Seed-C-Zone

Forgiving Friends (Poem)

2012-03-28T20:29:00.003+07:00

I wrote this poem for a friend that means a lot to me. I will always forgive her for anything she ever does, even if it hurts me so much. I just wanted her to know that I will be her friend no matter what, and that I will always, always forgive her. So Sarah, if you read this I hope you like it.

Forgiving Friends

by Hunniebe

You are my best friend
You always will be
Yet sometimes I get mad at you
And you get mad at me
Sometimes I don't understand
Sometimes I don't know what to do
But remember always
That I will forgive you

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

The Mistake You Cannot Forget (Poem)

2012-03-25T19:04:00.002+07:00

I wrote this poem after I made a terrible mistake. I drank a little too much one night and I tried to make more out of a friendship with one of my best guy friends. Things happened and now he cannot talk to me. I can no longer apologize, for it is not doing any good, and I was at a loss for words to what to say to him. So, I wrote this poem.

The Mistake You Cannot Forget

by Ashlie

You say you cannot forget
And you aren't ready to forgive
But I need your friendship
More than you'll even know
I need you there to live

Without you by my side today

Life's been going, oh so slow
I miss your calls
Our endless talks
The places we would go

You can't even bear to look at me,
And I know my mistake
For because of one night,
And a few thoughtless actions,
When you saw me you ran and hid

I know we cannot take it back
As much as we would like to
But we could forget
And start all over
Just friends, that's me and you

If time is what you need,
Then I guess that's what you'll get
But I need you there for me soon,
My friend,
I hope you will forget.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Perfect Even In Death (Poem)

2012-03-23T09:57:00.000+07:00

This poem is about a mother's feeling's on the anniversary of the death of her stillborn child.

Perfect Even In Death

by Lil' Red

No one remembers,
I cannot say why
Only thing I keep thinking
Is that nobody tried

You were mine, only mine

No one knew you like me
I don't know why He couldn't
Just let you be

We shared so much
In our short time together,
And the time that we shared
Has made memories forever

So much I learned,
So much I lost -
Everything turned, toppled
And tossed

Butterfly flutters, then turns
And kicks . . .
Then, that sad day . . .
Was my mind playing tricks?

No cry, no movement,
not even a Breath . . .
As you lay on my tummy -
Perfect even in death

When I think of you now
At the age you would be,
A beautiful "big boy"
Is the child I see

My son you were,
My son you'll always be
And One -
That is us;
You and Me

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Like The Waves From The Shore (Poem)

2012-03-21T21:20:00.000+07:00

We are often drawn to adventure that takes us away from those who love us. The ocean of emotion sometimes sets us adrift. The returning tides bring us back into the heart of another who keeps the vigil.

The venture satisfied, we eagerly anticipate returning to open arms.

Like The Waves From The Shore

by Marge Tindal

I must now ebb
The time has come
to sail my oceans

Rolling away from you
like the waves from the shore
rippling out to the vastness of the sea
that beckons my ship of folly

I'll not ask you
to stand the night vigil
on the shoreline
of memory

You are here
on the beaches of my memory
even though I drift the tides

If you should look
into a starlit night
and see a reflection of me
know only that
I will one day
come crashing again
to the shore
swept homeward
by the pull
of the tide
and
you

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Just There (Poem)

2012-03-20T20:54:00.001+07:00

We always have this set of ideals for our special one. But life, as fickle and volatile as it may be, never grants us the exact things we want. Same with finding her, I never expected that she was waiting for me, loving me . . . just there.

Just There

by Melvin Lee

Where you were,
I did not see you.

So close to me,
but yet so veiled.

Quietly you waited,
upon my invitations;
but still, somehow,
I failed to note

of you, yearning
to be with me,
but finding
just

a void.

So sadly,
you retreated;
bowed, dejected.

Finally when I knew
of you, your devotion,
so foolishly I did feel,
like a simpleton.

For I had looked
so very hard for you,
up/down/everywhere.

but I just did not looked
clear, in front of me,
where you were

. . . just there.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Key To My Heart (Poem)

2012-03-19T20:19:00.002+07:00

After being hurt and not knowing love, not know how to love, not wanting to love - Michael showed me. He was my best friend and slowly I began to love him more and more. I wrote this poem to show him how much his life meant to me and how important his is to be with mine.

