The Ramblings of a Mad Man

Poetry

Breakable

Breakable.

 

Great words from one of my favorite bloggers.


My Dad

He wasn’t perfect

But he doesn’t claim to be

He is my friend, my inspiration, and my guide

But normally, I just called him dad

My father has been there for me

Through many difficult times

If only I could repay him

His life wasn’t easy

But he made it through

Worse times than I have known

For a man who has had his children

Torn from his life

And then returned nearly a decade later

H wasn’t bitter

He didn’t let the little things get to him

So this is my way of saying thanks

Speaking slowing lines about

My person superhero

Every child sees their father as a

Veritable He-Man if they’re lucky

So I give praise and thanks

To this here in my life

And strive to make him proud

And honor his memory

 

 


A Violent World- 21 Mar 04

The world is black

Cold and violent

The angry growl of hatred

Is heard in the roar of a bomb

The sharp report of a rifle

Evil presents itself in the smoke

Death creeps just as well in the day

As it does in the night

Pain seems to be everywhere

In the faces of men, women, and

the saddest part, the children

Pestilence and strife strike with the

force of a hurricane

Tearing up homes and lives

Killing love, destroying friendship

Religion at war

Some fight for things that confuse

The rest of us fight for what we think is true

Others fight for the ones they love

Young men are dying in far away lands

Others are dying at home

What cruel fate holds these times

Who is this demon that tortures each of us

Dreadful phantom release our world

Give us peace because we are tired

Longing for happiness and safety

But perhaps there is a chance

Because hope still lives on

 


Confusion of the Heart

I’m all twisted up

So much emotional stimuli

Coming at me from every direction

I get confused easily

And lost in thought often

There’s just too much to ponder

Life, love, war and so much more

I tried to think them through

Using the intellect given to me

One at a time

But they are all linked

A circle of thoughts and emotions

Each related to the other

I think about life has changed

Or even lost

Because of war

Love being affected in the same way

It either changes or dies

A depressing part of the story sometimes


The Third Lost Lover- No Real Title

I lie here at night

Talking to you

When the lights are out

And I’m all alone

I ask you how things are

And when you’re coming home

In my mind you reply

Things are fine, but I wasn’t ready to die

The tears well up in my eyes

Even as I sleep

As you whisper the words, “I love you.”

And kiss me good night

All the pain, anguish and rage

All from that day

Come flooding back in

I shake with fury

Because some banger had a vendetta

And you were caught in between

In my dreams I imagine so many things

So many ways it should have been

He gets cold feet and runs away

You’re scare, but you live

Or it’s I who take the lead

But in all of them, you live


Your Final Resting Place

I sit here now

Leaning against the cold marble

Shivering from the cold, the rage and the pain

The rain is falling like angels’ tears

Covering me with their sadness and fears

I trace your name in the stone

My finger following the letters’ curves

I hold a single pink rose

The same color as your lips

Or at least as I remember them to be

I rest my forehead against the stone

My eyes closed so very tight

Holding back the welling of tears

As I pray silently to you

Still in anguish over the loss

Of the one that I loved

You and I were supposed to be together

Loving each other for the rest of forever

I didn’t realize how short forever could be

nd I cry as I walk away from your grave

This is the second of the three or so poems on this theme. As I said before, I have no earthly idea where this morbid muse came from.


Die Softly

You were cut down before your time

We were both in our prime

I lost you that fateful day

While in my arms

You passed away

All because of some fool

Trying to honor his pride

Making a mistake

And taking you instead

I sit here looking into your eyes

Cold and lifeless

And because you are leaving me

So are mine

I loved you more than I could ever say

And was so angry with the world

On that bloody day

When a bullet went astray

And took you, my sweet lover

Away

I cannot honestly recall where the muse for this poem came from. Nothing like this has ever happened in my life, but I ended up writing three more poems on this same theme. I was obsessed with the “death of a lover” angle for some morbid reason. I want to say that something like this happened here in NC, and I saw it on the news or read it in the paper, and they were interviewing the boyfriend/husband, whatever he was. It was enough to feed a few poems. I know, I’m weird.