Posts Tagged ‘sadness’


Deprivation

by MYRYN VILLAFLOR

[they slither, and they hiss
like talking serpents , as they pass
through those discarded streets]

his head’s a sanctuary of sounds,
where he would hear his father 
sing him to sleep

[they drift, and they hover
like cigarette smoke would
inside that shady space]

his heart’s an ocean, and 
women are like waves; reflecting, 
and refracting along the shoreline of his life

[if only I could stop the sky
from raining,

the sky,
from raining]

then, no night would be too long, 
but, well, he’s drunk and stoned 
and he’s traveling solo

[will someone sadder, 
please, tell him,
please]

his skin’s a collage of 
despondency; a patchwork of 
a midday muse.




Copyright (C) 2013 by EvanescentMoon. 
12.10.13

Three

by MELISSA COOK

I can’t find you anymore
and there’s a landslide in there.
Our feet don’t touch the runway and
I never thought I’d say this but I miss
the three-hour plane rides between you
and home. I was a coffee drinker back
then, addicted to caffeine and your
fingertips. An amateur artist on flights
drawing compasses with hearts and
poems. I was the first blind mouse of
three, and I knew your culture loved
threes, three graces, three gorgons,
three furies. Signs of unity and trinity
but we lost these. You’ve been
consuming my metaphors lately and
I’m not sure when it happened but I
can see the Greek alphabet hand-drawn
on my bones. You are a skeleton
without a resting place and
I can’t find you anymore.

Unanderra

by MELISSA COOK

When death took you, you refused
to go quietly. Sirens echoed in the pit
of your stomach and poetry written
about you crumbled like your history
and architecture. We don’t see much of
your sunshine anymore;
we dig your grave and attend
your funeral but those around you
rarely mourn you. We have swallowed
everything you once were, the paradise
of our Grandfathers and now we
like no man who ever stood before you,
find solace in your decay.

There’s no peace here anymore, only
shopping trolleys in creeks, but to you
I give a bouquet of everything you
once were, the rainforest will
nip at your corners and shells
and bones will no longer hold you.
You will be filled with nature and
all it’s splendour. I will colour your skin
like your founders and with
flora and fauna I will no longer
grieve but rather
celebrate your life.

Unanderra = My hometown

Obituaries

by MELISSA COOK

I have written about loss like
my body is tomb for cupid arrows
plucked from my ancestors.
Small-scripted obituaries of
every lover onto my skin

erased and
repeated.

My body is a mausoleum,
designed by a musician and
redesigned by an artist,

and if you asked one to describe
me he’d say I was the scent
of aging metal on his ring finger
and the numerals on his bones.

And I often wonder how he felt
when he made the music I write to,

when did he begin his grieving?
why were his instrumentals about me?
I know a lot of women would find that
romantic, but he, he used his titles
as a branding,

Why did I barter hips for love?
When did he know the “time had
passed for us”?

When did I start asking so many
questions?

Probably when my poetry began to
reflect his dishonesty. He knew I
would find absence in his
creativity.

The last time I saw you, you
fed me at the airport, and I told you it
was the last time you would see me.

That was
two and a half years ago.

Grave

by BRIANNA ROSE BURTON

Death would be adorned
if not knowing it comes
but once;

once to the prepaid grave
no one will visit.

Death would be quick
as heartbreak;
each nerve pulsating under
the ripping of each severed
heartstring,

each pain stands electrified,
intensified,
still, death would be quick.

The shapeless form Death
forms itself into,
cloud-clad upon the sea,
the red one the moon does oft
but softly trickle through,

the moon that moves its footsteps
across the ocean’s blue,
because it, too, would grieve…

But death is quick.

So often quick
to trick, to cheat into;
Death has but eyes
that see life’s thread
be vainly cut through

by severed hands that work
the devil’s knot, too loose,
but Death would intercept,
its spying eyes and grin,
unsparingly unseen,
for Death is quick.

And none would live to tell,
rise up from graven hell,
dig up the roots to find earth’s
warmth above the grave,
for Death would intercept,
because it, too, can only come
but once.

Let Me Live On Within Your Smile, Don’t Lose Me In Your Tears

by KATRYNA ARSENEAU

Pain is understated
when you feel the loss of love
and though you know I’m no longer here
you tend to look above.

These times may be confusing
many emotions can run free
because inside you’ve hurt and cried
“I just want you here with me.”

Please know I see you daily
and it hurts to see you cry
if I could be down here with you
I’d would wipe your hurting eyes.

Try not to feel the sadness
that appears upon your face
I know if it were you that night
I’d gladly take your place.

But that would never happen
it just wasn’t meant to be
it was time for us to leave this place
and it’s time for you to see.

I love you just as always
as I loved you here on earth.
Please let me live within your heart
and know what life is worth.

Don’t ever think I’m missing
because we cannot touch
every time you think of me
I can feel just how much.

Please smile whenever I’m talked about
we will always be together.
I will see you when the time is right
love always, and forever.

Bizarre Memoirs

by RANIA HANI MOALLEM

I wonder if you still paint your
face with novel features at
sundown, if the lips you once
wore still split as untruths caress
your wits with new principles;
meant for a new season.

I never thought you would leave
permanent tokens behind your feet.

Lies, that’s all I remember,
as absurd words sprint deep
through unaligned recollections
each time your song plays
at the back of my mind.

Shame…

You were as gentle as a dove, alas
never held the wisdom of a real
serpent..

-I fled-

Crestfallen

by MYRYN VILLAFLOR

I have travelled back in time
the hypochondriac world
over land and seas
I discovered a garden of ethos
one that depicts
a heart and a Cupid’s arrow
a gentle magic and stilling fervor
that had mordantly turned
Into a tool of broken heartedness

Too little time to heal
yet so much time to dream
I had concocted
a surreal romantic allegory
a rococo grown-up fairytale
wherein your eyes promised
a land of best fantasies
paradoxically,
a place to bury our romance
with guns

I am now like an asteroid
star-like and shiny
though deadly and unattractive
a threat to his desire
of not to mate for life
like as if Venus and Neptune
would ever synchronized

I cannot piece together tomorrow
but one thing is for sure,
real change takes time
with skulls and knives
never will I allay
the desperate lust
for love

I’m just a little not too over you.

Bitnami