Key To My Heart

by Amanda Marie

I had closed the door upon my heart
and wouldn't let anyone in
I had trusted and loved only to be hurt
but that would never happen again
I locked the door and
tossed the key as
hard and as far as I could

My heart was closed for good

Then you came into my life and
made me change my mind
just when I thought that
tiny key was impossible to find
that is when you held out your hand
and proved me wrong
inside your palm was the
Key to My Heart
You had it all along

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

A Great-Grandpa To Me (Poem)

2012-03-18T20:29:00.002+07:00

This was a dedication to my Grandfather who passed away several years before he could see his first grandchild born. Each year since he's been gone, our family has written a poem on the anniversary of his death to remind him that we love him.

I am named after him, and so is my son.

A Great-Grandpa To Me

by Frank Greg

This year would have been the first
that you could gladly say
how you'd become a Great-Grandpa
who's more proud everyday.
Though you've been gone
for many years,
still you're loved just the same.
Now my son will be
our legacy

because he also shares your name.
And as he grows
he'll want to know
just how you used to be.
So I'll sob then smile
all the while
that he's upon my knee.
I'll make it clear
how very dear
I hold your memory,
And hide the pain
as I explain
what a great Grandpa you were to me...

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Winter's Roads (Poem)

2012-03-08T20:51:00.000+07:00

The Winter of 1998 was the first time in over two decades that I found myself immobilized by heavy snow of Michigan. For three very long days. One result of that enforced isolation was a poem called Winter's Threads.

Not being one to repeat past mistakes (I much prefer the excitement of making new ones), I packed my motor home the day after Christmas, 1999, with the intention of spending winter in California. I made it only as far as Louisiana, where I stopped to visit family (and instead became involved with family). Nonetheless, I stayed warm, renewed some familial bonds, and learned I'm really not very well suited to the travelling life.

Eight weeks later, with warm weather breaking in Michigan, I again headed North. While on the road, with little else to occupy my mind, I penned this sequel to Winter's Threads. And like its precursor, the poem is less about Winter and more about the choices we make in life.

(With apologies to Robert Frost, who also wrote of choices, in a very similar format - and did it much, much better.)

Winter's Roads

by Ron Carnell

I cannot speak for all who stem
'Long roads less traveled as their way,
Nor question choices made by them
In days long past or nights long dim
by words they spoke and did not say.

Each road is long, though short it seems,
And credence gives each road a name
Of fantasies sun-drenched in beams
Or choices turned to darkened dreams,
To where each road wends just the same.

From North to South, then back again,
I followed birds like all the rest
Escaping nature's snowy den
On roads I've seen and places been,
Forsaking roads that traveled West.

This journey grows now to its end,
As road reflections lined in chrome
Give way to roads with greater bend
And empty signs that still pretend
They point the way to home sweet home.

But all roads lead to where we go
And where we go is where we've been,
So home is just a word we know,
That space in time most apropos
For where we want to be again.

For even home, it seems to me,
Is still a choice we all must face
From day to day and endlessly,
To choose if home is going to be
Another road - or just a place.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Power Of Pain (Poem)

2012-03-08T20:50:00.004+07:00

This is a poem I wrote when I first was diagnosed with Social Anxiety. It was a way for me to look for hope and keep trying.

It's about how I would feel everyday.

Power Of Pain

by Star711

I sat alone another day.
The world was moving all around me,
but it seemed as if my life was in a standstill.
The doctors say its anxiety.
Everyone thinks anxiety means nervousness or fear,
but it is deeper than that.
Anxiety holds you prisoner.
You can't leave your house.

Ding
Dong
Ding
Dong

The doorbell rings but I can't answer.
There is too much fear inside.
You can't answer the phone.

Ring
Ring
Ring

"Telephone for you!" my family yells. I
tell them to say that I will call back, but I won't.
You can't eat.

Chomp
Bite
Chew

No, not me. The anxiety
even controls that. All the pain rushes back up with
every little thing I eat.
You can't go out.

Step
Step
Step

Everyone walking around me, but I can't move, the
apprehension paralyzes me.
Everyone says, "Be brave. You can do it. You'll make it out of this."
But sometimes I wonder if I will.
I try to combat it all, but if I attempt to do anything,
it all starts over again.

Thump
Thump
Thump

My heart beats faster and faster.
I can feel it in my chest.

