Monday, November 1, 2021





Tears Come


I do not know why the tears come.

They are from memories of loss

that creeps into my thoughts.

So unexpected when the eyes start tearing.


So many years have passed

since you left me on this earth

though I can feel you and your presence.


Sad when I realize

how much there has been to share,

how life has changed so much.

Hope you can truly see.


The missing never leaves.

It does hide until those moments

when the tears unexpectedly come.


Ghosts Of Red River


The river is angry,

see it with each wave.

Justice has not been done

for the Ghosts of Red River.


The bodies float with no taker,

lives pushed in

for the spirits to end

before their time.


The evil that placed

the young and old into the water

walks away without consequence.

Making the waves angry.


The forgotten and abandoned

held until their final moments

without a care for the living

in the tides of the cold.


The Ghosts of Red River

that have no voice or justice,

float above carrying sadness

for the people that forget

to fight for those

that can no longer speak.


Waiting For Voices


Looking at a cocktail of new pills,

I am starting a new, numb life.

The doctors say it will help everything

that I feel, hear and see.


Started hearing voices after puberty.

I believe it was around when

I turned thirteen, adding to growing confusion.

Looking around a room to find

where the whispers were coming from.

No one was ever there,

not even the hidden boogeyman.


So confusing the voices follow me

though I knew I was alone.

There was never a face.

That may have made it worse.

I never liked others around,

people make me uncomfortable.

They are always looking right through me.


It was the screaming at night

that made my parents believe

my paranoid mind

and the unseen voices

that were guiding in.


The cocktails of pills in the beginning

got rid of some of the words in the air

but my body got sore and lazy,

my heart beat too fast or slow

and sometimes my bones hurt

until the pills were just right.


Now I sit in my room,

same space for years,

watching the walls for shadows.

Waiting for the return

of those haunting voices.




ANDREW SCOTT is a native of Fredericton, NB. During his time as an active poet, Andrew Scott has taken the time to speak in front of classrooms, judge poetry competitions as well as had over 200 hundred writings published worldwide in such publications as The Art of Being Human, Battered Shadows and The Broken Ones. Andrew Scott has published five poetry books, Snake with A Flower, The Phoenix Has Risen, The Path, The Storm Is Coming and Searching and one book of photography, Through My Eyes.  Whispers Of The Calm is his sixth poetry book.

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