Hello Everyone,

It has been a while since I have done a poetic collaboration and I thought with fall approaching soon this would be a great time to do one. The theme of this collaboration is ‘letting go’ ( letting go of a person, season, loss, grief, dreams, anger, hate or any other emotion or object that you may choose to write about). Everyone is welcome to participate and I will add your contribution in the order they come and list the author (and blog link if listed) beneath the post. You may contribute as many times as you wish. Please note that hateful language is not acceptable and I will remove any post I find inappropriate. If you want to see a previous example of my collaborations you can visit here.  Please add your contributions in the comment section. Please include the actual verse not just the blog link in order to be considered. The collaboration will be open until September 30, 2017 until 11:59 pm E.S.T. Thank you all! So without further ado, I will start us off and hope to see you all join me in creating another beautiful, creative, collaborative, piece!

 

Her eyes followed the white tipped waves to shore
Her heart heavy with the sweet ache of letting go
As she watched the sun set with all its warmth

poetry copyright neha 2017 (forgottenmeadows.wordpress.com)

 

A PROCESS OF BECOMING

The bullet that left a shattered heart
Was hard pain when it hit
Looking at all the mess around
Made me break down and weep

But after the tears had dried again
I looked at each single shard.
Some were old and dirty
Some were shiny and pure art

I brushed the dirty ones all clean
And cleared out what was overdue
I looked how they would fit right now
And put them altogether new

With this new established heart
A new day can begin
What was will never be forgotten,
It forced the growth – was not in vain

The shards are all my memories
Which made me who I am
Don’t want to miss a single one
I’d do it all again

Whatever might look as an ending,
Is never meant that way
The night may look dark and so scary
But there’s always another day

We need the silence and the darkness
To focus on our light
‘Cause we are like the dawning sun
After a cold dark night

The bullet helped me to evolve
To bring the process to an end
That’s why the one who shot the bullet
Has now become another friend

poetry copyright Erika Kind (https://erikakind.me/)

 

 

LETTING GO

What happened once is long ago
Regrets and guilt won’t change it though

And all the wounds, well, quite a lot
From all the bullets others shot

I think it’s time to let them heal
And stop to make it a big deal

Too long I kept the past alive
And cut myself with its sharp knife

Too long I carried it along
And kept myself from moving on

I look above and see the sky
Was it ever so blue and high?

There’s so much room to just be me
I’m letting go and flying free

poetry copyright Erika Kind (https://erikakind.me/)

 

 

Letting go,
Can be an act of strong love.
In the role as a person or parent,
It is a gift from up above.

Letting go,
It is a gift that’s hard to perform.
But with trust and the action,
Life gets reformed.

poetry copyright Astrid (https://astridswords.ca/)

 

 

heat rising through my body like an angry tide
waves of anger drown out all thoughts
softly a whisper comes about letting go
allow the tides of life to pass gracefully
deep love anchors me to eternal peace

poetry copyright Brad (https://writingtofreedom.com/)

 

Not a day goes by without me thinking of you,
Not a day passes without my wondering,
Not a day dies before I die again inside,
Yet, today, there are no more days.

poetry copyright Rob Mcshane (robmcshane.wordpress.com)

 

 

To let go…

Yonder in the horizon the sun set…
The clouds they bade farewell to older lands…
Into the oblivion, forlorn I stared…
Standing firm.., yet with trembling hands.

Into the misty gray you walked..
My soul it howled a silent wail…
The heart though it ached for your love
These eyes they said no word without fail.

The lights are out…darkness shrouds
Shadows play a mocking game…
As fingers flip through torn notes…
I knew ’tis the time to wipe your name.

No words uttered… no expectations
I knew ’twas the time to let go…
No hard feelings… all are forgiven…
Our story is history.. it happened long ago.

poetry copyright Sumantra (rhythemic.wordpress.com)

 

 

Come Away With Me My Friend (Let Us Run To The Ocean)

Come away with me my friend

***

Let us run to the ocean,

Where you can let the pain in your heart

Be overpowered by the roar of the waves.

