Sure. This is a true story (it's actually an unfinished song): The Wreck Flash flood on the highway yesterday Two laughing young men in the mirror They were close enough to count their teeth The age when there is no fear Pedal to metal zigging and zagging For the moment a life without care Where the hell are you going? Are you really too stupid To know that you have time to spare? Is there just too much time to be had? Do you need to live life to it’s fullest? Are you making the most of the moments you have? Do you feel the good ones are fewest? A few minutes later around the next bend The clouds and the rain had both gone A dozen good people pulled over their cars Something was terribly wrong In the ditch on it’s roof in a pile of crushed metal Someone’s trip had just come to an end I went into shock and my mind had gone numb And I saw those two faces again Did you think about those who would stop for you? Did you think of your family and your friends? Did you think this trip was all about you? Did you think of your family and your friends? Did you think of your family and your friends? Should I stop, lend a hand, could I call for help? I think there are enough people there I’m going back home to my wife and sons And I need them to know that I care A moment of guilt, a moment of shame I’ve chosen to not play Samaritan But the guilt is short lived, there is too much to give And I’m thinking of family and friends Are your injuries bad or did you even live? It isn’t for you that I wonder But somewhere at home, by their telephone Is somebody’s Father or Mother Was it even you? I don’t really know It could have been somebody else And if they had seen would they even have thought Of stopping and lending their help? If you were not there but your hearing this song Can you tell that it is about you? You’ve got to be somebody’s daughter or son And this trip is not just about you Do you think about those who would stop for you? Do you think of your family and your friends? Do you think this trip is all about you? Do you think of your family and your friends? Do you think of your family and your friends? Do you think of your family and your friends? Is there just too much time to be had? Do you need to live life to it’s fullest? Are you making the most of the moments you have? Do you feel the good ones are fewest? If you were not there but your hearing this song Can you tell that it is about you? You’ve got to be somebody’s daughter or son And this trip is not just about you Do you think about those who take time out for you? Do you think of your family and your friends? Do you think this trip is all about you? Do you think of your family and your friends? Do you think of your family and your friends? Do you think of your family and your friends?

If there was a section purely for submitting poetry for others to read. And since there isn't, i'd feel a bit weird o_O

I reside silently in the bittersweet stillness of an alley cat neither young nor old dying satisfied among the flies and roses. I prefer prose, but that was my feeble attempt at a poem when my cat died.

My life once full is almost empty and mostly dark these days My memories of wonderful times come less and less often as I sink Into an abyss of lonely hours and waiting til night falls Then only to stare and wish no dawn would come tomorrow for me If I could have a wish that would come true, I think that it might be To know that a sunset and peaceful light would be waiting when I leave, to greet me. (Written at a very dark moment in my life. Not meant to be iambic pentameter or ee cummings. It is just a sad free verse and shows how miserable I was and how much pain I felt).

While sitting here thinking about past relationships, friendships, and casual aquaintences over the past years, I got to thinking that there may have been a time when I said something less than kind to someone for what ever reason. Maybe I was in a foul mood, maybe they said something that didnt set well with me, maybe we had a falling out for whatever reason. I just want you to know that if I ever said anything less than kind to anyone reading this, that I am sorry. When I was young I thought I was ten feet tall and bullet proof, didnt back down from no man and was pretty confrontaional. But we learn alot about kindness as we get older. I know this has been said before, but this is my way of saying the same old thing. WORDS A word is a word is a word is a spirit. A word is a song, cant you hear it? Words put feelings on hold in our lives, Words are truths and words are lies. Words can cut through hearts to the quick, And words can make a friendship stick. A word can show the love from above, And a word can turn our hate into love. Words are powerful weapons to bear, Words can hurt and words can share. You can write them and you can type them Make them red, blue or black. But once you’ve said them You can’t take them back. The words we speak don’t go away. So take much care in the things you say. You can replace a vase after it’s broken, But you can’t erase a word once its spoken.

Here are three, but I have loads more I have written. Doctors Nasty tablets, side effects Moody people, emotional wrecks Deep inside, were people too Even when, were feeling blue Doctors comment, think they know Expose our life's, pain we show Life's a bitch, in the end See us vanish, round the bend Trapped in the Summer The time of summer, is coming near Is it a time for joy, or maybe for fear Trapped in my home, every day Never escaping, come what may Sometimes I wish, I could be free But I know, that can never be My mind confused, and full of pain Sometimes those thought, come again My legs are bad, they never work Wanting to kill myself, makes me a jerk My wife and daughter, I love so much Its them I hold, to keep me in touch Summer's here again, and here I'll be Hiding behind, where no one can see Blue lights in the mirror Speeding down the road, screeching round the bend. Along another straight, nearly at the end. Music playing loud, feel the pounding bass. Driving just for fun, not to go some place. Have another drink, pedal on the floor. Too fast on the corner, scratches down the door. Behind you in the mirror, blue lights start to flash. Try to go much faster, but then there is a crash. Metal twists around you, cuts you like a knife. Then it is all over, oh what a wasted life.

