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for 13 år siden 0 +0 / -0 823

Where has all the poetry gone? Pen? Luna? You 2 must be busy! Haven't seen you much here lately, but all your posts are still just as great to read! Thought I'd add one of my 'story' poems to Poetry Corner as food for thought regarding addictions . . .

Donny Who?

He took up smoking cigarettes at the gentle age of '5'

No one even cared enough about his soul to question 'why?'

He'd roll his sleeping mattress out - on the floor - when he grew tired

His tattered one armed teddy tucked for comfort by his side

His Mom did not speak English well; she was pre-occupied

And no one taught him right from wrong; or scolded him for lying

I wonder as I reminisce and contemplate his life

Why was it no one shed a tear

When they heard that Donny died?

I didn't know him well at all; but I'd see him at his best

He'd pace my drugstore aisles as he awaited his next 'fix'

He'd start with good behavior; putting on his finest shine

Waxing philosophical; rehearsing his next line

But when I'd tell him no drugs had come for him; confirming his worst fears

He'd raise his fists in indignation; masking angry tears

So dark his clouded countenance; regretful - his blue eyes

'Cause he still had not learned right from wrong; or broken off from lying

I reminisce as I reflect; and contemplate his life

How could it be that no one shed a tear

When they heard that Donny died?

I wish he could have met the Guardian Angels at the school

Whose Grace outshone the blackest hearts; who did reveal the truth

But he arrived too late for class; so easily led astray

He stumbled down the Rat Hole; and was quickly snatched away

Forgive me as I reminisce and contemplate his life

How harsh it is to realize

That no one even shed a tear

When they heard that Donny died.

By Eya

for 13 år siden 0 +0 / -0 2534

Seven Years

Wicked fears,

Blearing tears,

Restless nights,

Constant fights,

History now for seven years.

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for 13 år siden 0 +0 / -0 2534

Me – Spike Milligan

Born screaming small into this world-
Living I am.
Occupational therapy twixt birth and death-
What was I before?
What will I be next?
What am I now?
Cruel answer carried in the jesting mind
of a careless God
I will not bend and grovel
When I die. If He says my sins are myriad
I will ask why He made me so imperfect
And he will say 'My chisels were blunt'
I will say 'Then why did you make so
many of me'.

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for 13 år siden 0 +0 / -0 2534

I Thank You My Love

On the road to oblivion,

Leaving no mark,

Out of the shadows,

You leapt from the dark.

You beguiled and inspired me,

You filled me with hope,

You charmed and amused me,

You kept me afloat.

You shared and you cared,

You gave me your time

And just like a Goddess

You gave me your love

And now years later

With unbridled joy

Our union is soaring

Just you and me.

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for 13 år siden 0 +0 / -0 2534

Don't burn your bridges behind you - Lydia Nuamah

Watching the smoke rise
from ashes is like a dark
soul searching for a grave.

Inhaling nicotine
is as bad as ingesting
deadly sweet poison.

Trapped in unbreakable fume,
your black heart bleeds deeper
with each fume you inhale.

For a fabulously healthy life,
stay away from drugs.
Drugs kill.

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for 13 år siden 0 +0 / -0 2534

Epiphany

The barroom was lonely as 10 o'clock struck,
I sat sipping lager and cursing my luck.

Pained and exhausted I knew it must end,
Now was the time with the help of a friend.

That night I realised it was over for good,
She knew I could do it, she knew that I would.

Emptying my glass and following her light
I slipped from my barstool and into the night.

As I bounded along uplifted with glee
I knew in my heart I was finally free.

Different addiction - same result!

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for 13 år siden 0 +0 / -0 2534

BTW It is okay to have fond memories provided they remain such!

That said, the key word in Mark Twain's poem "To Jennie" is "Goodbye"

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for 13 år siden 0 +0 / -0 2534

To Jennie by Mark Twain (but could be from any of us to "those things")

Good-bye! a kind good-bye,
I bid you now, my friend,
And though 'tis sad to speak the word,
To destiny I bend

And though it be decreed by Fate
That we ne'er meet again,
Your image, graven on my heart,
Forever shall remain.

Aye, in my heart thoult have a place,
Among the friends held dear,-
Nor shall the hand of Time efface
The memories written there.
Goodbye,
S.L.C.

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for 13 år siden 0 +0 / -0 2534

Choice

Smoke and choke, cough and spit,

Feel like death, so unfit.

Dance and prance, jump with glee,

Run and skip, feel so free.

Choices, choices, what to do?

It's one or t'other, it's up to you!

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Days: 1166 Hours: 10

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5354

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117,788

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for 13 år siden 0 +0 / -0 90

And we have all had these

" ....I've got the obligatory Hendrix perm, and the inevitable pin hole burns,,all down the front of my favourite satin shirt.." Roger Waters

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