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Best Growth Poems

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Details | Growth Poem | |

flowers for Chinaski -- part ii

part ii


There was a time
when I wanted to be one of them,

to somehow fit in
with the fancy rituals
of their high society.
But the da-Dumb, da-Dumb, da-Dumb
made me want to puke,
made me want to bounce my head 
off the table, hopefully causing the bone china
and forks
to add clatter to their snobbish 
symphony.

Words like "gossamer" 
flitted around the room,
word so thin but veiled 

and distant,

even the candle light appeared
to shy away from those dry wings.

The snobs talked about how
I was too simple with words.
They did so with such a simple, 
small-mindedness,
the irony provided oxygen for flame
to devour.

And the critics proclaimed that
I wasn't able to love,
when really, I just wanted to get away
from them, 
smoke a cigarette in peace
while hitchhiking back to my chubby cherub,
feel her belly fall and rise against my skin.

I was finally able to love,
and she died.

The previous pain had been for show:
"Look at the drunk ham
feeling sorry for himself."

But when she died,
I distilled tears
into a different type of proof.
I was no longer willing to be
their carnival attraction
placated under the table,
listening to them upstage each other.

When I was able to stand again,
a cold, sharp thing was birthed in my mind,
and 
I wanted to shoot them all between the eyes,
splatter their degrees and deeds 
with their blood and brains.

I found peace though -
stopped wanting to be one of them.

I found peace
away from their chatter
about what to carve on their headstones
or what type of fancy imported granite
their mausoleums should be constructed of.

I found peace in readying myself to be 
consumed by 
roots,
to be perspired into the open, fathomless sky --
the same deep blue as the bird 
who finally pecked his way
through the rusted cage of my heart,

freeing us both.



April 12th, 2014



“i am with the roots
of flowers
entwined, entombed
sending up my passionate blossoms
as a flight of rockets
and argument...."

-- Charles Bukowski,
"The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966"



+/-

Details | Growth Poem | |

Mesopotamia

Iraq is civilization's cradle -
a casket is being built
with the cradle's worn planks.



August 7th, 2014





+/-

Details | Growth Poem | |

Call it love

The night it is barren
from inland to the sea
but I am the one who loves you
you are not alone.

Tonight the sky is empty
stars fall in the sea
I am the light to guide you
do not wish to be alone.

If the world becomes deserted
all eyes you see are sad
I will smile for you
you will never be alone.
 
Sleeping I dreamed you
awake I keep dreaming
I dream because you love me
and I am not alone.

It is sometimes madness
a longing absentee
call it love
and we are not alone...

Details | Growth Poem | |

One World

Love is not a color,
No hue, neither a race.
All of our blood is the same, 
That runs deep within our veins.

If we could lift up each other,
And know that we all care.
If we help our sisters and brothers,
There's a bond that we'll share.








©2013 Honestly JT

Details | Growth Poem | |

When Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer Met Henrietta Huckhellopolis


Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer
was leading a lonely life working nights at the fookfoorfiffenfimmer factory,
where he was in charge of loading crates full of fookfoorfiffenfimmers
onto cargo cars destined for the city of Cincinnati.

There was such a huge demand for fookfoorfiffenfimmers 
in the city of Cincinnati,
poor Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer worked his hunnyhush to the bone.

On one of his few holiday weekends,
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer went to a hair salon for a trim.
Here he was attended by a hairdresser named, Henrietta Huckhellopolis.
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer instantly fell for the husky-voiced hairdresser.

Gaining enough gumption and gallasisgoppingguff
needed to bypass beating around the bush of courteous courtship,
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer asked Henrietta Huckhellopolis
if she wanted to leerlumpaloomp later that evening.

"I would love to leerlumpaloomp later this evening," she replied,
batting her long lashes lustily.

And how those two leerlumpaloomped!

