Weirdness
 
- Hi... you are so weired... didn't know what to bring you... - he sayd.
- Oh, that is a lovely strange flower - she kinda smiled, her eyeslashes smoothly downed to admire his gift.
- Let's go outside, see the ocean, it's beautiful - his eyes glowed with the misty moon light.
- The ocean... - in her pale cheeks a light colour of pink was slightly visible - I can smell the breeze from here...
- But I can't... it's not my world... you go insted of me, for me - her voice ended the words in meerly a sad murmur.
 
He stepped out of the shadow. It was almost down.
 
Was alone again, so alone. Felt the slow cold of the teardrops rolling down his face.
 
In this hospital of souls only some hearts heal with love.
Others...
get home alone.

I liked this poem. I especially like the use of the term "hospital of souls"; it was an excellent setting for this poem. It is romantic and sad at the same time. Congratulations on a fine piece of work!

Again thank you for the kindness of your words

the teenage angst I thought was gone
has been re-born
the fastest and oldest
stork thin wading through the acne ridden
swamp of self-manipulation
bubbling emotional pools of future vice
or all things nice which flower
fragrant sweetest estrogen
consumed
the artful lies again resumed
worse this
the second time around
oh come grey future please just come
release the boy
my teenage son
to manhood stronger
scarred by thorns but healed

i work with villains all day long
then come home to my heart
trying not to re-connect whilst still full
a vile taste in my mouth
full
to the brim.....
trying not to overflow
to keep the reality of other's desires
away from me
to not allow the fear to keep me keep them
to allow the freedom
of rhythm and thought and fancy
and dreams....
and hope.....
and disappointment....and loss...
and growth
so one day they may keep their hearts at home

Saw this on facebook and lisaleo14300 suggested posting here for all to read
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Melbourne .. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.
Cranky Old Man.....
What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you're looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . ... . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . ... lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. ...Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ... . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within ... . . .
we will all, one day, be there, too!
PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM,
The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched.
They must be felt by the heart
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if i could give this +2 i would

 

A poem with lots of emotion; I like it. Very nice work!