Sad Poems

I think that I shall never know
Why I am thus, and I am so.
Around me, other girls inspire
In men the rush and roar of fire,
The sweet transparency of glass,
The tenderness of April grass,
The durability of granite;
But me- I don’t know how to plan it.
The lads I’ve met in Cupid’s deadlock
Were- shall we say?- born out of wedlock.
They broke my heart, they stilled my song,
And said they had to run along,
Explaining, so to sop my tears,
First came their parents or careers.
But ever does experience
Deny me wisdom, calm, and sense!
Though she’s a fool who seeks to capture
The twenty-first fine, careless rapture,
I must go on, till ends my rope,
Who from my birth was cursed with hope.
A heart in half is chaste, archaic;
But mine resembles a mosaic-
The thing’s become ridiculous!
Why am I so? Why am I thus?

Sleep, sleep, my beloved,
without worry, without fear,
although my soul does not sleep,
although I do not rest.Sleep, sleep, and in the night
may your whispers be softer
than a leaf of grass,
or the silken fleece of lambs.

May my flesh slumber in you,
my worry, my trembling.
In you, may my eyes close
and my heart sleep.

All night long the hockey pictures
gaze down at you
sleeping in your tracksuit.
Belligerent goalies are your ideal.
Threats of being traded
cuts and wounds
–all this pleases you.
O my god! you say at breakfast
reading the sports page over the Alpen
as another player breaks his ankle
or assaults the coach.When I thought of daughters
I wasn’t expecting this
but I like this more.
I like all your faults
even your purple moods
when you retreat from everyone
to sit in bed under a quilt.
And when I say ‘like’
I mean of course ‘love’
but that embarrasses you.
You who feel superior to black and white movies
(coaxed for hours to see Casablanca)
though you were moved
by Creature from the Black Lagoon.

One day I’ll come swimming
beside your ship or someone will
and if you hear the siren
listen to it. For if you close your ears
only nothing happens. You will never change.

I don’t care if you risk
your life to angry goalies
creatures with webbed feet.
You can enter their caves and castles
their glass laboratories. Just
don’t be fooled by anyone but yourself.

This is the first lecture I’ve given you.
You’re ‘sweet sixteen’ you said.
I’d rather be your closest friend
than your father. I’m not good at advice
you know that, but ride
the ceremonies
until they grow dark.

Sometimes you are so busy
discovering your friends
I ache with loss
–but that is greed.
And sometimes I’ve gone
into my purple world
and lost you.

One afternoon I stepped
into your room. You were sitting
at the desk where I now write this.
Forsythia outside the window
and sun spilled over you
like a thick yellow miracle
as if another planet
was coaxing you out of the house
–all those possible worlds!–
and you, meanwhile, busy with mathematics.

I cannot look at forsythia now
without loss, or joy for you.
You step delicately
into the wild world
and your real prize will be
the frantic search.
Want everything. If you break
break going out not in.
How you live your life I don’t care
but I’ll sell my arms for you,
hold your secrets forever.

If I speak of death
which you fear now, greatly,
it is without answers.
except that each
one we know is
in our blood.
Don’t recall graves.
Memory is permanent.
Remember the afternoon’s
yellow suburban annunciation.
Your goalie
in his frightening mask
dreams perhaps
of gentleness.

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

The welcome mat outside my door
is dusty, old & worn
‘cuz people have been entering in
since the day that I was bornMost people find my home
to be secure, peaceful, fun
A place you can be yourself,
hang out, enjoy the sun

The walls are splashed with color
each room’s a different hue
The halls are adorned with pictures
Some old, some new

There are lots of empty guest rooms
At your beck and call
But there’s one room that’s off-limits
The one at the end of the hall

This room is the oldest,
been empty many years
Now all it holds is memories,
of pain, lost innocence, tears

In the back stands a closet
locked many years before
A door that will never be opened,
padlocked to keep it secure