They leerlumpaloomped long through the night.
They leerlumpaloomped so loudly,
the neighbours ended up sticking stuffystoils into their sensilivities,
in hopes of drowning out the noise.

Nine months later, 
the lovers were blessed with a litter of lullaloonillies -
wot with the loud leerlumpaloomping and all.
But, of the seven lullaloonillies,
four of them had two lumpalots instead of just one.
 
Bolstering himself against drowning in despair
at the prospect of having sired freak lullaloonillies,
Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer helped design fookfoorfiffenfimmers
especially meant for lullaloonillies who have two lumpalots instead of one.

Since the double-lumpalot fookfoorfiffenfimmers
were Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer's idea to begin with,
the owner of the fookfoorfiffenfimmer factory
gave Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer a forty percent cut of the royalties.
_____


Fortunately some fairy tales come with a happy ending,
because the city of Cincinnati was hit with a record level of lullaloonillies
born with two lumpalots instead of just the one.
The high sales of double-lumpalot fookfoorfiffenfimmers,
enabled Harry Heironymous Huffenhoffer and Henrietta Huckhellopolis
to quit their jobs and buy into the fookfoorfiffenfimmer factory.

Yes, after getting married,
Harry Heironymous and Henrietta Huckhellopolis-Huffenhoffer 
lived happily hever hafter.
So did the lullaloonillies....

including those with two lumpalots instead of one.







+/-

Details | Growth Poem | |

Paranoid love

Tell me that this fear is just paranoia in my mind, 
we're not straining, we're not struggling, 
we're not sinking, we're just fine. 
I'm not perfect my dearest, but damn have I tried, 
and I'll try harder but I know I'll have the same results every time. 
Do you want me all the ways that I am? 
With all the struggles and the tears and the clinging to your hand. 
I fear your getting further and Im left on the shore to stand, 
watching you in the distance with a bullet in my hand. 
Tell me all this worry, its just clutter in my mind, 
tell me not to worry that we're doing just fine. 
Cause Im scared to run you off and I feel Im falling deep. 
And Im so frightened of these thoughts that its getting hard to sleep.
All I know is that the heart wants what it desires, 
because of you the match inside has turned into a fire. 
And I feel the broken glass thats sticking from my skin, 
Wondering if you'll remove the pain or push it back in. 
My hearts frantic wondering if you feel the same, 
pleading and begging for more than just a saying, 
but to feel and to see that im not alone, 
with being in this love thats overwhelming. 
Once I told you that we didnt have a spark, 
but you were lighting up and I was sitting in the dark. 
And this fire, this blaze its wrapped in desire. 
Im terrified to lose you, I think I might die or, 
maybe disappear from all the pieces falling out, 
im going crazy but when i open my mouth, nothing comes out, 
and I cant explain to you why I just need to hold you close, 
why every time you leave Im scared to let you go, 
why these tears are building up behind my eyes, 
all I know is that the heart wants what it desires 
and it desires to be your wife. 
So tell me in my panic, that your words are true, 
tell my my dearest what I mean to you, 
tell me that this paranoia is all within my mind 
we're not struggling, we're not sinking tell me we're just fine

Details | Growth Poem | |

I Did It My Way

I Did It My Way
I did it my way, not for the applause but because, Failure was not an option and I became a rebel with a cause. I wanted higher education and was told I couldn’t have it all, So I had to prove them wrong even if I had to creep or crawl.
I was accused of having a stubborn streak, Just because I wasn’t mild and meek. Challenging every obstacle placed in my way, And all the negative things that people had to say.
In spite of all the “You can’t do that,” that I was told, I stubbornly did it my way and confidently smashed the mold. Marching to a different drummer and dancing to my own tunes, I kept my eyes on the prize ignoring all the nay-saying buffoons.
To keep on track, I learned to juggle tasks knowing I wouldn’t be derailed. To keep my ducks in a row, I learned to haggle knowing I wouldn’t fail. With dedication and hard work, as sure as night follows day, Success was mine because I certainly did it my way!
6-7-2014 - Submitted to contest “I Did It My Way” sponsored by Shadow Hamilton

