"THERE HE WAS HOLDING HIS HAND OUT"
God, can I hold your hand and follow you?
My child, it is I who will walk with you! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across earth. Your love and devotion are what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You ran to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles and tribulations. We could not speak, it was my light that kept you from going weak.
God, are you a dream of beauty? The holy book.
My preacher spoke of the afterlife, calling it paradise.
I remember now, I felt this company once before, this light.
Many times, I forsake the light and still you never left my door.
I felt it on the day I was born,
the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it once more?
Lord pleases clarify the day I fell down to my knees, accepted Jesus as my savior?
On that day, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my failures’.
Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road. This light never left you.
My sweet child did you not listen,
Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible.
My child, you were not searching for the right answers.
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray enough?
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself,
I always answered even when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your soul's disguises.
Lord, I have other questions to ask.
What should I expect out of my personal sins?
My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence--
How is it that I am in your promise land?
Getting right with me has brought you here!
One more question My Heavenly Father
Can I see My Daughter, Mothers, Sisters, family, and friends?
O N L Y E V E R W I T H Y O U
Only ever with you, I love to have and hold
into the circle of your arms, I'll unfold;
into your blue eyes' greeting shine, my gold;
only ever with you, I yearn to grow old...
Only ever with you I can write rhymes as such
for you bring my muse from dust to dash, to hush
Only ever with you my being wants to attach
as first step already taken to our primrose path
Only ever with you, tips dance linger to cherry lips
Slow summer hands will roam vast to wonderland
Whence pearl white peel smooches chocolate skin
only ever with you, heartbeats climbs a boiling point
Stars and moon may leave the dark skies
yet, one look at the gleam of your blue eyes
day and night, I see the rising sunrise.
Only ever with you, I will dive to lows or heights
for only ever with you, I'll plunge to infinity.
Prayers plea asking blessings from Divinity
to tie two hearts and two souls in sole unity.
Mindless to whatever is there in humanity
Only ever with you...
POEM OF THE DAY -- February 27, 2015
©O. E. Guillermo
5:32 pm, February 26, 2015
And the ladybug placed a caressing whisper into dragonfly’s ear,
“I want to fly again. I crave to flap my tiny wings towards sunset’s crux.
I want to breathe again. I want to be held like winds within canyon’s dialect.”
“But, first, I just need to scream.”
Let me be your breeze.
The power to swim!
The power to grin!
The desire to never, ever fall again!
Let us embrace conundrum’s waterfall to be its resolution!
Let us allow joy to be our bedtime lullabies!
Let us let love IN without full moon’s dependency!
Ride on this impeccable jet stream towards animosity’s downfall!
Look in the face of your beautiful enemies
Daring it to stand above pedestal’s fallacy
Let your radiance be their final intimacy!
Take incipient steps,
Upon mended asphalt wishes
Let them tremble at the sight of your beautifully embattled smile
Knowing they will never reciprocate
Where desert winds kneel in our reflections
For we are an oasis
Forged of blood diamonds; sacrificial memories
Breezes become gusts
Gusts become worshipped exhales
All that I am!
All that you are!
All that they hope to be!
Our Yin & Yang
Will release proverbial boomerangs
Breaking vicious circles upon this genesis
We sway above greener pastures.
Gusts become breezes.
Breaking enigmatic mirrors to see your true colors
With a scream to paint your new canvas
The time is now,
Let your two feet become one.
Rise, my ladybug!
To detrimental trials
And caress newfound trust
Within a gentle
©Drake J. Eszes
I THINK THEREFORE I AM
"An ounce of hypocrisy is worth
a pound of ambition" --Michael Korda
This everyone's want--
stretching an autonomy to unbuckle self-discovery
I got mites and bugs living in my head--
infesting my mind. They... daring a chance
to worm my guts and electrify my peace.
They adulterate seeking ways to emerge
from claws of doubts to grains of trust.
My veil of grace they bite and bite
devouring me 'til I set to pursue my act.
Should I repulse...
then spread my wings to fly?
or should I be a little puppet--
controlled, slave to strings attached to me?
or I'd rather choose a mask--
my gamble to earn sympathy or popularity;
my weapon sheltering my luck;
my fall or my win?
Cogito ergo sum.
I think, therefore I am.
The mites and bugs in my skull blown
from shocks infused by my firing drive.
My cavalry of Modesty, brave to rise
face the furnace of battlegrounds.
Insincerity. Malingering. Pretension
are artillaries luring hypocrisy
but love, honesty and bravery:
the bombs I defy to conquer the trades.
