Poet John Herlihy visits with Words of Love... The One True Gift - The Mystery of Loving Another - Romantic Poems without the Romance

 

The One True Gift

by John Herlihy

The whole world divided into parts,

Opposites that will lie forever apart.

In the world of opposites lies mystery,

Mystery that finds its solution in unity.

Light forever in balance with darkness,

Agitation in balance with peacefulness.

Hope tinged with those feelings of despair,

Beginnings and endings bounded by prayer.

One half lies there in the presence of love,

Therein lies all joy, hope, intimacy and light.

The other half there in the absence of love,

Therein lies all gloom, as in the dark of night.

Love alone can serve as over-arching bridge,

Love, the one true gift, serving as pledge.

Love speaks not, knows nothing of death,

All I understand, I understand through love.

Everything that comes into being and exists,

Everything exists and lives only due to love.

Such feeling, as if inventing fire or the wheel,

As time in eternity, so many minutes to steal.

- - - - -

Copyright © John Herlihy

Thursday 17 April 2025

The Mystery of Loving Another

by John Herlihy

Who can fathom the mystery of loving another,

Mystery that reveals itself as some rarity other.

I see this beautiful body surrounded by a glow,

The face, the smile, the lips crowned with halo.

A vision of beatitude that no one else can see,

No one else can fathom this lure of mystery.

My own reaction a growing surge of wonder,

My heart beating so wildly it feels as thunder.

My whole sense of self suddenly stripped away,

I bow down to this vision hoping that it will stay.

Love, what is love, a feeling captured in a word,

The sweetness, longing, song of an ancient bird.

You step tentatively forward, extend your hand,

I place my hand in yours, an abiding signal grand.

My heart doth sing but in my mind I simply weep,

Never did I think such an intense love to meet.

- - - - -

Copyright © John Herlihy

Sunday 27 July 2025

Romantic Poems without the Romance

John Herlihy

Romantic poems without all the romance,

Left behind feelings found as if in a trance.

A poem on death that really celebrates life,

A poem on mortality that highlights strife.

Not necessarily poems radical or political,

But instead poems that stir the heart lyrical.

Concerns of the human condition as ideals,

Virtues of our inner life true reality reveals.

How we face challenges, deal with struggle,

How nature’s beauty and mystery juggle.

Forget not how we put love in the equation,

Meet it head on without the tangent evasion.

Romantic notions whether on love or hatred,

All bound together, verses in a realm sacred.

- - - - -

Copyright © John Herlihy

Saturday 9 August 2025

Introducing GhostInkPoetry - Presenting We Write to Bleed Softer... Another Guest Poet from Tumblr Site!

 

ghostinkpoetry

Posted in Midnight Poems

We Write to Bleed Softer

We write because we can't scream—

so we etch it quietly into silence,

 each line a wound

 folded neatly on the page

 no one reads aloud.

Not all writing is pretty. 

Sometimes it reeks of rot,

 of a childhood stitched together

 with silence and duty,

 of love never fully given,

 of being seen but not understood.

We write because the ache needs form,

 and no one else is listening.

 A therapist would ask too much.

 A friend would turn away.

 But the page—the page never flinches.

Some days, it’s poetry.

 Others, it's confession dressed in metaphor, 

like calling your sadness

 a storm so people stop asking why you always carry an umbrella.

We write to survive the quiet, 

to name the ghosts before they settle in. We write because the mirror lies,

 but the ink doesn't.

Because trauma has no edges, 

but a stanza gives it shape. 

And if we're lucky— 

we make the pain beautiful for just a second,

just enough to keep going.

We write to feel seen, 

but not too much. 

Heard, but safely. 

We write because we were never taught

 how to ask for help without apology.