Details | Growth Poem | |

'Smothered No More'


Bounded by fear - 
Do you still remember that?
When I would build my walls;
I would let no one in
I would look for ways to cut them off
Especially those who got too close 

Do you remember when I said?
It was for their own good 
In the meantime you knew it was the fear talking
Afraid of the consequences
Feeling that if I let them in, 
They might be hit by misfortune

I never thought it would come to this
I never thought the fear would dissipate –

Replaced by faith 
Replaced by the knowledge 
That everything that happened 
Had to happen

In order for me to let go
To stop myself from stifling my growth 

I needed to embrace the pain, 
Embrace the laughter,
Even the fear of losing loved ones 

I needed to let go – 

I needed to experience the hurt 
I needed to experience the joy
I needed to experience the fear
I needed to fail, 
I needed to fall

So I can stand today
Knowing that no matter what happens
My mind,
My body 
And
My soul 
Is ready to go on –

That fear can be toppled by faith 

If I focus on me 

Focus on today and not on my past

©142704092013


Details | Growth Poem | |

Paradise Leaving Not A Trace

Paradise Leaving Not A Trace


I took the last picture off the wall
 then my broken heart started to bawl
 on the floor lay your broken vows
 fat they lay like bloated cows

The love sworn by your sacred heart
 flipped over like an apple cart
 the corner lay three mismatched shoes
 I sit here , lonely, cryin' da blues

I took that picture and held it tight
 sad memories of our fightin' last night
 you spat upon my deep, deep remorse
 grieved as you beat on that dead horse

I saw dear hope entered my heart today
 I saw a picture that reminded me of you
 the pretty girl had your perfect eyes
 sun shining so like you in her skies

Tell me just one more time how you care
 lie to me even if it is an oath unfair
 whisper gasps of our sex-filled nights
 baby, please forget those recent fights

Lets hang the pictures back on the walls
 lock the doors, not take any damn calls
 undress as we rush into mad, mad embrace
 stay in that paradise leaving not a trace

Robert J. Lindley, 06/21/1976

This was my last poem written to her before my first wife and I finally 
divorced. I had my best friend deliver it. He said she threw it into the 
garbage can and told him to tell me to go jump into a lake. Next morn I 
knocked on the door there, her mother answered. I asked for my poem back 
from the garbage can, she got it and gave it to me! I have it still with dried 
food stains on the last stanza.
I keep it to remind me that too late is a damn terrible place to ever be!!! This 
is the first time I have  ever shared it with anybody since she never even read 
it. 
I hope you may like it , for it shows that young fools
 suffer too. And often rightly so...

Details | Growth Poem | |

My end is now

When I was growing up,
Daily they packed my outgrown:
Shoes, shirts,suits and trousers;
And paid me commendation
As they milled around me
Like night ants around light!

When I was geisha-guy
And my frame was fame
And my gaiety  was deity
Oh they milled around me
Like day ants around rose

When worker I was
And my table was the host
To all that delighted belly 
Oh they rounded me about
Applauded me with their belch
After my grain and grape.

Now my hairs are white
And my frame is gone
My teeth have left
Sight is dim, hearing is poor;
How quick they dessert me
Like a cinema after the show.

It is home alone
As they call me demented
The brats that once me hailed
No one to tell goodbye
Sad today I must go
My end is now.


