Writing is what I do to keep myself sane while life goes on around me. I never would have imagined that I might enjoy writing poems.I have only just recently started to write. Almost everything I have written I have done in the last 5 years or so I guess.I know writing really takes a lot of negative emotion away from me that I used to bottle up inside.It isn't healthy to the hold bad experiences ... more »
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Mark Normand Poems
Alone again inside it seems. With plastic friends and broken dreams. I sit in empty darkness beyond measure. Today just like so many things.
Go away my pain and sorrow. If you must come back tomorrow. Today I need to think of something happy.
The Last Goodbye
Look at me, please don't cry my darling; it's nothing I will be just fine. Smile, show me your beauty, let me look at my love one last time
Today just like so many days I waste away to nothing. Standing here, frozen by fear, I feel I must do something. The light within has grown so dim; the sunshine of my being. A cold grey darkness fills my soul; an empty lifeless feeling.
Smile upon the morning, a warm look about the day. A happy bright demeanor, to help you on your way.
When I wake up cold and empty. After all the good within me. Slowly drains out of a hole and I can't cry. I try to speak and all at once I find.
I will try for a thing. Of great beauty that sings. With those who would bask in it's light. I have been in distant dreams.
Ship Wreck Of Faith
On the high seas of life, with no compass for direction. Held prisoner by emotion in my mental insurrection.
Put on my shoes and walk with me into my world of sorrows. My endless state of loneliness, cold pain, and lost tomorrows.
Once I thought about a day. Where faith and love had gone away. And the only thing left was the color gray. Could I find a reason to live?
I'm here at the front of the back of the line, I was last but I think I'll go next. I've been here so long it seems like forever, I think it's time I sat down to rest.
So tender a flower, as the wind blows against her. The darkness of this world pulls her down as she cries.
Our words are not just chatter. A bunch of useless sounds. Our words were meant to matter. To be kind, not to boss people around.
I think you are beautiful because of your eyes Blue as the ocean or the mid day sky. I think you are gorgeous because of your smile Sunshine and happiness glow from inside
Comments about Mark Normand
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Alone again inside it seems.
With plastic friends and broken dreams.
I sit in empty darkness beyond measure.
Today just like so many things.
Has ended lost and incomplete.
I failed to reach the special place I treasure.
True happiness is what I seek.
Still I remain a lucid freak.
I write of life with no real love or pleasure.
I write because if I would scream.
No one would hear the words from me.
I'm lost inside this dark cold world forever.