In the old graveyard by the hill just a short drive away From the nursing home where she now reside and though she knows her end is near Her husband she is going to join so death she does not fear Her daughter even growing old she now is seventy one And her grandson in his early forties with a teenage daughter and son, In her mid nineties and in need of care and her better days long gone And only her great love for life it keeps her keeping on.
***
«Lonely Tears» by Angela Pilant
First I shed a single tear because we are apart, wanting nothing but to be with you, to make a brand new start
The 2nd tear I shed is a lonely tear indeed. My mind goes wild, my body goes numb, and my heart begins to bleed.
The 3rd tear I cry wanting to feel your touch, to taste your kiss and lips on mine, I want so very much.
The 4th tear I cry thinking of you at night, wanting you to hold me as I grip my pillow tight.
The 5th tear I cry stains my pillowcase. My mind drifts off in la la land as I take us to that place.
The 6th tear I shed my thoughts go very deep, simply dream of me and you as I drift off fast to sleep.
***
«Lost Souls» by Sweet Madness
In this heartless creation It is hard to understand Why some souls choose to wander Forgetting
Yet I am lost without wandering My love is a ghost Ancient – with wisdom Vital – with tears Not able to move on Unable to let go
It’s hard to remember a love You don’t recognize in this life Yet the memory is without thought Agony – without knowledge This love – is without mercy
Passing through eternity Life to the next Forever searching In a labyrinth of whispers For a blissful love Lost
Longing for the touch I’ll sense when I feel Whispering to my heart Comforting this stoned soul
Our love burns within me But I am lost in the shadows This entity of dreams Forever killing me
I believe this love is eternal The flame will not relinquish Forever circling me The very matter of my existence
But for now I simply breath Awaiting your rescue Music – bonding our souls Pain – stirring the memories While silence shouts out this melody
***
«Lost… » by John Laset
My Angel… Where are you? I’m lost, confused, alone… I cannot see you… There is darkness around me; The fire has died, my light blown away By an unwanted breeze… I am wandering, going around and around in circles… Is there no end to this loneliness?
My Angel… Where are you? My heart is sad, it cannot hear your songs. All I hear is the echo of your love, Its melody fading… Fading… Fading…
Now there is only silence, maddening silence. It is suffocating, draining my heart of your songs… Is there no escape from this madness?
My Angel… Where are you? I am cold… I cannot feel your wings around me, Cannot feel your loving arms to embrace me… There is only emptiness… Emptiness that pulls, and pushes, and shoves… The emptiness is within me, devouring me whole, Leaving nothing left but an empty soul… Where are you, my Angel? Come to me, fill me up with your love… Make me whole again… Do not leave me in this pit of despair…
My Angel… Where are you? I cannot see you, hear you, feel you… Have you gone away from me? have you taken away my heart…
… My Angel,
… where are you?
***
«Masquerade» by Nicole Sotelo
As I sink into the shadows, the music begins to fade. The people have all left me, and so ends this masquerade.
The food has all been tasted, bits thrown upon the floor. My reality sinks in now. This illusion is no more.
As I look into the mirror, I cannot give myself a name. Through all these lies I’ve hidden, and lost myself in shame.
The doors will never open to this castle I have built – set aside is my pain, so remains this saddened guilt.
***
«Memories» by Ruqaiya Curmally
Haunt me, Dimensions of dreams, Swirl by, Colours of sorrow, Merge the past, Into my today, Play with my mind, Steal away my tomorrow. Desert me, Images of what might have been, Relinquish your hold, On my heart’s shattered being Taunt me , Memories of yesteryear, Take away , My corroded soul, Within the drop of a single tear.
***
«Mirror» by Sylvia Plath
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful, The eye of a little god, four-cornered. Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
***
«Miss Rosie» by Lucille Clifton
when I watch you wrapped up like garbage sitting, surrounded by the smell of too old potato peels or when I watch you in your old man’s shoes with the little toe cut out sitting, waiting for your mind like next week’s grocery I say when I watch you you wet brown bag of a woman who used to be the best looking gal in Georgia used to be called the Georgia Rose I stand up through your destruction I stand up
***
«My Everything» by Dean Coombes
You’re my love, my life, The air that I breathe. You’re my soul, my happiness, The all that I need.
You’re my light, my dark, The stars in the sky. You’re my ups, my downs, The reason I try.
You’re my strength, my weakness, The love from the start. You’re my heartache, my pain, The beat of my heart
You’re my tears, my joy, The love that you bring. You’re my world, my galaxy, You’re my everything.
***
«My Own Bed Of Roses» by Leigh Anne Dawson
To lie in a bed of roses, To feel the silkiness against my skin, The fragrance How it comforts me, Though feeling so alone, Once again. There was a time When skies weren’t cloudy, And it seldom ever rained, But as the clouds begin to rumble, Once again there’s so much pain. So I’ll lie in my bed of roses, And wait till the storm subsides, And use the petals from my bed, To wipe away the tears I’ve cried.
***
«My Sad Captains» by Thom Gunn
One by one they appear in the darkness: a few friends, and a few with historical names. How late they start to shine! but before they fade they stand perfectly embodied, all
the past lapping them like a cloak of chaos. They were men who, I thought, lived only to renew the wasteful force they spent with each hot convulsion. They remind me, distant now.
True, they are not at rest yet, but now they are indeed apart, winnowed from failures, they withdraw to an orbit and turn with disinterested hard energy, like the stars.
Submitted by Andrew Mayers
***
«My Sister Buried in a Trunk» by Aaron Barth-Martinson
I was around— Every night I called up to her window Emily—Emily, don’t die alone…
I was there As close to serenade I tried to make my voice sound, When I sung out to her: Come down Emily, Emily come take a walk with me— Put your feet on solid ground!
I was confined to come each eve, I cried for her to glimpse my sight, I saw but a lonely light; A discomforted form at work.
I swear I came even on wild nights, Where now I think the rain tried To provide me with some future incite, Though I was unaware of what she wrote I knew that she did write, I thought she would retire soon from sowing, The window was high, With candle light still glowing, I whispered, Emily—Emily Please stop what you are doing, Just for a moment— come walk with me Emily—Emily, don’t die alone…
I heard a pace, I heard her rise, I heard her heart— it was racing, I thought I could hear her feet on the steps– The upstairs window flew open— The door below stayed closed— I should have known it was her life that was going…
There was no light in the window anymore Later nights when I did call; My life without her had little answer… It was strange how I kept facing Returning to where she went departing Without a care at all.
But when I broke the rules So sick with love from calling, I found a trunk full Of slanted verse And I was no longer falling.
Yet after I made your work immortal, You died again, in my grief.
Now often nights I still come by, Sometimes I think I see, A shadow pass over your room; I shed a tear for Emily.
***
«Never Asked» by Jessica Camp
I never asked you to call me, Never asked to go with you that day. That one night was perfect. We were one, but I knew I’d be the one to pay. I never asked you to make me feel good, Never asked you to look my way. It takes two to do what happened that night, so there’s nothing more you can say. I never asked for you to care, Never asked to be the only one. I knew she was in your life too, But still I thought I’d won. I never asked for promises, Never asked if I could put my trust in you. I always though I could handle the things you “so often” like to do. I never asked you to turn away, Never asked you to make me cry. You go on with your life like nothing ever Happened while I slowly start to die. I never asked for this loneliness, Never asked to be the one to blame. You tried putting all the guilt on me while you Were the one playing the mind game. I never asked for this empty feeling, Never asked you to be there. While I sit here confused in my own little world, All you can do is stare. I never asked if you loved me, Never asked you to take something special away. I can’t think straight and my heart aches, all Because of that day. I never asked for an explanation, Never asked to be on your mind that day. Even though I never asked you anything, I’m broken hearted either way.
***
«No One Should Be Sad» by Carl Johnson
When ever life’s too much for me, I stop and think a while. I dream of floating of to sea, This always makes me smile.
Far away from all my fears, My mind is free at last. No more upsets, No more tears, A future with no past.
My boat it shifts through waters calm, With sails all puffed up wide. I feel relaxed and far from harm, As my boat so smoothly glides.
I stand up front with Oceans bare, By this I mean no land. No soul in sight to make a pair, My boat is just one manned.
So on I go, Alone I thought, Until I looked aside. I was surprised what Nature brought, Two dolphins at my side.
By now I’m truly far away, In mind and distance too. The dolphins lead me far astray, They also could take you.
We reached a place far out to sea, That looked like heavens door. For all around my boat and me, Where dolphins more and more.
They swim around these waters blue, They sometimes jump up high. You could see these visions too, When things are hard Just Try.
I have these dreams Most of the time, As life too much for me. They take me away from all the grime, Just try it and you’ll see.
***
«Nobody Knows» by Azumi Zaima
Nobody knows it’s empty, The smile that I wear. The real one is left behind in the past Because I left you there…
Nobody knows I am crying. They won’t even see my tears. When they think I am laughing, I wish you were here…
Nobody knows it’s painful. They think that I am strong. They say it won’t kill me, But I wonder if they are wrong…
Nobody knows I miss you. They think I am all set free, But I feel like I am bound with chains, Trapped in the mystery…
Nobody knows I need you. They think I can do it on my own, But they don’t know I am crying When I am all alone…
***
«Now That You’re Gone» by Joanna Fuchs
Now that you’re gone, I realize How much you meant to me. My loss is wide as a starless night sky, And deep as a stormy sea.
I miss the comfort of your sweet love, Your absolute devotion; Now I’m a fountain of endless tears, A pool of sad emotion.
They tell me I should move on with life, That time will heal my pain; I smile and nod and agree with them, While I slowly go insane.
***
«Ode To You» by Carl Sinclair
Every morning I see your face, And for that fleeting second I’m in a different place, A place where we smiled, laughed, and talked, A place where we could hold hands wherever we walked, I’m reminded of this each and every day. Then the sleep clears and it’s all blown away.
Realization sets in and I’m all alone. I quickly have to check my phone In case you’ve called or sent me a text. Then it hits harder as what come next Is the empty screen with your smiling face And the emptiness of this forsaken place.
I wither up inside as all my hopes disappear And the burn in my heart really starts to sear. I sink back in my bed and think of you And wonder if there’s anything I can do. I’m knocked back every time I try to get through, And now the decision is up to you.
Leave me out here in the cold and the rain, Leave me to choke on the tears and the pain, Missing you every minute of every day, Loving you more and more in my way. One day, my love, this will all be like a dream. I just hope we can dream it together in our place so serene.
***
«Odysseus to Telemachus» by Joseph Brodsky
My dear Telemachus, The Trojan War is over now; I don’t recall who won it. The Greeks, no doubt, for only they would leave so many dead so far from their own homeland. But still, my homeward way has proved too long. While we were wasting time there, old Poseidon, it almost seems, stretched and extended space.
I don’t know where I am or what this place can be. It would appear some filthy island, with bushes, buildings, and great grunting pigs. A garden choked with weeds; some queen or other. Grass and huge stones . . . Telemachus, my son! To a wanderer the faces of all islands resemble one another. And the mind trips, numbering waves; eyes, sore from sea horizons, run; and the flesh of water stuffs the ears. I can’t remember how the war came out; even how old you are–I can’t remember.
Grow up, then, my Telemachus, grow strong. Only the gods know if we’ll see each other again. You’ve long since ceased to be that babe before whom I reined in the plowing bullocks. Had it not been for Palamedes’ trick we two would still be living in one household. But maybe he was right; away from me you are quite safe from all Oedipal passions, and your dreams, my Telemachus, are blameless.
***
«Of Sad Eyes» by Taher Shemaly
Hello how are you? my dearest friend that I ever had How’s everything going on with you? missed your old days that with you I had Ye my friend of the sad eyes
I remember how you used to play your harp and flute in gay The fun we had and the happy memories away from troubles and the tragedies Not like now my friend of the sad eyes
I wonder where did you go? and where you are hiding? scared of this world of ego? or maybe you are on your bed dying? Where are you, my friend of the sad eyes?
Here, we have a moon with light and a sun that is so bright But not easy life to be engaged and nothing to you to be compared Ye my friend of the sad eyes
And though they are beautiful the plenty of roses that we have here But destiny and hearts are so harmful in the world we are living here Really missed my friend of the sad eyes
My thought and soul are longing to know to whom am I talking But after many trials to know who is the ghost that I would never know It was but me, the one of the sad eyes
***
«On Another’s Sorrow» by William Blake
Can I see another’s woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another’s grief, And not seek for kind relief?
Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow’s share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?
Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan, an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be! And can He who smiles on all Hear the wren with sorrows small, Hear the small bird’s grief and care, Hear the woes that infants bear —
And not sit beside the next, Pouring pity in their breast, And not sit the cradle near, Weeping tear on infant’s tear?
And not sit both night and day, Wiping all our tears away? Oh no! never can it be! Never, never can it be! He doth give his joy to all: He becomes an infant small, He becomes a man of woe, He doth feel the sorrow too.
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh, And thy Maker is not by: Think not thou canst weep a tear, And thy Maker is not near.
Oh He gives to us his joy, That our grief He may destroy: Till our grief is fled an gone He doth sit by us and moan.
***
«One Art» by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
***
«One Sad Bobby In A Panda Car» by Amy Kerswell
Ten little bobbys in a panda car. One got fryed for bacon. One went to market. One got shot.
The other 7 chasing me In their cattle wagon. Chasing me but cant find me. They found a mud puddle Instead.
Farmer confused one for a pig Then there was 6 left in the panda car.
I led them to a pig sty Led them back home. Farmer took them to be sluatered.
Oh shit there all dead
***
«Out Out» by Robert Frost
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, As it ran light, or had to bear a load. And nothing happened: day was all but done. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him the half hour That a boy counts so much when saved from work. His sister stood beside them in her apron To tell them “Supper.” At the word, the saw, As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap— He must have given the hand. However it was, Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh, As he swung toward them holding up the hand Half in appeal, but half as if to keep The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all— Since he was old enough to know, big boy Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart— He saw all spoiled. “Don’t let him cut my hand off— The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!” So. But the hand was gone already. The doctor put him in the dark of ether. He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright. No one believed. They listened at his heart. Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it. No more to build on there. And they, since they Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
***
«Overcast» by Ash Daniels
song, my tempest angel ring through my clouded breath tones carry the lyrics of life to bring the passage of death
oh, sweet melody rapture i beseech you in respect bring solitude to its end with your holy dialect
tear tone notes of chant blackens the once blue sky softens my restless spirit to ease me where i lie
words from unknown gods sung through sirens lips enchant this weary soul buried in death’s own crypts
so long, too long ago was when i heard it last a tender sorrow tale that accompanies my past
but now i will sing and release my heavy chains so i can live in harmony beneath the pouring rains
***
«Pain, Pain, Go Away» by Kari Johnston
Pain, pain go away! Please do not come back another day. Tears falling down my face. Oh, how I wish for his warm embrace. Wonder if he cares about me. Wonder if this is supposed to be. How can he stand there and break my heart? How did we allow us to grow so far apart? My dreams of us being happy is not going to come true. All I am feeling is down and blue. Pain, pain go away. Bring me back to another day where he loved me and we thought we were meant to be. I will not stop loving you; that much is true, but I will be stronger in time and not feel so blue. You will always be in my heart, even when we are apart. One day I will have that warm embrace, and tears will stop flowing down my face. Pain, pain go away. Leave me alone and do not stay.
