A few tears shed...

Poems to read for that down-in-the-dumps mood

I often find that on those rare occasions (or maybe not so rare) when my stomach sinks, my knees buckle, or I turn into a blubbering baby for no reason whatsoever, it helps to just sit down and pour my feelings onto paper. Whether it's a story of a maniacal girl or a poem of unrequited love, it's always nice to know that there are other people who feel like I do. These poems were written maybe in fear, sadness, desperation, or maybe just anger at the world around us. So sit back, take a load off your feet, and let your eyes do the wandering.

Confrontation Letter
by Karen Tillis
 

I hate this.
I hate it when you know exactly where you want to go with something and
then words fail you completely.
Well, since this is a letter, lets start it formally...
"Dear Barbara...."
That sounds too nice.
Or should I just say Bitch?
I've imagined sitting across cups of coffee with you many times.
I've imagined what you would wear, what you would say.
You know, the way they do it all the time in the French movies:
His wife and his friend sharing confidences.
Hell, we could even kiss each other on the cheek.
If I had that kind of courage I would have called you.
I have had my finger on your name in the telephone book many times,
Memorized your telephone number and street address.
Oh, I know all about you.
Truth is,
I am pink jelly inside.
Which means that when we meet,
I may be precise and dignified,
I may speak the lines I have prepared,
Or hell, I may go down right then and there,
Which I really don't want to do, but I am sure I will.
You see, I am sure that no matter what I do when we meet, I will always
have contempt for you.
Barbara, you are a bitch, plain and simple.
Now that I think about it, that is by far the simplest way I can put it.
Worse, I despise that you have energized emotions in me that are so ugly
that not just hating you, I loathe myself.
I thought that since I was a good mom, that I would be a good wife also.
Anything for the kids.
Bake sales, softball tournaments, laundry that was due the next day was
washed, dried, pressed and folded by 3 am.
Okay I was lousy in bed.
Yeah, I was definitely one of those women who thought that once he was
naked my job was over with .
You, BITCH, make me feel like I am not even worthy of being loved, let
alone touched in a sexual way.
I really don't know what to write right now.
Sometimes I don't hate you at all.
Sometimes I think of you as just another woman,
both weak and strong, a victim as fragile as I am whirling pathetically in
our triangular drama.
Which began for me when I began going through Ned's pockets.
It was weird:
Going through a husband's pockets.
Well, it was like using bug spray.
You don't push the nozzle until you actually see the roach.
You know, Ned was really acting normal.
A few minor changes.
He changed from wearing boxer shorts to bikini briefs, he started doing a
lot of sit ups.
oh the dinners.
Len, Steve, Bill....I have heard it all
So I went through his pockets.
I found a receipt for a toll bridge.
A few days later I went through his pockets again and found another toll
bridge receipt.
You live across a toll bridge.
You are such a  genius sometimes, Nancy.
Did I go through this just to nail you?
No.
Women are weird.
Well, when women's husbands stray we become crazed.
Crazed in a way that almost seems like a change in chemistry.
You don't sleep, eat, and you know, you barely even think.
Often times, I just like to stick my head in between bathroom tiles and
just let the water run, let it go.
Listen to it go.
I scream a lot.
Why do you threaten me?
I am a pretty woman.
I may be a size 14, but I am a beautiful size 14.
Would you like some tips?
Tips about Ned...
hmm.
Don't take him to that Mexican restaurant on the south side of town.
He gets diarrhea.
he is a maniac in traffic.
He clams up at parties
He doesn't curse, except when he is drunk or hurt.
At night, he will wake you up in the middle of the night and ask you to
rub his stomach of all things.
This is dumb.
The odds are in your favor.
This is dumb.
This is fucking retarded.
I will be fine.
Like most victims of divorce I will probably partially recover.
We may end up in that fucking French cafe sipping coffee.
I certainly would not care.
Barbara, I have a secret wish for you...
to be doubled over in pain,
tears ready to roll day in and day out,
you will have to sit with your head between bathroom tiles and think about
writing your husband's new younger girlfriend a letter.
The odds are heavily in my favor.
Nancy Ricketts

From a Childhood

The woods is a dark scary room for the boy but peaceful.
He reached a tree house wondering if he would reach to the top
or he would fall.
He hears a raging, rolling terrifying sound that kept repeating
over and over.
Wondering if it was a monster or animal?
It was a river a simple river.
He put his hand in the river to feel the cold brush up against his
hand.
It wasn't a monster or animal it was a river a simple river.

by Matt Maddison

Steel Heart

write about it tonite she said,
the elevator shut and I could hear 
her laughter
metallic
echo thru the mechanic
machinery
throughout this steel heart.

and we elevate open.
still hurt, still heart?
Perhaps we are little children playing games
pretending not to know each other
Refusing to look into ourselves.
but somewhere, somehow, someone forgot
and we kept going
and we got lost

still still heart
can there really be a plan or scheme
or rather defferred be no one in a dream?
to mean so much, or planned so few
can beauty lie to the likes of you?

steal heart
because she is missing
and I could never fill
abandon misled
victory for the undead
crucify me, taking over
steel heart? but am I still the same?

