a chill now is
in one’s early
morning step
birds and leaves
get lost
in November
waiting for the rain
the sky breaks
it weeps
in tears
it rains
you’ve been gone
so long
the heart breaks
it weeps
in blood
it drips
candy apple
red maple syrup
blood and water
fill the streets
waiting for the rain
sometimes in our human form we are ghosts— we use our skin to distract from the pain every smile all our surface beauty just a mask for something deeper that hides within.
Source: ghosting – Chris Mc Geown
Senryu A kindness given will never be forgotten yy someone in need Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©
Source: Daily Haiku – Mon. November 25, 2019 – Poetry For Healing
I have learned
to love the way
night descends
fast and early
at this time of year,
cloaking trees, hedges and fields
hiding streams and rivers
blurring edges
disguising shapes
swallowing buildings
and concealing
all our dark
and dangerous
secrets.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Posted first three years ago, but … well, it is that time of year, and there are sometimes dark secrets.
Art by Victoria Selbach
“Surviving hell was worth it.
Because it brought me to you.”
There was a beauty in breaking down. In allowing myself to crumble. I let it all out. Like a hurricane, it flew out of me. Every heartbreak, every blow, every harsh word ever thrown in my direction. It felt freeing, like a weight was lifted from both my chest and my shoulders. I watched it go as it carried on the violent wind. And I felt the universe wrap her arms around me. It was worth it, she told me. Stripping my soul down to the core. Though I would always feel the demons lurking in the night, and the memories would always haunt me, it was worth it. And she was right.
Surviving hell was worth it. Because it brought me to you.
© Sarah Doughty
2018
She is always right.
“No, darling, we didn’t grow apart.
You left me here in the dark.”
No, darling, we didn’t just grow apart. You left me here in the dark without a hint of hesitation. If you stopped to look beyond your own chocolate-coated lies, you might see this gaping hole in my back, dripping with freezing blood. I’m willing to bet you missed that you carved your name into my heart as well.
© Sarah Doughty
That was the point,
though, wasn’t it?
You didn’t bother to notice
because you didn’t care.
First published in Two drops of Ink, Oct 2018
What does freedom mean to
me, a dandelion
as I continue my tryst with the
boastful wind
as it carries my identity on
it’s fleeting wings
I tried with all my might
to hold onto my identity
but the cruel and the mighty winds
uprooted and carried me
I’m carried by my need
and desire to be rooted again
I’m an immigrant in my own
godforsaken land
I reach with all my failing might
with my bits severed and falling
and rooting
clutching to the ground for its sustenance
See,I have to survive this
this atrocity called war and
peaceful settlement
and rise through it
find a new patch of soil
call itself my home
and
dug my roots deeper to survive
the cold transformation
of the ever-changing world
these boundaries and lines don’t make
sense to me
when my identity…
View original post 24 more words
You are
the catch in my breath
as I whisper
your name
You are
the stars
in my musings
the longing
in my nights
You are
the dreams
of my heart
You are
the smile and
the joyous laughter
on my lips
You are
the tomorrow
in my eyes
Tomorrow and
tomorrow
You are
(C) 2019 Penny Wilson
*How many times have you tried and tried to help someone that just will not help themselves? I’ve been guilty of it. You?
the words we don’t speak ~ are captured in depictions ~ silently attached —© Lize Bard @ Haiku out of Africa
The Reluctant Poet 