Heart break Poems
BrOken
by Stewart Watkins
Played with, mishandled, juggled, fumbled then
dropped
Once whole but now broken, this precious glass
Shattered and liberally on the ground it lays
A motley of pieces large, small, and in between
all scattered
......
Funeral
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
She left at the yawn of dawn
Between fog-densed waking hour
And rain-soused grey morning.
Veiled, her image was laced in silhouette.
She stood behind the fog-rain, a dark
Painting, sketched in black crayons of
Languor.
Her breath, one streak of ink
Of a satanic fresco on a dingy subway.
And the breath of the rain was heavy,
......
"Dust to ashes"
by Essambeh Ebai Essambeh
I know when you see this, brown particles from the earth might first come to your mind,
Back to dust, back to the earth, one day we all shall return when it's time.
But I seem to have returned already but this time not in the flesh,
In a myriad of thoughts, where my body still lies, as those constant echoes still haunt my flesh.
From the memories of yesteryears, from the many pains of long ago,
There are times I vowed, never to revisit this dungeon again, but at times I find it difficult to let go.
For perfection was what I always envisaged, at times it wasn't all about love,
What happened to love in its purest form, couldn't we just exist as solely 'us' ?
Not as lovers but as friends,
And may be love, would have been a means to an end.
......
Green fingers, a flaming-red vent.
by Montaigne Foxcroft
What a time to be alive
All of creation cry for they are about to die
The lungs of the earth are in flames
Up in smoke
Can't you see that as the Amazon burns, humanity are the lungs that will start to choke?
How heavy to bare is this yolk! I can barely breathe neither comprehend how a brain is so small, you think it normal to rip a plant out by its roots, thinking it's your right to obtain free food?
How can you not be aware that my plants are like my children, costing me money as I take good care?
How dare you steal so?
Their death breaketh my heart, can't you know?
I am at a loss for words.
......
Keep me in your prayers
by Divyosmi Goswami
I'm the object of your enforced ruminations,
I'm not your prayer.
I'm not part of unconscious callings,
Or the nature's hints.
I'm not sublime,
But pungently present and evident.
I'm not one that props up in your headspace unannounced,
But you can't ignore me throughout.
......
BrOken
by Stewart Watkins
Played with, mishandled, juggled, fumbled then
dropped
Once whole but now broken, this precious glass
Shattered and liberally on the ground it lays
A motley of pieces large, small, and in between
all scattered
......
Keep me in your prayers
by Divyosmi Goswami
I'm the object of your enforced ruminations,
I'm not your prayer.
I'm not part of unconscious callings,
Or the nature's hints.
I'm not sublime,
But pungently present and evident.
I'm not one that props up in your headspace unannounced,
But you can't ignore me throughout.
......
Unveiled Emotions
by Nad SZA
In noon's embrace, we met once more,
At Starbucks, where our souls did soar.
A sip of coffee, a bite to eat,
As trembling hands, our hearts did meet.
'Do you miss me?' your voice inquired,
I uttered 'no' with words uninspired.
Again, you asked, your kiss so bold,
My heart raced, a tale yet untold.
......
"Dust to ashes"
by Essambeh Ebai Essambeh
I know when you see this, brown particles from the earth might first come to your mind,
Back to dust, back to the earth, one day we all shall return when it's time.
But I seem to have returned already but this time not in the flesh,
In a myriad of thoughts, where my body still lies, as those constant echoes still haunt my flesh.
From the memories of yesteryears, from the many pains of long ago,
There are times I vowed, never to revisit this dungeon again, but at times I find it difficult to let go.
For perfection was what I always envisaged, at times it wasn't all about love,
What happened to love in its purest form, couldn't we just exist as solely 'us' ?
Not as lovers but as friends,
And may be love, would have been a means to an end.
......
Funeral
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
She left at the yawn of dawn
Between fog-densed waking hour
And rain-soused grey morning.
Veiled, her image was laced in silhouette.
She stood behind the fog-rain, a dark
Painting, sketched in black crayons of
Languor.
Her breath, one streak of ink
Of a satanic fresco on a dingy subway.
And the breath of the rain was heavy,
......