Let us go where you can shout ”Why?” to the sky,

And scream as loud as you need.

Where you can fall to your knees on the soft sand.

***

Let us run to the ocean,

Where I can hold you tight, and let you cry.

Where you can let your shoulders sag.

Where you can let your tears fall,

To be carried away by the waves.

Lean on me. Let me be your strength.

***

Let us run to the ocean.

Oh, my dear friend… let us just go!

You need not think about the future.

Let us walk along the water’s edge.

Remember when we were young?

Our lives were so carefree

***

Let us stand in the water.

Let the waves splash your face,

And gently wash away your tears.

Let us run to the ocean.

Let us go where the waves go on forever.

Life can be hard my very special friend.

***

But let us run to the ocean.

Life we cannot always understand.

Things happen that cannot be explained.

But the waves will go on forever

Through night and day; Through rain or shine,

As will my love for you.

***

Let us go to the ocean my dear friend.

We will face the rolling waves together,

And if you slip… I will be there to catch you.

If you feel you are losing your way…

I will be there to guide you.

***

poetry copyright (joyroses13.wordpress.com)

 

 

Going, gone!

She moved from places and spaces,

some haunted her and some with reluctance.

Her belongings scattered, her memories astray,

her experiences painful.

She reached a shore,

she clung onto it with her dear life,

finally, letting go, of her identity!

 

poetry copyright Suparna (pulsingthoughts.wordpress.com)

 

 

 

Fake Samurai Swords

There were these children who pretended to be adults,
fighting for good against the forces of evil.
Inspired by animated films that focused on this ancient struggle,
these adults, these children in disguise, were transformed into cute animals, anthropomorphic, pure of heart, ready to suffer the ultimate sacrifice if it means a happy ending.
As long as good wins against evil, they can sleep soundly.
The world can be full of loss, but the balance is there.
There will be justice for all,
everything will be alright.
There is a life we fight for,
and when that ends,
we will go to heaven,
celebrating eternity with the ones we love.

This is what these children believed,
they acted this out, wearing their parents kimono’s, using sticks as samurai swords.
One of these boys played this game devoutly,
he was going to save the world.
His grandmother told them stories about this great war,
the unfathomable death toll, piles of corpses, buildings made for death.
Desperate men crying out for their mothers,
crying out for their dreams of childhood: a universe that balances itself out, a universe that punishes the wicked and rewards the good.
And it’s then that this child started wondering about those who died so that this narrative could linger: the heroes who never had a chance to dream, heroes without luck, heroes too weak or too good to kill without hesitation or guilt.
It then dawned on him these were childlike fantasies,
something to make us sleep better at night.
This cosmic battle of good versus evil,
belongs to man alone,
the great cost of life,
is ours to make sense off.
But it won’t make anybody come back,
and nobody will be waiting for us,
none of the dead will forgive us.
the great cost is only ours to bear.
And what about the universe?
The Universe can’t be bothered.

This realization made the child cry,
when he wiped away his tears,
a process that took years,
he became an adult.
He continued the fight against evil,
playing by different rules,
wearing a army-uniform instead of kimono’s,
wielding military-grade weaponry instead of fake samurai swords.
He would get ready for that great war that would come again,
he could either die so that others could dream,
or live so he could be inspired by those who died for this dream.
But sometimes he couldn’t help himself:
sometimes he just wanted to play with fake samurai swords again.
And when his platoon wasn’t looking;
he pretended to be that child pretending to be an adult.
He knew that when the time came,
he had to let this go,
but for now,
while no one was looking,
he was winning the fight against evil,
and sometimes he would lose but the universe would balance itself out,
he would see his fallen friends in heaven,
they would wait for him,
salute him on arrival.
He would sleep soundly those nights
and
all his dreams
would have a happy ending.

poetry copyright thosestubbornwaves (https://welcometothehumanrace.wordpress.com/2017/09/13/fake-samurai-swords/)

 

 

Complexion

diffusion seeps

a single cell layer deep,

barely cognizant 

of the peel being cast aside

in a wilting weep.

unrecognized within the foliage,

a tender touch of light

on the ancient forest,

who remembers and lives

connection and the grace of balance.

i brush the fronds

and release my future 

to the agile wind.