So we pour instead, again and again,

 until the words sound like breathing,

 until the silence finally breathes back.

~~~

@ghostinkpoetry

Beginning Today, I'll be sharing the poetry found on Tumblr where many poets write... If an individual does not immediately provide a name, I will use only the identification used on that site... 

As can be seen from this poem, this writer uses words to try to deal with situations in a life.

This writer has two themes to share--

Her inner life which she is not quite willing to totally reveal

Yet, she is willing to let us know that writing helps greatly in finding relief or at least a bit of respite.

For me, I had to add a last song where I hope the writer ultimately fnds peace

Perhaps you'd like to consider whether my musical accompaniment was what complemented...

Or perhaps suggest anothr song or two that could, you think, reflect how you read this poem.

I found the poem pulling me in as I read...

I wanted to talk with the writer, to share my thoughts

perhaps feedback that is too personal for this post?

The feelings of pain revealed, I wanted to see healed.

Perhaps I could help in some way

Can the author find sharing quietly can help

Let's try it... I'm posting in my group related to merging music with words... Join us there, GhostInk

And anybody else who feels a response to these words, whether or not they are yours...

Italics in poem are showing my response

Dear Writer, you need not apologize writing your words for us! We are thankful to have you share!

Glenda

Verses By Aaliyah - The Shedding by Aaliya O'Neil - Read Her Words - Find Your Personal Response - The Music is Mine!

versesbyaaliyah

The Shedding

Written by 

Aaliyah O'Neil

There is a skin I carry

that no one sees.

It doesn’t sweat or tan,

doesn’t scar the way real skin does.

It collects experience

like lint in a pocket—

the quiet weight of things

you think you’ve forgotten

but haven’t.

It thickens with every

not-quite scream,

every apology swallowed like stone,

every time I made myself smaller

to make room

for someone else’s storm.

And then—

something happens.

A rupture.

Not always loud,

sometimes just the sudden

realisation

that this isn’t mine anymore—

this shape,

this fear,

this script I’ve been mouthing

with someone else’s voice.

The skin starts to split.

Not violently.

More like fruit going soft

from the inside.

More like truth

finally outrunning denial.

It peels back

in sheets of memory—

the smell of old rooms,

the pressure of hands,

a laugh that never reached my eyes.

And beneath—

something tender.

Not new, exactly,

but untouched

by the story I kept telling myself.

I don’t know if it’s healing

or simply change.

But I know

I leave parts of me behind

like snakes leave ghosts

in the grass.

Each time,

I step out lighter,

less certain,

more honest.

Like beginning again

with no script,

just breath

and bare feet

on unfamiliar ground.

This is how I survive.

Not by hardening,

but by shedding

what was never meant

to stay.

I had not reread this poem until this morning.

It is more powerful than even I remembered.

Her response to a challenge for "Skin"

produced a missive of response for each of us

Without revelation of her own pieces of skin...

I, too, have lived through The Shedding

But much later than this young woman

So I am still striving to shed those pieces of skin

And I've shed a few through finding and sharing complementary music that spoke parts of me...

God Bless,

Gabby

Thank you, Aaliyah, for allowing me to share with the world of Book Readers Heaven!

© Aaliyah O'Neil 2025. All rights reserved.

These original poems and content are my creative work and are protected by copyright. Please do not reproduce, share, or use them without my permission.

My Ghosts and Me - Poetry by Guest Autumn Rayne, With Just A "Bit" of Humor... For Her Important Words...

My Ghosts and Me

Don’t go chasing ghosts

People say

They are gone for a reason

Memories swept away in the wind

Ephemeral mirrors of who you could’ve been

The would’ves the could’ves the should’ves

They are all gone and buried

Don’t bring dull shovels to sun-baked earth

To go and dig up past hurts

Unearthing the grave of your maladies

Won’t cure 'em

Let 'em lie

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust

Who are they to tell me what’s worth forgetting?

Which ghosts should stay buried?

This isn’t your haunted soul

These shadows don’t darken your door

Don’t tell me which bones should stay untouched

Pieces of my history lay buried in these sands

Without them I’m a bare bones biography

Looking for meaning in the hollow places

Rifling through folds of brain matter

Searching

For just a fragment of my history

I’m a mosaic of missing pieces

Stitched together with guesswork and mystery

Absence makes it home in me

I’m a form created by negative space

Identity made of dreams

My features reflected back at me

My name etched in skin

My blood beside me

Dreams I’ve held so tight I feel their roots in me

Tell me how do I let it stay buried?

How do I forget the ghost? The specter in my bloodstream?

Half of me is sealed behind a face just out of reach

The tenor of a voice lost to the sea

A name spoken like a wound

Or never spoken at all

Forgotten like he isn’t half of me

Twenty-three chromosomes of my legacy

What did he leave behind, besides my eyes?

What did he leave inside of me?

What is him? What is me?

How much of my mother’s hatred is caused by pressing on a wound

Rather than a fresh bruise

Would he have protected me?

Don’t go digging up ghosts they say

But if I let them lie

I’ll die swallowed up whole by the emptiness of me

My lack of symmetry

One side of me abandoned

A haunted houses, my ghosts and me

So I will dig

Even when my arms shake

When the hot sun evaporates the hope from me

I’ll perform seances in the dirt

Scream into graves and brace myself for what echoes back to me

If the truth is jagged, I’ll bleed with my eyes open

If I find nothing, well at least I’ll know I searched

Sought for something

Rather than settled for nothing

Maybe no good will come from it

My ghosts volatile and malignant

Misty figures of history

Maybe I won’t find peace

Just questions with sharper teeth

But the bite doesn’t scare me

These ghosts are mine

And I’ll carry them with me

~~~

When I read this poem, I knew for sure, that this writer has much to share and I believe it is important that she does... No matter our situation, there are parts of each of us that are hidden, but, often, yearning to be shared and talked about... This poem reminded me of my father who I never knew. But, for me, at least I had his family as part of my life... On the other hand, I know very little about he as a person, as my father... How cruel people can be when they tell somebody to "get over it..." or something similar... In my opinion, they don't have the right to do that. Each of us must be able to seek a caring response... Autumn presents her thoughts, now, in an aggressive manner--she is clearly disturbed with being told to ignore some part of her life that is or was important to her. Do any of us have the right to disagree? I don't think so... Unless it could be done in a loving conversation... I'm having that type of talks with my BFF and it is amazing to be able to share openly, freely and receive a response. I hope Autumn finds that friend some day, or finds that part of her that is missing and still unknown... 

