PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

All alone with the voices inside of my head. ill put my pride to the side and write it out the rest. 

I hate how cancer kills the one you love and not the one you hate instead. 

it puts you through so much pain, id rather see hell, face my demons and be better off dead then to see another loved one go through that again. 

Your body is eating you from the inside out and theres nothing you can do cry and take pain meds. 

losing hair and weight at a fast scaling rate. worry and confusion, i swear this all feels like an illuision. 

sitting alone in my room every night thinking why didnt they take you. (maryanne)

they didnt take the right one, and now its fucking me up in the head.

trying to sort this shit out like why god?

why take not her instead.. 

take the crackhead.

not someones mother, a family friend.

but you cant pick and choose

so let me cry and lay in my bed. Wishing i can see you again and tell you all the things i never said. 

see your face and tell you that i love you, and thank you again.

youre in a better place, with danny. so atleast youre happy. 

im sorry for the pain this shit has put you thru. its a cold world, but atleast i got to know you.

I cry for you Argentina

hectic planet’s southern corner

land of passion, crazy arena

aforetime our bonds were stronger.

No longer yours, you never mine

our lives belonged together once

I used to taste your scarlet wine,

your gorgeous girls, your charming dance.

The friends from ages, forgotten stories

so much privation, my heart is sore

my aging parents, the elder brothers

your call is clear I shall wait no more.

Exultant hugs, reunion is great

my parent’s sanctuary regaining life

but there is an end, a settled date

cruel farewell that sticks its knife.

I’ve seen those humid agates before

I've heard how silence can drown the wail

hair-raising feeling on every pore

they'll stand upright, I will be frail.

Oh, childhood playground! my old-time shelter

long time impeded of children laughing

no words no tears, this way is better

my love, my kids, my home are waiting.

That face is never getting old with time.
It still bring me close and you not afar
From time present. Small morning here dreams alone
And love-gate open, for memory to come home.
All things that make you who you are
Gifts and robs the soul at once:
Those blessings giving, and curses retaining
As they were with you,
They are with me here now.
Even death dust cannot touch the evergreen
Of grandchildren their days not yet seen.

I sense myself in a state of unawareness. 

Memories are put away in a book

We used to stand hand in hand, nothing could break us. 

The gloomy weather is just a reminder that things will never be the same. 

My hair looks like a mess, but I don’t care. 

I look out the window as I see the driver get to my destination, moon not even out yet.

 The wind blows across my face as I make my way in. 

I see his rough shape, His eyes dead and lifeless. 

You could see everyone’s worried concerns. 

Looking out the window the sky is gloomy. 

Sleep is something everyone in the room needs.

 Paper after paper is not good news 

His illness is like a tower waiting to fall but once it falls and it hits the ground it means its over. 

Maybe once it’s over he’ll be swimming in the ocean 

But for now, he is still here, and I just look at him eat out the bowl

His illness is like fire waiting to burst out in flames, on the border between getting better or getting worse. 

We stand here looking like ants supporting one another 

I just wish him, and I were back at the park playing on the green grass.

Even though things will never be the same he will never forget his roots of who he is. 

I wish this was a dream and I could wake up and

everything will be normal, but this is not a dream this is reality and I have to face it and live through it.

Unsure how to process,

I am living on the edge of forgotteness,

While today, taking out the trash,

Nearly gave me whiplash,

To the past I found myself agazed,

Upon the rough, unforgettable haze,

Containing the choices you have made,

And how I just try my best to wade,

Through the pain,

That left a permanent stain,

And through the disappointment,

That took my enjoyment,

The person that lived in that room,

The one that lacked a broom,

That person was not you,

At least not the one I ever knew,

Having kept that aspect of you separate from my mind,

It was easier to have your role clearly be defined,

But now there's another person that's been along for the ride,

And it takes strength to learn to coincide.

 When I was a child

I remember you carrying me in your arms

the grey pseudo membrane covers my pharynx

making it difficult to breathe

Diphtheria was common in those days

You were turned away

from the footsteps of Holy family hospital

I saw despair

Flow down your cheeks

Where to now

You murmured

As I slipped into unconsciousness 

The haveli in Shimla

Amidst blue pines

You, your young family

My father, his brothers and sisters

Settled, content and happy

Forest was your business

Himalayan cedar, silver fir, white oak

Your touch turned them to gold

You took to the road in ‘47

Independence from British Raj and idolaters

carnage ensued

innocents, vulnerable

those who had no say, paid

The Punjabi sky above endured,

said no word but it poured

you spoke little about exodus of your own choice

and loss of everything

the hardship years, the eldest his fits of psychosis

chained, there was no PTSD in those days

people took things in their stride

his young siblings, their silent cries of pain

for the valley, the green trees

the wind that rustled between

the paths that led to nowhere

your hands never spoke of the stories

but you rebuilt the nest

and one by one they flew

some near

others to faraway lands

I want to know more about you grandpa

I am not small anymore but your legacy is so much bigger

One thing I am certain

giving up was never in our blood

                  Not let it win!  

 The memories roll in like a wave that hits the shore

Going back and forth filling your head till it’s sore

Why can’t I let go of the memories that are under my skin

Family tells me to let it go, to forget and not let it win

Life was supposed to be fun when I was a small girl of ten

But it was a nightmare to which happened over and over again

In school I was bullied i said not a word and kept my sorrow within

I prayed for it to stop and leave me alone and not let it win

Then all grown up and married to a monster who didn’t even care

He hit me for years and wouldn’t never stop till It was too much to bare

To have the will to keep moving forward and not just give up and give in

It will be my dream come true for a happy tomorrow to not let it win    

                         zoeycup16

Fight or Flight

By jfarrell

The door opens…

The unseen dog goes for me…

It’s owner raises his fist as I cower..

“I’ve had enough of people like you….”

THUMP!!!!

My therapists tell me, the way the brain works,

All them hormones and chemicals being released,

It’s all about ‘Fight or Flight’

Our body preparing us

To resist or to run.

I freeze.

Anticipating the pain,

Anticipating the shame;

There is no running or fighting back

Just waiting for inevitable violence.

6 years old, my dad drunk, angry because….

I couldn’t spell bronchitis…. I took the wrong book to school…

My sister hurt herself at home, while I’m at school…

He’s mainly angry because he is unhappy with his lot

And this is his way of dealing with it.

6 years old - where would I run to?

6 years old - I’m gonna fight my dad?

Maybe, this is why no ‘fight or flight’;

Just waiting for the inevitable;

Waiting for the beating.

To hear you say…

By jfarrell

To hear you say “I love you”

I would have sprouted wings and flew

So happy, so joyous those words would have made me feel

From you, my mother

To hear you say “I’m proud of you”

I would have pulled the stars from the sky

And made of them a crown

For you, my mother

I heard you say “I should have smothered you at birth”

And I feel crushed, hated

Outcast and rejected

By you, my mother

I heard you say “I should have had you aborted”

And I feel aborted;

Stopped, cast aside

And incomplete

I still hear what you said

After all these years, over all these many miles

Has my silence, my absence, gotten through to you

After all these years, can you still hear me

But,

I still want to hear you say

“I love you”

To me, your son