True story. One rainy day in December a few years back, I saw a black panther (cougar/mountain lion) walking in my pasture. It was very scary & exciting. Panthers are not at all common around here. About a week later, there was a story in the paper about a panther attacking & killing a dog that was riding in the back of a pickup truck - as the truck was travelling down the highway! The dog's name was Roxie. Anyway, afterward, I wrote this poem: My Panther He walked in the rain Wet and in pain Hungry for food But searching in vain 'Til one day for sup' He found Roxie the pup alone in the bed of a pickup truck The End

I wrote a Haiku when I was seven. A big butterfly Graceful as a dove in flight Red spots and green stripes

Absolutely. Circa October 2006 : with every flash of light tonight, i will dream - honestly and quietly - put my suffering away. while standing, silent, on the beach pull the glass shell from my pocket hold it up to catch the light and know ...that you were always right about me. and the size of my heart versus the length of my stride (you see my back as i force my legs to carry me away quickly as they may) despite the faltering fumbling words (devotion stirred)

No name- By: Saskia Miya Logue Date: January 22, 2006 Written for: Sanctity of life Sunday One night of pleasure gave you a life time of pain and to justify your decision you kill he who has no name. Why must others who've never seen the sun die for our mistakes? I ask you now, what did you stand to gain by killing he who has no name? When all is said and done and innocent blood is shed, do you sit and wonder why you chose to take a life? Do sit and contimplate what the name of your "pain" may have been had you chosen to save he who has no name?

pull myself out of the green, the blue, the gray...survive the squall within...at all costs...paint myself red...stand out -I like to keep it short and sweet, no particular style- ...what does it mean to you?

i met a gurl dog in the park shes really nice and smart and she likes me!! and she rote a pome but i dont read so good maby somebuddy can tell me what is says?? thanks stabledog ========================================================= Denied the one I crave, I'm bound to one I hate. Yearning for the safe shelter of your arms I dread Each coming dawn, bringing new awareness of my fate. Recalling every touch, every kiss, each word said Wondering when I will see you, how long must I wait? Are you right now missing me, am I running through your head? What I know is rather painful, it strangles me inside For you are not with me, my inside a great abyss I sigh a hundred tears or more, for you I am not beside Tender eyes burned into my mind - yours - you that I miss. Hope rings eternal through countless tears I've cried Your strength is with me always; I must remember this. I struggle against the heavy chains, my life and heart they bind. A legal battle that I must face before I can be free. That this keeps me from you is always on my mind, I must face his angry tirade, his punishment I must see. Before I can settle in your arms so welcoming, safe, and kind. His rage must have a victim, and that victim must be me. The wheels were set in motion so many years ago When I pledged my life to this man, no coming pain I knew. I was young, my boundaries thin, and I never could say no. Proud and stubborn, I sold away the security that was so new. It's a huge commitment and requires thought, yes, that I surely know. Full aware that I should not, I smiled and said, "I do." With those words I made my chains and to myself them bound. I simply couldn't – wouldn't – see the cage to which I had agreed. Every promise broken, each and every vow I later found. He ignored, trampled, lied, and denied in narcissistic greed. Eventually, I was broken, drove mercilessly into the ground, So that I could lie to myself and fill my one insatiable need. I knew he would never do what he said, that action matched not word, But he said he loved me endlessly, and I needed to believe. So I cried, explained, and begged, but my pleas were never heard. The need to believe I could be loved meant I could not leave, My legs would not propel me, like the wings of some clipped bird. I hid inside myself and sought in escapism some reprieve. I ran so deep inside me that in the end I could not even find The vibrant girl who met that man so many years ago. I ran so far, so fast, and so blindly, I'd left her far behind. And I picked myself up, and timidly blow by blow I addressed the underlying issues and found her beaten by the grind. But my newfound strength was, he thought, only just for show. As it dawned on him with each and every passing day, That I meant what I said, the end was one of two, His word he could fulfill without a moment's delay. Or he could say, "Something's really wrong with you." His narcissism dictated that it must happen just this way. And my gathering strength meant that my marriage was through. His garments packed in anger, he left in a fit of rage, Believing I would back down, see the error of my change. Time went by and each day we turned a page, Yet give in I would not, and he thought it very strange. I cleansed my house so many times with frankincense and sage, It was my life that I cleansed most, a badly needed change. Day by day I slowly healed and the relationship was no more. With the exception of that single legal chain, harder to absolve. That I made the day I walked into the cage and behind me shut the door. Around that man my life no longer does revolve. I vowed the end the day I collapsed and pounded on the floor, But the complex legal bit I still need to resolve. And we are now to the crux of this tale of misery and woe, For it is this legal chain that keeps me from your embrace. Keeps me from being in your arms with my heart all aglow, And my inability to say no is why I now cannot gaze at your face. I tell this story and to every reader I now show. What can happen when you ignore yourself and submit to society's grace. Not a work of fiction, these words are all very true. And this is why I cry alone, instead of making love with you.

