Tag: life

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Poet Robert Smith

untitled love poem

‘i have sat among those in love and watched it live
and die right before my eyes’ the old man said to me
my heart was crumbling with loss and here was the
old man talking to me in my moment of
solitude
pain
suffering
anguish
loss.
‘full love is as rare as a full life. i lost mine
a long time ago.’ he told me.
‘how’s that?’
‘i lost her with my lies.’
‘you deceived her?’
‘and myself. i told her it was over, i told
her i no longer cared, that my mind and soul
were mixed up. haste makes such waste. i wish
i only knew then what i know now.’
‘what’s that?’
He ignored my question.
‘i let her go you know. painfully, sorrowfully.
i was depressed. i could have gotten her
i know i could have changed her mind.
i just didn’t try. i wasn’t thinking straight.
foolish man pride. i should have tried harder,
flowers, candy, love letters, all corny, but true.
i could have sang her a song, wrote her name
in the sky, told her that i lied. i lied when i said
it was over. i lied when i said i didn’t love her
no more. i lied when i said that she was the fool.
i know that it is the heart that makes the young man
such a fool. for if the young man truly loves with all
of his heart he will give whatever it takes,
and take whatever he gets, to achieve
love.’

______________________

Robert Smith is a poet originally from Outside of Buffalo, NY, who lived in California, but now lives in Georgia. His Twitter page @rasmithii says he tweets his poems “from an airport near you.”

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Poet Natasha Head

Will We Ever Hurt

Across the ocean, around the world
Devastation knows no limits
When our kind are left to suffer
As happenstance or coincidence
Embraces them in a vice like grip

Our prayers fly, but not fast enough
As families are torn
Tossed like discarded paper
Into the vortex of the unknown
Swimming toward the ether

I can’t tear my eyes away
Power, raw and uncompromising
No judgment, for in Her wrath
We are all equals
Saints and Sinners united

Disbelief as the numbers rise
Heart aching, knowing
I will never understand
The grief, the pain, the fear
The Loss

The world suddenly grows quiet
Piece by ravaged piece
Will the puzzle ever be solved?
Will the pieces ever again fit?
We change, as the result

Blessed in the safety of my home
Loved ones surrounding me
Watching the turn of the tide
Will we ever hurt?
Will we ever understand the loss?


Natasha Head is a poet from the east coast of Canada. She writes me, “While I’ve seen the strength of the ocean in my Nova Scotia homeland, nothing could ever compare to what what’s happened in Japan. I urge you, each and everyone, to give what little you can spare to help those who are in need so much more than we are, RIGHT NOW.”
Please visit her blog at http://natashalivestowrite.blogspot.com/

________________________________________

Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.

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UK Poet Dave Whippman

Tanka

Buildings fall, streets flood:
An aerial view of distress.
Most suffering, though, has no image.
It takes its victims unseen;
Does not recede like water.

Dave Whippman is a UK poet and prose writer. He lives in the north of England.
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Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.

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Poet Joanna Lee

Prayers in rough wood

My prayers in rough wood
are strung up with twine and hope,
spiral like incense
to an unhearing heaven,
float back to the ears of men

Who with gentle hands
unfold my finger-petals,
suck out from cupped palm
the splinters of unborn dreams,
catch the bleeding dew of faith.

Joanna Suzanne Lee lives and writes in Richmond, Virginia, USA. She writes:
“This was my first effort at a tanka (actually it’s two tanka put back-to-back), and it came from an image I took when I visited Japan two summers ago: an offering left at a Shinto shrine in Nara, where you could write your own prayers or wishes on little wood blocks and hang them on the shrine itself.”
___________________
Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.

Please consider a donation to The Red Cross.

In Canada, go to: http://www.redcross.ca/article.asp?id=000043&tid=016

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Poet Kirsten Shaw

Bent to pray

Spring flowers
pause in silence
from their bloom
it’s not meant
to be like
this

On the news
they recount
a cost
worth more
than any
jackpot luck

The watching
close their
desperate eyes
heads not
turned but
bent to pray

Hoping it’s
not too late
for love
to change the
world we’re
dying of

Kirsten Shaw (@shawkirsten) is a UK poet. She works at a boarding school for children with learning difficulties/special educational needs, teaching and looking after the children who live at the school.
Visit her blog at Poems and their Stories http://kirstenshawpoetry.blogspot.com/

Thanks for reading Poets for Tsunami Relief.

Please consider a donation to The Red Cross.

In Canada, go to: http://www.redcross.ca/article.asp?id=000043&tid=016

In the UK, go to: http://www.redcross.org.uk/Donate-Now

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