Listen Sweetly

If I die,

You die with me.

There are no depths

There is no fear,

This meanness, this torture

Has no limit

Freedom sits staring at you

Only the mournful cry

Of you and I

These angels carry nothing

For over our shoulders

This mystic being

Claimed this feeling

And has dragged you away again

A casual glimmer

And nothing but a sparkle

Lessened this entanglement

Wrapped all about

Blanketed sins released

Like bats out of the cave and into the night

Mourn no more

Sweet tear in the sun

Life had a lesson

That besieged us both

And comforted us like babies under their wings

We fed on what they saw

A danger that I recall

Swarming out of the clear

In dream they had you in

Oh I listen no more for the tears I made you cry

Listen to me sweetly

Before I die

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Being sick

Being sick does not feel nice for i once had food poisoning it made me so sick the next two day.I was so weak not strong so now I`m almost better for than i feel happy heres my saying


Author's Notes/Comments: 

I was sick and in the hospital when i wrote this
please sign guest book

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Go Forth

Go forth, the breeze  

through passions eye

For I know not what bothers me so

Does there need to be a reason for shame

Quietly I weep silent tears;

A reflection of my pain.

Go forth, I say

Do not hesitate

Yet I know how wearily I tread

There is but faintness in this heart

From my long and tedious step.

Go forth, I am told

Though I know not why

When nights are long and days desolate

I cannot help but ponder

The meaning of life desperate.

Go forth, I hear

No longer bide your time

They say to tarry is a loss

So do not procrastinate

The rolling stone gathers no moss.

Go forth, yet I know not

What this means

I am ever wary and watchful

Lest the obstinate one may see

And waylay me for my weakness

Whatever that may be.

Go forth, through passions eye

Never fail, nor stumble

For the quest you do partake in life

Is one of means so humble.

Go forth, rest ye not

Though ever tired and weary

For be it love you seek

You'll not find it here

And your search will leave you weak.

Go forth, I cry

I beg you please

Give rest this hardened heart

Being love I sought

And found it not

My journey I must depart.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this is worse then it sounds..was just some thoughts i had at the time.

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Fears of Futures Past

I sit, tense, adrenaline rush,

and try to be

as small as possible

begging not to be noticed

He sits in constant motion

cigerette in hand

muttering imagined slights

I pray he doesn't notice me,

I try to ignore him,

waiting for the accusations to start,

pretending I don't exist,

he imagines that I did and do

many things, that I know many things

It is no use to deny,

I am guilty without trial,

silence is truth

my voice nothing but the lie

he is judge, jury and executioner

I am helpless

Bound by ties of blood

the legacy passes

father to daughter, mother to child

even in death, that slight repreive,

there is no end

I watch my child, already

in constant motion,

and I fearfuly wonder if

the accusations will start,

and who will be judge, jury

and executioner                      

Author's Notes/Comments: 

If you have ever grown up around someone who is mently ill then you may understand this a bit, if you have'nt and don't understand please email me if you wish me to explain

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Your Remembrance

When I think i have forgotten you and accomplished to stop lovin you, your remembrance reborns like a bird above the ocean.

Softly caresses my skin, awakening the love that i have for you, it appears again today that I start to forget you.

And it grows upon the distance and grief of the silence increasin my hankering, breaking my breath and denying to go away, invites me to dream transforming into the echo of my loneliness.

And the nostalgia that travels in time, returns, it grows in my soul tightening my chest.  I can't avoid it, i can't escape it, your remembrance destroys me in every place.

When I think I have forgotten you, your remembrance returns looking for me, I continue to be the fish caught in your net, although wishing, I can't escape.

And i feel trapped again, I fight and fight it, but your remembrance defeats me once again and again and again.

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A Thump And A Bump

A buttoned-down storm drain dream

Filled, even flowing over, in the dark

With a thump and a bump slides brainward

From my dank damp land of child's


"Mommy mommy wherefor art thou?"

On the bed cried seeing naught

But his father's spirit

I'm flowing into a lake in the

Center of Hell, my soul is entombed

In glaciers broken apart by dream's


A part of me sunk the Titanic

Not out of spite or jealousy

But whim

A thump and a bump and I fall

Floorward by gravity awakened

To morning damp-like still

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Valentines in the drunk tank

there i was

with my eyes gazing about

through the window in the back seat

hands behind me, but not by choice

read my rights

and all i heard was your voice

i'll be home for valentines

if only in a collect call

theres no place like home

and your arms for me to fall asleep in

but iron bars and the gavel

keep me from a smile

so i lower my head

and thus justice is served

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The Kursk

Three years ago, a submarine

Called “Kursk” met her tragic fate,

At the bottom of the Berents Sea

And help came far too late.

Before our eyes now on TV

Is shown a sad repeat,

A ship is trapped below the sea

And its crew in desperate need.

This time albeit it’s different,

They do our help permit,

Lo! Russia accepts our helping hand,

And help comes forth with speed.

They come by land, by sea, by air,

Determine the quickest route,

But hurry to help the crew - beware!

Their oxygen goes out.

T ’is not the Kursk that lies today

At the bottom of the sea,

But a Mini-Sub, and I ask you to pray

For  help in this tragedy!

In Remembrance of the Tragedy of the Russian Submarine Kursk and its 118 Sailors that perished beneath the Berents Sea.

I am not Russian, yet disconsolately

I cry about the Kursk’s great tragedy

In the dark waters of the Berents Sea

And ask the Lord: ”why did this have to be?”

My heart aches for One-Hundred- Eighteen

Entombed, entrapped in the doomed submarine

With dwindling air, trying to break free,

Why, Lord,- why did this have to be?

In vain and futile to excoriate

The proud that asked for helping hands too late

Woe onto image- seeking national pride

That spurned the hands equipped to turn the tide!

Poor weeping mothers waiting to arrive

Rescuing ships to save their young sons life,

Who, for some meager rubles’ salary

Perished beneath the unforgiving sea.

Lament, denounce the chill philosophy

Of callous granite-hearted KPG!

Woe onto dragging feet and woe-betide delay!

Tell-tale of darkly powers holding sway.

Too late, and futile to eviscerate

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was written while the international helpers were still trying to save the submarine.
I was deeply stirred by it.

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Missing Child

sad poems


My eyes had lost you for a fraction of time,

While I haven't realized that this would be my crime,

At first I thought that you were playing a game with me,

Start looking for you, but all what I could see,

were the people around, and not your mischievous face,

And deeply worried I search all over this place.

Out of joint when I am calling your name out loud,

Asking around while blaming myself this unforgivable fault,

seeing every dark corner, exploring every open square,

The fountain, the store, telling me that you aren't there,

Please let her be around, oh Lord hear my little pray,

Please help me my Lord, don't take her away.

Helping by family, through friends and by strangers,

Who are trying to find you overwhelmed with desperation,

Colored with fear through the anxious twilight,

and darkest shadows tortured slowly this dark night.

How they covered my soul with heart grief and sorrow,

Please leave me in today, I can't hardly meet tomorrow.

Tel me what happened, let me know how it could be,

That you my little angel disappeared in front of me,

Where are you, how are you, or are you still alive,

Have you been taken away and now alone in your strife,

Oh my disturbed soul can't hardly describe,

The heartpain and sorrow for my beloved missing child

© Theresia A. Makatita-Poortman

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