Is prose OK? It's not the 'sunniest' thing I've ever written. Autumn’s end falls in November. The stark, cold, steel sunlight Reveals the many earthtones mixed with shadows. It’s quiet. To chill for the children’s summer games. The songbirds gone for the season. In the stillness I sit alone. Listening for an inner whisper of some truth, A cloud passes slowly by to block the sun. Making the world look as if carved out of stone. A lifeless, intricate sculpture of time unchanged. When a father peers down over a newborn son, His joy blinds him of all the sorrows he has (justifiably or unjustifiably) endured. He forgets. He can not then realize the struggles and pain That he may well see this beautiful new soul endure. But just like his father before him, He has pulled another spirit, captive, into this sphere. That to him has felt, both like an eternity, And no time at all……..

It started to churn Then skeletons, dreamers, believers, and worms jumped out of my stomach and began to urn ((1)for flesh to eat, blood to spill, pain to see, and to kill) ((2)infestation and elimination of anything that moves. This is about withdrawals and pains.

Sure, Here it is. Deep Deep Deep within an ancient heart beats the war drums of a coming peace long awaited. Chaos dances with me in the light of tomorrow's promise as I grab the last crumbs from destiny's three-legged table. Strangers leave me with hello and welcome me with good-byes which fall on ears longing to hear just one I love you from a pure voice flowing from lips wet with knowing me. Hello. I am I. I am you. I am I becoming you; I am I becoming me. Hello.

I wrote this poem a about a week ago. It's about me jsut hating God for reasons that I'm not sure why. Please don't criticize me for writing this poem. It's not very good, but it's only the second one I've ever written. ______________________________________ I have so much hate deep inside I'm not sure exactly why No self-harm or suicide That's not the way I like to fly Instead, I choose to do Another hateful deed Of throwing verbal poo-poo At the one some call their deity Hello, God. To you I nod, and say, "f*ck off"

Sure, it's nothing big, banter realy, but it helps relieve the stress. -The walls of these eyes are thin the noises and the lights reach me still I wish I could ignore them, listen to the music in my head, and try not to let it change me. The sun does not reach me, it stops at my eyes and never reachs my heart to burn me. They know I'm not quite right in the head but how the hell would they know? I'm not even sure I have one, how can you tell in the dark? I'd thought I'd made myself quite clear that I don't want to be transparent. Because all these wall-eyes hide, is that there's nothing inside.

Wow you did it now. Its all over. the dark is coming, riding, weighing on the horizon. Oh god protect me from it. Did i mention how much it burns to see your face Ive lost one too many friends that i feel that i can not replace. Now there is an empty void which is unjustly filled with plastic and glass faces. Some hold up to the pressure but some just crack. Some cracked like i did when faced with the truth. It burns everyday holding it inside. Everyday having a reason to hide. Because it seems as though everytime i try to reach past this all. It always comes back not enough for the cause. So many things i did...and so much pain for no gain. Practically put myself in the spotlight to be ridiculed. My own stupidity. God it burns. It amazes how far we would go to hurt one another. Even though we know we need each other. But its too late to say because the cards have been laid..and fate has made haste. But oh the plastic faces make their carousel like dance. And it seems as though im faced with the job of being the only one that sees. The dance of the plastic and glass faces. 'Til they crash to the ground. Then to see the sickly smiles they make with red patterns on the floor.

Attic Little girl, my empty eyes Are on the man you lie beside He’s never loved a woman more I heard that louder, once before You stroke the face that I have touched In darker corners where we made love Little girl, just think on this You taste my blood each time you kiss. I’ll be your colour; I’ll be your curves The echoed phrase that cuts his nerve The steps outside your room at night I’ll be there when he shuts his eyes. With my earthy, velvet finger bones I’ll take your house and make it home His heat, his dusk, his fear is mine The hint of musk I left behind. I’ll stare you back from every sin I have scratched and scarred his skin. I am the dirt on his new shoes. I am the thumbprints he left on you.

Right after my divorce I was having a terrible time, because I really did love this woman and I will admit that I was probably pretty hard to live with sometimes. I wanted her back so very much and for a while could not hardly function daily because I wanted her so bad. I was driving trucks cross country and one day in a truck stop cafe I over heard about a five year old boy tell his mom ,"I love you,Mommy." She said, "Well, I love you too,Sweetie. Hey, if you could wish for anything and it would come true, what would you wish for?" and the little boy said, "I would wish you me." This poem came to me and I wrote it on a napkin in that cafe. I WISH YOU ME I wish you love to keep your heart warm. I wish you happiness, and never any harm. I wish you to see all you want to see, And I wish you me. I wish you my arms to hold you at night, And I wish you my lips to kiss you goodnight. I wish you my ears to hear you sing And I wish you contenment in everything. I wish you joy in all that you do, And I wish me you. I wish you the moon and stars in the sky, And I wish you gladness so you never cry. I wish you flowers and trips to the sea, And I wish you me. I wish for you all the things that are kind, And I wish for you solice and peace of mind. I wish you forever and eternity too, And I wish me you. I wish you confidence to meet life's trials. I wish you goodness to bring you smiles, And I wish you all that good could ever be, And I wish you me.

