Composed and utterly lifeless
Myself I tried to portray.
Until the emotions, bubbling over,
Gave me one less day.

And now, alas, here I am
Spilling out the truth
Of what I’ve really been feeling;
What I didn’t want to lose.

An open book, exposed and torn,
Of shame for all to see.
I’m sorry I couldn’t do you justice,
My fair sanity.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Sanity, I bid thee farewell.

Like an enchanting gift,

The changing season has endowed;

Like the blossoming of a thrill,

Enriched by a sweet embrace;

You unfolded as a poem on the alluring

Tender branches of my first love, when we both

Started, dreaming of the mysteries of love..

I sought you, my first love, forgetting everything

Around me, fluttering like a wild butterfly,

All over places and time, in and out;

I liquefy myself into you, through the spell

Of your honeyed seductive smiles,

And turned into a swan wading in the pools of heaven,

To become a flamingo with resplendent plumes;

Like the full moon traversing, among the silvery clouds.

The day when you tried to bid farewell to me,

Wilted by the stinging distress in your mind;

Our dreams shattered, its wings clipped off

Into smithereens, scattering into silence,

All the emotions rancid, and mortified..

And my mind whispers mutely;

“All good wishes for a happy married life.”

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Wistful memoirs.

With emotions at the breaking point and tempers running wild,
Though he said he was the victim, he was more like Satan’s child,
He was angry and so empty and confused at how he felt,
And he knew that very soon his life would melt.

For he couldn’t stand the pressure and he couldn’t stand the heat,
Though he tried to live with reason he just knew that he was beat,
So he struck at those who hurt him and the ones who caused him pain,
And the ones he loved he treated with distain.

And though many tried to help him, he just pushed them all away,
Yet if only he had listened, he would not be here today,
But it’s done and it is over and he lives within this cell,
And it’s here that he will bid his last farewell.

And he’s fighting with the demons of a life he used to lead,
And his wounded soul is bleeding, for he planted wild seed,
And he lies inside this chamber, behind bars that will not bend,
And it’s here his life is coming to an end.

They would call him ‘dead man walking’ as he ate his final meal,
And the judges wouldn’t listen as he gave his last appeal,
Now his trembling heart is pounding as he’s strapped inside this chair,
“I’m the victim and it really isn’t fair.”

For he felt his life was drowning in much ambiguity,
Now his soul will meet the future, which is called Eternity,
Where he’ll fight the many demons of a life he used to lead,
And his wounded soul will suffer, cry and bleed.

by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at The Execution.

That evening, when I bid farewell to you,

I could discern the love ablaze in your eyes;

Crying with its mute twinge of the soul, flowing out

As tear drops through the corners of your eyes.

However you tried in vain, to contain those tears,

The stream of intense passion came out

As a cascade of nectar, breaking its waves

Flailing in my heart, with its torrent of despair.

My pulsating lips, stole the honey drops from

 The trembling eyelids, while the moans

Of sobbing grief, you rubbed into my chest,

As blossoms, of kisses, incessantly…

In that gloaming, while remaining in the cloister of your

Unfulfilled aspirations, erupted rue sodden sighs…

Playfully we laughed, amused in mirth, wrangled in love,

Teased each other, hugged later, and embraced to become

One, in the emerging dreams of our excitement,

In the moonlight of our tingle, we smothered

And savored, the cloying lasciviousness, of our heart.

In the furnace, of this mid-summer night, solitude

Brings the vacillating memories, of that night, into me.

Like a green canopy over my head, chilling, and. filling sweetness.

I melt in that rapture, and then again search your moistened eyes.

Do not cry my love! Never fill those eyes with your sniveling.

The aches in your heart by the absence

Will soon end; I am on my way to your presence….

.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Heart aches….