***
«Please Dont Be Sad» by Amy Louise Kerswell
Please dont be sad. Yes I took my own life. Becuase it was to much strife. My pain I couldnt bare. At least now you dont have to watch me killing myself. It’s all done and over. I’m sorry really I am. But please just remember this.
Please dont cry for me mummy. I am right here. Although you cant see me. I see your tears. I visit often.
And when its time to close your eyes. On your pillow is where I lay. I hold your hand and stroke your hair. And whisper in your ear. If you sad today mummy. Remember I am here.
***
«Please, Dad» by Michael Anderson
As soft winds sweep away the days I look back on life through a haze. Remember playgrounds, parks and friends, In childlike gaze that never ends. The laughter in a game of catch, Shall memory ever attach… To innocence in youthful eyes, Catching the ball to Dad’s surprise.
I recall my first bike, first wreck, Who picked me up, said, “What the heck?” Convinced me to give one more try, While, knees skinned, I forgot to cry. Just the joy knowing he was there, Making him proud my only care. There was nothing I couldn’t do, My heart held fast that to be true.
Though teenage years were kind of rough, I sure wasn’t too big or tough. You taught me to defend what’s right And never back down from a fight. So I learned the hard way to stand, Still, with each lump, I found your hand. Drawing from you an inner strength, And stubborn pride of equal length.
But there the line of fate was drawn, As though I blinked and you were gone. I found myself facing the sun, Not man, not boy, fatherless, one. Eyes blinded by a void inside, I could not live that you had died. Alas finding it to be true, I could do nothing without you.
Please, Dad, today just hear my call, I’m sorry that I dropped the ball. My life is wrecked, my knees are skinned, My emotions undisciplined. I can’t get up although I try, Please don’t be upset if I cry. Though I can’t fight what I can’t see, Please, Dad, say you’re still proud of me.
***
«Poor Sad John Clare» by Francis Duggan
As a poet of Nature writing in the English language few with him to compare But life it was awful for poor sad John Clare In Northampton asylum he was locked away And there sad and abandoned he lived his last day In his poems he glorified Helpston where he lived as a boy And Worldwide lovers of Nature poetry his poems do enjoy In his life unsung and though back to Nature long gone His poems celebrated and his fame living on, The Thrush’s nest and the Badger and the March nightingale And the Quails Nest he found whilst walking in the vale Forgotten in life but now a major poet And in the World of literature seen as one of note His Nature poems a literary breath of fresh air Yet in his life he knew of heartbreak and despair.
***
«Richard Cory» by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked; But still he fluttered pulses when he said, “Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich – yes, richer than a king – And admirably schooled in every grace: In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light, And went without the meat, and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and put a bullet through his head.
***
«Sad» by Cristina Geanta
sad for all the time my embrace was empty of you sad for being stubborn to be sad sad for touching objects baring your presence sad for not touching you…
sad for re adi ng your name everywhere i turn sad for all the blue jackets other men should not have worn sad for all my weak spots left to be weak sad to open my eyes in the morning
sad for a cruel truth not even dreams can survive sad without dreaming sad of nothing to hope for sad for still seing beautiful things worth for you to know
sad… just what she is not
***
«Sad» by Miranda Overton
I am sad when your around you, I am sad with you, You always make me sad, will you ever make me feel more than sad? do I make you sad?
All I know is you make me sad, will you ever love me? even though you make me sad, I still love you, so I’m makeing myself a Promise, I will never be sad again when your around.
***
«Sad» by Sophia White
I don’t want to run around This great big wheeling earth Like a hamster in a ball Rising just to fall No sacred home or hearth.
I don’t want to run this race This speeding, staring track Is filled with lies And cutting eyes Fingers pointed at your back.
I don’t want to join this crowd This crowd of human sneers It’s naught but hate Appetites to sate On unsuspecting peers.
I don’t want to run this earth Where the darkness grows so deep Eyes behind hands None understand. Just let me go home – and sleep.
***
«Sad» by Bob Oldfield
Sad the situation When those who think they have it Sit in judgement On those who have it differently Or on those Who don’t have it at all.
Sad the situation When intolerance Points it’s fickle finger In condemnation
Sad the situation When those who Choose such a way Also claim to walk With the Man Of Compassion
Let him who is without sin Cast the first stone
***
«Sad & Suicidal» by Brandi Young
It pains me to see you this way To see you so sad and suicidal If i could only kiss you and make your problems fade away
I would. I would die a thousand times Before i could ever forget about you I love you and i won’t find anyone like you!
So why search for someone When i know they could never Compare to you! I’ll only be happy if i’m with you!
I can’t stand To see you so sad and suicidal It rips me apart at the seems and i unravel in front of the whole world
They stared an walked on! Cause no one cares but you and i! and it’s only for us to handle!
I cried when i’d seen her sitting there What a razor in her hand and tears streaming down her face She’s so sad and suicidal
I sat up all night holding her in my arms Singing ‘you are my sunshine’ She has a lot to live for, but she doesn’t care She’s so sad and suicidal
When she told me i deserve someone better I told her you are my only love and that will never change She’s so sad and suicidal
***
«Sad And Lonely» by Taher Shemaly
As I started sipping my daily lovely coffee A race of memories just began in my mind of old days, the hard and the easy And looking at myself now with a tear in my eye just to find myself sad and lonely
And as I walk down that antique street where my old little house was meant to be It feels hard to breathe just to know that I am out of it now and maybe maybe forever I would be like a rover that tells stories of how sad I am and lonely
Those stairs I used to go up and down everyday in fast rhythm used to be happy In my room I used to stay most of the time never thought that i would live in a tragedy But words are not useful now for sad I am and lonely
Though poverty was my company long ago but riches couldn’t bring back honey The honey I saw in my sweet old days Days of the poverty and agony Believe me my friend riches won’t give you a thing But to make you sad and lonely
***
«Sad Eyes» by Linda Guthrie
Sad eyes..that used to shine so bright, But you’re gone…and now they see no light. They are dark and sad With a look so far away, Clouded by the tears… That now are here to stay. Nothing can bring back the shine That you took from me dear, Another love I’ll never find .. No arms will hold me near. So cry…cry…cry sad eyes Cry into the night, Take away my sunshine And shut out all the light.
***
«Sad Eyes» by Destiny Avaritia
My sad eyes Blurred by tears Heart broken By the world they now fear
My sad eyes Now look down Afraid to look upon the town
My sad eyes Full of aqua blue The whitest whites So wondrous and true
My sad eyes One tear holds One-hundred different reasons For sadness to behold
My sad eyes Still afraid to see What’s happening To our beautiful country
***
«Sad Faced Dan» by Francis Duggan
His heart is full of stress by stress he is weighed down The one known as sad faced Dan the saddest one in town He never laugh or smile he never crack a joke He must not like the World he seems a sad poor bloke When he walks down the street he never says hello To anyone he meet not even those he know Yet he is a good man he works hard for his pay Nor ill of anyone you never hear him say, He lives in his own quiet way and he does his own thing The sad one of the town and none his praises sing, The town’s most crooked one he has a cheerful smile Yet he flatters to deceive and his heart is full of guile And unlike poor sad faced Dan he lacks in honesty But the face you look upon is not always the soul you see.
***
«Sad Green Eyes» by Linda Ori
You look at me with sad green eyes, I’m overcome with feeling- Such deep emotion they disguise, Yet send my senses reeling; They speak to me of loneliness And feelings unexpressed, Of hopes and dreams unrealized And love gone uncaressed; They cry to me of urgency To experience it all- But here you are in limbo With your back against the wall; I wish I had the answers To the questions they impose- I’m drowning in those sad green eyes And the sorrow only grows; If I had one magic wish, You know what it would be? To see instead of sad green eyes Green eyes that smile for me.
***
«Sad Holidays» by Donna Nimmo
The holidays are getting near Bringing most people great cheer These days bring back pain from the dead The holidays I always have to dread Thinking back through the many years Trying to be happy, holding back the tears Getting through life one day at a time Out of the darkness I must climb I can’t live in the pain from the past Please let it be over, don’t let it last I love the warmth from the summer sun So let this time of year be done I like the green grass and flowers in bloom They make me happiest, instead of this gloom So hurry up summer and come back around And I won’t be sad, happiness I’d have found I have a good life and what’s wrong with me When the holidays come, I can’t feel free!
***
«Sad In Blue» by Peter S. Quinn
Sad sad sad in blue For sad sad sad you The moon is all bluish tonight The night is all dark out side Nowhere to run Sad sad sad in blue
Into the night hold me tight Love me babe I need some light What’s wrong and what’s right When shadows dwell and abide
Sad sad sad in blue For sad sad sad you The moon is all bluish tonight Is there some star shoot in sight To wish upon For sad sad sad you
Into the night take a flight Feelings, touch, everything out sight Love me with feelings ok Come come babe now closer stay
Sad sad sad in blue For sad sad sad you The moon is all bluish tonight Is there some star shoot in sight To wish upon For sad sad sad you
***
«Sad Life» by Crystal Shover
I look into her hollow green eyes, as she tries to end her life, oh what a sad little girl, to live such a horrible life,
her memory’s filled with hate, rap ed by her grandpa, for three years straight, before that her brother, had to have a go, passed her around, like a dirty hoe,
now shes cowering in fear, i want to hold her tight, and tell her its ok, everything will be alright, but theres something in my way,
whats that no it cant be, if this is a mirror, then that girl is me, I’m th one with the knife, and the blood by my side, I’m the one ending my life
***
«Sad Sacked» by Laurence Overmire
He was a weird fellow Sat around reading books when he Should have been working Well, at least LOOKING like he was working Not that there’s all that much Work to do really But it’s important to our customers That we always look like we’re working It gives them confidence That they’re dealing with good, honest Americans Not a bunch of idiots who sit around Reading books.
***
«Sad Side» by Roger Bewman
Sad like a dark polluted sea under a rusty bridge and the cloudy foggy sky
Pass some happy throw away the sad smile let go of pain is that possible?
Augmented depression hey, lift this veil and think it over
Sad so wrong sometimes to be when there’s nothing to control you when there is something you make it seem so filthy
More than a little less than a lot is that what you are searchin’ for
Wake up earlier than noon don’t start from the moon cause again you’ll end up alone in the city’s dessert jungle
***
«Sad Songs» by Theresa Ann Moore
Heart wrenching songs of our day Tell of love and its decay Going as high as high can go Emotions then dip down low
Listeners are fixated and identify With the truth of obvious lies Comprehension helps them realize Tuneful feelings are unified
Maybe the absence of happiness Leads the way to mental access… Seeking hushed cells of the mind Leaving troubled pain behind
Can the lyrics offer a solution? Helping rid an injured soul of pollution Hoping for a brighter day tomorrow Listening to songs that drown sorrow
***
«Sad Story» by David Harris
The old house stood in silence, no one lives there anymore. Only memories of the past, fill each empty room. Once you stood so proud, laughter rang out from your walls. Now only cobwebs and decay inherit there. What sad story has lead to your decline?
The lights from your windows, don’t shine there anymore. Only ghosts from the past, live in every room. Ghosts that once brought laughter. That rang out every night, are silent and no more What sad story marks your fall from grace?
Once upon a time, children played outside your door. Now only weeds and brambles, fall across your welcome path. No more the smiling faces, greet everyone at your door. Now that sadness and neglect has fell. What sad story do you have to tell?
Were there newlyweds, with their hopes so high? Did they have their hopes dashed some how, or was it some great tragedy, that within your walls befell? So tragic that it made the silence fall. What made them desert you to neglect? What was the sad story, pray tell?
***
«Sad Times» by Marilyn Lott
Travel is so important to us We take it for granted each day When we want to go somewhere We can find so many different ways
But when a disaster happens We are shocked beyond belief What went wrong we wonder We feel such sadness, such grief
And that is the way when bridges Don’t hold up the way they should We have so many questions We’d turn back the clocks if we could
Oklahoma experienced this disaster So sad it just breaks our hearts And now the same with Minnesota To fix things, where can they start?
We’re so sorry this has happened We pray each day for the lives gone Our heartfelt wishes are bestowed On each woman, child and man!
***
«Sad To Think» by Tracy Rollings
I use to lay in my bed, every night and cry when they, turn out the light.
Had crazy thoughts, in my head of the things, under my bed.
But you put them there and i blame you cruel things you did and i know it’s true.
Came in my room, something over your head scare me to death and i would wet the bed.
You got mad one night and slung me in the floor told me you wasn’t putting up, with me anymore.
You grabbed me, by the throat that night and you held me there, till i lost sight.
Said i couldn’t sleep, in the bed anymore and from that night on, i laid in the floor.
Can’t remember a night, I never made you mad you gave me the worse life a child ever had.
You beat on a kid, made you look tough and your kicks in the back really got rough.
Said you couldn’t see me, because of no light knew where i was, you put me there every night.
Laid there at night and remembered what you said had a thought one night, to come burn your bed.
What a sad thought, for a little child to think of all the stupid things, you did when you drank.
***
«Sad To Witness» by Lawrence S. Pertillar
There for no purpose and rehearsing grief, Just to please the ambitions of one man… Who has gotten us in deep shit, At our expense to satisfy a disturbed ego! Is sad to witness! But then again… It has been sad to witness the fact, That he represents so many like him Who can not accept defeat Without ensuring everyone feels As insecure about failure as he does! No matter what the cost or price to be paid! It’s just a way of life for him and those he represents! Even though what’s kept in movement… Makes no bit of sense!
***
«Sad Worn Face» by Marilyn Lott
It’s sad to see homes in ruins As generations slip away Where once so lovely inside And families planned to stay
Their styles were so gracious Their roofs were pitched so steep Owners loved their homes A lifestyle they planned to keep
And then after years the owners die The money just isn’t there To give the home what it needs To keep up necessary repairs
And so the shingles blow off The hinges rust and break Year after year it deteriorates When there is so much at stake
In some ways they’re still beautiful No matter what takes place We look upon the ruins now And see each sad worn face!
***
«Sad, Dreary And Sombre Views» by Ernestine Northover
The dust that descends over roadside hedges, On walls, fences and along the edges, Comes from the ever moving needs, Of vehicles, racing at tremendous speeds.
Unknown destinations, their one concern, Doesn’t matter that they continually churn And splatter mud, simply everywhere, Once they’ve gone past, they never care.
