Tag: Poetry 2014

  • I am the Author of Me! A Poem

    My goodness, my God, life is hard! Well, is it? Can it be? Or is that just how life is for me? Perhaps, it is all in our minds, based on how we perceive. We can choose to rejoice or we can choose to grieve; at least so says Epictetus – though not exactly in those words. Meanwhile, how many of us believe our emotions are beyond our control, that that guiding principle is absurd? Word! For too many of us, life is what we do when we are waiting for something else to happen! And with that attitude our dreams end up in the universe’s dust bin; hardly a triumphant win. Because we eschew personal responsibility saying, “If it is to be, it’s not up to me. It’s beyond me. I have no control. Hopefully, my fortunes will turn before I grow old.” Ah, hope, that cosmic soap on a rope! Is hope without merit? Non! Au contraire, mon frère, but it won’t float without work. That’s the water that makes it useful. Hope without work is like cornflakes without milk. You might be better off eating silk, and hoping to make a purse from it to lend to a pig. You dig?

  • Sunset, Sunset 2014

    What Will Be, Will Be Good; a Poem

    In the midst of turbulence and all that goes on, double down on life. It’s worth it. When you scream inside and cry visible and invisible tears remember, you can get through the challenges facing you. When your existence swirls, disorienting you and filling you with dread, keep in mind that this too shall pass. Things will be calm once again. Skip ahead in your mind, to a better, happier time. You will reach it. You will! Your mind is the key; it is the repository of what can be. Things improve if you work to improve them. No circumstance is so grim that you cannot be in it for the win. Remember that!

  • Small Steps; a Poem

    I’m on the edge; I mean it. Time ticking by; I feel it. Regrets, I am filled with them. I turn to all directions, which way to move? Is this it? Have I permanently lost my groove? Life is so big. I am so small. And I am sitting here, looking straight into the squall. But I have to take action, that is what I need. Get into motion, that should be my creed. Should! What a word, what a concept. I should’ve done a lot of things I think. At least, I haven’t lost myself in drink. Is lamenting time wasted? Maybe. Do I do it? Certainly! Is there another way to go? I believe so! Am I taking it? If I am, it is taking too slow. I’ve got to get into action now. To move it or lose it. To release the energy within. I’ve got to escape complacency, if I am in it to win.

  • Grand Canyon 2014, Grand Canyon, Grand Canyon Photos 2014

    A Winner’s Creed, a Poem

    Sadness grows in a heart of woes, yet the soul is born of light. We twist and spin in existential winds and our mind is filled with fright. But through it all, we can stand tall and keep our faith and spirit. Remembering to stay true, to life that has due, our unflagging desire to stay in it. Tired we may be, on land or at sea, of the tumult and misfortunes that find us. When hit by life's gusts it is always a must that we stand tall and are not easily swayed. Our peers might run fast, in fear and aghast at the challenges that upend mere existence. In comfort ensconced, they may feel they are swamped and desire to keep the fray at a distance. But this is contrary to our creed, while we understand their need to stay cozy in coddled existence.

  • Alive in Colors; a Poem

    Green is the color I see in my mind, of life and growth, of time beyond time. It gives me hope like the lush of the forest. A place of hope, a space of dreams – a feeling of relaxation and park scenes. The plants, the plants, the plants. They are green! Too often ignored in our concrete laden schemes. Oh green! And then there is blue, it is true. The color of the sky and of me and of you. When we are sad that is. But blue can bring me relief, with its cool, calming tones. It can make me feel better, right down to my bones. I do not like to feel blue, but I love to see it. Not in the emotions of people but in the color of the sky. I look to the heavens, not to ask why but to give thanks. Blue does it for me. Does it do it for you?

  • A Bunch of Stuff Hit Me! A Poem

    A bunch of stuff hit me. And so goes life; birth, toil and often strife. But let’s face it; life dishes up good stuff too. Hard to remember but most certainly true. So anyway, things are going along, you know, fine. Not perfect. There are challenges, but things are pretty good. Better than pretty good. I am living life. That is what I am doing, living life. Then, a bunch of stuff hit me. Hmmm, how did it feel? I got this sensation that I was in the middle of the ocean, alone, with the waves growing in size and the water getting ever more turbulent. I just kept feeling like at any moment the water would overtake me, that it would keep rising. There I was in the middle of the ocean. Water up to just under my nose. The sky almost black. The heavens rumbling.

  • Goals, Souls; a Poem

    A bird chirped. A man burped. The remains of a soft drink, with ice, were slurped. The chimes of time rang. Was it my time? If not, it would be soon enough. Why do we focus on this stuff, or not? What, existentially speaking, is what? In life we take a shot. We give it a go. We give it the old college try, whatever that means. And, we wonder why we do not achieve that which we have conceived. We await the reception of our conception as if putting in some effort will be enough. All too often, that is not the right stuff. We need to do more if we are serious about our goals. But, for too many of us, that grows old.

  • Synchronicity of Authenticity

    Solace of imperfection walks Voiceless preaching balks Tomato soup can talks Random noise squawks Willing rhyming, skillful, unjust Suffering oxidation, regurgitated, mustard’s ketchup thrust Dog and pony, cats no phony The rest of us – unjust Criminality of banal blusters bust Talk to him from me to you Consider what you must A tussle, a bustle, life’s unworldly gusts

  • Au Revoir Sweet Sylph, a Poem

    I’m on a ship in a wheel. It’s your life you say, big deal. But it’s yours too. Remember, the day’s not through. And so you go in your bubble. Thinking what’s mine is mine. That it’s not your trouble. But it is, but it is. Grabbed out from beneath the thought. Trough of knowledge. Not from a store bought. Earned by the sweat not of your brow but by your brain.

  • The Average Every Person

    To those fools who claim they know When trekking through life’s barren snow Who ascribe a meaning when there’s none Then fall apart when their will’s not done Blaspheming dolts of an origin certain Who take themselves as their own potent gods Marking their existence by their arrogance Their legacy hollow and frail, not worthy just odd