by guy shahar

THE BIRTH OF NOTHING KNOWN

She was cold like sunshine on frost;
She was alone like moonglow on graves;
She was a lady who needed the light,
But walked always in a shadow of sadness.
Birth to her was a hopeless puzzle
Nestled in a maze of nothing known;
She was icy glaze on a dark dawn;
She was misty dew on a blue twilight;
Because birth to her was nothing known.
She had cried the tears of failure;
She had died the death of martyrs;
But she couldn't understand the quest
Nor endless jest
All human birth seemed to represent;
She was cold like sunshine on frost.
To her, the birth of nothing known
Was the human kiss of distress;
Life was nothing but the loss
Of a deep dark home
From which we all come:
Our mother's womb.
She was cold like sunshine on frost;
She was alone like moonglow on graves;
She was a lady who needed the light,
But walked always in a shadow of sadness.

By Cara

As the river flows

The hollowness inside,

the hollowness abides.

The hidden hurt and fears,

in private released in tears.

How will I survive,

and put my emptiness behind?

Released by a daze,

my heart now like a maze.

They say that I am crazed,

and that it's just a phase.

The river flows away,

with my tears of dismay...

What I lost was great;

love,

security,

caring,

sharing,

and strenght,

for myself and others.

For all this,

is it too late?

By Rebecca Korbo

Oh Child!

Fascination beyond mortal belief
Wretched findings so to speak.

Intwined beneath rags
One ounce of cruelty and then it bestows large
Quantities of laughter upon me.

Life plays her morbid song
A child's echo afar, adrift, lost, forgotten, perplexing as it is-
a noise.

Scattereed ruins from a conservative childhood
Laughter encompassed by pain.

Joy leaves no remains here
Never having a chance, not one chance.

Death is strong, the knife is dull
Anger jolts her weary head.

What has been, won't be again
For it has disappeared as wood becomes ash.

A child born unto this world
Innocent and becomes a product of his maker
Adapting to his environment as one usually does
Might he be the one-gifted, talented, intelligent.

Struck down in his youth by one possessing
Undue qualities.

Sadist in his style of being
That child, conceived, born, and taken part 
Of in this ritual of life.

I was that child.

by Elizabeth Silva

Description of Grief

Sitting here alone in the dark

I watch the snow falling,

covering the ground in a blanket of white.

The flames flicker in the

stone fireplace next to me.

They warm my body,

but not my soul.

I hear the television speaking

in murmured tones.

They sound like static to

my numbed ears.

A distant echo of a

voice humming carols while

pondering a 1500-piece jigsaw puzzle

remains in my brain.

But the voice is dead,

gone with my joy.

The snow that falls gently

covers the ground.

It buries my memories,

it holds my dreams.

By Leisha Sagan

children at play

Some people look at the ground when they walk
Some people are shy and don't talk
some people ring doorbells, others prefer to knock

Some people hurry to get the day through
some people will stop and talk to you
Some people are busy, some don't know what to do

Some people stare at the sky
Some people are mean and they lie
some people are always happy, some always cry

Some people study and they are very clever
Some people are destined to be stupid forever
Some people are alone, and some lie together

Some people just don't know when to stop
Some people get sick of their wives so they swap
some people are paranoid, some eavesdrop

Some people are nice but keep a messy room
Some people plant flowers that never bloom
Some people are too sexual
Some just want to get back in the womb.

by Guy Shahar

Pain

Pain is something that makes me cry.
Pain is something that I keep tucked inside.
Pain in the dawn; Pain in my sigh.
Pain will get you.
There's no place to hide.

Pain takes on a million different faces.
It grins, it laughs.
You know it's part of our social graces
Before you know it, it will keep.
Pain is something that will make you weep.

All I know is that it rips me apart.
Pain is in everyone and in everyone's heart.

by Elizabeth Silva

The Tyger

Why must you kill?
Why must you torcher and scare?
Why must you be cruel and unhappy?
Why are you the beast you are?
Why did "He" put you here?
I don't know why I scare or torcher.
I don't know why I'm the beast I am.
I don't know why I shred my teeth through flesh.
I don't know who or what put me here.
Will you tell me?

By Matt Maddison

I wonder...

Dark nights alone by myself,
missing you is all I can do.
Loneliness comforts me like
an old friend.
Sometimes I wonder,
Will it ever end?
The pain courses
through my blood,
my love is gone,
away to the sun.
Away to the pillows
of delicate clouds,
but still your voice
seems so loud.
And I wonder,
Will it ever end?
This pain so deep,
wishing you
weren't dead.

By Leisha Sagan

novocaine my heart

novocaine my heart
and gift-wrap it
in bloody satin
stained with your routine

round
and round and
and round and
and again and
and crisp
crack pop

stop!

with my solid knife

i cut open my stomach so plastic
but there is no more there
some remains of scarlet drops
all hollow

We don't have to pretend
i am vacant as your doll
and i will fall,
from your dreams through your lusthole
down down
into the confines of your imagination
your thoughts will become my private hell
and your skull will become my prison cell.

by guy shahar

 

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