Details | Growth Poem | |

Flowers Emerge

            Flowers Emerge

Impose your will on the pretty flowers as you may
Trans-formative wonderment of nature 
Entrenched, defiled, they pop up any way in clusters
Vivacious are the colors above the solid stem
Cut cold to death, decay and pain, to follow winters grip    
Excellence defined in the ability to survive
Dangerous are the forces that persist to derogate them    
Yet they prevail against all odds
Death comes but they regenerate
Grass is their shield.  Dirt is their pillow there
Negative winds carry with them ice
Reds and yellows grow on below the sun
Visceral, strangled roots, fragile faces, petal soft, grow cold
Ingenious species, green with envy on the leaf, rise again
A Cacophony of nature’s birds and bees disturbs the peace  
Flowers come in abundance, remain, friendly on the green
Distinguished in divine fashion, exquisite, generous to the last 
Elevated smiles on pollen grains contain the seed of life
Flowers emerge, aware of life
 

11/22/14 Poetry Contest - "Encounters With Flowers"


Details | Growth Poem | |

A Single Soul Cries Out

A Single Soul Cries Out

Across this barren lake my ghost did sail
 lost and heading straight into another hell
Behind, remnants of a dark and wayward past
 treasures stored that shall never last

Sunny skies ever looking down upon me
 joined by those memories soul sought to flee
No wind to send my ghost sailing right along
 on the shore images of a faceless throng

So far ahead a welcoming sandy white beach
 forever racing farther and farther from my reach
No deeds to perform to gain my deep reprieve
 only memories of those I so easily did deceive

Within this lonely lake a single Soul cries out
forgive me , forgive me  , in a wailing shout!

Robert Lindley

note: Once a man raced about all alone, 
stumbled upon a rolling stone,
fell into a headlong dismay,
gathered the courage to just pray,

Words that did by faith then atone,
soon the condemnation was forever gone..

Details | Growth Poem | |

Dead tree

Dead tree.

She stands there like she has for years
The life in her all gone
Once she wore a coat of green
And she'd be filled with song
As feathered friends of every kind
Would rest among her leaves
And as in life the same in death
Our tree will never grieve.

So all alone, she looks, this tree
All etched against black clouds
Although the life in her be gone
She stands there looking proud
And all her majesty is seen
By those with eyes to see
I take her picture once again
Try to catch her mystery

21 September 2013 @1920hrs.

Details | Growth Poem | |

I need it to rain

I need to hide
to drown my sorrow
to not feel obligated to stay a secret
the darkness to blanket my self inflicted pain
the thunder to stifle my screams
the lightening to set me on fire
I need it to rain...

I need to be revitalized and invigorated
to feel serene and tranquil
to be calm and collected
the darkness to bring me peace
the thunder to direct my mind
the lightening to guide my heart
I need it to rain...

I need to escape
to feel the ground at my feet
to feel the wind in my hair
the darkness to blind my captor
the thunder to clap in approval
the lightening to sever my shackles 
I need it to rain...

I need to grow
to heighten my potential
to cultivate and thrive
the darkness to shelter my fraility
the thunder to ward off any imminent danger
the lightening to strike as my weapon
I need it to rain...

I need to be laid to rest
for someone to cry for me
for someone to long for me
the darkness to resemble my abscence
the thunder to echo my voice through your ears
the lightening to flash visions of me before your eyes
I need it to rain...

Details | Growth Poem | |

To whom-

Let's sit together and talk like we used to. . .
when we were young; your voice was like a bass drum-
pumping through my brain. You were a white noise to
block out the rest of the world. 

I can never remember what we talked about but
I remember the silence when we expelled all our stories and fears.
Closer, you came, and I heard the sound of locusts flying-
their beating wings, drowning out my vision.

I was senseless and clung to you, stable and strong.
There was a deep rent in your soul- I saw it one day.
And for a moment, I fell in love with you. I felt strong
where you were weak.

I wanted desperately to be the one. Am I beautiful
enough? to fill the void, the gap, the space? 
When you look at me: you see my shell,
pretty and useless, with soft hands, soft lips. 

You never did find out if I was beautiful. We stopped
talking long before it ever came up. And I-
never healed the part of you I loved the most.
Where do we go from here?