If God is with me, who can be against me?
Standing like a Molave
rooted evergreen, ever strong.
My face bulletproof
to those who I believe wrong.
A standing soldier ready to offer her life
to fraud and tyranny.
I refuse to be fed on standing lies.
The harpoons of verity, I battling dart,
raining towards the barbaric boxes as they...
They are my lioness roar, my freedom and my soar
piercing the pumping heart of those who eat innocence,
** I think therefore I am is said by Rene Descartes
Romans 8:31-- If God is with us, who can be against us?
O. E. Guillermo
10:43 pm, April 18, 2015
Ride the railway, passing the water tower,
Painted production high like a sun flower.
Howls of the engine, hooting as an owl in the night.
Buildings are the trees that come into sight.
Structured stone the jungle, vines the electric cable,
Survival of the fittest, one must be strong and able.
Wildlife runs on rubber, headlights the hunters eyes,
Camouflage the chaos among the concrete lies.
Chemical clouds collect to make shapes in the sour sky,
Blade of helicopters and wings of airplanes birds fly.
The complexity of industry echoes in the acidic air,
Beast hide in plain sight, protection of their lair.
There is beauty in the broken, birth in the breathless blur.
When the railway train passes through the industrial nature.
March 23, 2015
TRUE LOVE SAILED OVER SEAS
Have I met trouble when I met your ocean eyes
for beneath that steady gaze, I reach the highest sky?
Slothful moon turned grey, so the stars: tired and pale
when I behold your white angelic grace. . .
Distant and unfamiliar you may seem,
I wasn't afraid to run, run and catch your gleam
without a guarantee of us becoming one,
still, I pursue to behold you, my woman.
I am no Romeo nor you are not Juliet
but allow me to prove, I love immaculate...
Hundred miles and hundred days we may separate,
yonder, seasons change, my heart to you, I dedicate.
Overseas, each time the ship reach the shore,
immediately like thunder, I trip to the door
for me to send my love letter or find a phone
excited I am, the opportunity, I don't postpone!
Pity at that time, no internet or cellphones yet
so the instant a signal peeps, it's you, I first check.
My ears blush and so I am in fever love
each time our exchange of thoughts began.
Then again while we talk, sometimes, the signal fret,
or without proper warning our chats end to wreck.
Coins gone and so time on shore is done, again I want to dial
My sunshine smile not turning to the river Nile...
My heart on somersaults when they hand me your letter
like a little boy with his favorite toy, I keep it near my chest
awhile I am on reversed cardiac arrest, I confess.
Winter feeling I have blown and within is a summer weather,
ten months or a year in the middle of the sea
with only your letters and photo I kiss, I, in jubilee!
Years passed, I came home and I search your address,
my intentions of wanting to marry you, I will express.
Your parents, unsure of me, they probe too much.
How many women I touched-- I gone to bed with
for am a sailor, they thought to any girl I resort,
I was stunned but I remain calm and quiet
as I know myself, loyal to you and no one else.
I tried to woo them and prove, my only love is you.
God must have blessed us-- as their stone heart melt,
a year later, my dream of being your husband came true.
©O. E. Guillermo
07:42 pm, January 19, 2015
I saw how martyrs longed for love, and so began the play of my flitting heart
A strange girl had I become, with airs of fickle dream,
My heart an embodiment of wonder to all that dared to behold it
Closing my eyes, I would find myself knowing something new would shine my way
Had I known what was coming, the dawn would seem far less appealing...
As all journeys begin, a darkness began to veer its head
The plot of reality melted in dissonant chords...
Dark blue fogs of doubt caked my mind and heart
Though the longing for love never left...
And had it left, no dawn would await me
I saw there were rules setting a foundation for my intensely embarked mark
I knew if I were to feel any twinge of fire,
I must first be rid of the fog...or at the very least find my way through it
How it stung as it hit my virgin skin, not like gentle clouds talking me through it,
Caressing, surrounding and seducing. . .
No, like a poison, the bleak thickness of the doubt choking me
Reducing me to child's tears...I toiled through its torments,
I rested upon rough rocks of rhetorics
Admiring their vitality and honesty...
At one point in time I had convinced myself that I was one of them
A rock- cold, rough... hardened and overlooked...destined to crumble
Though more demands surfaced on this quest for love's Justice
Weakened by the blue fogs blackening,
I cried out in the pit of my heart, surrendering before me
Words...kept so long inside...
I freed them from the strongholds of my darkest nights
And soon there was a deep, hypnotizing reply...