Have you ever heard the sound
of rattling bones?
It’s an eerie, creepy sound
when on and on it drones

In my own shire, if I was sad,
Homely comforters I had:
The earth, because my heart was sore,
Sorrowed for the son she bore;
And standing hills, long to remain,
Shared their short-lived comrade’s pain.
And bound for the same bourn as I,
On every road I wandered by,
Trod beside me, close and dear,
The beautiful and death-struck year:
Whether in the woodland brown
I heard the beechnut rustle down,
And saw the purple crocus pale
Flower about the autumn dale;
Or littering far the fields of May
Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay,
And like a skylit water stood
The bluebells in the azured wood.Yonder, lightening other loads,
The seasons range the country roads,
But here in London streets I ken
No such helpmates, only men;
And these are not in plight to bear,
If they would, another’s care.
They have enough as ’tis: I see
In many an eye that measures me
The mortal sickness of a mind
Too unhappy to be kind.
Undone with misery, all they can
Is to hate their fellow man;
And till they drop they needs must still
Look at you and wish you ill.

SIT down, sad soul, and count
The moments flying:
Come,—tell the sweet amount
That ’s lost by sighing!
How many smiles?—a score?
Then laugh, and count no more;
For day is dying.Lie down, sad soul, and sleep,
And no more measure
The flight of Time, nor weep
The loss of leisure;
But here, by this lone stream,
Lie down with us, and dream
Of starry treasure.

We dream: do thou the same:
We love—for ever;
We laugh; yet few we shame,
The gentle, never.
Stay, then, till Sorrow dies;
Then—hope and happy skies
Are thine for ever!

Close those sad sad eyes girl,
and let your feelings wash away,
Bring up nothing more than what you want to say,
So close those sad sad eyes girl,
realize your way,
I hope it all passes by my love,
and hope you it flies away
Now close your sad sad eyes girl,
and forget about your sad sad day.

Is it really true our love is over now?
Can it be time for us to say goodbye?
Too soon, it’s much too soon, my love, for me;
You smile with ease, but I can only sigh.We’ve shared our lives and given so much love;
I can’t believe we’re really going to part;
You’re moving toward a new life without me;
I’m left with scars upon my broken heart.

Go on now, if you must; I’ll get along;
How much it hurts, I don’t want you to know.
I’ll set you free without inducing guilt,
But as you leave, the silent tears will flow.

I can’t be mad; I love you way too much;
I’ll hide my sadness now, so you can’t tell.
Sweet happiness is what I wish for you;
Farewell my love, I hope that you fare well.

Falling from darkness
To a place I don’t know,
Everything’s moving with no place to go.
I feel so alone and scared.
As I fall, I wonder, “Is anyone there?”As the days and nights pass right by,
I count the nights; I just lay and cry.
Falling from faith, falling from love,
Please, is there anyone up above?

Never did I want to feel like this
When the answer lies with the slit of the wrist.
My mind is racing to find another solution
Before it’s too late and I’m just an illusion.

No one knows how I really feel.
I just want him to hold me and help me heal.
As I fall, I feel the rain.
I begin to think that maybe he isn’t the key to ease my pain.

Do you hear me, you who are
So far away from me, my dear?
Do you hear me crying aloud,
Wishing you were well, wishing you were near?The world is vast, its ways diverse,
Brief meetings, partings long,
Men, with unsure feet, post on never to return, too weak
To find the treasure they have lost.
My last day drawing near
Of the tears of separation
I will await you until
my life leaves
as Rahel did her beloved.

I sing a sad song for the cold, lonely
Moments no one will admit to aloud.I sing a sad song for all of the broken
Promises,
Wrought by circumstances beyond
Anyone’s control.

I sing a sad song for the faces pressing
Against the window panes in longing.

I sing a sad song for wild anticipation
Of days that never come.

I sing a sad song for the telephone
That never rings enough.

I sing a sad song for dreams woven of
Hopeless illusions.

I sing a sad song for all of those who
Waste time, singing sad songs!