My only thought is that, Autumn, you might find help from a Man who once lived and is not a ghost, but a friend called Jesus...He has always been there for me when there was nobody else and, really, always... Just a thought...

Personally, I normally don't think of it as prayer, rather as conversation... At this age in my life, I'm confident that He listens...but, remember, you need to decide to open your heart to hear... And, you know, He will never say, "Get over it..."

God Bless

Gabby

A Nod and a Red Sign... and other Poems by Michaella S.C. - Including One in Spanish...

 

I can't believe we went through all that

For us not to say goodbye

A nod and a red sign

But I want to hear you say the words

Tell me to stop.

Tell me to stay.

Tell me "What are we doing?

We can't let go yet"

I turn and there is no one there

Not a person to argue

Not even one to stare

Just an old red sign asking me to stop

I keep walking

If the universe wanted, you will be the sign.

- This was not a midnight poem, but it was an insomnia one.

Si te hago un poema, 

¿Me lo respondes de vuelta?

 Si te escribo pistas

 ¿Entenderás la respuesta?

 Si te lo digo con abrazos y caricias

 ¿Me seguirás el juego?

 Si te lo digo con un beso

 ¿Entenderás entre versos?

Te entrego atardeceres,

 para que me des tus noches.

 Te regalo mis amaneceres,

 para que te escapes en mis suspiros.

 Te dedico mis recuerdos para que

 puedas vivir otro día en ellos.

 Te extraño en cada juego de

 miradas en el espejo

 Descansa en paz y deja el

 insomn en mi lecho.

Ah, my child, though I cannot write back,

Know that I love you and

Hold you tight in my dreams. 

Yes, I can still dream of you

 and send you love back.

You look to the sky--sunset and sunrises.

Do you not know, that I am always with you,

Resting in God's Love and yours... Always...

"You are just like her" she said as she left the room And suddenly there was another name on her lips when she saw me, there was another face and feeling. I wasn't me. I was her. I had her tone of voice

 That remarks  that you are stupid, without saying it. 

I had her eyes that look at you as you walk with anger. Why're you walking away from her? 

I had her pain, anger, vengeance and malice. 

I didn't feel like causing pain. 

But did I look like I was enjoying it like her? 

Was I ignorant of the damage I had done? 

She became a shadow in the corner of my eye

As she whispered "you would never escape nature. Now come back to momma, dear. Is time to sleep."

I stare blankly at you

Nothing but rocks and blood 

I am supposed to belong

You care for me and heal Wounds,

 Scare away Shadows that pain me. 

Everytime I come to you, 

It feels shallow Like talking in an empty room 

So I start to scream, Fill the space 

My eyes water, My throat dries. 

And I say I felt your warm. But it isn't true. 

I only feel like I am in a deeper hole. 

They force me to feel everything 

So when there is nothing left 

I will feel at peace. 

