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Elisabeth Barstowe

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Imagination
by Tygo Lee

When our minds relax, our imagination can fly freely and joyfully...  
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Such a Sad Mess
by Elisabeth Barstowe
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Elisabeth Barstowe
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           >> View all 185

Sherezade spun yet another tale.

I have never seen such
a crooked relationship
One gives all and recieves
in return nothing but hardship.

For years it continued on,
platonic,
money was spent for her
to quench her constant needs.

Hours was spent in anguish
thinking out ways,
any ways to please,
but nothing was enough.

Now you hang your head,
devastated, destroyed,
spirit but nothing than a
fading light.

Still you shine as bright as a star
if you recieve but one word
of praise from her.
Oh, it's a sad sad thing
to witness.

Yourself you stand outside
unable to see the mess
you become
at her slightest whim.
Frantically you swim up stream,
like a puppy eagerly chasing recognition,
but receieving only strikes
instead of strokes.

Your stomach hurts
but you can't see why.
Your hands are trembling,
your heart hurts,
your head feels so confused.
Angst is in your footstep
when the phone rings
anxiety sings.

And you don't see
unable as you are
to break free.

Such a shame my friend.

 

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Reviewed by Gregory Haworth 6/19/2011
I've gone through those times. I like this poem :-)
Reviewed by Axilea MU 4/24/2011
Spending money to buy affection is a doomed choice. When a woman becomes aware of the mechanism, she may keep manipulating, but will certainly end up despising too. A very dysfunctional interaction. Security and love are complementary and so are love and admiration.

Axilea
Reviewed by Good bye (Reader) 4/24/2011
That everlasting question, the meaning of love, human love.
So many conditions, so many distorsions, so many expectations, so many different languages, so many perceptions making the dialog sometimes so deaf and dull.

I give but not what you want, I receive but not what I want, so everybody feel frustrated and deceived, and the heart becomes dry and crumbles away, prisoner of the cage of ego and his bars of beliefs and demands.

But always like the phenix, it can rise from the ashes. So no desperation, immortality is its true nature, waiting patiently the circumstances to bloom more and more splendidly and express the flagrance of pure love, his reality.

Nice poem and so lucid Elisabeth

Alan
Reviewed by Rose Rideout 4/22/2011
Love and emotions go hand in hand. Beautiful write Elizabeth.

Newfie Hugs, Rose
Reviewed by Felix Perry 4/20/2011
Sadly love and blind love often go hand in hand and if you love someone deep enough...you cannot see what others see.
fee
Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader) 4/20/2011
Very painful indeed sweet lady..great writing indeed...Hugsss..stay safe and well..
Reviewed by D. Vegas 4/20/2011
Elisabeth, Yes, that happens quite a bit.
Always,
Deborah
Reviewed by Amber Moonstone 4/20/2011
Such pain and anquish revealed in this poem. Why do people do these things to others? (not really a question) Your words will ring true to many.
Good job!
Peace, love and light,
Amber
Reviewed by John Bidwell 4/20/2011
Wow- very well put.
As a result of one such case I was led to say- I do feel less sorry for those who waste their love- than those who love is wasted on.
We do well to be mindful about falling in to either catagory.
John
Reviewed by JMS Bell 4/20/2011
THE PHONE WAS RINGING...IT MIGHT BE THEM! THEY DIDN'T EVEN 'HEAR' WHAT YOU SAID, ELIZABETH. SADLY, IN A SITUATION SUCH AS THIS, THIS IS THE WAY IT GOES. UNTIL THE ONE WHO IS HURTING ONE DAY 'WAKES UP' AND DECIDES THAT ENOUGH IS ENOUGH...ALL THE TALKING IN THE WORLD DOES ABSOLUTELY NO GOOD. THE ONLY THING ONE CAN DO IS 'PRAY' THAT THEIR 'AWAKENING' WILL COME SOON. WELL DONE AND ENJOYED. THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
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