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all,
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life’s gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Look at that cypress with its branches drooping,
in it woe and lament are trooping;
Its foliage is painted a yellow melancholy,
Its spirits are trying to whisper something holy;
Its burden is not at all light,
in it dwells a penitent sprite;
to express her sins in tears,
so that no one but God hears!

THERE was a man whom Sorrow named his Friend,
And he, of his high comrade Sorrow dreaming,
Went walking with slow steps along the gleaming
And humming Sands, where windy surges wend:
And he called loudly to the stars to bend
From their pale thrones and comfort him, but they
Among themselves laugh on and sing alway:
And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend
Cried out, Dim sea, hear my most piteous story.!
The sea Swept on and cried her old cry still,
Rolling along in dreams from hill to hill.
He fled the persecution of her glory
And, in a far-off, gentle valley stopping,
Cried all his story to the dewdrops glistening.
But naught they heard, for they are always listening,
The dewdrops, for the sound of their own dropping.
And then the man whom Sorrow named his friend
Sought once again the shore, and found a shell,
And thought, I will my heavy story tell
Till my own words, re-echoing, shall send
Their sadness through a hollow, pearly heart;
And my own talc again for me shall sing,
And my own whispering words be comforting,
And lo! my ancient burden may depart.
Then he sang softly nigh the pearly rim;
But the sad dweller by the sea-ways lone
Changed all he sang to inarticulate moan
Among her wildering whirls, forgetting him.

We all walk like everything is fine,
But we all know we are all mad,
Mad at the world,
Mad at are friends,
Mad at the people we love,
Mad at the people we hate,
We are mad at just about everyone,
We are mad at all,
But yet we are sad for more,
We are sad for teen mothers,
We are sad for lost ones,
We are sad for people we love,
We are sad for all,
Mad Hate Killing,
Sad Sarrow Tears

Is this all we have together?
Is this what love really is,
Yelling through a quarrel
And making up with a kiss?Why can’t we get along?
Why do we have to fight?
We starve true love by day
And feed lust all through the night.

I wish we’d settle down;
I wonder where peace went.
Why do we pick at each other;
Why can’t we be content?

If this is what love is,
If tenderness has flown,
I’m thinking more and more,
It’s better to be alone.

Simple, seldom and sad
We are;
Alone on the Halibut Hills
Afar,
With sweet mad Expressions
Of old
Strangely beautiful
So we’re told
By the Creatures that Move
In the sky
And Die
On the night when the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry.Sensitive, seldom and sad –
Sensitive, seldom and sad –

Simple, seldom and sad
Are we
When we take our path
To the purple sea –
With mad, sweet Expressions
Of Yore,
Strangely beautiful,
Yea, and More
On the Night of all Nights
When the sky
Streams by
In rags, while the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry,

sensitive, seldom and sad –
sensitive, seldom and sad.

The Captain becomes moody at sea. He’s
afraid of water; such bully amounts that prove the
seas. . .A glass of water is one thing. A man easily downs
it, capturing its menace in his bladder; pissing it
away. A few drops of rain do little harm, save to
remind of how grief looks upon the cheek.

One day the water is willing to bear your ship
upon its back like a liquid elephant. The next day
the elephant doesn’t want you on its back, and
says, I have no more willingness to have you
there; get off.

At sea this is a sad message.

The Captain sits in his cabin wearing a
parachute, listening to what the sea might say.

The old house stood in silence,
no one lives there anymore.
Only memories of the past,
fill each empty room.
Once you stood so proud,
laughter rang out from your walls.
Now only cobwebs and decay inherit there.
What sad story has lead to your decline?The lights from your windows,
don’t shine there anymore.
Only ghosts from the past,
live in every room.
Ghosts that once brought laughter.
That rang out every night,
are silent and no more
What sad story marks your fall from grace?