Details | Growth Poem | |

A Modern Haiku


dressed in queen anne's lace  chrysanthemums spray baby breath awaken earth's vase
September 21 2014

Details | Growth Poem | |

Black Diamond

On the border of the obscure wastelands, In the depths of shadows and torments, Far beyond the land of Never Was, Never Will Is a place where I hold you, strong and silent… As the shards of your sensitive sadness prevail, Sifting the awaiting coals below, I shall reflect slivers of your light upon the darkest woe! I fight with the broken alliance within the dimmest coves, I mean to pull you into Death’s demise Where the pained poets prevail and the suns of justice arise So that e’en the coldest of coals reach warmth! Generating power so strong, that the gods step aside As these diamonds-to-be burst into the light of day Revealing your words of Always Was… and Always Will The Black Diamond, once captive…finally free…though coal black still!
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest: Fighting Depression(poems for PD) 12/7/14

Details | Growth Poem | |

Better days

                Better days
Is all good 
To hope for
 The better days
But is there 
Actually better days
Without making today 
The best

Oh better days
Can't be without
The best of today

Better days
Too many knees on the
Ground
Too many heads kissing
The floor
Too many hands 
with ten fingers
Together straight up
Like a triangle
In deferent pulpits
Deferent temples
All to one just
Praying and hoping
To god
For only the 
Better days

Oh better days
Can't be without 
The best of today

Better days
Too many questions
I ask myself
Too many places I
Go 
Like I see life's 
As they live in darkness
While they keep
Hoping for the 
 Better Days
Some believe 
The better days only 
Exist After life
With their religion
While a kind 
Like me live 
the better days
Now with love

Oh better days
Can't be with out
The best of today

Better days
What make a day 
Better than another
How can we hope 
For tomorrow
While we waste today 
Away with our ignorance
Oh live every day with
Love and you will
Always have the best of
The day
With love 
each day is better and 
Better 
Here you will always have
A 
Better days

Oh better days 
Can't be with out
The best of today

Better days
Love yourself 
As you love another
Love what you do
Do what you love
Believe in yourself
For you and your image
Is god
Their is no god but you 
And all around you
Love nature respect
Humanity 
Live not with greed 
For your soul not 
To be lost to vanity 
On and on
Above all
Love life for
Life is love
Love is life
As you live with 
This principles 
You always live
Now as each
New day comes a
Better days

Oh better days
Can't be with out
The best of today


Details | Growth Poem | |

SOLITUDE A LOVE KNOT

SOLITUDE A LOVE KNOT Rushing millipede of rain down my window pane sadness drifts, glided uninvited ounce reef. Unruffled even from billowing strain, solitude steals unnoticed like a thief. Tiptoeing feet over my naked crippling fear. Verbiage expressed in trying train distraught. I... yearning a life of dearest love cheer let it be from solitude, it will sprout lots. Loneliness prism echoes songs of sparrows. Nectared bullet actions, a long tender sought. Brushing my frozen hind with hues of rainbow. In solitude, knowing thyself a love knot. Healing ancient wrongs buried deep marrow. Transfixed by time, dot by dot by dot... (c)Olive ELoisa 5:09am August 09, 2014 POETRY TYPE: RONDEL

Details | Growth Poem | |

I don't know and what if

I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
Let it sink in
I don't know the answer
I don't know who you are
I don't know myself
I don't know how to get there
I don't know her
I don't know you that well
I don't know the next step

I don't know the answer
Or maybe I do
What if I am pretending
What if not knowing is my way of controlling you
Not having to take responsibility
What if I just want to see what you know
What if I am practicing to become a politician
Or maybe it's true 
I don't know

I don't know who you are
I would like to
Really I would
What if we spent more time together
I think that would help
What if you opened up a bit more
What if I listened more
That's not always easy
I'm still trying to figure out myself
That's right
I don't know myself

There are times I think I do
When I think I have figured me out
What if I'm deluding myself
What if I can't handle the truth
What if I need some time alone, to figure it out
What if I don't know, how to get there from here