I don't. It's just an unfulfilled promise...

~~~

Tumblr - Confessions of a Writing Mayo @theraininthestars

Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/mayo_confess?igsh=eXBkbHlmZHZyMjI4 t

this is my Instagram handle: @mayo_confesshat is my Instagram - this is my Instagram handle: @mayo_confess

Hi Everybody, I've had a special guest poet today that I met on Tumblr...I read the first poem above and commented "Keep Writing..." but she did contact me regarding sharing here at Book Readers Heaven... I got the first poem ready, but I wanted more, so she sent me two more. I hope you like them... Although I have said many times that I don't have the background for reviewing poetry--I normally respond to the words most of all, I did agree to share my thoughts...

This individual, I feel, must write! She has found an outlet for expression that speaks for her as well as spoke to me, and I believe, will speak to others. She mostly writes in Spanish and I asked to include one here. Of course, I immediately went out and translated, LOL. For that one, I felt a response--perhaps not a response that was expected, but it felt right as I wrote it...

When we are young, our emotions are so strong, aren't they? It seems that there is nobody who can understand what we are going through. And yet, when you are brave enough to write a poem--yes, brave enough--you will find that there is not many, but a few who will find that your words have spoken about what you yourself, and they, have experienced... In the first two poems there is a reaching out to a special someone, while in the third, there is a plea--Don't you know I didn't want to cause pain and I certainly didn't enjoy it? Why oh why do we all get into these types of situations? These words force us to think about how we treat others, don't they?

Some people may not, but there will always be somebody who will listen or read what you've written. I find I am sympatico with this writer... and realize that she will need to become even more open to continue to write and work to learn other languages. That is a challenge that I believe should be taken and, indeed, Keep Writing, Michaella!

If some of you are Spanish speaking, I hope you will be sure to leave comments below... Michaella, I hope you will visit Book Readers Heaven again and perhaps...as an ongoing contributor!?

GABixlerReviews

Guest Poet, Regis Auffray Shares Absence (Haiku String) And Abandoned: God You would Not believe it if I told you...

 

https://www.vecteezy.com/

Absence 

(Haiku String)

When the winter wind

Stirs through the dark barren trees

It whispers of you

I can barely breathe

When your picture comes upon

The screen of my mind

Unavoidably

When someone mentions your name

I lose a heartbeat

I can scarce believe

How empty my world appears

Without you in it

In another realm

In dreams when I speak with you

You give me purpose

Now in the darkness

It is easy to fathom

The light that you shined

In humility

I admit my lack of strength

Without your presence

It's hard not to fall

In the void you left behind

When you had to leave

There is not a time

When I do not think of you

Know this is the truth

My friend I miss you

There is emptiness within

Each passing moment

The absence of you

Is a constant throbbing ache

Deep within my soul

I shall not be healed

Until we can meet again

Our friendship confirmed

-- Regis Auffray ©

God... You would not believe it if I told you.

Abandoned

it’s all empty now

this house that used to be

a home

it stares at passers-by

dark eyes

from empty window frames

sometimes

shards of glass

in the grass

glisten like tears

in midday sunlight

midnight moonlight

sometimes

voices come from within

could be ghosts

or just the wind

moaning and hurting

yes there’s an aching

palpable

like a bruised

and battered heart

a broken soul

it’s all empty

those who know

know it’s all because

she went back

on her word

© 2007 Regis Auffray

Thanks for Visiting Regis!

Gabby

Guest Poet John Herlihy Presents The Blessing of Change - Responsive Poetry by GABixler - Change is Only Way to Move Forward!

 

-- The Blessing of Change –

John Herlihy 

The river understands change;

 it never stays the same.

The moon understands change;

 it waxes only to wane.

Tree leaves understands change, 

dying in colors blazing.

Rain understands change, 

becoming snowflakes amazing.

Caterpillars understand change,

 as butterflies in the air.

A young horse understands change, 

such a stately mare.

Day understands change; 

limited to minutes and hours.

Night understands change;

 limited to special powers.

Sunrise understands change;

 shutting the night down.

Sunset understands change,

 day’s smile now a frown.

Winter understands change;

 even its death must die.

Spring understands change;

 rainy days hide blue sky.

Summer understands change;

 days in glorious whirl.

Autumn understands change; 

the falling leaves twirl.

We don’t understand change, 

seeking permanency.

We need to accept change, 

embracing its mystery.

- - - - - -

Copyright © John Herlihy

Saturday 30 April 2022

The Blessing of Chance is wonderfully draw from images we all know and appreciate... Correctly, though, he points out that some do not want nor understand the need for change. It is a mystery only to those who are afraid of change. I really enjoyed exploring his words in this treasury of words...

On the other hand, considering my desire to respond to poetry, or other writing, I have, as some of you may remember, considered the timing of when something has been written and published. In this case, at this time, change only means chaos for millions of Americans. So much so, that to not acknowledge that chaos seems not to respect our need to constantly change. Thus a few final thought-filled words...

Responsive Poetry

--Change is Only Way to Move Forward--

God's Cycles of Change

are constants as His Truth

We change as we grow

Learning Change is good

Learning new things

deciding whether we like or not

Rejecting change that limits or hurts

Still, gaining a new awareness of need

Change is what brings advancement

into the world and our lives

Change guides us as we falter 

Yet provides understanding and knowledge

Change allows us to reach out

to another, to learn of differences

Yet secure, that differences are but change

that we haven't met before...

But change wrought by choices

to affect lives negatively

Is not natural, nor necessary 

even in a world of constant change

There is no mystery when man chooses

 change that does not bring forward thinking

Where is the equator of events of change

which determines good change or bad

Change which brings chaos is

not really change at all

For certainly it over-shadows God's cycles

in which We can peacefully live

Destructive Change isn't a blessing

And only Man creates such changes

****

GABixler 4-26-2025

John is a prolific poet and can be found on Authors Den... I'm hoping he will choose to visit often in the future... Thanks, John!

Watch for another from John Next...

God Bless

Gabby