Anchored:, Ana Suzanne W. [most recommended books .TXT] 📗
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- Author: Ana Suzanne W.
Book online «Anchored:, Ana Suzanne W. [most recommended books .TXT] 📗». Author Ana Suzanne W.
Poetry
Losing Myself
Paroxysms
Baby
Bluebird
The Next to Burn
How Does it Feel?
The Coming Dust (A Tribute to the Dust Bowl)
Silence
The Vacancy
An Ugly Transformation
Seasons I (Eyes)
Seasons II Summer
America
A Night Without SLumber
Never All for Naught
Another Soul Departed
What's Really Going On
The Forbidden
Anchored
The Darkest Side
Time's Lonely Rhythm
Love's Dangerous Ledge
The Gathering Storm
Drive Me Wild
What I Used to Think Was the Meaning of Love
Losing MyselfI am the sky, wide and free
Spanning a breadth so broad
That though you may try
You can never span
The depth between my hands.
I am the wind, the lonely wind
Blowing over the plains.
Gusting o'er the mountain tops, the grassy hills
And playing with your hair.
I am the rain, the gentle rain
Falling again and again
My tears, they fall,
They fall on you
As you stand, crying in the rain.
I am the moon, the soulful moon
Shedding no light of my own
For though I may stand as
A dependable friend
My dark side will be obscured.
I am a star, one in infinity
I've watched years fly
As many have died and I
Burn on in agony.
I am gone, without a trace
Search for me you may
For though I've lived-
-Shone for you-
-Burned for you-
-Cried for you-
There's nothing more I can do.
I've lost myself,
O'er the years.
Lost my depth, my touch.
Lost my love, burning, passion
Lost it all on you.
I've lost my self-
Lost my identity
For though I am here
I've disappeared
And no one will replace me.
Paroxysms
The quiet of morning
The falseness of lies
The forgetful nature of man
The silence that enclosed us
Is broken by the paroxysms in me caused by you
It all is shattered by your step
Though delicate it may be,
My emotions will run strong
And I never would have guessed the
Fact that we were meant to see
The day in which
Our love was to be saved
By a simple plea
And that all the time we gave
The letters we sent
The time on the phone
That it will all pay back one day
And safely you'll come home
Away from the paroxysms of war.
Baby
Eyes staring up at me
Blue as the spacious sky above
The dark hair like the bare grass of winter below
And a smile like a mountain, strong and beautiful
Yet innocent and soft.
This child, her fingers, so small and fragile
Her toes are just the same
I wonder if I was ever so small
And when I was, did anyone
Ponder upon the wonder of me?
BluebirdBluebird
Silently swooping through the skies
Singing his sweet melody
As we sit here, you and I
His feathers unruffled, majestic his song
He, such a symbol of freedom
As we're jailed in the throng
The flowers bow down
As he lights on their heads
He is the king; they won't deny him his crown
His freedom we crave
As we're trapped
By day, work, and night.
The Next to BurnIn memory of those so cruelly subjected to
concentration camps during WWII
Dark clouds scudding across my sky
Dark light in my eyes
I wonder if I’ll ever find home
I wonder if I’ll ever be free
These walls that enclose me
They seem to press in
I’ve never felt so afraid
I’ve never felt so alone
The roll calls
The heartless smiles
As dear friends and relatives are led to their deaths
And I stand, clinging to the barbed wire
Fence that is so high, I could never scale it.
Yet there are thousands
In my situation
Yearning for every trial
They’ve already faced
To come back and haunt them
And get them out of This
Because anything, anything
Any remembrance is better than This
I’ve realized that I cannot live much longer
Under this despotic tyranny
And when I die, these words die too
On my lips
Oh, how I longed to be free
But I’m still alive, to be sure
At least now I can still recollect
The joys that we used to share with ourselves
Before the war burst through
The war that has confined us to places unknown
To civil humankind
To places where the hooked black cross rules,
And the fear that fills our minds
Is that we may be the next to burn.
How Does it Feel?
How does it feel to lose a love that was never gained?
To cry simply from a lack of tears within
How does it feel to be torn in half by two you love?
Or to cry out from lack of physical pain,
Because inside you're screaming,
But you mask it with a grin.
This facade you've been using consists of
Nothing but empty smiles
While inside you are chained.
How does it feel to go to extremes
Only to find out that what you are
Searching for is unattainable
How does it feel to know happiness
Only in dreams
Because you don't see joy as claimable.
How does it feel to know you're alone
And that no one is by your side
To spend years searching
For unattainable perfection
That is more fleeting than the wind.
How does it feel to be overwhelmed with guilt
Over a trifle
The nagging feeling, more persistant than any other emotion
More persistant than the sun on a sweltering day
With no clouds to obstruct the devious ray.
How does it feel to chase perfection
When perfection itself stares you in the face
How does it feel to chase affection
When affection will always win in the race
How does it feel to know there's plenty
But be in need, cowering in fear.
How does it feel to be so close,
Yet so far away
From what you've been wishing for.
As time keeps stretching it's elastic band
Around you as you're wrapped in misery.
How does it feel to know perfection
But to lose it straight away
To hide in fear, to avoid detection
Of the frequent tears on your face
How does it feel to win,
To lose, to love, to hate
The emotions we feel as
We discover our fate.
The Coming Dust (A Tribute to the Dust Bowl)
The coming dust, the black blizzard
The glowing lights of home;
The remembrance of days long gone
With sky overhead
And grass below
And clear, living, alive air
The scouring grit
In my lungs
My nose
My mouth
Gritting my teeth against the grit
Of the dust that fills me
The storm a-brewing
The day as midnight
The once blue sky black as night
The remembrance of better days
Makes the storm all the more
Bitter
As I cower, in the buffalo grass, in fear.
Silence
Silence
A place in which to revel
To dream, to hope
And to condemn
The place in which evil is conceived
The plotting of other's demise
The place in which they self-condemn
And they hang their heads in shame
But me?
In the silence I dream
I remember
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