Justice, tall and proud, said from above the sinking pit,
"True, I have seen you before,
A token of adoration you have become,
Crying night after night in melodious black,
With little to take, and everything to give...
My demands are simple, as your longing is profound,
You, yes, you! Take my hand so I may hold you tightly..."
My mouth agape, I stretched out my hand to meet the vines of his fingers
Clutching in sparks, he breathed into me life... and promise of love
"Surrender your heart to the hope of love
When you find you are not alone, as none of you are,
When you praise with your singsong words that passion has altered,
Giving all to a soul you have yet to see,
You shall feel my hand lift you as I do now...
Soon once more, you shall learn- the dawn will always be dawn
And the night will always be your velvet pathway to Beyond."
This, Justice proclaimed in the voice of a thousand cries of birth
The overtones spilling out in rainbows of rapture
It was soon after his visit, I knew I must perform...
Surrender, faith, and action Three keys to the same door...
And they, golden and alight, were in my hands to use
The time came when my heart grew roses, thorns and all
And hearts smashed their way through, though I cherished the burn...
Fogs still lingered in the alleyway of fear
And now I knew not to inch my way near
For the punishment he had whispered like darts in my ear,
"If you, now seeing the truth, dismember your heart,
I will crush your petals into black abyss,
I will reduce you to dust, leaving the thorns,
I am animal in the face of failure,
My tolerance for hate is shorter than an ant beholding a mountain
And if you so much as reject my call,
Hate is exactly what I will allow,
And it will destroy you, oh singing heart..."
This I ask of Justice, on the day of my calling, and yet still today... -
"Tell me, oh spirit,
Phantom of Epiphany,
When the love I so long for locks tightly upon me,
Shall it be as I dreamed,
Or shall I be wholly disappointed,
Left in the agony of reality,
Where roses grow, thorns and all...
Only to wither...and die...
He was so gentle...that he merely smiled and left me...
It was right away, soon after his departure,
That I felt he never would fully leave...
He allowed me to weave my own dreams,
Finding out for myself if reality was truly as magical as they write
And as for an answer, as dull as this may sound... it is...
I, like many tearful martyrs before me,
Continue to long for a love that will fulfill me
Often reality teases me, and I know not if she is demon or angel
Though one day, I will see reality is on my side, ugly or not
The play of my flitting heart still beating its rhythmic drums
The rainbows of overtones lulling me into ecstasy,
As I see words of wisdom thriving in the hands that save
This, though little, I know-
Love is justice of reward beyond our wildest dreams
He sings to us every night, never making promises...
He just smiles and allows us to live it
He allows us to discover, and in turn give...
To enlighten others still trapped in the ruts of fog
Once we feel it, there is no turning back
Please do not let him crush those roses you have made...
Even their foundations were meant to reach the skies
Touching the brightest dawn...and Beyond..
-For Justin Bordner's "Love Justice" Contest
Love you loads, and thank you immensely for inspiring me!
How many souls
live on the edge,
Between the gutter
and the ledge?
A hopeless fear
crawls in their gut.
Each day, another,
The moments pass
Sad, bitter winds,
are all that blow.
A man lay huddled,
near the bin.
will take him in.
Frozen tears, on
Frostbitten ears, and
shoes that leak.
His mind forgets
the games of tag,
Old Crockett's hill,
where down they'd slide.
A summer rain,
the puddles deep,
out catchin' toads,
to tame and keep.
His life began
with dimpled cheeks.
Red tousled hair,
and hide 'n seek.
A tough old Dad
who tricked and teased.
A pretty Mom
who smiled with ease.
They had a farm
with fields of hay.
A few old hogs,
and bills to pay.
One summer day,
the sky turned black.
A howling wind,
brought down their shack.
Dad sold the hogs,
and cut the hay.
The farm was lost,
we drove away.
The next two years,
were grim and lean.
Dad broke his back,
to feed us beans.
When winter came,
our food ran out.
We found old Dad
hung by a rope.
Without poor Dad,
no food, or fire;
Mom took my hand,
the day was dire.
The Sister's face
looked mean and sour.
I thought of Mom
most every hour.
They scrubbed my back
until it bled,
cut off my hair;
then I got fed.
'Twas many years
before I left.
My Mom had died
a tragic death.
Now all alone,
I lived and slept.
I begged for food,
and sometimes wept.
A life of days,
and endless woe.
Now time is dead,
and death too slow.
As you walk by
those 'homeless freaks',
with dimpled cheeks.
Arise and fall; the cycle of life; birth and death are human plight.
A life is lit and it burns short; when matches struck bring in discord.