Once upon a time,
children played outside your door.
Now only weeds and brambles,
fall across your welcome path.
No more the smiling faces,
greet everyone at your door.
Now that sadness and neglect has fell.
What sad story do you have to tell?

Were there newlyweds,
with their hopes so high?
Did they have their hopes dashed some how,
or was it some great tragedy,
that within your walls befell?
So tragic that it made the silence fall.
What made them desert you to neglect?
What was the sad story, pray tell?

If raindrops were tears
And it rained every day,
The rain couldn’t wash
My heartache away.You’re still my ideal;
My love never dies,
But it cuts to the bone–
What I see in your eyes.

You want me to stop;
You want to be friends,
But you’ll be my true love
Until breath and life ends.

Now that you’re gone, I realize
How much you meant to me.
My loss is wide as a starless night sky,
And deep as a stormy sea.I miss the comfort of your sweet love,
Your absolute devotion;
Now I’m a fountain of endless tears,
A pool of sad emotion.

They tell me I should move on with life,
That time will heal my pain;
I smile and nod and agree with them,
While I slowly go insane.

Every so often, we feel
a sad wind from the sea.
It blows an ill wind
throughout our lives,
turns joy into sadness
whenever it comes along.
We are always happy
when the wind is gone,
returning to where it belongs
that sad wind from the sea.

These eyes of mine cry
This heart of mine bleeds
This soul of mine breaks
As i slowly die, the colours
of my face fade and my once
happy life is know like the walls
of a dungeon, black, dark and
empty with no one there to comfort
me and the one person i thought
would be there is the farthest one away
from me.Come back i call come back
but the more i shout and scream her name
the more she walks not even looking at my
sad eyes that shimmer with unshed tears.
I call her to please come back, but she keeps
on walking as if not hearing my pleas, and as
she keeps on walking into the light of there
scorn and hate, i cry with every step she takes.
As my body crumbles to the ground a heap of
broken bones, she turns back for one last glance
and see’s my fallen body, running back to me she
calls my name with a desperate tone in her voice.
Its to late though for I am gone out of the prison
that once held me for so long, never will i return
even if she wants me back.

Happy and Sad – never come together
They are very different in nature,Happy is very cute, always smiling
Sad is just opposite, very depressing….

Sad is very jealous of Happy
The moment sad is in, Happy feels unsteady…

When Happy is with me, I am also very happy
But the moment Sad is in, I feel scared and shaky…

I just want to be alone, when I am with sad,
Though I know that he is very bad….

I know I can’t escape from sad
If I try to run away, I will go mad…

So, I try to react normal, irrespective of each other
I know that one is going to come after another…

As I started sipping
my daily lovely coffee
A race of memories just began in my mind
of old days, the hard and the easy
And looking at myself now with a tear in my eye
just to find myself sad and lonelyAnd as I walk down that antique street
where my old little house was meant to be
It feels hard to breathe just to know
that I am out of it now and maybe
maybe forever I would be like a rover
that tells stories of how sad I am and lonely

Those stairs I used to go up and down
everyday in fast rhythm used to be happy
In my room I used to stay most of the time
never thought that i would live in a tragedy
But words are not useful now
for sad I am and lonely

Though poverty was my company long ago
but riches couldn’t bring back honey
The honey I saw in my sweet old days
Days of the poverty and agony
Believe me my friend riches won’t give you a thing
But to make you sad and lonely

Here on my arm lies a mark that I made.
When I was so low, I cut with a blade
To punish my body for being a mess,
Though here is my testament, I must confess…That seeing these scars left on my arms, legs, and chest
Makes me realize I was in a place of no rest;
I feel guilty inside for leaving this token.
Now I will see and remember that I was so broken.

But seeing these scars helps me see
That I survived so much trauma and now I am free.
So I ask you now to stand with me and fight,
To show all these demons what they’re doing is not right.

You won the battle of good versus bad.
You are still alive and are no longer sad.
Here on my arm lies a mark of survival.
I got through my hate and beat my self-rival.