I could ask for directions
Then what kind of man would I be
What if it would be okay, to question myself
To be able to say 
I don't know
I don't have the answers
What if like you, I'm just trying to figure it out
What if, I know myself better than I think
What if it's my way, of protecting myself

When I was young
A girl said "I don't know you that well"
Still she wanted to be with me
Not because she wanted to know me better
It was a hunger we both felt
I don't know her anymore
I didn't know her then
What if I had said no
Had not gone down that road to losing myself
What if I had waited
Waited, till I knew myself
Just a little better
I don't know
And yes sometimes I do
What if "I don't know" is the excuse I used
To do the things
I wanted to do
What if by saying, "I don't know the next step"
I wasn't responsible
I didn't have to take the blame
I could have waited
But I didn't want to

I don't know
I don't know
But
What if
I did
What if I do
I don't know
But 
What if 
What if it's all nothing but a game
I don't know
Still round and round I go
What if
I stopped
I don't know
I just don't know!





Details | Growth Poem | |

Enigmatic Worlds

The sun and the moon are
in parallel line with our world and
sister world that spins side by side;
interdimensional through reality’s eye.
Vibrational frequencies set both apart.
One is unveiled, the other is dark.
Yet time portals exist in between,
Connecting both worlds both seen and unseen.
Visitors appear through these portals of time,
through sacred geometry they quietly speak
to those who are open and unafraid
of climbing the ladder into the unknown.
Kindred spirits dwell to connect,
inherently aware through their DNA.

© 2014 Connie Marcum Wong

Details | Growth Poem | |

Here, My Dear

Humble yesterday, your intimate memories are now
bearing false witness, following our demise. 
There are scattered whispers of a residential cloud 
nine, that I called my own after the storm. 
No myth could be written guiltier. 
For beyond this stable armor of masculinity, 
existed a worst case scenario that I had obtained. 

It is no fault of your own, to interpret me with the 
simplest guess, and yet, it would be the greatest 
therapeutic comfort, knowing that you recalled my 
brief torture. Here it reads. 

The cruelest servant was obviously day one. 
For as I showered in my own gloom, the clearest 
joy accepted no hint of my presence. 
The hours worked overtime to deplete every page 
of life, that bordered around this broken clockwork 
of loneliness. 

By now I merely existed by priorities merciless 
hand. As I forced myself upon my studies, there was 
no absence of absent guilt on call. 
I realized this inevitable misstep, the moment I 
stumbled into a single entity yet again. 
By the time I found a conscience to shave towards 
a better day, spring had already departed, 
and I was just beginning to exit sobrieties 
unbearable cliff. 

The cause to blame beyond myself was tempting;
to see the bewildered scene, as opposed to feeling 
its complex wounds. 
I yearned for this flood to cease constantly, in 
retrospect, prematurely. 
However, the suffering hadn’t pierced my spirit just 
yet. That cherry that ultimately left a mark on top 
was my sick eyes. 

Perhaps defined as the perfect fate for the already 
faltered, was my cluttered throat, which 
allowed no apologetic cliques to exist in air. 
The devil’s vomit that would not pause until 
more suffering regurgitated, and lastly, 
the mindful ache that vibrated at its own
intervals. 

Friends could sense the hell that plagued my 
sleep. So much that they offered their similar 
battles to my faint ears. 
I heard their souls, but never their hearts; only 
mine was selfish enough for that luxury, despite 
its hostile coma. But then, 5 months, 22 days, and 
4 afternoon hours later, another chapter was introduced, 
and it was entitled The Aftermath. 

The acceptance of what could only be formerly 
beautiful, came to be the answer that cured me. 
In the end, I was thankful for the inferno, and 
overjoyed that these words could be written from 
Solomon’s throne. 

Previous rose, as you open and fold these heartfelt 
abrasions, be mindful of these moments that are no
longer bleeding, but rather teaching, of those bullets 
that never truly miss. 