The dirt on the wayside then settles and dries, Even on some startled and irate magpies, Making really sad, dreary and sombre views, In dull, dismal colours, not nature’s hues.
And only by a heavy abundance of rain, Will it be cleansed, and turn green again.
***
«Sad-Eyed And Soft And Grey» by William Morris
Sad-Eyed and soft and grey thou art, o morn! Across the long grass of the marshy plain Thy west wind whispers of the coming rain, Thy lark forgets that May is grown forlorn Above the lush blades of the springing corn, Thy thrush within the high elms strives in vain To store up tales of spring for summer’s pain – Vain day, why wert thou from the dark night born?
O many-voiced strange morn, why must thou break With vain desire the softness of my dream Where she and I alone on earth did seem? How hadst thou heart from me that land to take Wherein she wandered softly for my sake And I and she no harm of love might deem?
***
«Silent Tears» by Heather Loughton
A thunderous silence breaks through my thoughts. What was once many great ideas is now a triumph, lost.
Baffling words tumble through my mind. Reflections of darkness hover. A disturbing peacefulness beckons to me, and inside myself, I take cover.
What would it be like to stay there forever? To be lost in all my cares? From the inside, looking out – I cry silent tears.
***
«Simple, Seldom And Sad» by Mervyn Peake
Simple, seldom and sad We are; Alone on the Halibut Hills Afar, With sweet mad Expressions Of old Strangely beautiful So we’re told By the Creatures that Move In the sky And Die On the night when the Dead Trees Prance and Cry.
Sensitive, seldom and sad – Sensitive, seldom and sad –
Simple, seldom and sad Are we When we take our path To the purple sea – With mad, sweet Expressions Of Yore, Strangely beautiful, Yea, and More On the Night of all Nights When the sky Streams by In rags, while the Dead Trees Prance and Cry,
sensitive, seldom and sad – sensitive, seldom and sad.
***
«Sit Down, Sad Soul» by Barry Cornwall
SIT down, sad soul, and count The moments flying: Come,—tell the sweet amount That ’s lost by sighing! How many smiles?—a score? Then laugh, and count no more; For day is dying.
Lie down, sad soul, and sleep, And no more measure The flight of Time, nor weep The loss of leisure; But here, by this lone stream, Lie down with us, and dream Of starry treasure.
We dream: do thou the same: We love—for ever; We laugh; yet few we shame, The gentle, never. Stay, then, till Sorrow dies; Then—hope and happy skies Are thine for ever!
***
«So True So Sad» by Christina Acosta
Do you know what emo truly is, Why you hate them so much, Is it cause they have better hair then you and it looks good on them not you, People show ignorance towards emo’s, Yes some may suffer from depression and cuts on themselves but that don’t mean all emo’s are that way, A true emo don’t care what others say, A true emo will dress however they feel like it, A true emo will listen to whatever music they want. Are you scared that emo’s are taking over your life yet you choose to make fun of them and push them around as if they were nothing to you, They breathe, They talk, They Walk, They make take better pictures then you but don’t be jealous cause they have something you don’t, Its called emotions get used to it, Everyone has there own personality, There own styles, Not all emo’s are scared, Not all emo’s cry themselves to sleep, If you think you know what emo is you better look in the mirror, Cause Emo’s are humans.
***
«Solitude» by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go; They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many; Be sad, and you lose them all, There are none to decline your nectared wine, But alone you must drink life’s gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give, and it helps you live, But no man can help you die. There is room in the halls of pleasure For a large and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.
***
«Someday I Will Be Okay» by Britaney L. Adams
This ink, it runs. This paper is stained Tears run free as I’m stuck in a daze. I put this pen to paper, To write the words This voice can’t deliver. My heart is heavy With pain and despair. Can’t breathe. I’m fighting for air. My mind is spinning At the speed of light. This pain in my life Has clouded my mind. The thoughts are deafening Of my life you took away, But after all my Heartache, Someday I’ll be okay!
***
«Sonnet Iii: With How Sad Steps» by Sir Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb’st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What! may it be that even in heavenly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case: I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, Is constant love deemed there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whoom that love doth possess? Do they call ‘virtue’ there – ungratefulness?
***
«Sonnet: Languid, And Sad, And Slow, From Day To Day» by William Lisle Bowles
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view (Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue) The streams and vales, and hills, that steal away. So fares it with the children of the earth: For when life’s goodly prospect opens round, Their spirits beat to tread that fairy ground, Where every vale sounds to the pipe of mirth. But them vain hope and easy youth beguiles, And soon a longing look, like me, they cast Back on the pleasing prospect of the past: Yet Fancy points where still far onward smiles Some sunny spot, and her fair colouring blends, Till cheerless on their path the night descends!
***
«Sorrow and Pain» by Lance Hodges
some live life in the fast lane some get stuck with a ball & chain some lives are known, simply by name some get only Sorrow & Pain
some lives are filled with riches some get to live in the ditches some live with their insanity contained some get only Sorrow & Pain
some lives have no riches, some have caviar & wine some get to live a life thats like mine some lives can’t differentiate between that line some get only Sorrow & Pain
some lives are short, yet the memory remains some get anger and keep it retained some live and get justice;the cold & rain some get nothing but Sorrow & Pain
***
«Swan’s Song» by Ruwaida Van Doorsen
Like the last leaf on a windy Autumn day I hang on, fragile but courageously Waiting for the day to come When the wind will stop blowing So that I can be at peace
At peace with myself and everything around me At peace with the world and all that it bears Hanging onto a hope that is based on dreams Hoping that my dream of surviving all adversity Will finally be realized
But alas the wind is too strong And like all other leaves before me I begin to sing , so long
Sad and lost filled with despair No one to comfort me No one to care No one to say, hang in there, be strong So I’ll whisper my good-byes, and sing My swan’s song
***
«Tattered And Sad» by Marilyn Lott
The other day I drove into the country Took time to look all around And while driving I observed a windmill Some of its parts had dropped to the ground
I felt so sad to see this beautiful structure On the last leg of its useful journey Unless someone spent time and money It just couldn’t last for all eternity
I stopped my car and got out and took A few pictures from different directions I would print out a picture to frame To add it to my special windmill collection
It’s the same with so many old structures Old barns and homesteads around Sadness just fills your heart To see them falling in pieces to the ground
But then, nothing lasts forever Even though they are tattered and sad You have to remember their usefulness If you do it doesn’t seem nearly so bad!
***
«Tears Fall in My Heart» by Paul Verlaine
Tears fall in my heart Rain falls on the town; what is this numb hurt that enters my heart?
Ah,the soft sound of rain on roofs, on the ground! To a dulled heart they came, ah, the song of the rain!
Tears without reason in the disheartened heart. What? no trace of treason? This grief’s without reason.
It’s far the worst pain to never know why without love or disdain my heart has such pain!
***
«The Bad Season Makes The Poet Sad» by Robert Herrick
Dull to myself, and almost dead to these, My many fresh and fragrant mistresses; Lost to all music now, since every thing Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing. Sick is the land to th’ heart; and doth endure More dangerous faintings by her desperate cure. But if that golden age would come again, And Charles here rule, as he before did reign; If smooth and unperplex’d the seasons were, As when the sweet Maria lived here; I should delight to have my curls half drown’d In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown’d: And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead, Knock at a star with my exalted head.
***
«The Boxes In The Hall» by Adrian Baillie
In every room of our time together there is a box Of memories we shared. Now is the time to pack away With sadness and with care.
The first is a simple smile, Whenever I thought of you. Neatly folded into four, It’s the best that I could do.
Next are all the memories Of the times when we were two, Wrapped with love one by one, Sealed with tears as glue.
And then there are the butterflies I had when you were near, Now in a cage of sadness And locked up with a tear.
Next are the times we kissed, Each one wrapped with a sigh, Placed next to a rolled up list Of all the times I’ve asked myself why.
Now to pack are the pieces of my heart, Gathered in a pile. Each one wrapped up tenderly And placed next to a distant smile.
Finally all the shattered wishes, Placed in softly so no more can break, Covering them over trying not to cry So they would not all ache.
Lastly walking round each room, Closing each and every curtain, Shutting each and every door, Leaving behind each and ever pain.
Gathering up the memories we shared, Making sure I’ve got them all, Packing them softly because I cared, Leaving them in the boxes in the hall
***
«The Chimney-Sweeper» by William Blake
When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry ‘Weep! weep! weep! weep!’ So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head, That curled like a lamb’s back, was shaved; so I said, ‘Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when your head’s bare, You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.’
And so he was quiet, and that very night, As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!– That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack, Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.
And by came an angel, who had a bright key, And he opened the coffins, and set them all free; Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.
Then naked and white, all their bags left behind, They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind; And the angel told Tom, if he’d be a good boy, He’d have God for his father, and never want joy.
And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark, And got with our bags and our brushes to work. Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm: So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
***
«The Enemies Of My Soul» by Lisa Roberts
Hate is the enemy my heart does not want to surrender to though sometimes my weakness comes out and my tears begin to flow perhaps if the people knew the pain they give one another there would be no broken hearts I wish to obliterate my enemies words that fill your mind with agony breaks down the emotional bliss and replaces it with a broken heart I wish to obliterate my enemies for hate has perished the minds of the lonely I wish to obliterate hate.
***
«The Game» by Susan Christensen
Let me tell you about a game I play Where I close my eyes and fade away
I float away to a special place Beyond the stars and moon and space
In this special place you see There are only two people – just you and me
In this place, all is right Nothing but love, and we never fight
In this place, there is no sadness No cells, no courts, none of that madness
No rules to follow, no laws to break No bars to hold us or separate
No one to tell us we can’t kiss or touch I don’t just tell you “I love you” – I show you how much
But eventually the game must end My eyes must open, and reality sets in
But someday soon – I’m not sure when I will close my eyes and play my game again.
***
«The Lover’s Liturgy» by Jack London
Ah! my brothers, we are mortals, Atoms on Time’s ebb and flow, Soon we pass the dreary portals, Soon to dreamless sleep we go; We are sparkles, evanescent, Doomed to perish in the hour, And our time is in the present, Ours but a moment’s power.
Love, my brothers, is the essence, In the scheme of life and light; Birth and death are fearful lessons – Out of darkness into night, – Thus we flash, a moment’s living, ‘Twixt the silent walls of death, Flashing for a moment, giving Song but for a moment’s breath.
Then that moment do not sadden, Prayers, nor beads, nor aves tell; Then that moment do not madden With mad dreams of heaven or hell; Trust that he who cast you idly, Asked of you nor aye nor nay, Flung you idly, wildly, widely, For his whim will not ask pay.
For a whim of bubble-blowing, Perhaps to while an empty day, For a whim of stubble-sowing, For a game at godlike play, Shall the bubbles in the drifting, Pay the whim of Him who played? Shall the seedlets in the shifting, Of the sifter be afraid?
Shall the playthings of a master, Falling idly from his hand, Meet meritless disaster, Meet with unearned reprimand? Shall the children of fancy, Born a certain race to run, By an absurd necromancy, Penance pay when it is done?
O, my brothers, go not questing For some mystic grail in vain – Why should ye a Master’s jesting, Strive to fathom or make plain? Wake ye from your fevered dreaming, Groping for forbidden toys, All about you life is teeming, Singing of ungarnered joys.
Surely He who somewhere hovers, ‘Yond the reach of mortal ken, Gazing down on love and lovers, Cannot blame the sons of men; Cannot blame his bubbles bursting, Heart to heart and lips to lips; Cannot blame his seedlets thirsting For the dew of honeyed lips.
Then again the golden chalice, Once again a lingering draught; Surely He will bear no malice For the pledge divinely quaffed. Thus, with sweet and fond caresses, Hearts that beat with mutual bliss, He who loves is he who blesses, Sealing heaven with a kiss.
***
«The Masquerade» by Cara_Mell
For all the plans that you made tossed and driven from a passionate soul
The torturous thoughts you had to bear, whose father was never there
Given away by a mother possessed to a man who sold his soul to hell
Was he your real father, genes don’t lie Locked in a cage and never told why
Brain washed and told what calamities to behold Drinking the blood of an innocent soul
Under a project called Paperclip In the dwelling of Canadian park You had six children, were you forced to make them slaves to the darkness?
They used sigils and magic calling it well I truly know they will burn in hell From the bottomless pit smoke will arise Consuming all who believe their lies
You woke up and opened your eyes It was too late, they planned your demise
There is a true God and He will judge what was done to you from a long-standing grudge
They say you hung yourself that day You tossed a rope over the doorway You pulled and pulled till you were dead That’s a joke, for your own will prevailed
Though you’re gone, I still think about you How you suffered when they murdered you
***
«The Memories Will Never Die» by Kristi Maxim
I didn’t imagine this could ever happen to me. My best friend is hurting, And I can’t even see. The pain she must be feeling, While she is lying there. Just the thought of it, I can’t even bear.
It makes me think of all the good times we shared. The times when we were happy, And the times when we were scared. We would walk alone, Along her dark dirt road, Frightened as can be Because of the stories we once told.
The good and bad times have all gone by, And thinking of them Makes me want to sit down and cry. The memories will always last, They can never die. They will go on and on As long as we both try.
***
«The Nails» by W. S. Merwin
I gave you sorrow to hang on your wall Like a calendar in one color. I wear a torn place on my sleeve. It isn’t as simple as that.
Between no place of mine and no place of yours You’d have thought I’d know the way by now Just from thinking it over. Oh I know I’ve no excuse to be stuck here turning Like a mirror on a string, Except it’s hardly credible how It all keeps changing. Loss has a wider choice of directions Than the other thing.
As if I had a system I shuffle among the lies Turning them over, if only I could be sure what I’d lost. I uncover my footprints, I Poke them till the eyes open. They don’t recall what it looked like. When was I using it last? Was it like a ring or a light Or the autumn pond Which chokes and glitters but Grows colder? It could be all in the mind. Anyway Nothing seems to bring it back to me.
And I’ve been to see Your hands as trees borne away on a flood, The same film over and over, And an old one at that, shattering its account To the last of the digits, and nothing And the blank end.
The lightning has shown me the scars of the future.
I’ve had a long look at someone Alone like a key in a lock Without what it takes to turn.
It isn’t as simple as that.
Winter will think back to your lit harvest For which there is no help, and the seed Of eloquence will open its wings When you are gone. But at this moment When the nails are kissing the fingers good-bye And my only Chance is bleeding from me, When my one chance is bleeding, For speaking either truth or comfort I have no more tongue than a wound.
***
«The Sad Bastards Club» by Francesca Johnson
A happy lot, us Sad Bastards. We raise our glasses Kick some asses Laugh, tell rude jokes Give the fire a poke And throw on another log. We talk of locks And untimely clocks And stocks and shares And dual-purpose chairs Play the organ, sing and giggle Until 3 in the morning When mutually yawning We tuck ourselves into bed. A happy lot Us Sad Bastards.
