Were I a need, you’d starve.
Even in the aftermath of a broken relationship, as trying as it can be, there can be hope for a better future especially when we can lean on our support system.
I Was Not Dependent On Anyone
I Was Alone
I Was Very Happy
No Wounds In My Heart
One Day He Came Into My Life……….
He Gave Me Lots And Lots Of Happiness
He Made Me Laugh Even When I Don’t Want To
He Gave Me Support During My Failures
He Scolded Me For My Mistakes
He Helped Me Though He Know That I Can Do That By Myself
He Said That He Will Be There To Catch Me When I Fall
My Life Changed A Lot….
I Fallen For Him
I Became Dependent
I Really Forgot About Everything
Thought He Was My Everything
I Was In A Fantasy World
Truth Hits Me Hardly
I Don’t Know
What Made Him To Like Me?
I Really Don’t Know
What Made Him To Hate Me?
I M Only Having Questions
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This piece gripped me from the beginning but man, those last six lines did me in! I hope it touches you as well.
Try as I may
There is no denying
In your way
That leave behind
An ache for more
The fingers trace
As hands and knees
Give way to
For one last morsel
Of the way
You looked at me
It lives on
A haunting reminder
That my hands
Are made to
Reach out and
To dig in shadows
Of things left
Me for a day
While I starve
For a lifetime
This piece resonates so deeply! Whether feeling a huge loss or missing that favorite person, this brings up so many feelz. :_(
If I close my eyes
I can almost
spirit you here
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Casey Baugh
Written a couple of years ago. Yet almost is never near enough.
putting myself out there
open and freely
may i always be honest
with you and myself
when you read me
will you understand who I am
can you see beneath the shell
polished by years of dysfunction
and decades of destruction
aimed towards oblivion
when you discover me
will you let me be who i’m meant to be
an incredible, unique, flawed, special, human
meant for better than what i got
can you risk yourself opening
to a world shared and supported
will you grasp that it takes love and nurture
to be whole with me
would you trust me
on this journey
Who hasn’t lived this scenario? I think as humans we are destined to experience heartaches, how we survive them determines our future.
You are no longer my beloved
You are not my adversary
You still produce strong feelings
I am still grappling with them
My mind and heart unsettled
The solution remains hidden
What is it we are now?
No definition seems to exist
© 2019 Jason A. Muckley
I simply loved the raw truth of a woman’s strength in this piece. It reminds me of the current cultural motto “Nevertheless, we persist!” RAWR!! And the title – awesome! Great play on words. 🙂
Duo of Dusk and Past
the high notes crack
at the edge of sunset,
then slide past horizon into
into then. Past horizons slide
toward sunset. At the edge,
cracks sound high notes
All Souls’ Day, 2018
Even now, awash in the world’s weeping,
Joyce, Richard, Rose,
they do not rise, but float,
bloated reminders of hope
Jerry, Cecil, David, drowned, drowning,
tense too often a matter of attention
to soul or soul-
full of what we’ve lost,
Bernice, Simon, Daniel,
the memory and the chanting
twinned tightly to whatever
belief we sing, whatever
Melvin, Irving, bodies we cradle
in the dark grave of corruptibility.
O slain cousins of ancient faith,
pray this day for us.
All red-hot July,
in a sea of green
until a blue breeze
and gray time
finally take aim,
fire a whiff of wind
across wispy white seeds
that parachute far and wide,
house to house, yard to yard
and all is gold, Gold, GOLD!
The Day I’m Supposed to Read Poems on Blizzards a Blizzard Arrives
And it whirls me up into white—pages twirling
out and away, cold the stranger in the front row
I owe an ode to when all I have are ballads
on blizzards, like the one that uncovered
for my father a stranger’s still-pulsing pump
in a pile of wrecked cars, yes, that one,
plus other assorted disasters of the heart
and will, which—piled up these weather-
stricken days—did, I confess to sleet,
give me the survivor’s desire to not
careen down the blank highway
past ditches and near-misses
to read to an audience
of no one—everyone
else with a backbone
as I did after all,
here by my
A boy and a girl
hold my hands into the next decade,
their minute fingers tightening
by the second over the life-lines of my palms,
a Morse-code of blood tapping through the skin
we share, bodies clasped like chromosomes.
Our threesome two-step is together and apart,
similarly ticking our differences.
here will our feet and hands click us
on this new giant clock, calculating the years
with such loving and hostile precision?
Snowboarding Live at the Olympics
Lose the wheels and score with so-cool-you’re-cold,
better-than-a skateboard, foot-sleds for snow that alley-oop
through air with dare-you’s as slick as any acrobat’s triple flips,
as tricky as a magician’s slight-of-wrist that’s now just
feet and hips jiving for that perfect winter 10.
Professor of English at Lock Haven University, Marjorie Maddox has published 11 collections of poetry, What She Was Saying (prose), 4 children’s/YA books, including Inside Out: Poems on Writing and Reading Poems with Insider Exercises; the anthology Common Wealth: Contemporary Poets on Pennsylvania (PSU Press), and Presence(assistant editor). www.marjoriemaddox.com
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OUCH!! But not wrong. This is accurate on so many levels. I’ve heard people say that “Pain is my muse” with respect to writing but I think it’s pretty accurate to say that those with a determined spirit would feel the same. For justice and their healing, pain inspires them to overcome and thrive because of it. This piece reasonated with me powerfully.