Details | Growth Poem | |

Soar Among Stars

Let me fly
Let me soar
soar like a bottle rocket
soar like shooting star
star of the sapphire sky
star of the multi-verse
multi-verse of endless song
multi-verse of ballads formed
formed of shatters she's
formed of immortality
immortality unformed
immortality of thought
thought of rainbows
thought of waterfalls
waterfalls of prism light
waterfalls of tears
tears from children
tears from mothers
mothers warm
mothers home
home with yellow clapboard
home with a cat
cat with whiskers
cat with purrs
purrs with cuddles
purrs for dinner
dinner stewed tomato
dinner hot
hot mouths
hot skin
skin nee dip
skin in the game
game to play
game to try
try me
try shusi
sushi pink
sushi rolled
rolled in sesame
rolled in the hay
hay the field
hay Nane Nane
Nane sang
nane piped
piped the harmonic
piped to the star
stars shine
stars explode
explode
shine



*dedicated to Mr. O

Details | Growth Poem | |

Autumn Hope

Red leaves cowardly fall from trees like arrogant men
The powerful wind creeps up steadily scattering them on battered ground
While caretakers gather them into bags and empty them into garbage cans.

The giant trees still hold their composure waiting for the winter band
Autumn chills and winter spills engraved in the soul of every man
Telling us that life is entering another round and hope is still alive.

It has been a miserable year casting doubt and myriad fear
The summer season could not stand up to the parching sun
Events after events stirring up the summer heat but now autumn is here
Blowing away the evil dust making way for the winter crust.

I drove out in the wee hours of the morning and penetrated the clear blue sky
I saw millions of shining stars embedded in  the  dancing blue sky smiling merrily at me
And the cool autumn morning whispering songs of praise emitting sparkling delight.


I long to wake up to  the  day when the grumbling and contention will cease
The war will be completed and mankind will be at peace  
I longed for the day when families will reunite and communities will come together
I yearn for the day when countries will be delivered and enjoy lasting peace with their neighbors.  

The seasons embrace life’s abundance  
The seasons empowers pinnacles of hope
The seasons with its multitude of stars secured in the deep blue sky
And the red leaves scattered on the  ground is a testament
That autumn will bring new joy and stunning changes all around.

Details | Growth Poem | |

WEAKNESS

Weakness
 
It is said that he was weak because he would not
conform, could not subjugate his will, would not
let them imprison his mind, cage his spirit.  Weak
because he stood alone and not with the milling
mob.  Weak, because he would not speak the
words they desired to hear.  Weak, because he
smiled when others wept, laughed when others
wailed, stood tall when others bent beneath the
 toil of life.
 
They prayed for him to come to his senses and
become as they.  He, though he didn’t pray as
they, desired the same for them.  He knew that
there was no strength in the coalition of the crowd,
no truth in the mumbling of old truths, no love
in the demands of unconditional love.
 
He appreciated their prayers, they did not so
much appreciate his.  He would listen as the
sound of the choir filtered through the air and
caressed the trees and wonder why the
vibration stopped when the hymn ended,
why the sermon stopped when the preacher’s
voice stopped echoing in the apse.
 
He would sing the song in silence as he walked
the village roads, roll the preacher’s words over
in his mind, smile at soaring hawks and old
barn cats, straighten a fence, remove a stone,
bid good-day to those who thought him weak.
He was not rich nor was he poor, neither wise
nor foolish, he just was.  And so he shared his
weakness with all who thought themselves
strong, his loneliness with the friendless,
his thoughts with those who sought to teach him,
his spirit with those who allowed their spirit to be
caged.
 
It is said that he was weak by those who never
dared to share his weakness.
 
John G. Lawless//10/15/2014
Submitted to Verlena Walker contest
My shortcomings are overwhelming; however, my strengths are defeating them!