Our love was a lazy summer day
when the world seemed to stand still.
Our love was the muffled silence
in thick snow and winter chills
and as we grew older,
our love constantly renewed
We never had to borrow it
or make each other blue.
Our love was always easy
to each other we were true.
For our love we were grateful,
for it's granted only to a few.
And in the spring time of our lives,
I knew I could count on you
and as the seasons changed their coats,
Knew I'd be there for you.
Poetry by Suzanne Karbach
The Hooded Figure 2nd Draft by THEMYSTERYWRITER, literature
Literature
The Hooded Figure 2nd Draft
What stood before me wasn’t right A hooded figure was just in sight He wore a blue hoodie with jeans A twitchy knife in hand, shaking with glee. Black gloves shined in the dim street light When I first set my eyes upon him, it gave me quite a fright. He was tall and slender, swaying in place Once he turned, I finally saw his face The figure wore a mask What kind, you might ask? A simple smiling emoji mask shrouded by his hood The way he stared at me said it all; he was up to no good A sense of dread was sinking in I saw his mask split into a jack-o-lantern’s grin A hissing roar was what I heard And I could not utter a single word The thing rolled out his long, slobbering tongue While my quaking legs refused to run. As the hooded figure closed the distance, snapping its maw The sight of my crimson blood was the last thing I ever saw.
Maybe I’ve come from the outer planet Who just landed in a newfound locale… Maybe just a lucky stranger on it, Hoping not to lose my standing morale. From a peaceful, high place of harmony, The culture shock overwhelms my being. Right here, there is no sense of unity; Insanity is the way of living. Such a bitter reality, this war… Total deviation, differences. The way to peace is of distance too far, Human lenses barred from sight by fences. In this broken world, I’m a foreigner Who wishes to see life become brighter.
Falling from the sky, to the ground…
Water scatters here, all around.
One cloudy, gloomy autumn day…
Seems like I have something to say.
Kissing the ground are clouds above,
Releasing out streams of water.
Tears are unending, not enough
To satisfy, deal with hunger.
Quenching the bloodthirst of the land,
Forming molecules like a band…
Nature accepts the clouds’ answer
To make the dying land better.
Drops of heaven to give comfort
To the downtrodden, to the lone.
Drops from above in an effort
To ease the pain, to ease the moan.
I look over the view, mourning
As I ponder, recollecting
The past memories, disturbance
You always flick litter over the bathroom floor,
and are scratching to come in again once more.
You shed your hairs on my brand new dress
and around your food bowl there´s always a mess.
You have a cat-tree but pull threads out the couch
you over do it when playing, "that´s my finger OUCH!"
There´s that mad half hour at three in the morning
and the coughing up hair balls as the day is dawning.
But when I´m feeling down you are always there
you lie of my chest and loudly purr
my worries are eased caressing your fur
for kitty and me a love affair.
Poetry by Suzanne K 10 feb 2019
Two hands, two gloves, one gun,
Two eyes that tell me, “Run!”
Blast off by violence,
Shots, bombs, grenades… intense.
I stand away from the server,
Too much lag, too much buffer.
Lobes in my ears, I put them down,
Preparing to go downtown.
A floodlight of servers, ding-ding!
A call from a player, ring-ring!
Next game arriving in a flash,
My bitter mind removed to stash.
Pieces of ice downloading files,
All of them smaller than the miles.
My eyes light up at the sight
Of those giving all their might.
My lips turn upside-down
As I join another brutal fight town.
There is nothing more fun
Than playing under the Kalinin sun.
I remember when I was a child,
I'd dream that I could fly.
Taking off from our balcony,
and never doubting why.
There I'd stand, spread out my arms,
push off, soar high into the air,
feeling great excitement,
the wind rushing through my hair.
I'd race across the village
and fly over all the farms.
Free as a bird, I'd fly with speed,
ascend with out-stretched arms.
I'd pass over my old school yard,
see all my playing friends.
They all look up and greet me
with smiles of wonderment.
I'd reach the village church tower
the bells chiming in my ears.
My heart full glee, I'm invincible,
having no more fears.
This dream was all a part of
my childhood
Picture the soul of every child,
as a pristine delicate paper ball,
filled with love and happiness,
innocent and whole.
This fine intricately woven filigree orb
inside of all their hearts,
must be cherished, protected and loved,
lest it fall apart.
A remark out of place
is like a slap in the face.
Taking the fool
and all ridicule,
can crush and destroy this beautiful soul,
leaving irreparable damage untold.
When paper is crumpled, creased, dashed and trodden,
the marks left are plain to see.
With the soul it's the same, hurt, scarred and broken
and bullied into misery.
With apologies you may want forgiveness,
like the paper you try to sm
They said it was all in my head. So, why does it hurt so much? I guess it is just false dread. Why not just sleep and stay in bed? There is no reason to go outside and such. They said it was all in my head. Take your meds, that's what Mom said. So, why do I still hold my heart in this clutch? I guess it is just false dread. It seems that alone I tread. My feelings make me weak and out of touch. They said it was all in my head. All of these tears have been shed. These fleshy snakes writhe in my skull in a bunch. I guess it is just false dread. My heart is weighed down like a block of lead. Locked inside a cold iron hutch. They said it is all in my head, So, I guess it is just false dread.