***
«The Sad Day» by Thomas Flatman
O THE sad day! When friends shall shake their heads, and say Of miserable me– ‘Hark, how he groans! Look, how he pants for breath! See how he struggles with the pangs of death!’ When they shall say of these dear eyes– ‘How hollow, O how dim they be! Mark how his breast doth rise and swell Against his potent enemy!’ When some old friend shall step to my bedside, Touch my chill face, and thence shall gently slide.
But–when his next companions say ‘How does he do? What hopes?’–shall turn away, Answering only, with a lift-up hand– ‘Who can his fate withstand?’
Then shall a gasp or two do more Than e’er my rhetoric could before: Persuade the world to trouble me no more!
***
«The Sad Message» by Russell Edson
The Captain becomes moody at sea. He’s afraid of water; such bully amounts that prove the seas. . .
A glass of water is one thing. A man easily downs it, capturing its menace in his bladder; pissing it away. A few drops of rain do little harm, save to remind of how grief looks upon the cheek.
One day the water is willing to bear your ship upon its back like a liquid elephant. The next day the elephant doesn’t want you on its back, and says, I have no more willingness to have you there; get off.
At sea this is a sad message.
The Captain sits in his cabin wearing a parachute, listening to what the sea might say. . .
***
«The Sad Misanthrope» by Francis Duggan
He does not like writers and artists as such Since he feels that they do not contribute much To society that is what he does say He looks at life in a strange sort of a way.
He doesn’t like playing cards or sports or football And socializing he doesn’t like it at all He is not in the cycling club as people he doesn’t like Though he likes to cycle through town on his bike.
He does not have a lover to brighten his life And with his attitude he may never have a wife He never goes to parties new people to meet And he never greets people he meets on the street.
For to dislike others he does not need an excuse And time leaves him more bitter the ageing recluse Yet he is what you see and he is free of guile He never does laugh or he never does smile.
He lives without love and he lives without hope Yet he goes on living the sad misanthrope To any of his neighbours he never says hello And with the passing of time the more bitter he grow.
***
«The Sad Mother» by Gabriela Mistral
Sleep, sleep, my beloved, without worry, without fear, although my soul does not sleep, although I do not rest.
Sleep, sleep, and in the night may your whispers be softer than a leaf of grass, or the silken fleece of lambs.
May my flesh slumber in you, my worry, my trembling. In you, may my eyes close and my heart sleep.
***
«The Sad Shepherd» by William Butler Yeats
THERE was a man whom Sorrow named his Friend, And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming, Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming And humming Sands, where windy surges wend: And he called loudly to the stars to bend From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they Among themselves laugh on and sing alway: And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend Cried out, Dim sea, hear my most piteous story.! The sea Swept on and cried her old cry still, Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill. He fled the persecution of her glory And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping, Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening. But naught they heard, for they are always listening, The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping. And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend Sought once again the shore, and found a shell, And thought, I will my heavy story tell Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart; And my own talc again for me shall sing, And my own whispering words be comforting, And lo! my ancient burden may depart. Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim; But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him.
***
«The Sad Shepherd’s Passion Of Love» by George Peele
O Gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed, Thou makest my heart A bloody mark With piercing shot to bleed. Shoot soft, sweet Love, for fear thou shoot amiss, For fear too keen Thy arrows been, And hist the heart where my beloved is. Too fair that fortune were, nor never I Shall be so blest, Among the rest, That Love shall seize on her by sympathy. Then since with Love my prayers bear no boot, This doth remain To cease my pain, I take the wound, and die at Venus’ foot.
***
«This Old Picture Book» by Katey Shines
I look at all these memories, and I start to cry. I see things, I see people, I can’t ever see again. I see people who I have mistreated, and can’t make up for doing. I feel these memories are killing me. I see so much I took for granted, and I cry.
I could never feel those feelings again, I could never be there again. I see things that hurt me, because I can’t remember them. I see myself as I was: cruel, stone cold. I never told anyone how I felt. I regret that now.
I see how brave I was at times, and how I backed down. I see how care-free I was. I see now what has consumed my life. . .greed. So, now I look at all these memories and I start to cry. These memories are killing me, So now old picture book, good bye.
***
«Till Light Breaks» by Terry Bernard
I’ve never seen a night so long or so quiet A cold wind whispers her name through the pines While night clouds race across a starless sky sublime If God made the day, then the devil made this night
Tonight my memories are chasing her in my mind And what havoc they wreak in their desperate plight To catch her, hold her, only to find, She has vanished, slipped away into the everlasting night
Still I don’t know what I did wrong, What I should have said, should have done I would never have guessed I could hurt so long But then I never expected her to be gone
I walk to the window and peer into the endless night The clouds and the wind are gone now, there’s only the moon And tall, dark trees jutting up toward the ebony sky A night bird calls out and my heart is filled with gloom
I never knew love until I knew you, love Now all is gone, another’s arms hold you Another’s lips sets your heart on fire, love And someone else hears you whisper ‘I love you’
I’m afraid this night will outlast the bottle of wine Then what will I do, while I wait on the light Of the sun breaking o’er the tall pines in the morning sky To give me reprieve till the next eternal night.
***
«Time to Say Goodbye» by Joanna Fuchs
My heart is breaking in me; It’s still you whom I adore; My tears are overflowing: You don’t love me anymore.
I sleepwalk through each day; I pray to heaven above, Hoping you’ll change your mind, But I know I’ve lost your love.
I wish that things were different; I wish it were the way it was, But reality has no pity; It just happens the way it does.
Will I ever feel any better, With days when I don’t cry? No matter what, it’s time to say Goodbye, my love, goodbye.
***
«To A Sad Girl» by Uriah Hamilton
There is no way to explain Unending sorrow and grief, No way to kiss a young girl’s cheek In a way that would give her back The joy death has stolen.
Humans are brave enough To live and bleed and die, But to be the one remaining As others say goodbye Is too much to withstand.
There are evil stars that smirk And thus mark us for treacherous fates, The days all burn like desert fields Until there is nothing left to love And nothing left to feel.
***
«To The Sad Moon» by Sir Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What! May it be that even in heavenly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case: I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, Is constant love deemed there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? Do they call ‘virtue’ there— ungratefulness?
***
«Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines» by Pablo Neruda
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.’
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Anothers. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before. Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these are the last verses that I write for her.
***
«Tulips» by Sylvia Plath
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in. I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions. I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.
They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut. Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in. The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble, They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps, Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another, So it is impossible to tell how many there are.
My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently. They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep. Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage—— My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox, My husband and child smiling out of the family photo; Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat stubbornly hanging on to my name and address. They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations. Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head. I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.
I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free—— The peacefulness is so big it dazes you, And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets. It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me. Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby. Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds. They are subtle : they seem to float, though they weigh me down, Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color, A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.
Nobody watched me before, now I am watched. The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins, And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips, And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself. The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.
Before they came the air was calm enough, Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss. Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise. Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine. They concentrate my attention, that was happy Playing and resting without committing itself.
The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves. The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals; They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat, And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me. The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea, And comes from a country far away as health.
***
«Unconditionally Painful In Love» by Jasmine S. Johnson
This pain is taking its toll, But my love it never gets old. The trials and defeated emotions Keeping me sane with magical potions. The heart that keeps my blood flowing, That pain that keeps me down but going. If the pain leaves and love stays, How would life be for me? Would I have a hole in my heart Where hurt and pain used to be? Is there a way out of this Loving, painful misery? Is there a way into this Love that I have failed or neglected to receive? Is this love? Unconditionally loving you is Bringing me pain, But it keeps me sane because I have you. Am I kidding myself? Am I in denial that you love me back? Am I just a dream away from reality? Am I making believe that I love you? I think not… But pain keeps me going. My heart keeps my blood flowing. You keep my life glowing. Jesus keeps me believing. My calmness is showing, But my happiness is hiding From pain and love. I unconditionally, painfully love you.
***
«Walking Away» by Vanessa Brown
I’m tired of dreaming. I’m through with trying. Tired of living, yet scared of dying. Maybe things are good for you, but look at all that I’ve been through. Look at all the pain I’ve won. I bet you think that it’s been fun. You never thought I’d turn away. You never believed you’d see this day. Look again because here I go, leaving behind all I know. Changing it all as I must do. Not daring to stop and think things through. Wanting to run as fast as I can, not stopping until I understand. Like why did I let things get this way? Why didn’t I leave yesterday? How are things going to be since there is no more you and me?
***
«We Wear The Mask» by Paul Laurence Dunbar
We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them only see us, while We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries To thee from tortured souls arise. We sing, but oh the clay is vile Beneath our feet, and long the mile; But let the world dream otherwise, We wear the mask!
***
«What I Miss» by Thalia Jones
I miss how we used to be, So vibrant, so honest, so wild and free.
I miss the way you would understand, Listen carefully and be there when I needed a hand.
I miss our long, random talks at night, Our private conversations, Our silly little fights.
I miss the way you could read my mind, Know what to say, When words were hard to find.
I miss the way you could brighten my day, Make me forget the mistakes, Make the pain go away.
I miss how you made me laugh, Hate how you made me cry,
Loved how you said you would always be there, But once again, I forgot that everything you say is a lie.
***
«When I Have Fears» by John Keats
When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, Before high-pilèd books, in charactery, Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain; When I behold, upon the night’s starred face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love—then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
***
«When Is It Time?» by Kit McCallum
When is it time to say goodbye, To all the love I’ve known, When is it time to end your pain, And leave me all alone?
I’ve watched you on your good days when I feel your strength renewed; But shortly after little ups, The down days then ensue.
We ride this roller-coaster of Emotions as we try, To make it through another day, And yet, I can’t deny …
That as I look into your face On days that have been bad, I see a look that beckons me It’s tired, and hurt, and sad.
The little spark I used to see Behind those loving eyes, Is growing ever clouded By life’s cruel inhumane side.
I try to see beyond the pain You feel with every step; And softly whisper to myself This may get better yet.
If I can bear to watch you Just another day or two; I justify my reasons to Ensure I cling to you.
For letting go is harder for The person left behind; It means that if I let you go, I cannot turn back time.
Back to the days I long for now, When you were full of life; And every day held promise, And our futures, clear and bright.
But now the lights are darkening … We take it daily now; I cannot see our futures clear Or think beyond this cloud.
I think the hardest part in this Is never knowing why, I have to be courageous And I have to say goodbye.
For if I let myself admit It’s time to let you go; I’d have to face reality Without you … but I know …
That soon I have to face the Final outcome that I dread, And holding on will only serve To hurt you in the end.
You’ve given such unselfish love For all our time in life, But if I hold too tightly, You’ll not move t’ward the light …
On to a better life, where you Can once again be free, Of all the pain and discomfort That holds you here to me.
So if I find the courage just to say This last farewell, I hope you will forgive me for The time it took me; still …
I’ll hold with me, the memories That in my heart remain, Pray one day, down the road a’ways … They’ll lesson my own pain.
***
«Where Do I Go» by Lisa Grifin
Where do I go When I’m feeling so lost and I don’t want to be found? When I’m looking and listening for that peace in my heart. But I know I’ll never hear that sound. Where do I go? Where do I go when I’m trying to laugh but all I can do I cry? I’m trying to keep on living because I’m not ready to die. Where do I go because the sun never seems to shine? Can you give me my life back’ it’s not yours, it’s mine? How do I keep going, how do I fight this fight? I’m tired of feeling beat down, but I’m trying with all my might! Where do I go when my head hangs so low? Please give me an answer because I just don’t know! Where do I go? Does it take very long For me to find that peace and a place where I belong? I need you to help me, help me to take a stand. I’m scared to do it by myself; will you please take my hand? Where do I go? Where do I go? Where do I go? Do you know?
***
«Why Do I?» by Liza Marie
Why do I smile at the sound of your voice? Why do I let you take over me as if I had no choice? Why do I let you touch me in places never touched? Why do I like to have you around so much?
Why do I melt at the tenderness of your kiss? Why do I feel like I could live forever like this? Why do I put my heart in your hands? Why do I answer to your every demand?
Why do I tell you leaving me is not your wrong? Why do I let you know with out you I’m not quite as strong? Why do I take you back even though I know it’s not right? Why do I feel like I should please you by not putting up a fight?
Why do I care about you even though you hurt me? Why do I turn my head from what’s plain reality? Why do I try to hide from what is true? Why do I still have these feelings for you?
***
«Why Is Mommy Crying» by Steven Solis
I watch as mommy cries sitting there all alone When she falls asleep she cuddles to the phone I ask why all the tears, why all the sorrow I then hug her, tell her dad will be back tomorrow I must say something wrong, she cries even more Everything I say I make the tears pour Maybe I don’t hug her enough, maybe love I lack Maybe she’s right – daddy is never coming back
***
«Winter Among the Spirits» by Chris Yandle
Whispering beneath the frozen branches of a depressed and subtle wonder, lies a simple explanation for all our questions, for all our problems.
Spirits of old, spirits of new, masquerade around in heavenly forms without a sound, without a mention of an earthly movement.
Discover what can be captured by one quick glance proven to be remarkable, proven to be a creation of the Father.
A sudden warmth overcomes you; a disruptive consequence for beholding its glory, beholding the glory of a beautiful collage of nature and wintry occasions.
Hidden between your imagination afar, an impressing affliction that causes something more than pain, something that you can’t describe.
***
«Winter Stars» by Sara Teasdale
I went out at night alone; The young blood flowing beyond the sea Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings— I bore my sorrow heavily.
But when I lifted up my head From shadows shaken on the snow, I saw Orion in the east Burn steadily as long ago.
From windows in my father’s house, Dreaming my dreams on winter nights, I watched Orion as a girl Above another city’s lights.
Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars, All things are changed, save in the east The faithful beauty of the stars.
***
«Writing Sad Things For Sweet Men» by Lauren Michaels
I’d think it a sign from the gods I think If I were a little bit less of a cynic. Tonight something broke in the back of my mind And in the noise of the shower I cried and
Wailed I suppose. I think I’m a little bit lost.
I fell to my knees, its cliched but its true. It felt like hours before I stood up. Sitting thinking, the water long cold. Of tomorrow and tomorrow and
Quailed I suppose. I think I’m a little bit lost.
And treatise after treatise came filtering by balancing all in mind and in time I wondered where my buoyancy was But that ships long
Sailed I suppose I think I’m a little bit lost.
Funny you should mention Bright eyes Funny that tonight I begged for help From my condensation white tile ceiling. And sat down to find a poem waiting.
I once promised a gentleman I’d write him a poem But he beat me to it twice over (several times over if truth be known, I don’t think he knows What he Gives)
***
«You are who you are for a reason» by Russell Kelfer
You are who you are for a reason. You’re part of an intricate plan. You’re a precious and perfect unique design, Called God’s special woman or man.
