Death is like a wide, open sky
All friendly and inviting,
Such a well hidden lie.
Category: Poetry
take it back
I wish I could take back our very first meeting
Wash the memories from the walls and try again
For in my mind I cannot help keep repeating
That I did not make the best impression then.
If I could redo things, I would ask you questions
And you’d do the talking ’cause I have nothing to tell
I wouldn’t tell you how I feel, or how I go through hell
I am shaking
My soul quivers
Fear is an overwhelming
Swollen river
Desperately
I await a cure
But deep down
I fear there is no way
I am cursed forever
Bound to pain for
All my days
longing now for rest
I am so exhausted, longing now for rest
This pain behind my eyes is a marching drum
Dragging me towards the blankets of my bed
Where now my body begs me to lay my head
To close my eyes, to sleep forever to succumb
Yes, I am so bone-tired, stripped of every joy
Life feels worn and pointless, like a rusted toy.
With aching muscles, a smile I give
But it is dusty and strained from lack of use
More often with frowns, my face I abuse
just for you
I can see you’ve been crying,
So come over here, let me hug you.
You’ve had a rough week,
Perhaps a rough month
Or maybe you’re whole life is pain.
Let me hug you and ask you a question or two.
That on my mind have been weighing.
What Sisters Do
What are sisters and why love them, you wonder.
Well, I’ll explain as best I can, as I have quite a number.
According to science a sister is a female
With the same parents as another individual.
But that definitions a shame, really it completely fails
To show you what a sister truly is, she’s a miracle.
My sisters, well yes my bloodkin, are so much more
They’re the support beams holding me high enough to see light
They’re the candles that burn through my darkest night
And I love them.
Continue reading “What Sisters Do”searching for my soul
Surrounded by this dark shroud
Created in my mind
Living in a dark cloud
Search but never find
overthinker
I am what you might call an overthinker
I spend my nights awake, staring at the ceiling
Tracing thoughts on the walls, letting my fingers linger
Over the memories the pale purple paint is concealing
Till the world is faded to deepest black
And sleep overpowers my brain at long last
To my dearest cousin Bernadette
Sitting in an open field
Upon a checkered mat
My knees drawn up against my chest
And flowers on my hat
I think upon my dearest cousin
Her birthday draweth near
Bringing a smile to my face
And to my heart good cheer
the rhythm of passing time
by Zahur
Ra-ta-ta-tah! Rain on the pavement, rain in the street
Falling in sheets across the grey brick city, autumn’s tears
Gently waters the dying fields of gold-brown wheat
And washes away the scars and toils of the passing years
Bringing the taste of musting life and soft earth sweet
Dance! Dance! Cold bruised feet across wet concrete
In the falling rain, with the tears so cold
Cool to the skin and nourishing to the soul
Wash away the heartache, sooth the stinging feet
In the dusking evening autumn does control