.

© M.G. Iannucci 2017
https://giannaiannucci.com/

 

 

 

Motorcycle Man

A man goes for a late-night ride on his motorcycle on his way into town.
On the way there, he is approached by another man wearing white shoes.
White shoes asks motorcycle man, “Are you ready to go?”
“No,” motorcycle man replies, “I have so much to do, and it’s late. My son starts his first day of fifth grade tomorrow. I don’t want to sleep through it. I need to tell him I love him and that he’s going to do great things and make lots of friends in school. I need to kiss my wife goodnight before she falls asleep and remind her how important she is to me so she has pleasant dreams. I need to tuck in my baby and sing him to sleep so that he grows up knowing I’ll be his stronghold. I’m sorry, it’s just too late in the evening for this. Can we do this another time?”
White shoes smiles and looks at him patiently. His expression was so full of peace, but he insisted, “We’re going to do great things, you and me. I don’t think you or anyone else understands. Maybe they never will. But we need to go now.”
“May I at least call my friend and tell him where I am first? He’s waiting for my call, but I have bad reception at my house. I need to make sure we have a good laugh so we can each go to sleep with smiles on our faces.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t allow it. We don’t have much time left, and in the grand scheme of things, it’ll only take a moment.”
“But why not? I don’t think you realize what this means to me! Please, just let me have this night. I have responsibilities! I have commitments! I have planning to do and the world to see!”
White shoes’ expression softened, “If I show you a glimpse into the outcome, will you consider going with me?”
“Perhaps, but I’m not making any promises.”
White shoes wrapped his arm around motorcycle man’s shoulder. Together, they saw the future. There was so much pain, but so many miracles along the way as well. Motorcycle man’s sons grew up strong and loving like he was. Their mom told them stories about how incredible motorcycle man was- how they fell in love, and for every ounce of strength, there were two ounces of tenderness. She would never love the same way again, but she did love more fiercely all those around her, especially her sons. Motorcycle man’s friends got together frequently. At first, it was to comfort one another, but then they started laughing about all the amazing memories they made. Each of his friends changed their lives to be a bit more like him. One became a strong husband to his wife. Another learned how to fix up old cars and motorcycles and eventually drove the same kind motorcycle man was driving. And still another friend held stronger to his convictions than he ever had before. All of them increased in integrity.
Everyone who heard motorcycle man’s story was deeply touched, and amazed at how he inspired so much love, courage, boldness, and kindness.
“Okay,” he finally said, “I get it now. I don’t like it, and I know you know they won’t approve, but you’re right. We’re going to do a lot of great things together, you and me. It might be late and the time inopportune, but the time is now. It just doesn’t make any sense putting this off.”
Together, broad shouldered and proud, white shoes and motorcycle man walked the rest of the trail together, leaving the motorcycle in the middle of the road. Motorcycle man left his silhouette there, next to the bike.
The story isn’t over, and I’m not sure the pain will ever leave, but I know that someday, it will all make sense.

short story copyright https://decemberrosecom.wordpress.com

Shimmer in Blue

I was designed                               for a shimmer in blue                       for a merry sailor tune
for all of the things                                      that titillate you
I can see                                  the wide open sea                                  the salt air breeze
like a veil and ring                            like my bride to be
and so                        I ebb and flow                                    I ne’er let go
let the words sing                      into an ocean throe.
Now my heart throbs                       and floats and bobs                          as I ask the cob
why roots start growing                       where there’s a meal on the hob.
He looks at me with a tear in his eye         he says to me that he learned to fly
on a warm, summer day with a clear blue sky      but for every memory adventures bring
you never forget your first goodbye.

poetry copyright https://decemberrosecom.wordpress.com

 

 

 

Letting go?
How was that supposed to happen,
exactly?
You were the air, and my lungs…
not just the blood flowing through,
but my veins, too.
Just,
how was that going to change?