You look like you look for a reason. Our God made no mistake. He knit you together within the womb, You’re just what he wanted to make.
The parents you had were the ones he chose, And no matter how you may feel, They were custom designed with God’s plan in mind, And they bear the Master’s seal.
No, that trauma you faced was not easy. And God wept that it hurt you so; But it was allowed to shape your heart So that into his likeness you’d grow.
You are who you are for a reason, You’ve been formed by the Master’s rod. You are who you are, beloved, Because there is a God!
***
«You May Feel Sad For Yourself» by Francis Duggan
You may feel sad for yourself though you have a roof over your head And you do not lack comfort in your comfortable bed And you don’t lack for nourishment with lots of good food to eat You are not one of the millions who are homeless on the street Of the poorest street of the poor suburb those who struggle to survive And only their desire for life seems to keep them alive They sleep in disused factories infested by rodents and fleas Places not fit for homeless dogs to live in and breeding grounds for disease Or on concrete park benches or by the parkland trees Without shelter from the elements the rain and the cold breeze You may feel depressed and lonely from the World you’d like to hide And though you may feel down at present with lady luck not on your side Compared to millions you are lucky you are not homeless on the street And you’ve got a nice home to live in and more than enough to drink and eat.
***
«You Were My Everything» by Joanna Fuchs
You were my everything; Now you’re gone. I don’t have the strength To carry on.
Skies always seemed sunny When you were here; Now there’s nothing but gloom In my atmosphere.
I loved you so much; You were all I had; Now my whole world Is depressing and sad.
I’d like to start feeling Other than blue, But you were my everything, What can I do?
***
«Your Heart Is So Sad» by Jolanta Gradowicz
Your heart is so painful and sad, You can’t find any consolation, Things seem to be hopeless and bad, Everything you need is isolation…
But your soul likes the sweet silence When it leaves all the joys of the world. Your tired thoughts try to find balance, The air still remains undisturbed…
You are grateful for the blessed moment And despise everything except the holy peace. Your sad heart is serene and patient, Your soul fills with God’s grace and bliss…
’twas dark and dank upon the bog, All covered o’er by mist and fog, A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. Rotting oaks, their branches stark, Peat and lichen, bog moss, dark.
Soggy ground befouled and ill Putrid rot of waters still, A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. But none to see her. Not one who cared. Alone, forsaken, cold, and scared.
Her parents loved her, so they said, They raised her, kept her clothed and fed, A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. “We gave her everything she wanted, But still she mocked us, cursed and taunted.”
Iron fist in velvet glove, Was all she knew of parents’ love. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. She was a child of neglect, But they demanded her respect.
She’d ranted, shouted, sought attention, They’d decried such fevered invention, A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. She’d craved but love, a parent’s devotion, They drained her soul of all emotion.
And at thirteen, yet still a child, She’d wandered off into the wild. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. Down the wooded lane she ran, Until she saw a shadowed man.
‘Beware of strangers’ she’d been taught, Such as they with dangers fraught. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. The man was bearded, his step did quicken, She turned to flee, trembling, stricken.
What could she do but turn away? From strong, stout path she went astray. A child’s step so out of place, Might disappear without a trace. And thus avoiding unknown stranger, Plunged unwitting there to danger.
Off the path so old and true, Through the meadow damp with dew. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. O’er the fence of rough hewn log, She found herself upon the Bog.
Bogbean grows in shallow waters, Creeping rhizomes, hairy flowers. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. Bog Oak hard and blackened wood, Limbs that cross, a grotesque rood
Yet no redemption, no escape, As feet upon this rough ground scrape. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. No savior here, within the fog, For those that err into the bog.
She roams the bog, her way is lost. Free at last, but what the cost? A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. And so begins the child fair To feel the tendrils of despair.
Running, searching for the trail, Tears are streaming, face is pale, A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. Her pursed lips emit a wail, Woe to her and her sad tale
The black night’s silence ripped asunder, Imagined scream or merely thunder? A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. She turns to run, escape, to flee, But in her haste, she doesn’t see.
She sinks in mud and fetid mire, The need to flee her sole desire. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. With malice doth the mud hold tight, The other foot sinks out of sight.
And as she struggles to free her foot, From brackish slime as black as soot, A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. Within her builds a scream so manic, Erupting forth as full fledged panic.
Woe to he that e’er forgets, The more you struggle, the worse it gets. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. ’twill suck you in – the bog’s a keeper, Remain ye calm, or you’ll sink deeper.
Gasping, rasping, panic filled, Clothes all muddied, bones stone chilled. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. Clawing at the peaty loam, Her thoughts return once more to home.
At home, ’tis true, she hated all, But any haven in a squall… A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. She foundered in this sea of lime, No refuge here, just noxious slime,
In murky sludge n’ pity she wallowed, Gagging, rancid water swallowed. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. Her cries for help revert to tears, A shameful waste of thirteen years.
Yielding to the fear and cold, Life withdraws, and death takes hold. A child’s step in this foul place, Shall disappear without a trace. And then one day the bones they’ll find, What carrion birds have left behind.
To the Bog with dread they pace, Her disappearance now to face. Empty hearted, heads a’bow, They cannot comprehend just how, A child’s step in that foul place, Could disappear without a trace.
by Mike Berlin
A Crack in the wall
A crack in the wall, despite thick coat Lean tepid river of thick blood The skin of the night, look at me well Not knowing, the ultimate, long nail.
Grief, pain, anxiety of life, Nothing, in this form, you have felt Anger, tears and all that you strive Waiting upside down, it’s there.
Sleeping without dream, a curse A heaving sigh, measureless joy See things, dig inside with the stuffs Breathe out with the soot of the lamp.
by Gopal Lahiri
A Cry From The Soul
Trapped with nowhere to turn, life is changing beyond my control, causing this deep ache in the bottom of my soul.
Someone else is pulling the strings, oh to fly, oh for wings.
Escape, I want to dig my self out, filled with despair, filled with doubt.
Mute not able to express, this gnawing pain and feeling of relentless distress.
Tears that are not visible to the naked eye, silent screams that no one can hear.
I try to speak but nothing can express, this feeling of sadness and worthlessness.
Emotional pain, walks with me through the day, and sleeps with me through the night, leaving me depletes with no strength to fight.
Anger for not having the courage to turn things around, keeping me anchored to this remorse, not able to untie the chains and change my course.
False pride rules supreme, always there to whisper in my ear.
Time, wasted and badly spent, lots of hurt, lots to repent.
Solace, please come and calm my soul, for this is what I need to make me whole.
Empathy, what I need is for someone to see, someone to see the real me.
Love with no strings, just giving generously amongst other things.
Words, when used as a weapon can cut like a knife, capable of doing so much damage and take the joy out of life,
but softly spoken and softly expressed can bring so much happiness. By Charlene Valladares
A Hero
Three times I had the lust to kill, To clutch a throat so young and fair, And squeeze with all my might until No breath of being lingered there. Three times I drove the demon out, Though on my brow was evil sweat. . . . And yet I know beyond a doubt He’ll get me yet, he’ll get me yet.
I know I’m mad, I ought to tell The doctors, let them care for me, Confine me in a padded cell And never, never set me free; But Oh how cruel that would be! For I am young – and comely too . . . Yet dim my demon I can see, And there is but one thing to do.
Three times I beat the foul fiend back; The fourth, I know he will prevail, And so I’ll seek the railway track And lay my head upon the rail, And sight the dark and distant train, And hear its thunder louder roll, Coming to crush my cursed brain . . . Oh God, have mercy on my soul! By Robert W. Service
A Night In Sorrow
I watch as the blood trickles down my arm I close my eyes and hope for you to come. I never knew what it was like to be alone All I want for you to do is come back home. I feel the pain, the burning and the pleasure I feel so confused and so full of pressure I sit in this dark room with no one around All I want from you is love and care I notice that I won’t get my wish But now I wait for the sun to rise. To fill this room with light. As I watch I see how many scars I have Bleeding for desire and pain I look in the mirror of my room and look I watch as these tears flow endlessly and What I realize what I was waiting for was for me to return to normal. By Kita
A Rainy Night
stood idle in the doorway of his shop the dark winter rain glossed harrow road with here and there a shadow hurrying yet those few people crowd the street with mood that makes the rain fall slower than it should where falls on forms or shapes into the night the brief, imagined outlines of our hopes
it cannot be that simple breezes frame those fearful crowds who spit icy splinters into the traffic beam or if he sees a customer, and nods at blurs of black, pushed by occult street gods along the crowded pavement’s gleamy slate
or never will close up and go indoors just leave the phantom mob to have the street with all its empty promises and broken lives light nudging feebly out, dark flooding in
he is as drowned as one long lost at sea and after he is gone, his form will stand still in the doorway of his dust greyed shop then customers will finally come by for only then will he have what they need
by André Rostant
A Scarecrow
It does not hurts only hands are sore from writing carefully punctured numbers will reveal origin secret of puppet dressed festively as an Easter bowl
I would scream oh how I would scream but there are children’s at home and the silence so rarely runs through my hall
I feel revulsion to the core to all those places anniversaries and celebrations I’m simply disgust with inaccurately shaved meat and I just can’t stand a color and shape of veterinary supervision stamp
by Marcin Malek
Behind These Walls
They watch the world with open eyes. They haunt the world with an open mind. They see you move as you live in this world.
But behind these walls lies a deep, dark universe, one where the light can’t shine through. A world where they lurk, they play and hide. Behind these walls, there’s a world inside.
If you dare to look or even hear, go ahead, face your fear. You’ll join this world one cruel day. So sad it’ll be, but they can’t hear you say…
Behind these walls lies a deep dark universe, one where the light can’t shine through! A world where they lurk and play and hide. Behind these walls there’s a world inside…
By Jenna
Big Blaze of Flame Pantoum
Big blaze of flame, self empathy. Intense flare, for my love or rage. Heat of desire, please don’t burn me. Blaze to steer, hell or heaven ways.
Intense flare, for my love or rage. I ask to master, your great heat. Blaze to steer, hell or heaven ways. My dreams and right way, please give lit
I ask to master, your great heat. Flame that myself, will be scorch. My dreams and right way, please give lit You’re my feelings ink, that will torch.
Flame that myself, will get scorch. Fire greater than, my whole image. You’re my feelings ink, that will torch. Senses are the burn, for voyage.
Fire greater than, my whole image. Heat of desire, please don’t burn me. Senses are the burn, for voyage. Big blaze of flame, self empathy.
Author Note: This is a poem about the heat we feel inside that devours us to positive or negative way.
by Alvin Williard A. Aquino
Burn The Beauty
One does not own beauty. One creates it. In their dreams, They feel they can obtain it.
All alone, in a dark night’s rest. All their thoughts… Lifeless.
Cursed by change Hidden by lies, Running from the truth. Beauty now dies.
They don’t understand. They don’t really care. Beauty now burns Smoke in the air.
Years go by, And age seeps in. Beauty’s worn out, Life is giving in.
Death creeps up, Beauty now cries. You’re all alone In your beautiful lies! By Elizabeth McCrorie
Circus In Three Rings
In the circus tent of a hurricane designed by a drunken god my extravagant heart blows up again in a rampage of champagne-colored rain and the fragments whir like a weather vane while the angels all applaud.
Daring as death and debonair I invade my lion’s den; a rose of jeopardy flames in my hair yet I flourish my whip with a fatal flair defending my perilous wounds with a chair while the gnawings of love begin.
Mocking as Mephistopheles, eclipsed by magician’s disguise, my demon of doom tilts on a trapeze, winged rabbits revolving about his knees, only to vanish with devilish ease in a smoke that sears my eyes. By Sylvia Plath
Climbing
High up in the apple tree climbing I go, With the sky above me, the earth below. Each branch is the step of a wonderful stair Which leads to the town I see shining up there. Climbing, climbing, higher and higher, The branches blow and I see a spire, The gleam of a turret, the glint of a dome, All sparkling and bright, like white sea foam. On and on, from bough to bough, The leaves are thick, but I push my way through; Before, I have always had to stop, But to-day I am sure I shall reach the top. Today to the end of the marvelous stair, Where those glittering pinacles flash in the air! Climbing, climbing, higher I go, With the sky close above me, the earth far below.
by Amy Lowell
Cold Dark Corner
There’s a cold dark corner in the back of my room, it speaks to me and says I’m coming for you.
As I lie on my bed in the fetal position, my eyes are closed hoping and wishing.
Maybe that one day my dreams will come true, that I don’t have to be here so down and blue.
The corner keeps talking about how I’m going to die, all I can do is lie there and cry.
As the corner gets closer and takes me in, my soul starts to burn as so does my skin.
My bones shall lie there turning to dust, my bed surrounding nothing but rust. Ву Blake Duffy
Darkness’ Grasp
I’m swimming all alone in a pool of darkness, and I feel like darkness is slowly pulling me under. I yell for help, but no one is there to hear it. I begin to see the water at eye level and I kick and flail, fighting to stay above the darkness, But the darkness won’t let go of its hold on me, and I slowly begin to give in, to the feeling that lies below the water line. The waters starts to fill my lungs, the lungs that once held so much life, yet now they allow the murky water to replace that. I know that this path doesn’t lead to happiness, but why doesn’t someone grab my hand, pull me from darkness’s grasp? Because no one knows I stand at the boundary, the boundary between light and dark, so I give in to the thing that holds me. All of the strength and all of the courage that I once held in my heart can’t save me from the water, so I slowly slip below the world of consciousness, undetected by the occupants of that world. I don’t want to fight anymore. I’ve given into darkness.
By Leah Sarah-May Wells
Demon’s Wrath
Whisper it, don’t let them hear. Be careful; it’s them you should fear. Follow them, do what they say, And for your sake, don’t run away. Their hearts are as black as black can be. Their souls chill you to the bone, don’t you see? They’ll lure you into their arms and tear you apart. Then they’ll suck the blood out of your heart, Leave you gasping for air that surrounds you. I know it sounds unreal, like it’s not true, But don’t look at them, don’t ask who they are. Their darkness surrounds us from afar. Don’t provoke them, don’t make them mad, For if you do, the outcome could be bad. The demons will rise through the land. The darkness will clasp your cold, icy hand. You’ll remember all your darkened power, And the demons will rise in the night’s darkest hour. They’ll lead you to a darker path, And you’ll be the one to unleash the demon’s wrath. By Shianne
Depression Is Never Ending
Depression is here every day, And it never goes away. Go away! I yell into the dark, As if someone is there. I feel as if I’m a prisoner In the dungeon’s lair. And as always, no one cares. Do I dare? Dare to care about anyone but me? Could it be, Someone there? Someone there to care? No, just an image. That’s the way it will always be, No matter how hard I try. I just want to get by. I go through life day by day. I thought pain was supposed To go away with time, But it’s not. It’s still here, Here with the fear, Fear that I will get hurt more. By Sarah Boston
Desertedness Groans
Desertedness Groans Desertedness groans and moans, That a shepherd feeds the bellies of his herd, But sleeps himself undined, empty bellied; The labourer though toils day and night, Yet pants, wheezes for two meals; The peasant sows and harvests the crop, And distributes the grain among others, Extinguishing the fire of his own hearth.