Flames burn dim or bright; many deny, their own bright light.
a long Sunday drive
south on a winding beach road
to find my poem
I listen for profound words
from a knowing wind and sea
written 3/30/15 for Rick's One New Tanka Contest
written 25th Oct 2013
I don't know if human's will ever see
every soul born, is right where it's meant to be
For the rich to become the richest
there has to be a place for the poorest
The entire world is built up from the same level of dirt
each soul is born without knowledge to cause hurt
Humanity teaches us what a human's life is worth, by money and glory
I am to believe "all lives are priceless, every soul fit's to tell Earth's story
The luckiest to be born, is that of a poor man
he learn's the treasures, of "everything he can
Those born into all riches, have no true understanding of "richness
seeing us not as human's, but those living in poverty "as an illness
Love start's from the soul, and from there, it is taught to grow
the rich find another kind of love, one only brought with dough
Love, trust, compassion and grace, defining the difference in richest and wealth
t'is the beggar off the street, who climbs the toughest road to earn his wealth
He is the most blessed man, he is rewarded with the most valuable key
for his wealth, is humanly "uncountable, for only God know's the value of he...
Thank you for being patient,
Thank you for understanding I'm human, after all.
Forgive me for all the mischievous prank calls.
Much of what I said and done, was out of fun.
Now, I sit on this rocking chair getting old.
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor it has been
Passing this land we call "EARTH."
Reminiscing over the beauty and honor, yes-------------- REMINISCING!
Sorry if I repeat the same beat a thousand times....
You see, I sit here every day thinking this world is mine....
Trying not to forget, who I truly AM.
Every moment there has ever been or ever will be,
Finally is taking a toll on every single feeling and memory.
Time, Yes------------------ TIME!
The wrinkles on my face will never describe how many birthdays I celebrate.
The wrinkles on my face are stories reminding my readers,
Where I've been and come from.
How consistent, and fortunate I've been,
Babbling about my past, present, and future;
The only advantage of the word "TIME."
-- It helps fade hurting moments away--
You see, time is the essence of memories.
"Growing from young into old, was not as easy as it sounds."
Please be patient with, Wait! I said that already....
Thank you for understanding what I’m going through.
Please just listen, please, be patient with what's burning deep down inside.
It's almost dinner time --once again, I mention the word "TIME!"
I'm not hungry right now, the food just isn't the same when fed through a straw.
Besides, have you seen the garments ''they'' have me wearing.
Never thought I'd live to see myself in old-fashioned nightgowns.
Time keeps adding silver to what used to be pretty reddish brown hair.
Time what have you done to me?
Please excuse if I can't work a remote or function the TV properly.
What has happened to simple technology,
When everything came with only "ON and OFF" buttons.
Try to understand what I’m going through, my legs never felt this tired before.
I can't seem to keep myself on the same path,
I lose track of time when navigation issues on my own.
Take my hand, lead the way and understand I can't see as before.
Time, please allow the joy to take its time when my end is near.
Thank you, Time, for all the loving moments we shared
Thank you, Time and please be kind and end my life with love.
End my life with love-----
End my life with love-----
Wait..... I said that already....
Thanks for having patience.
The Little Old Lady Across the Street
Only one life
Soon will be gone
End of your lyric
But not of your song
When it is sung
What will it say
Will it be bright, or
Will it be gray
Self focused or not
Adventure or fear
Aimless or purposed
Will it be clear
More than memories
Make a legacy
Invest life wisely
Before you're set free
You Made the Stars Hush
A simple man was he, one child of ten,
Who lived and worked the farm with family,
But stardust fell on him…time and again
He hid away to read his books to see
What life could offer him and he give back,
If he would leave the farm to chase his star
With talents that would keep his dreams on track…
And so he left to raise his future’s bar.
Concerned for family for what he’d done…
One son of three now gone, and only two
Remained to work the land beneath the sun…
But still he followed stardust trails anew.
No school beyond eighth grade, he still pursued
Production of the tube-based radio,
In Nineteen-Thirty, when its parts were crude
Yet intricate…and he became a pro.
The stardust led him to a higher plane
Whereby in time he owned a factory,
Employed so many workers who would gain
Good living in a time of poverty.
Oh Dad, you hushed the stars…you did not fail,
With inner strength you followed their bright glow,
To choose this path that led you to prevail
And help so many people live and grow.
This gift of courage you have offered me
To follow and make use of dreams to share,
To let our stardust paths lead on to free
The will to seek the best on our life’s stair.
