Anchored: - Ana Suzanne W. (best ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📗

Table of Contents

 

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 Myself

I 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?

Bluebird

Bluebird

 

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 Burn

In 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