Why the kids: the offspring of the sweating, Toiling labourer not get the sustenance, Inscribed, incorporated in the scrolls of fate? Why doesn’t the mystery divulge itself at last? Desertedness groans and moans.
by Shahida Latif
Devil’s-Bit
My body was chilled the night I awoke For a vision was fresh in my mind, Of a woman I’d seen in a black-as-night cloak And I swear she was not of my kind.
She stood at my side as I opened my eyes I could see nor her head nor her face, Her outline was etched by bright burning fires At her throat she wore ruffled black lace.
She lifted her hand and touched my cheek I felt my body and soul catch alight, I opened my mouth and tried to speak But my mind was numb with fright.
She turned away and beckoned to me Mesmerised I got to my feet, I had to follow if I was to be free As she walked out into the street.
She never looked back nor spared me a glance As I walked behind her down the road, I followed the woman like a man in a trance And my mind not my body bore the load.
She stopped at last before a great door In the shadows she stood then knocked twice, I gazed in wonder for I’d been here before And my heart was gripped in a vice.
The door was opened and we walked inside In the church I smelt death in the air, At the altar I saw a young woman, a bride She was young and a beauty so fair.
She faced the door figure clad all in black The candles and chalice the same, Then the woman who stood silently at my back Touched my arm and called out my name.
‘You’ve been chosen from many to witness tonight A marriage between evil and good, This consummation between darkness and light Among all of Satan’s brotherhood.’
Then from all around me there arose silently A mass of creatures obscene, They stood and laughed and pointed at me And I prayed that this must be a dream.
The woman behind me then spoke up again ‘You will stand right here through it all, Feel with that girl the ecstatic pain For the master will soon grace this hall.’
The door burst open and all fell to the floor As the prince of darkness strode past, I shook with fear at the look that he wore As he stopped and his eyes on me cast.
He lifted a hand that was more like a claw Then pointed at me as he smiled I thought only of flight and glanced at the door But I knew I was already defiled.
‘Bear witness this night that I’m real and alive And not part of a book that you’ve read, Remember that good and not evil shall strive And that evil will forever stay ahead.’
So saying he turned and walked up the aisle I felt weak so alone and afraid, My body was shaking and my mouth filled with bile For tonight a price would be paid.
The girl at the altar stood facing us all As Satan strode onward towards her, She drew herself up, smiled and stood tall Awaiting her lord Lucifer.
He stopped before her and ripped off her gown She stood naked with arms open wide, Taking her hands he pulled her down On the altar the devil took his bride.
I stared at the scene with my hands clenched tight I tried but could not turn my face, I experienced it all in the dim candlelight Until at last he released his embrace.
The devil laughed and threw back his head My god he was evil and cruel, He walked back to me, smiled and said: ‘Go look at the woman you fool.’
I slowly walked to where the girl lay She was bruised and her body was torn, I looked into the face of the devil’s prey And I cursed the day I was born.
She lay in her blood all naked and white Defiled to the end of her life, I looked into eyes that once shone bright Eyes that belonged to my wife.
I fell to my knees and began to pray Surely god this must be a dream? Then I looked at my bride of only one day In the church all I heard was my scream.
by Jim Kirby
Dinner Date
Silently he stalked, Where the nameless walked Patrolling midnights beat With heavy, dragging feet. Creature of shadowland Lawman, with gun in hand.
Fog smothers everywhere Shrouding the killing lair. Evil prowls the dead street; Echoes of muffled feet, Silently, people past, Dripping hearts, racing fast.
Poster on shop window peers, As photo fit face leers. Front pages scream in fear. Midnight ripper, comes here. Beware this savage beast, Beware his human feast.
Woman caught, out alone. Whispers to her cell phone. Grey form on poster glares, Transfixed, she stops and stares. Shadow flits across her face, Warm heart begins to race….
Scents of fear, fill the street, Sweat trickles in the heat, A scream, a trip, fall… Bold lawman, answers call, Gently, he takes her arm, “I’ll keep you safe from harm.”
She flicks strawberry hair, Relieved to be in his care. Lawman guides her through town, Tense face looks up and down, “You look tasty, my dear…” Blue eyes widen with fear.
He smiled. She froze.
by P.J.Reed
Drowning. Not Waving
Weeping in a moaning wind, The willow waves goodbye. Rustling leaves, caressing The shivering grass.
Startled, shrieking Circling flocks of flapping Blackness, wheel and fly. They will not sing for me.
Rogue branches stir the waters, Heavy laden droplets crash Deafen my ears, Ripples run Fleeing from my gaze.
You tried to run away from me, The footfalls in crushed grasses Betray your final gasp As floating in the waters Your face slips from my grasp.
by P.J.Reed
Hidden Things
I had a dream I was poisoned with distress hidden deep in the weeping willow where all things are dark and gloomy. It’s a place where all time stops nothing move, noise just sadness there’s so much grief you can’t imagine the pain in your heart. When you’re there it seems like you go in a trance from all the sadness surrounding your life and others.
Was this just a dream or Reality?
Pain is something you can NEVER escape.
By Danielle
I Will Wear Masks
In times of trouble and insanity, I carry masks to disguise the pain I carry secure behind my eyes.
I can never let out again the misery I hide. To hell with my dignity, to hell with my pride.
From this day forward, and forevermore, I will mount this mask that will be my lore.
No reaching out when I am weak, no solace will I seek.
When you look for answers, when you say your prayers, all you will see are masks, and no pain that I bare By Joe Dirt
Im All Alone!
I’m fine in the fire, I’m right where I should be, Don’t try to fix me! I like the pain, I love the darkness, I’m used to it, I’m broken forever, It’s impossible to fix me, I cry myself to sleep, I cut till blood pours, I have scars on my wrist, I love screaming music, I see things that aren’t there, I guess the devils speaking to me, He chose me, So there I will go, 666, My favorite number! I’m fine in the fire! I’m all alone By Tabbatha P.
In The End
I implore with the word’s strength in front of the empty throne all the Gods that I know. No one answered me. I hope that is not too soon or too late to enter into the Autumn’s secrets.
I’m closing the window, my heart falls down within my chest and I try to conjure the Moon’s light to come closer so I could reborn from your body and soul.
I remember my mother’s face… The tornado is getting closer and closer… The sky is above me, the water plays with my feet beneath the Earth’s crust… Torches are burning, going through the endless night.
Silence is waiting, my soul is waiting, bitten by love, I sprinkle blood on everything that still breath, on everything that has been a part of you. On the hills only the horses stay still, without fear.
I can’t do this no more, my eyes are closing, I’m falling down and the wind’s fury swing my being from side to side and above me a hole is growing till no sky remains. Suddenly I wake up.
Open my eyes and I see the Blue Angel’s grotesque face. I’m not afraid, I’m ready for this sacrifice. He screams and swallows me. P.S. Nothing is better than a new beginning!…
By Gemma
Just A Small Cut
Crimson red fills the bowl and I think I’m going to be sick. With every thing spinning so fast I cannot breath. Walls closing in and everything fades. Fashes of light come by, one, by one. Feeling sleepy not knowing your name. Not knowing mine. There it is. my favorite thing of all this, ah the feeling of pain is gone from before and new form enters me. Laying here waiting for you to come home. I open my eyes and see flashes of you and me from before you went. You walk inside. You call to me and wait for an answer. You hear small light breaths coming from the bathroom. thinking it is me, you walk down the hall with a smile. the kind that makes your knees go week. You walk in. Oh god, is all you can think. I’m trying to look up at you but I can’t move. a cold chill comes over me as you pick me up. You say we are going to the hospital and that everything will be ok. You rush me in. Blood running down. The nurse rushes you to a bed so I can lay down. I can hear you asking her something. But I can’t make out the words. I feel something cold and wet touch my face then my arm. I feel the prick of a sharp object go in my right arm. The nurse says that I need stitches because the wound is to deep. I feel the thread go in and out through my arm. And a band-aid go around and around. After I have slept for two days they let you in. I can move again and open my eyes. You say that I got 76 stitches because the cuts were way to deep. And that I almost died. I pull off the band-aid and look. I see over 20 cuts and begin to cry. You tell me its ok and we will get some help. About 5 years later. We have two to deal with ourselves. Jake and Emma. A beautiful baby boy and baby girl. The scars are still there. Some times I wish I could go back 5 years and change what I did do so I can make it right.
By Kassie
Losing Myself
My eyes close. I’m holding onto my memories and hatred. My slumber all alone in my head… so silent.
I can’t explain the way my tears run blood along my veins. If I let go of my pain, I’ll cease to be, give into the plague…
War is coming, I can hear it in my heart. Blood will flow along the grounds of the innocent. I can’t deceive the darkness anymore… I’m letting go, I’m losing control of myself…
you beat me down, so low and now I’m crying my soul. I’m losing control. You led me to a place where I can’t feel my face…
Death is just an anesthetic for what’s to come. A body left behind with no face, feeling numb. All alone, I cry here, fading into nothing. All alone I lie here dying…
…losing myself…
By Remnant
Mind Decay
From a dark room came destruction, A twisted plot to kill the world. To show the power of one mind’s corruption, From a dark room, his plan unfurled. He set to work, it gave him pleasure, His fingers moving with skill and ease. He took his time, he felt no pressure, The intention, built by this wretched disease. But then something surfaced, a force of resistance, To combat his thoughts, stop them completely. They shattered his dreams, put an end to his visions, They caught him in hiding and killed him discreetly. His ideas were never copied, his plans, never set in motion, For his secrets died with him, at the bottom of the ocean.
by Jeffrey T. Bender
Mulberry Circle
Jack’s back. That jack’s an ass. He’s so damn crude. He’s all I hate. He’ll catch me unaware, embarrass me, make me look crass and rude. He’ll itch me till I scratch and people stare. He got me in such trouble in my youth. Around and round we go. But he’s no fool! The stupid grin’s on me as he speaks truth. He must be very wise to be so cruel. At night his weasel eyes invade my dreams. I’m calm. I’m cool. He’s planning his attack. The better I become, the more he schemes. I’d kill him if I could. But I am Jack. I ought to let him out, yet I buy locks. One hand on lid I shove him in his box.
by Glen Martin Fitch
Nesferatu – Bled Before Your Dead
Wherein my art do hearts perceive, Of fear for what’s conceived? Concealed! Behind a veil where phantoms lurk, And apparitions dream. To seize! The thoughts which tangle as they irk, And visions of what feels deceived, Are images in eerie need, Of words of trust – Relieved! What grieves, For graven shades of pale? In bodies now anemic, frail, Their shadows grasp for what they know, Are lives of those who cannot glow, From inside tombs of darkness…… caught! By crypts of dreams and nightmares fraught, And nothings real cept sinews taut, In depths of earth where all is nought……… and -Slow…… And vaults are now the shell you’ve found, As trapped you are beneath the ground, Reflecting all of what he’d tell, In shrouds of tales that cast their spell, On those who live despondence, once…. A stranger, who amongst us wants, Forlorn, to friend ….. we never tokened as our end.
A nauseous patient tempted wait, Requires the lives of those whose fate, The Nesferatu longs to find, create, A newly founded sense of state. Through veins destined to drain, to ache, When dried to brittle sense of break. Until no longer mortal bait, Their emptied by his needy wait. And then he’ll sense depleted hate, Until consumes another’s fate, Someone’s life who’ll linger, sate His craving yearns for thirsts abate. And so in fleeting sights his greed, And need for blood……. …….To gush…….., Shall glimpse your life because you stood, Before his specter, you’ll be led, Attracted by his grace and dread, Toward a lifeless grave you’ll rush, And scream eternal fear unsaid, Within his spell, now cast undead, To dark and sculptured forms you’ve fled, Whose arms carress with charm, the harm, Ensures your bled, before your dead.
by David Hollywood
No more but faith
My world is rusted and don in a hoarfrost coat to make a bard of hustler gods had to skip the code
this may seems wild but gods are making things not always as mankind no soul have wings
and yet it’s rises all along or wind – a jolly lad despite the lack of tongue still whistles like a mad
my world is straight and narrow as poet words demands no more but faith of ever-anxious gods
by Marcin Malek
October Requiem
The bruising fist of poverty knuckles you into place The spiteful howl of wind and rain lash your human grace So cold your fingers raw and cracked Shredded numbness sharks your back Looking for somewhere warm and safe But thundering skies kill your fate You hiss and wheeze You try to breathe Chopping for air as Nature bleeds Weeping clouds drown your cries And rivers of pain cradle your sighs A swan of beauty lifts you through Anchoring you to a sea of blue Calm now sweet, painted clear A crown of hope blunts your fear As pink geraniums blush your heart And dreams of better trumpet the stars .
by Saira Viola
Out Out
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, As it ran light, or had to bear a load. And nothing happened: day was all but done. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him the half hour That a boy counts so much when saved from work. His sister stood beside them in her apron To tell them “Supper.” At the word, the saw, As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap— He must have given the hand. However it was, Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh, As he swung toward them holding up the hand Half in appeal, but half as if to keep The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all— Since he was old enough to know, big boy Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart— He saw all spoiled. “Don’t let him cut my hand off— The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!” So. But the hand was gone already. The doctor put him in the dark of ether. He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath. And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright. No one believed. They listened at his heart. Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it. No more to build on there. And they, since they Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
By Robert Frost
Pain Became My Friend Today
Pain became my friend today She showed me how to hide She’d been watching from a distance Every tear I cried
Pain became my friend today She reached out her hand to me Then pulled me into darkness And introduced me to misery
Pain became my friend today Emptying my heart Staying as my constant companion Tearing me apart
Pain became my friend today She isolates my soul Without her I am nothing In her I’m consoled
Pain became my friend today When she saw me kneel down and cry Then she lay down right next to me To kiss my joy good-bye
Pain became my friend today She introduced me to the sorrow Who showed me how to dwell in agony And fear the break of tomorrow
Pain became my friend today Making my heart cold Pain became my friend today The only hand I hold
by Shannen Wrass
Parting
Only a frigid zephyr left from her trace- Reigned over the room that was once a warm place; Only a pale moon sheded light on my dim view- Showed but a shadow that have lost you.
Tranquility of the night wafted voices in my head- Past voices serenaded like songs for a dead. Nostalgic reminiscence had nothing but reminded me- To utter sorrows I sooth beared after glee;
Filled with blue, sat impassively in my arrest- Died down by sorrows of loss with sluggish gest; And heaved a deep sigh of despair- Retired heavily on my old made lime chair.