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
Contest: Screwed 11
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Contest: How You Make the Stars Hush
Sponsor: Justin Bordner
Seeds of sorrow lay scattered along our path
so oft intertwined with Nature's wrath
Yet till the fields of dreams we simply must
for soon , so very soon we turn to dust
Green is the color of majestic newborn fields
as man enjoys fruits of earthen harvested yields
The sweat and pain given is the simple cost
thus we survive so ALL humanity is not lost
Life requires our own ground be rightly prepared
ignorance is the calamity so many are ensnared
We eat the dust long before we bake the bread
when we seek ease oft great sorrow we get instead
We plant our own seeds to dream to reap anew
yet we all pay, life is not free, tis so very true!
Robert Lindley, 10-01- 2014
note: Inspired by this morn's reading of Debbie Guzzi's
super fine poem , a great sonnet -- The Sowing
I give thanks for this inspiration and the joy in reading
both her sonnets this great morn. Certainly brought me
out of a slump and crazy haze these last few days..
Amazing how sometimes another poet can blow one away and change
another's entire attitude.
LIFE IS LIKE A MAYPOLE
Outstretch above are blue skies and golden sunshine
as train of threads is softly thug and braid to a pole.
Behold, this sky high pole of bright crayon colors,
they speak slowly about life in quite a number. . .
Sturdy wooden pole standing high and tall
is like a man endowed with wit and strength
The lengthy colored ribbons children install
are the shifting, rolling faces of life's events
Black as night sometimes dawn in life,
one maybe blue but not long, instead
do stand and chase rainbows on green belt bend.
Being a tickled pink to explore, never strife!
See, how the color red blush as it dance in the wind
so must we as we share love along kinship line
we aren't all born with a green finger
yet, each kindness touch, grin lingers!
Shed that yellow-bellied skin
to mingle without any charign.
Our life is given by God in silver plate.
Hence, let our daily goal be a red-letter day!
If we do, earth and sky may wed of rapport
like the ribbons together pulled and blend
by hands of dancing children that mend...
Raising the Maypole aloft with ribbon pour
so is a lived life despite black and blues decor.
As the threads slide smoothly in span of minutes
we, humans, must climb to reach our full limits.
The intertwining colors that fused, all roar
salad differences of man can be sorted, united to be one.
Screaming colors tickle lowly spirits' to fire
daring man to live before his body will retire. . .
Living life to the fullest before each setting sun!
11:23 pm-- February 02, 2015
Sponsor: Seren Roberts
Contest Name: Life is like a Maypole
It’s a wonderful feeling as you gladly air your sweet melody
The canticle of your ebbs is heard from your sweet glee
Children shriek with laughter as they feast in haste
Adults lay down to feel your scent and enjoy the rest.
The blue sky is the reflection of your innate beauty
The Mighty Creator had laid you down there for everybody
Your smiles spark in different hue of blue and green
But at snap of fingers, your splendor has been stolen
The clear blue sky draws its huge curtain on your sight
As the spilled oil tinges and oozes its ominous color of the night
The sun sets in the middle of the day, does he go and ask for help?
Scream is heard when you’re left alone in yelp
The dawn has to come; yet, you’re still down there and helpless
But waves rise up collecting your strength which scattered into pieces
Your calmness echoes in hope as you keep yourself in prayer
That someone will take you out from an odious nightmare
Soon you’ve a glimpse of light from afar, just out there
The sun’s vigilant call lighting up the hearts of every scavenger
Shining brightly once more as they work on amelioration in short range
You realize that sadness and pains are transient in this world of change
The sun finally opens the curtain for a clearer and brighter sky
The scavengers work hand-in-hand, in starvation they’re afraid to die
Waves move towards the shore shaking their ears like cute puppies
Taking care of sea creatures and throwing all unwanted wastes.
The Mighty Creator is so good, He always let the sun shines again,
Through prayers and strong faith, hope will be strengthen
And when humans, the stewards work with nature in perfect harmony
A brighter tomorrow comes in His Divine Mercy.
April 26, 2013
Contest: Enlightenment, Hope and Harmony
Sponsor: Russell Sivey
My one burning wish -
I want not to fade away
like rotten lace, dumped
onto a trash heap and forgotten.
I want to leave myself behind,
for those who come after
to inhale during breakfast.
Not money, like my mother,
who judged it to be the only thing
of worth she had to leave behind,
as though her love meant nothing,
as though her virtue didn't count.
A nonpareil pattern of motherhood,
of personhood for that matter,
written in permanent script,
propagated in layers of goodness,
flung onto her progeny
with the glue of infinity.
As long as I live, so will she.
