Empty Page! by Chris South

Empty Page! by Chris South

 Empty page!
4am and yet
Another empty page
Waiting for these words
Here they come once again
Contemplating meanings
They mutter and stutter
Flutter around like birds inside my head
Searching for a perch on which to hide
Somewhere they cannot be read
So here they come
These thoughts
Which should by now be dreams
Some with faces
Some with names
Others bursting at the seams
In desperation to be heard
Those feelings locked away inside
That seldom speak a word
Now vocalise their pain
Rise up to the surface
And then submerge again
Sleep is now an option
Rather than necessity
Perhaps I’ll listen longer
Hear what I would say to me
Where will this all end?
How long shall I spend tonight
What more can I write
To say what has not thus been said?
What else can be written
That cannot yet be read
Within this book?
Take a look
Back through these pages of my life!
Each one tells a story
Some of glory some of strife
Hopes and dreams and fantasy
All laid out in rhyme to see
Fear, pain, frustration, rage
And then?
Another
Empty page!
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A line of rhyme by Michael Healy

A line of rhyme by Michael Healy

Not often do I have the time

To sit and read a line of rhyme

The Poet’s thoughts now put to paper,

To enjoy the feel, the flow and savour,

Each word linked carefully with the next

Combined with care to form the text

That paints its picture in the mind

And lets the stress of life unwind

That lifts the soul and gladdens the heart;

The poet’s gift has played its part.

Michael Healy

Relentless by Steven Halinski

Relentless

 

I can’t. Just can’t.

It’s hard. This is hard.

I’m stuck in this room,

The light’s switched on

But it’s dark.

 

I’m alone. I’m alone.

This is hard. This is hard.

To smoke on my own

Reminds me of the dark.

 

My life, it is bare;

No flesh, no bone,

I can’t even cradle myself

When there’s nowhere that’s home.

 

I miss all the fun

There was when I were young –

That teenage life

Is all I had…is all I have.

 

I miss all that was:

Friends, fun and laughs,

Drinking and going out,

Taking lines and smoking grass.

 

I’ve found an enemy in me,

A deadly feeling against me,

Creeping up beside me

Every time I am lonely.

 

I’m stuck in this –

Broke-down broken

In this feeling’s abyss

Emptier than shells

Ground down by lunatics.

Forming cycles of escapisms

To daydream about bliss

But never living enough

To know what it is.

 

I’m worried for myself

Where my path is heading;

It’s been split so many times

I’m afraid of the dead-end.

 

What to do? What do I do?

When depression is settling in?

You can’t cradle a baby

That should be doing adult things.

 

Maybe if I just had somebody

Just that one that could change it…

But I’ve only met users and losers

That make me feel worse for it.

 

Usually, I can write a poem

And feel better after

But this darkness is greater

Than the words I can muster,

That even when this poem ends

My torment will still linger,

I don’t know if you’ll ever know

How much this will linger…