Beads of sweat
Racing
Falling
Running down my forehead.
All the thoughts swarm in my brain.
The fear picks up.
It is unbearable.
I'm so frightened, but I don't know what of.
The paranoia sweeps over my body like a giant wave.
Every day I have to fight what seems to be a losing battle.
But then . . . I look outside.
I see the colors.
I see the life.
I see spirit.
I know I can do this.

Hope
Pray
Win

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Their Pain (Poem)

2012-03-08T20:50:00.003+07:00

At times I feel like my life is complicated, like God has allowed more grief and suffering to come my way than He should have. But in my heart, I know I should be thankful that I have access to opportunities that others will never even dream of having, that I should be glad I even have loved ones, even if they are taken away from me.

I have had painful things happen to me, and I know what sorrow feels like, but there are always those who have been hurt deeper than me. To them I can only offer my prayers, and my sympathy.

Their Pain

by Meredith Mcghin

I can only imagine
What it's like to sacrifice
How it feels to do without
What it takes to pay the price
To offer all I have
Unto others with a need
I can only imagine
For myself, I live in greed

I can only imagine
What it's like to be alone
How it feels to be rejected
How to get by on my own
To never share a secret
To feel empty deep inside
I can only imagine
For myself, I live in pride

I can only imagine
What it's like to be abused
How it feels to lie awake
Feeling angry, tired and bruised
To have no friend to turn to
Filled with rage I can't release
I can only imagine
For myself, I live in peace

I can only imagine
What it's like to know such pain
How it feels to wake each morning
With a past I can't explain
To live a constant nightmare
That no else can parallel
I can only imagine
But for them, they live in Hell

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

A Book Of Memories (Poem)

2012-03-02T20:26:00.001+07:00

When we reach a certain age where we find ourselves looking back at all the tears, all the laughter, and all the joy, we also discover that those memories are what keeps us holding on.

A Book Of Memories

by Kathleen Sheppard

Hidden in the attic,
all the way upstairs,
is something very special,
that I would like to share.

My hopes,
my dreams,
old photographs,
of good times and bad times that make me laugh.

The joy of a hug,
the thrill of a kiss,
leaves me to remember the pure, simple bliss.

I cry for the fun,
and giggle for the pain,
I enjoyed the good life I was able to maintain.

The thoughts and wishes,
they all stay with me,
all of these contained in my book of memories.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Life's Choices (Poem)

2012-03-02T20:26:00.000+07:00

This poem is what I have learned through many years of not having friends and believing it was due to the way I looked. I have learned that looks are not everything in life.

Life's Choices

by Rose

Life is full of choices
Make sure you pick the right one
Don't listen to the voices
Hear only yours and you have won

Many people will tell you
You need to change your looks
Don't take to heart their view
Fabulous bods are found only in books

There is only one voice
That you should listen to
It will help make the right choice
That is perfect just for you

Your looks are your own
Someone will always love you
You will never be alone
Look in the mirror and you'll see who

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Just Being Me (Poem)

2012-02-28T21:01:00.005+07:00

This poem is describing who I am in this world of ours. I feel I have the right to say what is on my mind. What I am and how I feel is simply my choice, others may not come to agree with me but really I hold my head up high and am proud to be myself. And so should you!

Just Being Me

by Elsa Nora

The life I seek must be fast
The speed of life makes me laugh!
Death's just around the corner for
a Queer like me!
Well so they say all of them Freaks.
Homophobia I really do detest
What I am is what I do best!
Like if you want, Answer! This ain't no test
If you like me, "Great," then we're friends
If you hate me don't make me get upset!
I'm just a Dike whom nobody Straight likes
Well forget you all, cause we love each other
my Baby and I!
You don't have to shake my hand,
I'm not asking you to stare.
If you don't like what you see,
then get the Hell out of here!
I am what I am, So please understand
Even if you don't "Who really gives a damn?"

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Walking Alone (Poem)

2012-02-28T21:01:00.003+07:00

In 1829, the wonderful and nearly mythic Edgar Allan Poe penned a poem describing his feelings of uniqueness and aloneness. He knew, early on in life, that he was different from others, created and shaped in a different mold. History, of course, proved he was right.

Over a century and half later, Michael Anderson read those words. He recognized a Golden Truth in Poe's poem, 'Alone,' and it lit a deep-felt sense of comradeship ironically based on shared aloneness. It also provoked a response, the elegantly simple, sweetly flowing words you are about to read.