I'll share one of my own: Like A Woman I smell the wind The asphalt, hint of jasmine Where they built a road Leads me to The place I live Not my home: "home is where the heart is" I am a heartless, homeless reptile They call me woman I caress my own breast To find the truth in it I remember... when I felt Like a woman When lips swept across my stomach As I fell gently open on a bed The daylight creeping in between the blinds Drawing lines across our bodies Like a road I remember... like the smell of jasmine It was long ago

http://transit.metrokc.gov/prog/poetry/2001/howdoesitfeel.html http://transit.metrokc.gov/prog/poetry/1999/shine.html

"Permitted:" Nov. 17, 2006 It's not the best, but I like the imagry I used. Tiles beneath my feet, ashfault spread across the streets. Clouds up in the sky, contrast checkered ties. Gadgets spin inside the clock, baloons popped in the air. The risks, the lies, the hate, the love, it's life-- we'll take it if we dare. But once apon a minute, we were changed forever. We figured we could stop it, we thought we were so clever. The rain came pouring down, in shades of different colours, and the people hid away, in there basemets & their cellers. "Lie collection, Lie Collection!" The silver mailman calls Walking down the streets, and standing in the halls. Ribbons tied around our necks, we all stand on the corner Forcing smiles on our faces. Permitted: Not the mourners. Crayons in the childrens hands, but taught by no one else, for no one is permitted-- to guarentee their health. We cry in hiding feelings there, because we're not aloud. Music still inside our heads Permitted: Not a sound. Oh Silence sweeping softly, setting in to life. Without these "worthless" words around, we'll spare our feelings & our strife. Painted thoughts on scraps of paper, all that we can find, trying, hoping, praying that we don't loose our minds. Oh rusty nails & chipping paint, We stare, who dares? No one-- a saint to cover up these bursts of past. Despite their trys-- still they last. like I said. its not the greatest I have. but it'll work.

I've already shared "child" ( http://jbarbie23.livejournal.com/6379.html ) so I'll give you "the seas": Ages hence, this sea will roar Against this same enduring shore And will behold the breaking morn As each day is, before it, born Concurrently, across the land Another sea, another strand Will dance in nature’s endless play And bear the ending of each day The vaster sea was mine, my own It drew me, called me, lured me home So why stayed I upon this shore? Was it conversance, nothing more? Fear of that which might be found Thence, upon that other ground? Or inertia – lethargy? Nay, none of those, as now I see. The redder sea, when mine ran blue (My every instinct knew it true) Had claimed my stay, but not my soul And presently I knew its goal: This sea had held my body nigh So long, for what’s beyond! For I - When dipping toes into the brine - Could touch that which I held as mine One day I woke; an oath I swore To hasten to that other shore Despite the ties which bind my hand I vowed to live upon that strand If e’er Minerva’s son should strive, I thought, to find me, fate would thrive And make the story as it might - The ending, always, for the right Then came the strangest curve, ahead Of all my planning, all my dread All the pain of letting go My past and present; all I know What think you now, O Fate, of this? The clearest sign I’m known to miss So answer starkly, what do I? Write it, please, across the sky Not the Square Mile’s misty kind - But one which leaves me sure of mind Let me not avert my gaze, And be enraptured by the haze Of silty waters, mossy green, The depths of which cannot be seen Beauty upon, within, around Keep my feet upon the ground Let the sirens not betray me, Nor my rushing pulse to sway me For your voice will yet be bleary And my hearing surely weary While I bask in lilt and diction Keep me, then, in this conviction Sift the truth from my illusion Read me destiny’s conclusion

THIS IS A HARD ONE FOR ME TO WRITE SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT IF NOT PLEASE DON'T RATE ME DOWN JUST MOVE ON TO THE NEXT ONE! THANK YOU! Baby Prayer A part of me is missing, because I gave that part to you. I knew I was going to lose you and there was nothing I could do. They say there is always a reason, however, that did not help ease my pain. My heart had broken and I thought I would never laugh again. I asked a thousand questions and cried a million tears. I fear I will live with this pain for many more years. There are questions still unanswered and tears I will always cry. The one question left unanswered Is the simple question why? God must have needed an angel, the tiniest one he could find. To play in his garden up high, where all is lovely and kind. Someday little one we will meet and you will be mine again. Until that day God, bless you my child and keep you safe, AMEN! Written by: Amanda Hughes Inspired by: My baby I miscarried

It is kind of hard to understand this poem it means a lot to me though so I hope you like it feel free to give me your opinions please! Thank you for sharing your poems and reading mine! BROKEN WINGS An angel Sits all alone, Crying in the dark She sighs with a moan. I walk towards her and Put my hand on her shoulder. The wind blows As it gets colder. With deep fear She looks into my eyes. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Something terrible,” she replies. As you see, I am different With jet-black hair, Eyes as dark as coal, And a complexion so fair. I am so different he broke my wings. From the sky I am falling to the ground, Oh how I just want to fly. I look at her with comfort, She says, “I don’t know what to do.” Take my hand and I will help you. With these broken wings We are falling together, But with each other We will fly in heaven forever. Yea she sings… With these wings We will fly together In the heavens forever So take my hand, And mend these broken wings. Written by: (Me) Amanda Hughes 2006