How could you just walk away?
I mean,
you shared my hopes,
my dreams,
my life.
You?!
My inspiration,
my passion,
my wife.
Was everything just…
nothing to you?
If so,
what am I supposed to do?

Letting go?
Wouldn’t it be easier for blue
to become black;
the sun,
turn into the moon;
the stars,
be the sand on the shores…
I,
I could never let you go…

Until I did…
You didn’t’t really give me a choice.
The pain was excruciating,
and my path,
my path was dreary;
but I’m,
I’m so much the better for it,
that much’s abundantly clear.
And I owe it all to you my dear;
for walking away,
and never shedding a tear.

poetry copyright Grabbety Covens (grabbetycovens.wordpress.com)

 

I am in a season of change,
Letting go of pieces of me
That don’t fit anymore,
Making room for new ones
That I pick up along the way
My path of self-discovery.
In this journey I have collected
Rocks of courage,
Of strength,
Of determination
To help me find the me
That has been buried
In the chaos of life
Yet was always there
Waiting for the right time
To blossom in the process of
Letting go.

poetry copyright Robin Baldwin (rbaldwin0204.wordpress.com)

 

 

Can I ever let go?

Can I ever let go of your touch?
At night, I dream of your fingers.
I can’t believe I miss you so much.
Your strokes through my hair still linger.

Can I ever let go of your eyes?
With great pride, you watched me grow.
I dearly pray for one last surprise.
You to return to me, I know.

I know my prayers won’t be answered.
My wishes never come true.
But I still have hopes to be answered.
And one day to see you too.

Can I ever let go of your humor?
Your wit and jokes had lightened my days.
I know this is much more than a rumor
That I’ll never have you brighten my days.

Days keep on passing.
But life must go on.
My heart is fasting
Each day it beats on.

Can I ever let go of you?
To my dearest, older brother,
My answer is a ‘no’ to you.
You weren’t only my brother.

You helped my mother to raise me.
You provided light for her blind eyes.
You’ll always be the best of me.
Until the day, I close my own eyes.

poetry copyright Susanne Leist (susanneleist.wordpress.com)

 

 

The Girl I Let Go

She was a shell, really
or
a shadow of a shell
hollow and barely warm.
Her faint breath could
barely fog
the mirror I held to my face

She was still cloaked in
the garment of expectations.
He spine was cowed
and her posture demure

The only thing
I took from her was
her eyes.

The fury of her eyes
would never diminish,
their eternal flame
is equal parts salvation
and damnation.

And so I left her
their to wither into
ash.
I shed her like a
crumpling snakeskin

and stepped into
the woman
I ought to be.

poetry copyright Jessi (cirquedelanuitblog.wordpress.com)

 

Release the world,
The hold of its illusions
Weighs the heart.
Sensory deception…
Filtered impressions
Conditioned, react
Like clockwork;
Predictably bland.
Embrace the child
Who sleeps within,
Forgotten emissary
Of untramelled joy…
Wake her to laughter
And the dawn of Life.

poetry copyright Sue Vincent (scvincent.wordpress.com)

 

 

 

I —
Have another secret to tell you:
That I once ran through a bookstore
And saw an untitled book.
I hesitated once to buy it,
For who would even read such story?
But still,
I went to the counter
Paid for it
And told the lady
That
I will be extending this story
Of you and me.
Hoping that someday
Our names would be on its covers.
Our story will continue until the ink
Blotches on the pages.
And our story would not remain…

Untitled.

poetry copyright (fattykathyjourneys.wordpress.com)

 

 

And it starts again
The pitter patter
A noise
To break the silence
Asking me to pick the pen
To let go the poem

poetry copyright Priyanka (notyet100hub.blogspot.com)