My vapid eyes were closed like asleep- Just to repulse myself not to weep; Yet my heart teared desperately at that moment, And have thought to myself these are where I meant.
I should stick out every night in my life- The pain like a stab by a knife; That the wound doesn’t heal after time, But gets worser like a chronic crime.
Thou tempest won’t still- Inside me, that keeps me ill; With my regrets from my deeds, Render void only upon death leads.
Set sail in the sea before heavy waves, Aboard the unwilled captain who craves; Longing for something does not exist before him, Will turn his voyage a null and dim.
I should have not steered this course, What beauty it’d brought, without thee was just a curse; That blossomy flowers were meaningful only before thy ears, Morning light was been so promising only when I saw thee for some years.
It could have been me feeling thy warmth from thy love, If only I treated it as greater as above; I should have gave thee comfort, But rather the one that caused thee discomfort.
Thou I, what a fool thou hast been, I wasted the most ever queen; Too late to realize, That your love had come demise.
Time and space are before us to shape our fate, Once given unto us, treasure it and celebrate; And we shall commit none any mistake, It only comes once, so hold it firm that nothing could ever shake.
by Kim Amor
Primrose Rose
Silently, they stopped to stare, At the freak with raven hair, His eyes rings of Dante black, Angry looks burnt through his back. Strange black clothes flapped in the air. Flying back to darkened lair. Primrose Close, closed its eyes, Abnormals were despised. Close people; pillars of good, Bedrock, of their neighbourhood. They must be rid of this thing, It was either Close or Him…
Nice rose woman grew flowers, Tending garden for hours, Poor old woman left alone, Husband ran away from home; Roses blossomed pink and red. Left no trace where husband bled… City Banker, number One, Works in cat shelter for fun. Brings home strays of the City. Model of care and pity. Fur coats are her only vice, Never wears the same one twice…
Number four is Dr. Pace White coat and a kindly face. Some patients give him pleasure He enjoys them at leisure. Watching limbs lying twitching. In glass jars in his kitchen… Hidden in the smallest nook. Shy, school teacher ticks his book. Enslaved with education Spends evenings on Chat Nation Befriends lonely teenage girls, Loves the ones with Mommys’ curls…
Freak flew home, the Close stood still. Silent curses of ill will. Hidden in his bedroom lair, No one saw his hungry stare. White collars bored him to tears. Blank people with stagnant fears. The loathing ripped through his heart. Close and him were far apart. They would never feel his need, Watching Normals’ fear and bleed. Deathly pale and feeling ill. Slunk out silently to kill…
by Rainbow Reed
Rain
Rain it’s like it never goes away it explains all of my fear and pain. Do you think it will ever go away? If it does I wonder what will happen maybe a rainbow will appear and all of my pain will disappear. Or maybe the love of my life will come knocking at my door. But until, that beautiful rainbow of my love appears, My life is shadowed by the pain and a windowsill covered by the rain ! ! !
By Amanda
Ribbons & Pearls
Ribbons and pearls, so tender is the age All dressed up with nowhere to go. I know your secrets to your hate and rage A little girl— one too many has tried to know. Deep behind the garden and around the bend Daddy’s hands always seem to find you there The tears of shame escapes you when You comb your long, blonde hair. And the demons only come under the moon Lock the door and close the blinds. The virtues of shame have bloomed much too soon And the innocence is left behind. For loving eyes have wept From many eyes have been kept And tomorrow is a new day. Father’s arms are always open and firm Mother’s eyes are always closed or turned And the powers that be have fell this way. So the silence is never broken And the words are never spoken But I see your pain. Trust is someone you’ll never know Happiness is something you will never show And your past, — you will never regain. So look beyond those deadened eyes Far from those painful cries, To a place where no one will hurt you anymore. Hold up that pretty chin And fight to the bitter end Because there are things worth fighting for.
by Timothy Cole
Sheppard’s Quest
They talk to me, they guide me to here,
I push and push, but still they lead,
Madness is creeping in, but still the voices feed,
Feeding a drive, pushing me to near,
The source, and still they lead,
My soul is tearing, my sanity is sheared.
They have guided me, to the man in black,
The voices have ceased, my mind is calm,
I sit with the man, he begins to read psalms,
He preaches to me, no waiver no crack,
His voice is peaceful, my mind is calm,
He finished, then pulled cards from his sack.
I am the last guardian, the first Sheppard,
He pulls a card, the first of my flock,
One by one he calls them, then the shock,
He called her name, I can only move forward,
She died years before, the last of my flock,
How will I gather her, the last pulled card.
I slept that night, her face haunted my dreams,
How she was taken, how I was so weak,
I couldn’t fight, how I was so meek,
Yet fates cruelty, irony it seems,
The nightmares filled my mind, I was so weak,
I slept that night, her face haunted my dreams.
I arose the next morning, needing a flock of six,
There was no man in black, just ash and bone,
I set out to find the first, I head out alone,
How will I find them, no games; no tricks,
The first is an elemental, element of Earth and stone,
My quest begins, finding a flock of six.
by Shawn Ervin
Since you asked
I’m nothing but a shell of what once was Coming out of a personal hell Where, although I did not choose to stay, still often I would dwell Unchained but in a cell, it seems, made from the very cells, Which make up my physical being This me What I am I cannot tell For it was dark and too inhuman The pit into which I fell Clutching before my unseeing eyes a soul, unwhole, to sell. Well in my darkness a revelation came Which raised a chill No nefarious soul Would barter its gold for a spirit appraised at nil And mine was one such spirit Shattered, broken, grave, and ill Filled with foreboding thoughts and self loathing Disgraced by my wasted skill And lack of conviction Faith, love, benediction, Consistency and basic will Still often I’m haunted By the unwant of the unwanted So bitter I taste it still
by Radames Antonio Cruz
Solitude
Unrequited love Could cause the most confident conqueror unease, Unrequited love Could not my deepest desires appease. Showered her with attentions, but my affection she endured. As pseudo-lovers we discovered that love can be obscure.
Yet when the light of the world was extinguished, her essence fuelled my lamp. But we were of different stations; she was the lady and I the tramp. A lifetime with this creature imbued me with a peace so profound and pure, From the minds and hearts of my fellow man, I yearned to learn much more.
Never before was there a woman as stubborn as was mine, “Forsaking her presence relegated me to a rank lower than swine.” She blatantly refused that I should make the company of those brutal, ruthless fiends, who comprised humanity!
O woe my unconscious became so active and so grave! Each night he pestered my good sense, I wished he would behave. O woe my unconscious had now become my worst foe! Every night he painted scenarios of drastic ways to go. One night, with some rope, I hung a noose from a tree, O imagine when she wakes to see, her doll hanging hopelessly!
But the intellect of my mate I clearly underestimated, For when I awoke, my studio, she had already vacated. She’s gone, I thought, I’m free, so I made the acquaintance of some remarkable human beings who’ve shown me lots of love.
One day, quite unprovoked, while amongst friends she assailed me, Beads of sweat laced my brows and my palms grew cold and clammy. My autonomic reactions betrayed my anguished mental state Her return must be an omen, had she once more sealed my fate? I pleaded and supplicated but she refused to go, I hated, no, I deeply despised my new, old foe.
That night as her chest rose and fell, I glared at her asleep Like a lamb before the slaughter I thought, then plunged my dagger deep into her heart, lungs and intestines; punctured her five times, As she spat and sputtered blood, I felt a peace so sublime. She will forever remain dormant, never again will she stir In the end, she was no better than a common cur.
So I killed her and I’m glad For those who think me rude, I killed the filthy bitch We all know as solitude.
by Kelly Francis
The Cremation Of Sam McGee
There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam ’round the Pole, God only knows. He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell; Though he’d often say in his homely way that “he’d sooner live in hell.”
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail. Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail. If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn’t see; It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow, And the dogs were fed, and the stars o’erhead were dancing heel and toe, He turned to me, and “Cap,” says he, “I’ll cash in this trip, I guess; And if I do, I’m asking that you won’t refuse my last request.”
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no; then he says with a sort of moan: “It’s the cursèd cold, and it’s got right hold till I’m chilled clean through to the bone. Yet ’tain’t being dead—it’s my awful dread of the icy grave that pains; So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you’ll cremate my last remains.”
A pal’s last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail; And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale. He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee; And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn’t a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven, With a corpse half hid that I couldn’t get rid, because of a promise given; It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: “You may tax your brawn and brains, But you promised true, and it’s up to you to cremate those last remains.”
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code. In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load. In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring, Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow; And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low; The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in; And I’d often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay; It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the “Alice May.” And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum; Then “Here,” said I, with a sudden cry, “is my cre-ma-tor-eum.”
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire; Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher; The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see; And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn’t like to hear him sizzle so; And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow. It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why; And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear; But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near; I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: “I’ll just take a peep inside. I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked”; … then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: “Please close that door. It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm— Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”
There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee.
By Robert W. Service
The Demon
This journey I make alone, down further into the brimstone, I enter the realm seeing nothing but anger and hate, A stench of death and decay, the feeling of the prey, Before it is destroyed by the hunter, the feeling it’s too late, It comes for me; I can feel the anger in my heart rate, I can feel it in my soul, it comes for me.
As I proceed forward, I hear the screeching of death’s bird, Its eyes are red, its soul filled with hate and wickedness, The demon plummets down, spiraling and crashing to the ground, From the devastation claws rise and hoists the evilness, Of a creation born to kill purity and goodness, I can feel it in my soul, it came for me.
Fire and barren rolls from its eyes, as it swallows hope in a cry, A shriek that pierces my core and inner being, Something familiar about that, the screech sounding flat, It sounded young and innocent like a child’s scream, Perhaps the soul of the wrongfully taken it seems, I can feel it in my soul, what has come for me?
It swings it claws at me, I parry aside breaking free, I draw the sword from my sheath and ready to defend, We sidestep and flank, the beast towering on the bank, Of a river of sorrow and damned souls flowing to no end, The beast’s claws and the sword clash, the battle begins, I can feel it in my soul; the beast is here for me.
I duck and strike the demon, it shrieks fearing the end, It sounds so familiar; I’ve heard the passion in that cry, Then my heart drops, anger and sorrow fill me to my top, Distracted by the realization the beast grabs my soul and pries, My son is in there, his soul taken and swallowed, I cry, I can feel it take my soul, the beast is killing me.
The pain and anguish filled me, Tears filled my eyes; I couldn’t see, I remember the day I remember when he died, He was so full of hope and joy; he was such a beautiful boy, I couldn’t keep my life together no matter how hard I tried, This beast took him from me, “You will pay”, I cried, I can feel my soul; the beast will answer to me.
I grabbed the beast by the gullet; I pull my soul and capture it, My hate grows and grows inside of me, to the point of rage, My anger is pointed to a focus; saving my son is a must, I must free my son; free his soul from that monstrous cage, This demon will answer for its sins and it will feel my rage, I return my soul; the beast will die before me.
I drop the sword and attack, wildly assaulting it front then the back, The demon drops to the ground face first as my attack is wild, I claw and rip at the beast, releasing souls that was once feasted, I tear deeper into the fiend hunting for my child, Until finally I find him, his soul is released and unriled, I freed his soul, the beast will answer me.
The demon will answer to me; I’ll show no compassion, no mercy, I strike down on the creature again with no result, I pull back for another blow; something grabs my arm from below, I turn to see my son holding me back from my assault, He stops me from killing, from being at fault I can see his soul, the beast has become me.
He smiles and cries at me; my baby boy I can see, The compassion in his eyes, heart, and soul, It’s not the living that you, have the final answer to, But the dead who will pass judgment on your soul, My son grabs the beast while God pours the seventh bowl. My son freed my soul, the beast is taken from me.
by Shawn Ervin
The Final State
all hearts are filled with horror and with dread we’ve hit the boundary of human reach out here in the republic of the dead
there’s no necessity to get ahead once we have heard the words of the last speech all hearts are filled with horror and with dread
for this we struggled long to earn our bread and bowed low as the vile old friars preach out here in the republic of the dead
where are are equal in the weight of lead but none will listen as the poor beseech all hearts are filled with horror and with dread
at every sound that penetrates the head while silent men walk up and down the beach out here in the republic of the dead
where none dare speak and all the good are fled and what we learnt no one could ever teach all hearts are filled with horror and with dread out here in the republic of the dead
by Fragano Ledgister
The Grave of Charles Baudelaire
Snug within your rainy cave, There are stanzas which rise From the grass of your grave. Beneath the languid moon you hypnotize The rare passersby Who lay their fresh bouquets Over six feet of earth, Over the wooden casket in which you lie. The lawn plays above you in the sunlight’s summer rays. And when no one is near your mouth gives birth To a new protest, in spoken verse to the starry sky. And when the stars are eclipsed by the darkness of the clouds, You ascend from your crypt, strolling amid the burial shrouds, Among the tombstones devoid of light, Alive once more in this world you thought to be banal. And you recite as a specter in the cryptic night, Below the mysterious, haunting trees Les Fleurs du mal In the ghostly breeze.
by John Lars Zwerenz
The Graveyard
The spider and the lizard have made their home Within my mind where they accuse me of sin, And all things inhuman, brutal, amid the din Of despairing corpses which grasp as they roam Through my black, sable psyche where poisoned blood Runs like maddened, wild, wailing wine. The sea of the graveyard is of a tawny brine, Giving up its dead in a grisly flood. And as I clutch at the sky, Bereft of all light, In the horror of my godless night – I am already dead – and can nevermore die!
by John Lars Zwerenz
The Hexed
Don’t give me your attention Because I’m not good at pretention. You were never in my eyes And I cannot offer you lies.
I can’t blame you for being like that. You have your own mind and heart. But don’t blame me for being like this. I would never ever blow you a kiss.
Don’t ask for anything from me. I can’t give you something and I’m not sorry. I may not understand you as a being, But know this: there’s a monster in me that I’m keeping.
Little by little, you’re forcing it to uncage. Sooner or later, you’ll be a victim of it’s rage. But that’s not the only problem in this story. A beauty in black called hex is smiling inside me.
by JB Nuique
The Mask
The Actor lay in a crumpled bed with a crumpled and uneasy mind. His resolve cracked, worn down by the grind of pretending to be, not who he was but rather the appearance of being decent and just.
He lived his life worrying, not knowing what to do Never finding the time to utter even a simple I love you Spending his days in a malaise of uneasy Never still, in a state of constant queeze
His mask served him well, for many a year People thought him so happy, so noble, full of cheer, Little did they know, as he was to blame. The only thing real, was the ink of his name.
He knew not who he was now, so sad byt so true Masks have a way of affixing to you, Not just a visage, or disguise of the day Sometimes they form a part They don’t peel away.
