Category: Poetry

Support & Love…Online

thC042B6VDYou asked what you could do to help

In this time of crisis;

Although we only talk through the computer,

Never meeting, eye to eye,

We are friends, family,

Not strangers.

 

What could you do for me

Without touching my hand;

Without seeing my tears;

Without hearing the pain in my voice?

 

Your friendship comes through

With each time you write me.

Your love is shown each timead896e189f7c1388dcd8900224625e96

You read my novella of an email.

Your hugs are felt

With each supportive word.

 

I see your hand offer me a

Tissue for my tears.

I see your eyes never wavering

From my sad eyes.

I see you push your hair behind your ear to

Hear me better.

I feel your arms around me,

While we just sit,

Quietly,

And then say goodnight. 

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X-mas Compensation

     

As a child

Christmas consisted of few presents, and

from a child’s perspective

the ones I did get were

Not that great.

 

I was told to go to bed early

not due to waiting for Santa

but due to keeping the secret,

I was a charity child:

I received presents from strangers.

 

Christmas became x-mas and I didn’t like it anymore.

 

As an adult

I have always been able to

buy my mum really cool presents,

Things which she wanted, and

Things which were simply her.

 

I would have them shipped to her

or bring them to her,

Primped and festive, and

She would cry with joy.

 

I would also make sure

some of my money

went to charities:

Children,

Animals, and

Those in need.

 

I would always say that x-mas was my favorite holiday because

I could give without explanation or reason, but just because.

 

I miss taking care of those closest to me:

My mum,

My animals, and

My friends.

 

I miss being able to

Give to those in need:

Children,

Vets, and

Animals.

There Will be an Accounting Required when

This part of my life ends,

There will be Questions asked,

Responses demanded, and

Compensation collected.

 

Borderlines (revised)

Please read if you are interested in how some people suffer quietly. This beautiful poem is an excellent insight into many of the people who I know blog on Word Press.

Go Go Logophile!

Found the revised, complete & finished version… a battle cry which goes as follows:

 

Borderlines

 

We are the borderlines

the divine disasters

We live on borders

as Sanitys’ bastard sons and daughters

We’re so good at making bad decisions

We’re so bad at taking orders

And consequence? -We make provisions

This is why we live on borders

 

There is a stigma, like a stamp

on the heads of our diagnosis

They say we’re evil, cold and careless

– in your bedroom, with half-slit wrists

Best just to avoid us. Your first reaction

is ‘Fatal Attraction’, but listen, baby –

Killing’s a bad habit, way out of fashion

and personally speaking, I’ve never stewed rabbit

 

So we can be cruel, obsessed

and sure, we can pull a few strings

but what’s really got you so upset

is we’re better than you at these things.

See, you’re guilty…

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