Heartbreak

(This poem was inpsired by Megan's brother, Brendan, who requested a depressing poem to make into a song.)

You said you'd always love me
You promised you'd be with me
I felt your arms around me
Thought I never would be lonely

So where are you?
When I need you most beside me
The longing burns inside me
I'm drowning in my tears

I didn't know you'd ex me
Refuse to even text me
If only you'd believe me
Your presence would relieve me

So where are you?
When I need you most beside me
The longing burns inside me
I'm drowning in my tears

I'm trying to forget you
Wish I hadn't ever met you
Then my life would be much better
Wouldn't need to write this letter

I don't need you
I don't want you here beside me
No more burning left inside me
No more tears I'll shed for you

Goodbye

False Hopes

You shouldn't have to fly
4,000 miles to visit
an archives with
valuable records
treasured tomes
keys to unlocking
centuries of secrets

Only to hear
"Come back in a week."

Don't they know
my time is tiptoeing
out into the oblivion
evasively eluding
my frantic efforts
to twist its arm
and maneuver it into
a monotonously measured march?

You'd think
they could figure that out
if they run a repository

Couldn't they?

A poem I heard yesterday

There is so much good in the worst of us
And so much bad in the best of us
That it ill behooves any of us
To talk about the rest of us

Roses

(Yes, I know this is belated.)

Roses are red
Except when they're pink
Or yellow- the color
of friendship, I think

Violets are blue
No-- that's not right!
The ones that I've seen
are purple and white

Sugar is sweet . . .
And grainy and hard
Not quite befitting
The ode of a bard

What shall we do
with these love songs of old?
The falsehoods embedded
Are too oft retold

In truth I must write
of the things that I know
Not flowers or sugar
as white as the snow

But of friendship that warms
like a bright summer day
Filling my soul
with its glorious ray

For better than roses
Or violets of blue
That wither and die
and lose their bright hue

Is knowing that I
have in you a true friend
Faithful and loyal
And brave to the end.

Black and White

I used to think
in black and white
A thing was wrong
or a thing was right

Why don't you think
the way I do?
What's right for me
is right for you.

But then one day,
twixt dusk and dawn
I saw the grey
come creeping on.

I stumbled--
There was naught to grasp
No absolute
for me to grasp

But on I pressed
through mists of dark
Not quite depressed
Yet not a lark

And as I toiled
throughout the day
A guiding hand
Showed me the way

And through the struggle
I gained strength
and hope sprang up
Until at length

A shaft of light
pierced through the gloom
And in my heart
I felt more room

The fog was broken
by the beams
of Daybreaks'
diamond dewy dreams

A thousand colors,
shades and hues
Of purple, orange
reds and blues

Danced across
the damask skies
Till teardrops glistened
On my eyes

The golden morning
sailed on
Yet in my mem'ry
It lives on

That day when first
I learned to see
The rainbow's
Multiplicity

And when I'm tempted
to give voice
to judgment
on another's choice

I feel the glory
of that day
And then I'm thankful
for the grey.

2 poems (kind of)

For those of you that did not make it to our last poetry night, this is actually a 2 part poem. (Special thanks to Diane for inspiring me to write it.)

Part 1: Overloaded

Blank
Clear
Cramped
Tired
Yawn
What?
Oh
Right
Poetry
Night
Silver
Bells
Christmas
Smells
Good
Cheer
New
Year
Finals
Done
Lots of
Fun
No more
School
Holidays
Rule!

Part 2: Still

I
feel
my
sanity
trickling
down
drop
by
drop
drip
drip
drip
d
r
i
p
p
i
n
g
down
to
the
land
of
forgotten
facts
years
of
cramming
crunched
and
crammed
right
out
of
my
mind

In Dreams

This poem was written by my grandpa, for my grandma, while he was fighting in World War II:

I have no need for celluloid
To keep your face in view
For since our parting, night and day
In dreams I've walked with you

On memory's screen, I clearly see
The beauty of your face
While in my heart your memory
Will always have a place

When my impatient writing done
And at last am free
I'll see you then, the way I've dreamed
But in reality

Still, in the long night that stands between
In some far, lonely place
My darkest hour will be made bright
By the memory of your face

--Carroll H Wilson