Painting is for pictures
too hard to understand
so let me paint you a picture
of a girl
who has a little too much to understand..her heart was a two ton brick in her fist
that kept her pinned
to the exact spot on the ground
he wanted her to be in
when she’s 12
and those 27 minutes felt like eternity,
clinging to her sanity

like the last molecule of burned up air in a gas chamber
she slept on cindered feathers
sucking on the bones of her rotting body
holding back panicked breaths
like other kids hold stuffed animals
sinister smiling eyes
venom spit
splashed across her limbs

“You’re so pretty..”
you’re so pretty.
seeds of fear planted
in a daughter,
whose father,
didn’t know,
she couldn’t go any farther

the limbs of her body bare branched
creaking away from his whispered breaths
leaves burned up with the heat of guilt
hidden in the smoke are her pleading eyes
her roots ripped up and flung away
with the drop of his pants
gritting teeth sewn shut
with the bone needles of a broken bird
brittle body vibrating
against the pine tree that
looked “so pretty,”
two hours ago

two bodies
two lungs
pressed against the cage
that kept her soul contained
red and blue flashes
translate to blackness
and 6 years later
her sheets are still soaked
trembling with the sound of her own frozen voice
cracking
shattering

melting into puddles she tried to pick up
with dirty hands
and a dirty heart
dripping into the exact consistency
of the mud he left her in
fingernails full of his fingerprints
and the dew on the grass
came from her eyes
and the sheen off her body
clothing buried
and burned
smoking up to follow the bird
that unwillingly flew away

blacked painting hung up
on the pale bone frame
those 18 years and no one taught him a shred of decency
you’d think it should be inked into his humanity
but no.
she sings into the ashes
calling it back
lungs raw
throat black

she can’t see his face
she can’t know his name
she can’t say that
she carved herself up like an animal
creating a scarred picture
everyone’s seen before
but few have known
can’t say that she breathes a storm
then pounds her body
until her tears turn red
and everything goes numb again
and she can finally believe for a second
your hands aren’t his hands

If I knew her what could I say?
that there’s something beautiful about skinned knees
and the fault lines in her eyes
and the way she scrubs her blood from the floor
and the fact that I can’t stay quiet anymore
the flames my guilt fans
grow brighter when I think
that because I didn’t speak
he could have gone on to ruin
another perfect thing
a perfect thing who’s picture
looks a whole lot like mine.

There is no way to explain
Unending sorrow and grief,
No way to kiss a young girl’s cheek
In a way that would give her back
The joy death has stolen.Humans are brave enough
To live and bleed and die,
But to be the one remaining
As others say goodbye
Is too much to withstand.

There are evil stars that smirk
And thus mark us for treacherous fates,
The days all burn like desert fields
Until there is nothing left to love
And nothing left to feel.

It’s a sad sad day
When the lights go dim
It’s a sad sad day
When the sun goes down
It’s a sad sad day
When it rains
It’s a sad sad day
When the moon get’s govered by the mist of darknessIt’s a sad sad day
When you cry
It’s a sad sad day
When I make you lie
It’s a sad sad day
When you fail
It’s a sad sad day
When you sail in the sea of darkness

What do you see when you look into a mirror?
Do you see a face of grace
or the belief of grief?
Do you see a blessing of success
or a complete defeat?When a girl looks into a mirror,
she sees fat,
so she pays the bills for her diet pills.
She sees hideous,
so she touches up her make-up
and compares what she wears.
She sees undeserving,
so she reclaims the blame
and hides her connection to any affection.

When a boy looks into a mirror,
he sees unloved,
so he goes through books on how he should look.
Though it seems fair,
his heart is never really there.
He sees weak,
so he hides, sealing his feelings
and turns into someone stern.
He sees disappointment,
so he confides in their lies,
and his fears become his tears.