I want that,
when it's my turn to go.
B-R-E-A-T-H - OF - L-O-V-E
Summer sun or winter freeze pulls heartstrings in trapeze. . .
Cotton soft to gnarled callus vows have thread along my way
embroidering ribbon actions to pliant swings of reactions
like a darting fish thrilled to catch a passer-by knees.
Two pairs of eye sew webs to bridge affection display,
pines teeming green crown my arrested heart--
tachycardic I am... each time I hear your sound.
Has breath of love tickled my nerves to interaction?
Like a bee I'm drawn to your sweet ambiance 'round
hoping by miracle it will birth me a fresh start.
Scents that streams from bulbs swirl on wafting wind--
Ah! They all fell to shame for your breath of love tames.
Once a rebel soul that long been thriving for satisfaction
with breath of love that resuscitates, I mend my flame
channeling muse to stroke the peak density of mind.
Slender February breeze taunt my fingers
to type rhymes that shy edge of reason.
Eternally plunge in surrender
I-- filled with breath of love ships my horizons
to script stories in shades that lingers. . .
***Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name your Favourite Old Poem
12:31 pm, February 07, 2015
His poems created melodies
Of angel's wings and restless seas,
Of crisp blue mornings and cloudless skies,
And pearls of wisdom that help souls rise.
This all was written from the heart;
No less pure than Raphael's art.
He stroked the canvas of our mind,
And helped the searching soul to find;
That we can learn life's melodies,
And fly above the restless seas;
Into the cloudless morning skies,
Until at last we realize.
We all are artist in a way.
We mold our lives with heaven's clay.
Though many brushes stroke our mind;
The final picture, we've designed.
The morning comes; all is still
as the sunbeams glisten through the curtains.
I sweep my mind of night's unconscious bliss,
when life was momentarily free
from the pain of dreams unfulfilled and
the inability to cope.
As my consciousness takes over,
the new day's plans unfold, and suddenly,
like a bolt of lightning,
new hope leaps into my heart.
This will be the day—
the day of accomplishment,
fulfillment, of peace with myself,
with those I love, with nature,
with my God.
At once I'm caught up
in the trivialities that separate me
from my hopes and dreams.
The early morning thoughts get swallowed up
in the day's tedious routine.
I follow my plan as best I can...
But life can exist by plan just so far.
The day is full of side tracks—
uneventful little nothings that slip in between.
And the day goes on.
Time speeds by in its steady way,
never looking back or pausing—but going on,
an unmerciful enemy,
and my plans dissolve
with the ticking of the clock.
Before I know it, it is too late.
The day is done; the quiet night sets in.
Yes, the night once again. The time to tally up.
Oh God, it has happened again.
It's been another day—
another day of little nothings.
Another day like yesterday,
and the one before, and before.
I didn't grasp the unattainable,
that moment of moments.
I lie in bed awake,
day's plans not even half completed.
A moment of failure, of self-pity.
What have I done today?
Worse still, what have I left undone?
Then that special night it came.
A time for reconciliation, an inner voice—
perhaps God's answer.
What is the matter with you?
Are you not alive and well?
Are you not loved, and do you not love in return?
Have you not helped someone today,
even in the smallest way?
Have you not made someone smile, or
perhaps comforted a child?
Have you not heard the song of a bird?
Or seen the beauty of a tree
swaying in the breeze?
Or felt the warmth of the sun,
and the cool of the night against your skin?
Have you not watched any one of nature's
mystifying wonders at work?
Each one of these things is likened
to a miracle in itself.
Each one, a unique experience
the importance of those little nothings
became magnified a thousand fold.
I came to realize a day is not an entity in itself,
but a building block of life,
each one of different weight and size,
depending on the kind of experience within,
and the little nothings,
the cement which holds it all together.
Today was not the same as yesterday.
It could never be the same,
no matter how trivial and uneventful
its moments seem to be.
Today is another building block,
different from the one beneath it.
Tomorrow is another day,
cemented to today by little acts of love
and giving of oneself;
by sharing and appreciating
the simple and wondrous
miracles of life.
Tomorrow is another day.
Despair is gone.
I am at peace with myself,
with the ones I love, with nature,
with my God.
Tomorrow is another day.
© Sandra M. Haight 2014
All Rights Reserved
WHEN WISDOM WALKS
the truth's eyes.
They seed buds of sin
which unfolds to depravity,
as they... can smother hope or stroke all lobes of the mind
but if we let honesty spearheads our deeds then there we permitted wisdom to walk...
