Pain poem
404 creative works found
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This photo of a bumblebee hanging from a summer blossom goes well with the words of my favorite poet, Emily Dickinson, who described fame as a bee. Like a bee’s song, fame has its happy aspects, but it also has its sting and its share of pain; finally, it has its wing. As fast as it comes, it can readily disappear! Good food for thought for anyone who craves fame! Ironically, Emily Dickinson never knew either the song, the sting,or the wing of fame. She lived as a recluse, hidden from the public eye, all her life. It wasn’t until after her death that her huge inventory of poetry was discovered and she attained world renown as one of the most gifted poets of all time. Quite interesting that she who desired nothing of fame in life achieved it posthumously!
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dedicated to those that have ever attempted to nurture themselves from the abuse of others with foods or have suffered from eating disorders compliments of the pain society bestows upon its participants we are all worthy we are all beautiful our uniqueness equates our majesty
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Time did pass me by for so many years, / every second I shed my tears … My tears of sorrow, my tears of grief … / ‘cause in my very hour I’ve lost my belief. The belief in us – in our love … / now I am here and you are somewhere above. Above you are – where I want to be … / I am still standing here – can’t you see? See me here in my grief … / See me here – without belief. I am feeling so blue and hollow within … / Can’t see the beauty of our love – what remained is just sin. The sin we shared at night and day … / Oh luv make the pain go away! Send me some light from up above, / Send me a white wing angel bringing me thy love. Thy love is the only way to set me free … / Please darling … love me and let me be! Be again by your side, / Be with you at day and night. Take my hand my white winged love, / take me with you … to the heaven above!
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Casualty of Depression
by dimarieYour eyes have lost their lustre, / Your smile I see no more, / Your lack passion for all around you, / Your depression is eating my soul…...
All writing images poetry and lyrics copyright dimarie painter / 637FE-46E2D-C4743 Some people who are very dear to me are goin thru the depths of depression… / as much as I will be there for them, and do all i can… / sometimes i feel i am a bit of a casualty of their despair… / my own feelings and pain and issues are pushed aside, kept hidden, so as to give them what they need…. / I cant be there if i’m focusing on my own issues… / but sometimes it all gets a bit much / but we will get thru it / no matter how long it takes… edited to add…. / I understand depression, and its power… / those of you who know me, will knhow of my own depression that I have had since i was a child…and my utter contempt for my own depression, and denial and defiance of it that i go thru daily to the point where quite often i can come across as quite positive…full of life. / Its usually an act…to a degree…. / no words i speak are lies, i mean all of what i say, i see the good in all things, and its thru this that i have been chewed up and spat out too many times to count / and i have forgiven some of those who did wrong onto me / but others i havnt been able to… / this despair of my own, is always brimming just under the surface / always there waiting for me to get knocked down even slightly so it can consume me… / and so it does sometimes / but then the highs of life will kick in and i feel so great and truly positive and i have love and smiles for everything…. / nothing is really that bad…. / not lack of funds or food… / or peoples shitty moods / or dealing with all the past… / but it doesnt last / its never strong enough to coax my loved ones out of their own despair / and at times i have to leave / breathe / because their despair is contaminating my happy delusions… it threatens…no it does…take the sweetness out….. / and they see it…they see me breaking… / and it kills them / and that kills me / and its such a bit if a twisted mess / But i am resolved to be there for them / be there to the end
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Another Shade of Grey
by Paul Louis VillaniI’m thinking of her. / I’d break the rules and then recover. / She likes to paint the world grey. / I’ll save her from herself today.
For a girl.
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I stand not in the mirror of her / this girl you say you love again / I stand not in the light of her eyes / gazing into yours with victory / I stand not in the darkness / of the pain you have inscribed on my heart / my nights filled with bittersweet memories / of when you belonged to me / I stand not in the past / rekindled memories / your first love / “trying again” / I stand not in the quicksand / of heartache / that tries to envelope me / with his wicked grasp / suffocating the life from me / I stand not in fear of losing your love / for you cannot lose what you never had / I stand not in the betrayal of your lies / lies of you loving me / I stand not in her shadow / her weak, frail form / for I am a strong and beautiful woman / with a light of her own / the only shadow falling / the one cast downward / as I walk away from you
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Mysterious undercurrents toil / beneath the surface of my forced smile / Teeth cold against lips / Thoughts muddled / in a chocolate cloud / forming creases on my brow / As emotions surge and lurch / in the pit of my stomach / The tightness of my chest suffocating reason / Creating a heightened sense of anxiety / Pressure on the mind / to decipher the feelings of the heart / Without a map to trace the pain / and release the flame / Of worry and disillusionment / Promise and disappointment / Chameleon… Changes / Passion Red… Murky Blue / Fevered hue… / Fading out / To midnight black / Chameleon / Watch your back
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the only way to cure / the deafening silence / of dysfunction / is to shine a bright light / into all of the cracks / of its painful facade / only then may / the broken heart heal / the shattered spirit soar / and the battered mind / break the consistent mental / and emotional abuse / caught on memory’s tapes / that replay over / and over / again
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Where have the hours / and the years gone now, my love, / where once the fragrant roses bloomed / within the garden of our happiness? / Of them, now only faded memories remain. The racing hands of time advance relentlessly, / and as with life, there is no turning back. / But if we could…if only for an hour or day… / must we re-live both happiness and pain? / And which of these are bearable again? So, join me in the cool of twilight time, / to sit in lengthening evening shade, / perhaps to share a mellow glass of wine… / If Time should now come to an end, / It has been shared with you, my friend! (c) george petrovsky 2009 That’s what happens when I’m presented with a bunch of faded roses and an antique clock whose face is a wine label. I’ve mucked about with it a bit to try and get an “antique” look to the picture. Technostuff: Nikon D80, Nikkor 18-200VR lens hand held 80mm. Program, 1/80 sec f5.3, ISO 200, Pattern metering, Auto Exp & WB
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This Thing Inside Me
by RPGesusI am a monster and pity all who undertake the notion they can run because it only fuels my lust and I love the animal I have become.
Made for the Change comptetion in Full Moon Rising /
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SFW version Made for the Change comptetion in Full Moon Rising / The Written Form
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I took a photo my friend took and photoshopped the hell out of it to make a digital scrap page- it helped me work through some shit. please let me know what you think.
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With what a deep devotedness of woe / I wept thy absence – o’er and o’er again / Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, / And memory, like a drop that, night and day, / Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away! / ~Thomas Moore
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