All my time All my time I have wasted Treating you human When I was treated like a dog I didnt manipulate or call you a liar I only speak the truth Promised not to scar you but yet you scarred my heart I feel used up All alone Didnt do anyhting to hurt you Yet you hurt me You broke my heart Called my love fake You said you would always love me I kept my mouth shut Of all the things that hurt me I got nothing in return If you dont want me Tell me now It would really make my life better Call me a whore Anything you please Just tell me you dont want me

EDIT: This question has been changed since it was first posted. Originally, the asker wanted people to share their favorite poem in here written by a Bard or one that was written by the respondent. I can't exactly change my answer to nothing so it shall remain as is. No man is an island, entire of itself every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls it tolls for thee. No Man is an Island by John Donne(1572-1631) as appearing in Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, Meditation XVII He summed it up pretty good. I have it on parchment that I bought in York Minster, Yorkshire England on one of my many trips to the UK. One other comes to mind and a favorite of my old Da's, by Robert Service(1874-1958) who wrote primarily about the Yukon and the men that worked there. The Cremation of Sam McGee There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee. Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows. He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell; Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell." On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail. Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail. If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see; It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee. And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow, And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe, He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess; And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request." Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan: "It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold, till I'm chilled clean through to the bone. Yet 'tain't being dead — it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains; So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains." A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail; And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale. He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee; And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee. There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven, With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given; It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains, But you promised true, and it's up to you, to cremate those last remains." Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code. In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load. In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring, Howled out their woes to the homeless snows — Oh God! how I loathed the thing. And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow; And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low; The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in; And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin. Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay; It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May." And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum; Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum." Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire; Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher; The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see; And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee. Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so; And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow. It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why; And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky. I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear; But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near; I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside. I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide. And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and said: "Please close that door. It's fine in here, but I greatly fear, you'll let in the cold and storm — Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm." There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee.

These are two I wrote several years ago...don't know what inspired me. :) --"Fear"-- Some say I'm non-existant, only when they believe it true. I come when you least expect as the chill of cold down your spine. I come to the little boy, alone as fearful images of monsters. I come to the soldier alone in battle, while touching Death's gray hand. I enter people's minds, striking my imposing figure. I feel no compassion nor remorse, no, I have no conscience. People invite me often, but fear is by far the worst ally. --"You Consume Me"-- Where can I find the words deep within in the recesses of my soul Those thoughts that plague my mind Feelings that leave me blind That sparkle in your eye That unforgettable smile Your words I'll never forget Yet they weren't for me. You consume me. You enflame me You give me strength When those fears press in The darkness prevails And yet I don't know why My heart splits in two As I watch your flame light someone else's sorrow And yet. . . You consume me.

"Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente, y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca. Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca. Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía. Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma, y te pareces a la palabra melancolía. Me gustas cuando callas y estás como distante. Y estás como quejándote, mariposa en arrullo. Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza: déjame que me calle con el silencio tuyo. Déjame que te hable también con tu silencio claro como una lámpara, simple como un anillo. Eres como la noche, callada y constelada. Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo. Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente. Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto. Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan. Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto. " Pablo Neruda "Hay golpes en la vida, tan fuertes ... ¡Yo no sé! Golpes como del odio de Dios; como si ante ellos, la resaca de todo lo sufrido se empozara en el alma... Yo no sé! Son pocos; pero son... Abren zanjas obscuras en el rostro más fiero y en el lomo más fuerte. Serán talvez los potros de bárbaros atilas; o los heraldos negros que nos manda la Muerte. Son las caídas hondas de los Cristos del alma, de alguna fe adorable que el Destino blasfema. Esos golpes sangrientos son las crepitaciones de algún pan que en la puerta del horno se nos quema. Y el hombre... Pobre... pobre! Vuelve los ojos, como cuando por sobre el hombro nos llama una palmada; vuelve los ojos locos, y todo lo vivido se empoza, como charco de culpa, en la mirada. Hay golpes en la vida, tan fuertes... Yo no sé! " Cesar Vallejo

In the year of our Lord 1014, patriots from Ireland charged the fields of Clontarf, Starving, and out-numbered, they fought like poet warriors, they fought like Celts, and won their freedom. Nair twas their a mon not on bended knee, in thanks to their king Broghen Borough, who lay in the stench of death, yet free.