Sponsor Rob Carmack
Contest Name Fibonacci
12:32 pm, March 14, 2015
DREAMS OF YESTERDAY AND TODAY
Leaves falling during autumns years
they bless my ribbon memories of how it was
childhood shadows brown like withered grass
for now am old and soon shall breathe my last..
I sit quiet to travel on bygone days,
on the streets before, I have ropes to play
blend of dolls and bubbles also made me gay
but the child in me still yearns to pass these ways.
From curves of mountains to nations across the sea,
to journey more, I ask God to direct where I'll be...
I passed a plant its leaves swaying with the breeze,
years fold, the same plant is now a fruit-bearing tree.
I view the puffy-feathered skies and its blue,
I smile each breaking dawn for it's silvery new.
I tackle each task fast and through but before I knew,
hours gone and done, I finished some-- I missed a few.
When evenings globes of wordless speech shine
allowing me to run, run into garden of dreams,
of childhood once supreme but they shoot away
in flutter flash on life's fluctuating stream.
I hugged my knees to stop my tears a while
remembering decades when my body is still a child.
I keep the tears to my chest as I go by,
if only, good times replay... I want them again.
Each bulging grin that rise unto east horizon,
Each satellite, modelling slow on her turning points
in stellar of green, and her clouds of powder white,
I quench my thirst drinking the beaming tides.
Down earth, I linger to verdure adorned of rosy blush
even from the arch where the gentle winds is seen
to dwarf liquid curls that roll near the shore,
I dreamt yesterday and still am dreaming today...
Twenty years ago, blooms and fruits hang on vines
so fragrant, so fragrant were those days of mine
Now no more; their traces I could not find;
Today, I need to make more golden memories
etched to time as later, I'll be leaving them behind
And if someday, one wanders in my lifes forest
despite blowing winds and thunderstorms,
like the tiny plant, may I be that fruit-bearing tree.
Open Poetry Contest - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Charlotte Puddifoot
OLIVE ELOISA GUILLERMO
9:15 pm, July 11, 2015
Watch this girl...
she has her eyes
on a rising dandelion
sprouted in high grass,
a pensive girl,
weaving her way through the fields,
looking past weeds to her future,
making her way through a maze
of thistle solitude, on Saturday afternoons,
down hallways and classes on Tuesday,
teacher and stranger and parent
expectation, she approaches
a destination beyond home,
clutching the flower
to her budding breasts
Keep your eyes on her...
she is residue of the mute child,
now entrusted with a knowing mind
and well worn shoes,
still clutching the flower
to her breast...
She peers through pages of old photos,
scratching through scraps of half-heard
some color and clarity
with a dim vision of the girl
that held a prickly spine
of a spent dandelion
with compromise and resignation
Unable to mouth a sound,
I wish to warn
each teacher, each mentor, each censor of the flame...
I want to shout:
"Watch this girl...
who held a weightless flame
of windswept dream in her eyes,
making her way,
mediating between her reality
and every longing she ever had...
Look back to this girl
who has always maintained
an unblinking gaze on the white star
of dandelion in her hand"
8) "One could not pluck a flower without troubling a star."
Icicles on leaves and branches of trees
They begin to melt down bit by bit
Rays of sunlight appears, as winter cease
Freezing air fades, as glow of sun increase
Squirrels, rabbits run wild and free
Birds of various speed soaring high
Their mellifluous tweets, a melody
Piebald butterflies dancing merrily
Leafless, lifeless trees in healthy living
Colorful buds of daffodils, magnolias around
Their natural beauty, a wonder, stately astounding!
Rain falls, softening the earth as new shoots abounds!
Frozen grasses before, now stilled with energy light
Blossoms as well, humbled with new beginning
Seeds scattered rises as in springs
Snows gone, as sun's refulgence a revering bright
CITADEL AND CONSTELLATIONS
The green leaves in rugged moans;
The tall bushes in rumbling groans;
The roofs train creaks-- their fugue
blow cobwebs hugging branches below,
such are precursors inviting darkness lair
for stormy clouds before crowd the days.
Yellow horizon seem unreachable honey
as in my life's ocean, balloon billows I bear.
I-- surged in every swell to skirt yet still
lashing waves dashed pushing me sometimes to despair.
Again, cataclysm walk unheralded casting loose
my arms lift upon the glimmer of silver lining from afar
somber shadows enshrouded me in a mist of struggles.
Ounce of strength I have, I try to juggle and juggle
yet, curses fell from hearts and lips parched of love.
All these came, one and all --
the flowing light has flickered flash and gone
but beyond all these you stood -- my sentinel...