When you look into the mirror,
you allow the face you see to speak:
You’re not good enough,
you’re not smart enough,
you’re not strong enough.
You’re not
enough…

Shake your head
and tell them no.
Look again, just a little deeper
and you will see

that there is a strength you hold,
your beauty untold,
your love unfading,
your glory awaking,
a passion you hide,
a light living inside.
It’s your story,
and it is full of glory.

A mirror is just glass,
and you are so much more.

Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven’s sun doth gently waste.
But my sun’s heavenly eyes
View not your weeping,
That now lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies
Sleeping.Sleep is a reconciling,
A rest that peace begets:
Doth not the sun rise smiling
When fair at even he sets?
Rest you then, rest, sad eyes,
Melt not in weeping,
While she lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies
Sleeping.

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! May it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call ‘virtue’ there— ungratefulness?

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the sky,
“How silently, and with how wan a face!”
Where art thou? Thou so often seen on high
Running among the clouds a Wood-nymph’s race!
Unhappy Nuns, whose common breath’s a sigh
Which they would stifle, move at such a pace!
The northern Wind, to call thee to the chase,
Must blow to-night his bugle horn. Had I
The power of Merlin, Goddess! this should be:
And all the stars, fast as the clouds were riven,
Should sally forth, to keep thee company,
Hurrying and sparkling through the clear blue heaven.
But, Cynthia! should to thee the palm be given,
Queen both for beauty and for majesty.

You look at me with sad green eyes,
I’m overcome with feeling-
Such deep emotion they disguise,
Yet send my senses reeling; They speak to me of loneliness
And feelings unexpressed,
Of hopes and dreams unrealized
And love gone uncaressed; They cry to me of urgency
To experience it all-
But here you are in limbo
With your back against the wall; I wish I had the answers
To the questions they impose-
I’m drowning in those sad green eyes
And the sorrow only grows; If I had one magic wish,
You know what it would be?
To see instead of sad green eyes
Green eyes that smile for me.

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage——
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free——
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle : they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.

Sometimes I get lonely
Instagram, Twitter, Facebook
Always connecting but not connectedSometimes I get lonely
Looking to the future
Forgetting to be in the present

Sometimes I get lonely
Thinking someday, one day
Never thinking right here, right now

Sometimes I get lonely
Phone’s on, WiFi’s up
Waiting for it to buzz

Sometimes I get lonely
Just waiting…
Always waiting…

One by one they appear in
the darkness: a few friends, and
a few with historical
names. How late they start to shine!
but before they fade they stand
perfectly embodied, allthe past lapping them like a
cloak of chaos. They were men
who, I thought, lived only to
renew the wasteful force they
spent with each hot convulsion.
They remind me, distant now.

True, they are not at rest yet,
but now they are indeed
apart, winnowed from failures,
they withdraw to an orbit
and turn with disinterested
hard energy, like the stars.

Be not sad because all men
Prefer a lying clamour before you:
Sweetheart, be at peace again — –
Can they dishonour you?They are sadder than all tears;
Their lives ascend as a continual sigh.
Proudly answer to their tears:
As they deny, deny.

‘And ask ye why these sad tears stream?’

‘Te somnia nostra reducunt.’
OVID.

And ask ye why these sad tears stream?
Why these wan eyes are dim with weeping?
I had a dream–a lovely dream,
Of her that in the grave is sleeping.

I saw her as ’twas yesterday,
The bloom upon her cheek still glowing;
And round her play’d a golden ray,
And on her brows were gay flowers blowing.

With angel-hand she swept a lyre,
A garland red with roses bound it;
Its strings were wreath’d with lambent fire
And amaranth was woven round it.

I saw her mid the realms of light,
In everlasting radiance gleaming;
Co-equal with the seraphs bright,
Mid thousand thousand angels beaming.

I strove to reach her, when, behold,
Those fairy forms of bliss Elysian,
And all that rich scene wrapt in gold,
Faded in air–a lovely vision!

And I awoke, but oh! to me
That waking hour was doubly weary;
And yet I could not envy thee,
Although so blest, and I so dreary.