I'll let everyone have a glimpse of my awesome 8th grade poetry skills lol: You're in and out of shadows In the back of my mind So hard to forget, But such a waste of time I haven't dropped your name in days I guess you're too in the moment To realize how Things have gone and Are coming around It's your turn to fall into the haze

calm seas attract blue skys react a tear falls as my craft sinks

This is a poem I wrote about 3 or so years ago when I was depressed bordering on a complete breakdown. Don't Exist Staring into the barbed pit of my own dark despair. Everyday I look around, no-one looks at me. In my head I flap around like a huge wonderous bird. The reality I percieve is without me, in the frame. Feel like I could just die, what is life but something to clutter with meaningless things? I am not a piece of the puzzle. As I dream, I see a different version of the world. All in my head, in a tight hidden coil. Taken from www.freewebs.com/vampyre_eyes

READ BETWEEN THE LINES Dont ask me why i'm so cold and why I dont let you -- hold my hand -- let go, let me go, dont touch me everything i touch turns to dirt and though it hurts there's no way i'll let you into the mess i'm in you don't have to stay i have nothing left to say -- stay -- a short distance away just like everyone else if you know what's good for you you know its not me. -- don't leave -- me with your advice, I dont need your gospel you don't have to be nice in fact, you don't have to be anything don't worry about me you don't have to I never asked you to save me I don't need you to -- love me -- cause I got this far without it i ain't gonna need it now love was never made for the likes of me anyhow turn your back and walk away listen to what they say you'll just end up hurting yourself and me too. cause nobody taught me how to love someone who loves me like you do.

I would, but they're all in spanish... If anyone's interested, though, I'll share one here! =)

Song of Salvation remake by J.L. Now the anti-psychiatry army's marching, With the anti-psychiatric armor of truth on; Love and friendship is our motto, Stopping psychiatric oppression is our song! Yes, the anti-psychiatry army's marching, And will march forevermore, And our triumph shall be sounded, Round the world from shore to shore, The truth will be our shield and sword! Now the anti-psychiatry army's marching, Firm and steady in our tread; See! the psychiatric abuse survivors they are leading, Marching boldly at the head. Yes, the anti-psychiatry army's marching, And will march forevermore, And our triumph shall be sounded, Round the world from shore to shore, The truth will be our shield and sword! Now the anti-psychiatry army's marching, Falsely accused psychiatric victims in the throng; As we bravely march along, shouting "Stop the so called psychiatric science which is a lie!" Thanks to the Hunger Strike we were all a part of We know the truth now and will not die. Yes, the anti-psychiatry army's marching, And will march forevermore, And our triumph shall be sounded, Round the world from shore to shore, The truth will be our shield and sword! While we remember the victims who have Fallen by the wayside from this oppression, Long live all survivors of the system Who keep fighting for subsistance While at the same time fighting with resistance All of its civil rights infringements To find some justice in this world! Yes, the anti-psychiatry army's marching, And will march forevermore, And our triumph shall be sounded, Round the world from shore to shore, The truth will be our shield and sword!

This was written a few months ago after I'd returned from Cuba, I meant it to be nothing more than a little dream-like story, but I think it works at a few levels... Cuba Fantastica The birds gathered round and bundling themselves together created a giant fist 4000 feet above the ground and descended – slamming into the centre of Havana. Then dispersed to the sea and fields, never blaming the cell that they once were within that monster’s fist and punch that killed Havana – they wore feathers, not fur, so were blameless of the crime. Only creatures of hair and fur can cause a genocide. Or even find the time.

Where has my time gone? It was surely here just now, Where could this time be?

this is a dream i had mum when i dreamed of you last night, for a moment everything seemed alright, i cried and hugged you and said i thought you were gone, those moments were precious and second to none, it was like old times when you were here, that dream was so real i will always hold it dear, you were laughing and smiling like the mum i know, maybe i dreamed of you because i dont want to let you go, you come in my dreams to let me know you care, no matter where i go you will always be there, in my dream i didnt want to leave your side, and when i woke up and realised it was a dream i cried, i cant forget that dream it was so real, it was your love and happiness that i could feel, the dream was more real than ever before, it was like you was here, it was just us four, how i wish my dream was true,because i really miss and need you, i wish i could talk to you and do mum and daughter things, but i cant and thats why my heart stings

SUMMER STOCK 06/20/02 Curly headed moppet grins and toddles with her black eyes and rose bud mouth. Another Asian woman grabs my arm picture, picture, picture? One, two, three...click click click. Parents smile with such benevolence as wide eyed, their children buy into our stories. CCCCRRRAAACCCKKKK! Another thunder shower erupts...driving us under shelter. A cool breeze becomes your best friend in the boiling heat with the costume clinging to every part of you, the weigh of it! There.. a grin from one of the others.. The collective "US" sharing, recounting the last positive interaction wraps me in the warm embrace. HANNAH 08/26/02 Whirlwind, She Monster! Sharp puppy teeth that puncture and tear, bite and dash away! Wild Child Dancing into my heart. So sweet... when she's asleep. Prick ears that might stand up. Curling tail Like a banner bouncing. She barks in excitement and tries to wear her boldness as armor into battle. Hannah...all grown up...and still a wingnut!