Poe and Anderson are gifted writers. Using words and rhythms, and uniquely universal imagery, they are able to conveny both meaning and feeling. In this, perhaps, they are unusual. Even alone. But the Truth they share with their talents is far less unique. Poe was different, and history remembers him for his differences. Maybe, a hundred and fifty from now, Anderson will be similarly remembered. But each of us, even if unremembered by history, is nonetheless equally unique. Each of us is born and shaped in a 'world not the same,' and each of us is unable and maybe unwilling to bring our passions 'from a common spring.'

Each of us, in the end, is Alone.

Walking Alone

by Michael Anderson

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were- I have not seen
As others saw- I could not bring
My passions from a common spring-
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow- I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone-
And all I lov'd- I lov'd alone-

Then- in my childhood- in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still-
From the torrent, or the fountain-
From the red cliff of the mountain-
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold-
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by-
From the thunder, and the storm-
And the cloud that took the form
(When all the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

The Miracle (Poem)

2012-02-26T20:45:00.002+07:00

This poem originated as a challenge from a friend to write a piece containing the phrase, "the miracle continues".

There's only one "unexplained phenomenon" I have experienced in my life I would deem miraculous. Witnessing my deceased father's gestures, attitudes and facial expression in my now 8 year old son I first found kind of spooky.

Now I see the gifts we all have to give in life is why life, itself, is deemed a miracle.

The Miracle

by Michael Anderson

There is a majestic quality-
In everyone for all to see.
Some keep it hidden, some never realize-
The magnificence they hold in others' eyes.

Ah, yes, life itself is the gift.
Though the memory, itself, Time doth sift.
And some might think the reverence gone-
As those we love one by one pass on.

But the intricacies Fate doth weave-
In commemoration for all who grieve.
Are the blessings given to rebirth-
From souls no-longer of this earth.

At first notice I came undone,
My father staring at me through my son.
But, now, in joy I ascertain-
Through him, my father lives again.

I look to heavens' resounding grace-
Renewed appreciation of life and my place.
Knowing as each newborn child opens their eyes-
The miracle continues, no one really dies.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Into Every Life (Poem)

2012-02-26T20:42:00.003+07:00

This is the story of a woman bereft of love. She believes that she is no longer able to live the life of her dreams. Past hurt guards her heart, and she struggles to find the answer in the rain of her life.

As she mulls through it, she comes to realize that she must take the chance in order to find happiness.

Into Every Life

by Christopher

She looks into air, herself falling rain
Dripping coldness past, memories old pain.

Drops fall, the puddling her damp water-life.
Spiraling a mirror, self-lonely strife.

A sigh, one frown, crying soft saddened tears.
Storms of remember - through bleak yesteryear.

Clouds a-whorl, dark sky sheltering fair heart.
But how can she joy, while taking no part?

Cov'ring cold soul, corona of defense.
Defying the stab of her fate's intents.

This is madness, she thinks in plaintive cry.
I'm here, on the cusp, of lay down and die.

What my destiny, but an empty-off dream?
A plaything with which gods and angels scheme.

Am I doomed then to live, time never-free?
Subsumed wholly 'neath life's scattered debris?

Is justice, outside this torrential doubt?
Perhaps more than sorrow, painful fall-out?

Is love, perhaps, just a sliver of sun?
Shining through mists, revealing Avalon?

Personal paradise, which I can own,
Evoking happiness, hither unknown?

She raises from streets of lonely no more.
Light slicing through darkness, hopes washed ashore.

Her withered gait now straightening with pride.
She glides like an angel 'cross future's tide.

Belief in life renewed, no, only found.
Footsteps echoing, a cadence of sound.

Caressing the ground, sing the beat of her heart.
Into the sun seeking love's brand new start.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Memories (Poem)

2012-02-24T14:48:00.000+07:00

The past present itself as visions and images found in long corridors of time. The human mind perceives the past and tries to make a meaning out of it.

Memories may be good or bad, but to make most of the past, one has to probably look at the mistakes committed, and to keep oneself cheerful, often look at the happy days, taking screenshots of the better glimpses that the past presents.

Memories

by Sudhir Iyer

Was walking down memory lane,
Was walking on the beach,
Throttling the feelings of pain,
Keeping doubts out of reach.

Had a look at the sands of time
The hours when time itself stood still,
Could hear distant bells chime,
And I was walking while I still stood still.