He lies awake once more Eyes always on the door Awaiting the figure enrobed. Memories cloud him, a mist of illwill He’s alone in this world His spirit long since killed.
He tries with no luck to look on himself, But this is a mask that stays not on the shelf A perfect fit, too perfect perhaps, He wore it so long, decades elapsed.
Watch out for masks, though they seem your friends They have a terrible habit of staying on til the end. And when you looking in the mirror and see the dead eyes and realize that the grin is your permanent smile.
This is a warning to the faint of the heart, watch out for the masks They’ll tear your life apart.
by Conor Keane
The Monster
Dark blood trickles down sharp ivory teeth. His wicked mark, a clotted piercing bequeaths.
Evil deeds done, implanted in twisted minds. Seduced inwardly by his demonic presence entwined.
He lives forever lost in insanities’ endeavors. Desiring only blood, through victims’ jugulars severed.
Hot on the track of another victim tonight. Drawn to sweet blood, waiting for the bite.
Driven by fresh and virgin meat senseless. Insanities flame, in his brain quenchless.
His desire to live forever beating in his head, Hunting relentlessly his last victim now dead.
By Mike Hazelwood
The New Faces
If you, that have grown old, were the first dead, Neither catalpa tree nor scented lime Should hear my living feet, nor would I tread Where we wrought that shall break the teeth of Time. Let the new faces play what tricks they will In the old rooms; night can outbalance day, Our shadows rove the garden gravel still, The living seem more shadowy than they.
by William Butler Yeats
The Ongoing Battles With My Demons
I peek through blinds that are tightly drawn, Shocked by the glow of the breaking dawn. I shun the brilliance of another day. Enslaved and entombed, I stay hidden away.
The night was long as I lay awake, Anxiety choking like a poisonous snake. My self-hatred grows like some malady That I pray will soon be the death of me.
Being hated and scorned is painful indeed, And that love can be torture, we all must concede, But to be ignored and forgotten can vanquish one’s heart Until it’s in pieces, just shattered apart.
To feel nonexistent is so hard to abide, When you know that your heart is still beating inside. And how do you save your sinking soul, When you feel yourself plummeting into that hole?
My dreams don’t provide any rest or relief; They only replay my regrets and my grief. I honestly don’t know how I came to this place, But it’s clear to me now that there is no escape.
You may call me weak and lowly at best. I’m trapped in self-pity, I must confess. I long for some quiet, just a moment of peace, But my negative voice refuses to cease.
My greatest enemy resides within, But how can I battle myself and win? I find this a callous, duplicitous life, Not worth any effort to fight the good fight.
Surviving, instead of living each day, Sheltered inside sturdy walls I create. Fleeting moments when hope will linger so nigh, But those feelings of wretchedness still once again rise.
Getting through every moment and each empty day, Feeling lost and panicked in this chaotic maze. Still not giving up and not giving in, With my greatest fear being that it won’t ever end. Patricia A. Fleming
The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating “‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;— This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;— Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”— Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore— Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;— ‘Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door— Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door— Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore— Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door— Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered— Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore— Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore— What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!— Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted— On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore— Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore— Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting— “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted—nevermore! By Edgar Allan Poe
The Wicked Path Of Destiny – The Death Of Mankind
I walk the face of earth once more, a mindless puppet; my strings are torn. The creaky bones, the bad eyesight, yet the chance to turn wrong to right. Wars-a-waging, old man’s guilt, the world’s now on more then just a tilt. Parents weeping, children slain, bloody thoughts, fear will reign. I look in the shadows, a creature did lurk. He whispered to me, hiding a smirk. “Thou shalt be killed if thee can’t find the demon lurking in thou mind.” So off I ventured to quench my thirst, of corpses piled with hearts-a-burst. And on that quest what did I see?
The wicked path of destiny. By Joseph
The Wild Old Wicked Man
Because I am mad about women I am mad about the hills,’ Said that wild old wicked man Who travels where God wills. ‘Not to die on the straw at home. Those hands to close these eyes, That is all I ask, my dear, From the old man in the skies. Daybreak and a candle-end.
‘Kind are all your words, my dear, Do not the rest withhold. Who can know the year, my dear, when an old man’s blood grows cold? ‘ I have what no young man can have Because he loves too much. Words I have that can pierce the heart, But what can he do but touch?’ Daybreak and a candle-end.
Then Said she to that wild old man, His stout stick under his hand, ‘Love to give or to withhold Is not at my command. I gave it all to an older man: That old man in the skies. Hands that are busy with His beads Can never close those eyes.’ Daybreak and a candle-end.
‘Go your ways, O go your ways, I choose another mark, Girls down on the seashore Who understand the dark; Bawdy talk for the fishermen; A dance for the fisher-lads; When dark hangs upon the water They turn down their beds. Daybreak and a candle-end.
‘A young man in the dark am I, But a wild old man in the light, That can make a cat laugh, or Can touch by mother wit Things hid in their marrow-bones From time long passed away, Hid from all those warty lads That by their bodies lay. Dayhreak and a candle-end.
‘All men live in suffering, I know as few can know, Whether they take the upper road Or stay content on the low, Rower bent in his row-boat Or weaver bent at his loom, Horseman erect upon horseback Or child hid in the womb. Daybreak and a candlc-cnd.
‘That some stream of lightning From the old man in the skies Can burn out that suffering No right-taught man denies. But a coarse old man am I, I choose the second-best, I forget it all awhile Upon a woman’s breast.’ Daybreak and a candlc-end.
by William Butler Yeats
The Witching Hour
Inside the deepest, darkest night, An eerie presence unexplained. Abstruse dreams jolted with a fright, My booming heart alert and strained.
A feeble light; my sole defence, While choked screams fade in cold silence. Malevolence seeks to devour, Disquieted souls in this dark hour.
by Norma Martiri
The Wrath of Love
It was an autumn morn; the smell of passing in the air was born, For my love, I waited my life for this woman that I adore, In the distance, we heard a bell, towering high, the church of angel, A shriek was heard as time seemed to stop and silent people began to roar, Confusion and panic grasped my throat, and I watched my sweet Ellenore, My love was no more.
I lost myself within her; life has no meaning to the one we were, We just started our life to all in ruin, no reason, and what for, Within my thoughts, yet another bell, I gazed to the sky and cursed him to hell, She did nothing to deserve this crime, to end her life before, Before you, I renounce you is what you deserve, my hate is yours, My rage grew more and more.
The pain that you cause me and you take no blame, take responsibility, For your actions I will hold against you and hate you evermore, Growing louder was the bell and before me stood the angel of hell, With my hate I spat at the angel, with my wrath I’ll wage war, For all who stands before my broken heart I’ll show pain galore, Spite, hatred, wickedness, and more.
The angel reached into my chest, crushing my heart none the lest, Hell will be my home and cruelty will be my whore, Faintly, in the distance a bell, towering high, the angel of hell, And upon my death, I shall show no mercy, I have no mercy anymore, You have stained my soul with your reckless will and virtue abhor, My time grows with panic for spiritual bore.
As I sit full of death, I gasp for one last breath, Collapsing, clutching my heart, I fall to the floor, Suddenly I hear the bell, towering high, the angel of hell, Has come to claim my soul, to torture and to gore, To fill me full of poisons, blisters, and sores, Irony, guilt, and more.
I tumble through the lights of amber, as I am singed by embers, With a brilliant flash of blackness, I reach hell’s floor, Growing louder is the bell, towering high, the angel of hell, I lie on the floor in fear, feeling horror I begin to cry and cower, A mist rose in to dissipate into the angel of God’s lore, Fear, confusion, sorrow, and more.
As I wait with disdain the devil sits and watches in vain, Thinking of a punishment to break me to the core, He rose to chime a bell, towering high, the angel of hell, Has come to burn my eyes, standing on legs of a boar, While walking on a sea of souls, he approached the shore, Pain, cruelty, and more.
He decided on a beast, his very own, and on my soul it’ll feast, The ghastly horror of an animal causing suffering, while my pain is ignored, He rang a second bell, towering high, the angel of hell, Brought to me a creature with horns with smoke rising like spores, And reeking of pestilence, it held the key to the gates of four, Bringing fear, reverence, and more.
I was swept to dimensions, showing me all of evil’s pretensions, I realized their cruelty doesn’t hold a candle to my gore, Again, he chimed his bell, towering high, the angel of hell, My instincts came to me so I could settle the scorn, Amber filled my eyes and curiosity dug into my core, I was afraid no more.
Fire shot from his ram, his pet, a weanling from the damned, His eyes glowed red and his hoof stretched to the floor, Around his neck, he wore a bell, towering high, the angel of hell, Rose his hand, he twisted my soul, but it was my spirit he tore, He drug me through all the gates, through every door, I liked what I saw more and more.
My hate fueled my desire, and anger grew like the fire, Of hell; it consumed me with delight, I wanted more, I grew insane with the ringing bell, towering high, the angel of hell, As the power grew inside of me, my love was poor, I was blinded by rage and forgotten of my love, Ellenore, My compassion dwindled more and more.
Claws grew from my hands, fitting; the angel in awe was sitting, Waiting for me to rise against the beast, not knowing what I had in store, I took from around his neck the bell, standing eye to eye with the angel of hell, Attacking me with his malice, and his pain, I stared at the angel and asked for more, He watched my eyes and soul grow with hate, and I begged for more, I loved it more and more.
This angel may have been the first, but with my scorn, I shall be the worst, I see weakness in him as he strikes me, I demanded for more, I rang the bell, and towered above, the angel of hell, Every strike pleasured me filling my soul, give me more, I was addicted to the suffering; I rose reaching into the beast’s core, Crushing his black heart, pain nevermore.
See this isn’t about fear or power, but the angel’s final hour, All must come to an end, and in the ash, the start of a new lore, And now that I hold the bell, towering high, am, I, the new angel of hell, And I took the dark one by the throat and pulled his soul evermore, And now that I lay his soul to waste, and take power over the demon moor, The souls screamed no more, no more.
As insanity fuels my rage, adding to my book of souls page by page, I will send my army to rape and pillage the world, and for, My amusement I will hunt you, and stew you in your rue, Wondering your grave and toil, with worlds of pain to explore, So I ring my bell for you, and swallow the spirits, for I am coming for your soul, with regret and malice and evil to the core.
by Shawn Ervin
Time Out To Cry
All alone at the end of the day The time, just a little past ten Evening has come for a short stay It’s time for her sorrow again The smile on her face she’s been holding Suddenly, she lets fall And the feelings begin unfolding She comes out of her personal wall As the world settles down for the night She awakens herself from a dream And the girl they all thought had her life going right Is no longer the image she’d seem She takes off the disguise she’s been wearing Then opens her heart to the truth Behind closed doors she’s not caring About life or love in her youth So she sits by the mirror spilling tears And cries by herself in the dark A whole day of acting like she has no fears Takes a lot from an empty heart Inside she’s lonely and sad But acts like she’s fine in the day Revealing her misery, secretly wishing she had A friend, or a promise to stay She’s ashamed of the truth she’s been keeping Living her hours in daylight a lie And this is the reason for in darkness she’s weeping Taking time out from each day to cry
by Shannen Wrass
Unseen
you are trapped in a cage.. no one sees it.. not even you.. you don’t know what it’s made of.. you don’t even know where it came from.. but you feel it.. it’s all around you.. it is full of strength that it forbids you to move freely.. it separates you from your wisdom and it strangles your thoughts.. you are robbed but you don’t know what was taken.. you’re in a place but you don’t know where you’re heading.. you don’t even know how you got there.. or who has brought you there.. you know you’ve been through a lot but your memories are distorted.. it is seizing you little by little.. you can’t stay but you can’t go.. you are trapped but no one sees it.. NOT EVEN YOU..
By Abstruse PSYCHE
Vagueness Petrified
The way you make me miss you, lead to the growth of emptiness even more effective than a flu.
The urge to speak with you crossed its limits I guess. But why does the gap which created wounds had the pungent of sweetness ?
Like lightening it struck me that its only because of the charm of your inbuilt magic, The unconditional love which you sprinkle on me is the only logic.
Your are the best thing I ever got, I would say that even in dreams, believe me or not !
So, fill in the emptiness with the immeasurable love, Like the rain in the fields of of life I plough.
by Thonda Sri Indrani
Villanelle: Oscar Victorius
Lock not the door in the face of your fate The intruder lies dimly in your place Will he die for you were he your true mate
Soft the dark wind taps in every haste late Makes your darling come lie by your fire-place Lock not the door in the face of your fate
Harsh words stifle your heart uttered so late Behind closed doors locked by fear on your face Will he die for you were he your true mate
Will he run as fast as feet duplicate When you tug at the bed-sheets of his race Lock not the door in the face of your fate
Whose screams you heard in your embattled state Before four blasts broke the silence of your grace Will he die for you were he your true mate
Now your voice shrieks still behind the loud gate What mindless mistake takes you out of space Lock not the door in the face of your fate Will he die for you were he your true mate.
by T. Wignesan
We All Win
Don’t ever be mad because it seems like you lost your purpose. Take it one step at a time,open up don’t be nervous
“For the wages of sin is death” So I tied a rope around my neck I stood still and took one last deep breath. But as my almost lifeless body swung to and fro I heard voices that I didn’t know
Afraid to open me eyes One voice said “suicidal I’m not quite surprised” I saw death and waved her hi I’m almost there and you don’t want to let me go Why?
Frowned faces hovered round me Voices all together whispered “look at all she had hoped to be Wet hands glided on and off my face We all die someday ! I just wanted to be ahead of the race
by keona ashley langevine
Welcome To My World
Have you ever tried to cry But there’s no tears left to shed Have you ever seen the face of misery Or looked into the eyes of dread Have you ever gripped the pain Cause it’s all that’s left to hold Have you ever tried so hard to love But found, your heart was just too cold Have you ever just had to accept, Your agony has no end Have you ever been so desperate, You’ve claimed the sorrow your best friend Have you ever held hands with depression Wept on the shoulder of fear Have you ever reached out to emptiness But there’s nothing to pull near. Have you sobbed yourself to sleep Anguish at the foot of your bed Have you ever been shaken from your dream To be thrown in a nightmare instead Have you felt the cringe inside Embraced by betrayal and hate Have you ever then just had to dwell In a world that terror creates Have you ever been left empty No Courage to unfold If you’ve ever known the hurt Then welcome to my world
by Shannen Wrass
You’re Next
Blood dripping from my fingers Blood dripping onto my feet Blood slipping through my fingers From the once live carcass Laying in front of me The body, dismembered, battered and bruised Hair ripped and on the floor next to me My clothes are bloodstained Ripped, tattered and torn The knife on the floor next to me The blade stained with crimson Lifeblood which was once the carcasses Own. The blood. Pooling at the bottom of the table And do you want to know the most important thing? You’re next.
