Sorciere

I sat and brushed the grass with my hands Looking up I saw a man and boy walking past me I smiled politely as they strolled by And watched them fade into the shimmer of the hazy day I swept the stone that sat before me A little girl ran past chasing a white butterfly No more than a toddler, maybe two Her breathless father ran close behind her calling out I smurked to myself recalling times When my father would chase me chasing the butterfly How I would think I ran so very fast That no one could catch me, not even the racing wind He always did reach me in the end As all loving fathers do, waiting for the moment When I’m ready to be taken up, Into his loving arms and tickled into defeat I lifted myself up off the ground Brushing down my clothes, still a smile on my face beaming I take one last look at his headstone “Happy Father’s Day Dad, thankyou for loving me so.”

Hiding in the darkness Won't take your pain away For dark eyes there can see you Hid from the light of day Tis best to come to daylight To face the glare you fear For people gone unnoticed Are there to see you clear So take the hands that seek you And leave behind the black It's time now to look forward No use in looking back.

Awww a lovely way to explain rainbows!! Much better than my brother's version which consisted of "it rains, stuff gets wet, it reflects". I was 4 at the time I think, he wasn't really a great explainer and it wasn't really the magical answer I had been looking and hoping for. Where were you when I was 4??? hehe

Such a sad tale but good example of how something said without thinking can hurt someone so deeply. Very well written.

Very touching, so simple and gentle,yet so full of wonder. I really like it.

Yay!! You applied! Great story

Thanks! I can see where commas could be used to alter the structure of it, but I'm afraid it would also affect the speed of the poem, which I wanted to rush by you to give the feeling of excitement, as you tend to get when you think you're in love.

Thank you for your comments and they certainly won't be ignored. If I didn't want observations, advice and ideas I would keep these things in my notebook I really liked the poem you posted as an example and I have toyed with the use of dialogue in other works, but it never crossed my mind writing this to be honest. I'm interested as to how I could make it work with this one and will give it some thought tonight, maybe adding several 'dialogue' stanzas to slot into the current ones, like your example, as I'm not sure I want to alter those already written (although never say never). Something for me to have a go with, thanks for your input!

It was definitely coming from inside the house. *click clack* Where were the children, could they hear it? *click clack* My worry for the boys freed my feet from their place on the carpet and I slowly crept across the hall, trying to quickly get to the boys but not disturb whatever it was that was causing that noise. *click clack* *click clack* *click clack* They were coming more frequently and getting louder now and I could feel my heart in my throat, it's pulse competing with the infernal *click clack*. *click clack* I reached the door to boy's room and I could hear them giggling to themselves. They obviously heard nothing. *click clack* I opened the door slowly and peered in. *click clack* *click clack* *click clack* *click clack* "Johnny!!!! Stop flicking that light switch!!!"

Sorry to make you cry. I promise next time I write a tearjerker I will leave kleenex for all. /me bows out quietly

Wren, I heard later the troll found a nice lady troll to keep him company and they had lots of little trolls and he would play with their dolls, so don't feel bad, it has a happy ending!

I have no idea where this came from, really, none at all!! Far away from lands of men There lived a lonely troll He had not friends to play amongst Just one old battered doll His doll was named Jemima-Jean She had hair red as flame He’d make her tea and brush her locks Years passed and no one came Til one fine day a warrior called And spoke unto the troll You are a mean and ugly beast You cannot have a doll He taught the troll to snarl and grunt Just how he should behave He then said he would take the doll Far from the mean troll’s cave The troll looked on with small regret A tear formed in his eye He turned back from Jemima-Jean Too sad to say goodbye The warrior left and hit the road Until he, a tavern found Then settled in to a small room And sat upon the ground He held the doll up to his chest And stroked her long red hair You’re all mine now little doll Of you, I’ll take good care

hehe I really like this, and so true also sometimes!

Missed this first time round, no idea how, but wow, beautifully written, thank you for sharing!

It is VERY Eminem but I really liked it!!! As I know nothing about anything, I could take it without any forethought as to who might think it was about them. Very nicely written, now you just beed a backbeat! hehe

I have to be honest, this praise overwhelmed me. This poem I wrote quickly but it has so much meaning behind it for my family and is probably the only time I've tackled a family event that did not directly involve me. Thankyou

Thank you all for your wonderful comments

Let me explain my thinking behind this one so it seems a little clearer, maybe hehe. When I read the poem it runs, very fast to me, like the nerves of someone wanting to fall in love, feeling all the excitement that brings and also all the nerves that come with it too, especially if you've fallen in love before and got burned. You wonder if this person is for real, or if they are too going to betray your heart and all these thoughts race through your mind, much as the poem tends to do, for me. The last line, is purposely altered to bring you to a dead stop. It was intended to stop the rush of words quickly and cleanly and leave your head buzzing. Obviously, not everyone is going to read the poem as I do and hear it as it sounds in my head, but just to let you know the the last line not quite fitting the rest was an intentional thing and not me losing the plot hehe

Happy Birthday!!

Ohh that was so visual, it brought a lovely smile to my face, ty!

Very strong emotion running through that one, emotions I've felt myself. Reading it it was almost as if I had penned it. It's awkward to say I loved it, because of the subject matter, how do you say you love something that is so full of hurt? I do love it though, but not that you have felt this pain enough to pen it so vivdly. *hugs to you*

Very powerful, a very strong belief rings through this. I like it a LOT.

Why am I here? Because a friend told me about this place after I forced him to read what I wrote (I think it got him off the hook) and I've never seen anything like this on the net before, I feel comfortable here and everyone is so nice, I'd like to be around a long time. Why do I write? When I was nine a teacher told me I had talent, but I was nine and poetry was not cool so I ignored everything he tried to tell me and continued to be myself. Then as I got older I used to store my emotions inside and they got so big and intense, they needed a release. When I was thirteen I wrote a very depressing poem that an older person sent to a biker magazine for some reason, but they refused to believe a thirteen year old wrote it and wouldn't print it, fearing that it had been plagerised from somewhere. I continued to write after that but only for myself and my friends. I found when someone was going through a hard time I could not walk up to them and hug them, but I could write a poem to them expressing how I felt and I have been doing that ever since. Now if I need to say something to someone and I can't find the words, I let my hands find them for me, be it in a book or on a computer. Truth is, I love to write. My poems come very fast, stories not so easily, which is why those are few and far between. I'll always write, because I can. Even if it doesn't always come out perfect, it comes out and it's mine and no one can ever take away my writing and to me that's the important thing. Oh my, I should shut up, well, you asked!

How do you tell a young child His father’s gone away How can you take the burden His heart will feel that day The burden of the longing To feel his hugs once more The pain he now has knowing Dad won’t come through the door He searches hard to find now Some comfort in his mom But she is broken also Her grief has struck her dumb She nurses him so closely Not knowing what to say Her tears fall on his small face Washing his own away Two older children come now And four are in the hall All holding to each other In case the others fall Their strength is in their number Their grief is so immense They feel there’s no tomorrow Nothing now makes sense The mother holds her head up Her tears still warm and wet She strokes the heads below her And feels no more regret The beauties in her presence Are all part of her love She knows he will protect them From painless skies above

Happy Birthday!