I wrote this today. it may not be that good but i tried my best. I sit in darkness and am bound by it's invisible chains. I'm all alone will no one help me, will no one save me the darkness binds me tightly i call for help, though none can hear. And I begin to cry wondering, will no one save me, save me from the darkness and surround me with light. this is my first attempt at a poem so i welcome any helpful advice

Here are a few of my best that I had to write in creative writing class when I was 15: The Water is Deep (A villainelle) Swirling and gloomy, the water is deep. The ocean is never a moment at peace. Up onto the shore it steadily creeps. Always in motion, it does not sleep constantly moving, it never will cease. Swirling and gloomy, the water is deep. Its rolling waves begin to grow steep gradually its depth will greatly increase. Farther up the shore, it steadily creeps. Across the sand it repeatedly sweeps, led into the water by the victim’s caprice. Swirling and gloomy, the water is deep. A shark is patrolling, his bounty to reap, sudden attack, the water cerise. Up onto the shore, it steadily creeps. Into the sand, it finally seeps. From the murky sea, remains are released, swirling and gloomy, the water is deep. Onto the shore, the blood steadily creeps Dried Up (freewrite) A river, joyous, rushing. So restless, energetic, full of life. Splashing and spraying as it winds through mountains, meadows, forests. Erupting into brilliant fountains of sparkling jewels, it speeds through dips, and crevices between rocks. Time goes by diminishing all, every journey has its end. What was once playful, ever going, is now weary, slowly withering. No more joy. No more laughter. Gone. Not a flowing river, a cracked, dried up river bed. Lost in the threads of eternity, it dries up into nothing, by years of drought, sorrow, and loss. Lost in a Song (a sestina & the biggest pain in the rear I ever had to write) Sparkling blankets of snow, as far as one can see. Almost surreal, the wind whistling its eerie song, beautiful. Icicles hang. Peaceful, for no one is there but you. You are there alone, lying in the snow watching steel-grey clouds hang, snowflakes falling into the cold sea. They both harmonize, becoming one song. The sight is surreal, enchanting. So surreal you’re not sure you’re there. Lost in the mystical song, nothing but snow as far as you can see. On a nearby cliff snow drifts hang. Nearly plummeting, they barely hang. They seem somewhat surreal. In the dying light you can hardly see, you can no longer be there. As you tread through the deep snow you sing a whole different song. Your grandmother’s song. While you walk, the tree branches hang weighed down by glistening snow. Creating yet another surreal landscape, desire to stay there. In the distance you see your entire family, they see you and join the song. Now, happy, in their loving company, you hang your coat, now more real than surreal. Warm and cozy, sheltered from the snow, outside the window, you see the icicles hang chiming to a song that is still surreal. There is another time for the glistening snow.

Here's some mushy dribble I wrote the other day. It's corny, but it was heartfelt. Gentle breezes sweep my face, and I feel you here. Rain taps lightly at a steady pace, and I hear you here. Night skies dance and twinkle, and I see you here. Flowers emerge to take a peek, and I inhale you here. Honey suckles bare their blooms, and I taste you here. My heart has found an extra room, and I will keep you here.. And here's another one I started the same day. Miles may have their constant divide, And opportunity may not provide. But always and undeniably there will be, A place in time for you and me. Won't be needing to finish this one.

Here is one of my poems, it is copyrighted and is published in the Best Poems and Poets of 2002. Helplessness Feeling all alone, even in the crowd Not being able to evade this dark cloud Knowing the inevitable makes it quite clear We cannot control what we hold dear The past comes back to haunt Regrets start to taunt again, again, and again the more you worry on it The more it becomes real Dreams of conceit corrupt Mounds of emotions erupt out of control Stop all the madness, see that you are blind 'Tis all in your mind that ran out of time...

It's quite old. I wrote it when I was struggling with fallout from an abusive upbringing. Why? ~ Why do I travel this lonely road? Why do I carry this heavy load? Why do I cry when someone dies? Why do I feel sad when my child flies? Why do I enjoy the gentle rain on my face? Why do I go at this ungodly pace? Why do I keep looking and searching? Why do I go on when I should be resting? Why do I feel so empty and alone? Why do I have the feeling that it's time to go home? This helped. Not so much a prayer, more a mantra. I Trust In Thee ~ I am heartbroken, and my life is a mess. God, deliver my soul, I trust in thee. Heal my heart and alleviate my distress. God, deliver my soul, I trust in thee. I seek spiritual enlightenment from above. God, deliver my soul, I trust in thee. I put the past behind me and seek your love. God, deliver my soul, I trust in thee.