Felt the heat of the sun beating,
Could sense an awe that the past left,
Saw the sheath of life fleeting,
Glimpses of what was there were best.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Respect (Poem)

2012-02-24T14:46:00.004+07:00

Some women of African Decent get so tired of all the trouble they go through with men, work, church, organization etc. I dedicated this poem to those who experience my pain.

Respect

by Lovely

What am I to say
From a colored woman's prospective today
With my Brown skin
Dark eyes
Thrifty dreams
African American eyes

Feels like a hot breeze from Congo
Blowing my way
With echoes from the mountains
And whispers
Whispers
Manipulating my soul
To dance and sing
And listen to the drummers

Listen
Shhhhhhhhhhh

They are speaking to me
Can't you hear?

Sending a message out to us sista's
Us women of color
Us women of glory
And eternal everlasting

My ancestors look at us in discuss
With our chemical treated hair
Body exposed like we don't care

And my back pressed up against the wall
With my belly sticking out
And my tears that stained my cheek
And my intelligence turned weak

Us colored women today, yes us colored women today

What's next, they cut off the welfare checks
What's new, sistas looking for something to do?
And who's to say, we still gonna make more baba's

Won't even give us a job
Cause we belong to that African tribe

Won't even love and respect our brother
Cause we all have the dark skin color

Don't color me black; don't call me a lady,
Don't offer me fine wine, or a ride in your Mercedes

Don't give me your heart, or your passionate love campaign
Don't give me some other sister, worry to gain

Just give me truth, something pure and clean
Just give me respect like an African queen

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Standing Alone (Poem)

2012-02-24T14:38:00.004+07:00

Knowing yourself is very important. When I first wrote this poem I surprised myself with my own thoughts. I wasn't hiding what I felt anymore. Everybody is special whether or not they believe it. This is for everyone that doesn't believe they are beautiful.

Standing Alone

by Chase

I can see the flower upon which my life grows, blooming into a rose.

See the hope and courage in the strength of the petals.
As long as I am, I will be.
The flower will never wilt or die.
As my life grows back, I shall become strong.
I shall become only dependent on one.
That one will be me.
I will rise with my petals high.
My life as a flower will bloom and prosper as I grow.
I may not be the pick of the patch, but I am just as beautiful as the rest.

I will stand as one, but not a lonely soul.
The tears will be far from my smile.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

Biscuits Of Love (Poem)

2012-02-24T14:17:00.001+07:00

My Grandma has 8 children, 20 grandchildren, and about 17 great grandchildren, and yet she always makes time for each and ever one of us.
Dedicated to my wonderful grandma, I love you and will always remember those hot buttered yeast biscuits everyone likes so well.

Biscuits Of Love

by Mindy Carpenter

Memories of my youth.
Flood over my soul.
When I think of Grandma.
They make me feel whole.
Gathering at her house.
With all the family there.
We made lots of memories.
For all of us to share.

Lessons that she taught me.
Guide me thru the day.
If I listened closely.
I cannot go astray.
Love and commitment.
She drilled into me.
Making the person that I am.
Just who I want to be.

Grandma has many names.
Each one has their chosen.
But the names I want her called
Starts with love,
For she is warm and not frozen.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems

New Life (Poem)

2012-02-23T21:06:00.001+07:00

New Life

by Paul Bodet

I've been sitting around this life for years,
Not enough laughs and too many tears.
Trying to figure out where it all went,
These wasted years that I have spent.

Searching for something to go beyond,
Life's a stone skipping across a pond.
At the last skip, it hits with a splash,
Down the stone sinks, gone in a flash.

Pushing and pulling, it's tearing apart,
Poking and prodding an underused heart.
This dark velvet curtain that hides my soul,
Living this life has taken it's toll.

In a flash of bright light, the curtain is torn,
Tumbling down all tattered and worn.
Revealing new life, a child within,
Born free of hate, of suffering and sin.

Now my eyes see what has never been told,
Striving forth happy, confident and bold.
Into a world that's unfamiliar but friendly,
Into this new life my spirit will send me.

Living and laughing, loving it all,
I stood myself up and answered the call.
The darkness has gone, replaced by the light,
I gave up the darkness with hardly a fight.

I've been sitting around this life for years,
With laughter aplenty and hardly a tear.
Now I can see just where it all went,
Cherish every moment of this new life I've spent.

This poem originally published from 100 Poems