You hushed the bad constellations hanging 'round my world
like a lighthouse guiding a lost ship to his home.
Yes! You are my beacon, a promontory amidst
cyclic onslaught brambles and chameleons,
a rock to cling in the wind's creeping fury,
Staunch and firm, my ñhero fighting the torrential
cascade of tirades and reproaches: MY CITADEL. . .
***Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name Your Favourite Old Poem #2
***Sponsor Justin Bordner
Contest Name How You Make The Stars Hush
06:37 pm, February 24, 2015
Magic is everywhere, but stage magicians,
have no clue, as to what it really is.
Magic built our universe.
That something so complex, as the universe,
could be born of a few elements of pure…magic.
That, intelligent organisms can grow,
from carbon and evolve; that’s magic.
A flower, bush or a tree, unfolding from a seed;
Real magic; the nature of everything.
An atom, cell, molecule of DNA…magic.
The Visica Pisces in the seed of life,
gives birth to the flower of life.
Metatron’s cube is geometrical magic.
That, all that exists, is composed of numbers;
Ideas are born of, dream magic.
Whole civilizations, are birthed into existence by…
Magical wonders, reflected in young eyes;
stir the emotions and captivate the senses.
Scientists…magicians…they’ve no idea,
of how real magic works.
The magic that creates all life,
is beyond known physics;
metaphysics and its comprehension’
lie in hidden realms, where human ego,
blocks science from going.
The real magicians;
those who dare to cross the line,
ego has drawn,
are persecuted and maligned by colleagues.
As magical history unfolds,
wisdom is revealed.
The same science that says:
“humans use only one third of their brain capacity”;
all too swiftly, negate the other two thirds.
minimizes its own knowledge;
its own magical existence.
Doubt is a game, played by fools;
while belief, is the magical wonderland,
of materializations; yet to manifest.
What exists. in the imaginations magic hat…exists.
Just wave the wand of belief and produce.
Skeptitis, is an overwhelming malady.
Its swollen tendrils,
have kept the world in,
stagnation; far too long.
Belief is the only cure;
the magic of faith,
does move mountains.
BLOSSOMS and BUBBLES
From aggregate supple stellar petals' smile,
spring fragrance bubble spiral free in the air,
their porcelain blossoms dash perfection flair;
suitors bee, beguile the flower by buzzing style,
the blooms' fingers rush to blushes beyond compare.
Bard wind began to sing to serenade the buds in grins
rosy petals breathe a gentle sigh, one long mile...
Afar, some girls and boys see these Belles so rare--
they blow their dreams to root in land fertile.
They hope like blossoms their dreams curve in peak
though trials, struggles may round and round peep
for soon as seasons rouse may their journey begin
To the times their life drifts, avoiding not to weep
These blossoms and bubbles psalm, wisdom speak
J.A. Fraser and O.E. Guillermo
9:37 pm, March 03, 2015
It’s a New Year
venture into beguiling dreams,
embrace sublime light and take flight…
uncharted waters beckoning.
MERGED IN SURRENDER
Kiss me quiet under the rain~ skips and pounds,
awash the tears and pain fevering my anguish,
with the July moon to stir my slothful frown,
wide-skirted trees swing demure on the breeze
their cyclic sops and bows-- a dancing clown.
Our hands clasp to spins and turns on that wet ground,
tango to loves groove, we are pleased to tease
as this emblaze our spirit and behold our strength.
The air touched by purple lilac blossoms caress--
it velvety flirt tickling our pact distress.
Our hungered bodies beseech on nightly bounds
in a ballroom beseem for loving grounds.
From lips tiptoeing on skin, so easy they appease,
to strokes flavoured by glows of summer reprise,
slow to fast moves wings a-twitter heated degrees
as this emblaze our spirit and behold our strength.
Among the years where there's whispers that seize,
experience match our heartbeats on impermeable squeeze
and if tension snaps on daylight and nightfall sound
in search of essences where rubbles or debris abounds...
In the absence of solution, should we stop to care?
Ah! Let crisp leaves of autumn display our memories,
cherish the days when February sings Spring: our promise
as this emblaze our spirit and behold our strength.
Hearken thoughts and hearts merged in surrender,
the shaped images and forms impress the depths,
our love root a seed echoing the song of forever
as this emblaze our spirit and behold our strength.
***The first three stanza didn't follow definite rhyme format but the rhymes are retained as much as possible on each stanza except the last one, the envoy is rhymed with.
Sponsor Catie Lindsey
Contest Name Not Your Average Ballade
9:53 pm. April 21, 2015