Three Small Words Three small words we keep inside, Behind our walls they do hide. Locked forever in our heart, These few words can never part. They are the ones of caring, Of warmth and sharing. Spoken freely,joy they'll bring, Allowing ones heart to sing. What are these words I speak, The little ones that all men seek. Like a bell,they ring so true, Simply said they're I love you.

mum when i dreamed of you last night, for a moment everything seemed alright, i cried and hugged you and said i thought you were gone, those moments were precious and second to none, it was like old times when you were here, that dream was so real i will always hold it dear, you were laughing and smiling like the mum i know, maybe i dreamed of you because i dont want to let you go, you come in my dreams to let me know you care, no matter where i go you will always be there, in my dream i didnt want to leave your side, and when i woke up and realised it was a dream i cried, i cant forget that dream it was so real, it was your love and happiness that i could feel, the dream was more real than ever before, it was like you was here, it was just us four, how i wish my dream was true,because i really miss and need you, i wish i could talk to you and do mum and daughter things, but i cant and thats why my heart stings this was a dream that i had

I've written a lot throughout my whole life... a few are on the net and show what age I was when I wrote them... some are quite dark and depressing, have a look if you like... http://www.poemhunter.com/amy-j-richardson/

I have over 3000 poems that i have written...I would love to share one here but there are too many thiefs that will claim it as there own. You will just have to wait till I publish my book...;)

I've written lots and lots. I wrote one yesterday. However, I think it's probably better to read poems than to write them... does the world need any more?

Suffocation- My Hell Has Killed Me Confined in my own hell I cannot breathe. They took all my air away from me. Figured this is how I should suffer for my sins. Suffocation is getting the best of me. Struggling to find a tiny bit of air but I found none. No longer able to move my hell has killed me. ~pianolover123 I hope this is okay to post. ?

These were written at different stages of my life. Spanning from an abused child, a dark and suicidal teen, a passion minded and obsessed young man to the most recent and more rounded husband and father. ENDLESS NIGHT OF A CHILD'S CRY I was thrown in to a wall I was slammed against a door I was thrown in to a room As he hit me more I see no sun I see know light Only the darkness That comes with the night Instead of playing I'm left in a room to sit and cry And my only last wish Is to die. Author: Dodgin Written in an abuse shelter 1988 DARKNESS FROM WITHIN I open my eyes to darkness I close my eyes to light I pray not for the darkness Of which I've grown to fight Is this darkness I am in Or just an escape from within. Author: Dodgin Written in 1991 AN EVENING SPLENDOR At my side you lie bare, I smell the sweetness that rests in your hair I steal a kiss… I take you in my warm embrace, run my fingers along your face I feel my pulse doth quicken, my heart takes flight, My soul is stricken I trace my hand along your thigh As you let out a soften cry I touch your breast, your shadow outline I hold you closer intertwine Than at once, our lips they find Our passion grows, our souls collide In places we no longer hide I place my kisses at your womb, all your favor I consume You take my hand, you draw me near I feel your love, I lose the fear You take me in, I lose control I hold you close, at once let go Then alas while we assemble, our hearts skip Our bodies tremble I taste your lips, I breathe your scent As you lie sleeping, I lie spent. Author: Dodgin Written during the 98-99 deployment aboard The USS ENTERPRIZE My Woman-My Home I trace your form in photograph with trembling hands An act that begs the stillness of a sculptors touch As of stone I stand under starry skies on steel deck The smoke fills my lungs in silence While my mind floods with all aspects of you My small and delicate bride So full of strength You are my home port My safe harbor All of my life’s journey’s end at your tender feet I am cold and steel willed The whole world’s oceans break at my bow You are warm and pliable Yet, you shall never break before me You challenge me Liken to myths and tales The travel weary men busy them selves with When venturing to edges of the earth As an ever enfolding story book I wonder at your mysteries You are boundless and free I desire to press you As though a millstone to wheat Not that I may change you My Love I seek your flower and sustenance You give to me with out depleting your own worth I hunger for your nourishment Though you are not a glass that may be emptied at a mans urging You are the ever changing sandy shores You are the constant fertile fields, green trees and hills of home By Dodgin (March 7, 2008)

How Many Times Have We? How many times have we looked the other way? Let ourselves be blinded never had anything to say? How many times have we acted as if it wasn't real? We never really saw the bruises or cuts just beginning to heal? How many times have we convinced ourselves it wasn't our place to see? That there was someone else who would hear there pleas. How many nights have we dreamt of their face? Isn't is time we realized it's time to look their way? August 2,2005

I wrote just started writing poetry a few monthes ago, but this is my favorite one so far; Pretty Bird by P.M. What happens when I finally realize, that I am alone? The emptiness inside eating Nay, gnawing at the bone. That cold chill creeping up the spine, A dense sadness deep within. Wet eyes are fought back for appearance Emotions are a sin. Where to go without a home, Back there safe in the nest? The world claims that I am fledged. Society knows what is best. "Chirp a song and be merry!" cries the flock around me, "Nothing is wrong with your life." My cracks are hard to see. Don a mask with a smile. Make a sly comment or two. Why aren't I normal? Fill all the breaking points with glue. I am an adult, no need to be coddled. Time to see the world for what it is, the gaggle has graciously modeled. Some birds coo a beautiful tune, that come from a moral heart. While the brood tweets loudly over, "Things Fall Apart". I trudge along with this empty sack, weighing me down with invented pains. Where is the problem that has to be fixed, so that expected girl remains? I don't show my poetry, but since everyone here is a stranger and doesn't personally know me, its a lot easier.