Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Chance Change

William J. Jr. Atfield Avatar William J. Jr. Atfield - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Chance Change which was written by poet William J. Jr. Atfield. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

Read Poems by William J. Jr. Atfield

Best William J. Jr. Atfield Poems

+ Fav Poet

Chance Change

Chance / Change 

Chance, that translucent shadow that creates change.
Change opened doors, opened windows outwards
into the deep, dark, recesses of inner space – 
space, the dialectic – dilating the synapse –
giving birth to the possibility of dreams, of hope.

Chance, that opaque shadow that created change.
Change closed the doors, closed the windows inwards,
shutting off access to the light, of inner space,
slaughtering all the hopes and dreams
born from the mating of chance and change.
Change the light, of hope- a black cloaked, Grim Reaper.

A Beautiful Drug

This Drug, became a habit,
the habit became sorrow,
the sorrow became a nightmare,
the nightmare became change and loss
the loss of – what beauty was imagined,
has come to an acceptance, of a reality,
a reality that existed from the beginning.

Change, will not go easily into that black night.
Chance, will not give up easily, not without a fight !
This grape, will not a raisin, become !
This ivy refuses to metamorphose into a chameleon !
The shadow, the door, the window, the drug remain alive,
The life in them does not want to be shut out, shut down.
The feeling though – is – it all dies on a vine !
The feeling is, in that inner space, it all - remains ?,
the burial ground for change, for the future,
the end of hope and dreams never seen.

The essence of change, sometimes is a force so mean !
B. J. “A” 2

Will – ful – ness

Deep down, in the recesses of the hidden, the mysterious,
lies the will to hang on, to hang in, to live, – in spite of –
even in the grip of winter’s icy strangle hold,
forcing change to renew, rejuvenate, resurrect,
from deaths hands, an neonate, to journey
into another future, it seeks not, wants not !
The reluctant grape, the loathe ivy,
can not see that they will become food
to nourish our neonate, on it’s sojourn
into the wavering light of the mysterious.
Oh how I love the mystery !, why I love this mystery ?, 
is a mystery to me and is a mystery to her - ( the drug ).

B. J. “A” 2
March 18th 2008

Post Comments

Please Login to post a comment
  1. Date: 3/8/2013 4:43:00 PM
    Bill this is awesome...going to soup mail

    Jones Avatar Donna Jones
    Date: 3/10/2013 4:37:00 PM Block poet from commenting on your poetry

    When you go to your in boxes under member area on left side of screen click that. Up comes two tabs, soup mail comments and poem comments ..not to worry..I am the same way...just learning
    Atfield Avatar William J. Jr. Atfield
    Date: 3/8/2013 6:50:00 PM Block poet from commenting on your poetry

    Once again Donna, I must thank you for your beautiful comment on my stuff, but as for “ going to soup mail ” I am confused, I do not know what that means ?,- I must confess, - any more then I am able to inject a photo on this site or center my stuff. ( computer literate I am afraid )! Have a great weekend ! Bill . ( B. J. “A” 2 )