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Differences You Say

Differences – you say ! I – me Lass – brave Helios, rides his golden chariot, drawn by fiery Steeds, into the vastness of this universe. These mighty Titans, dispatched – brilliant, glowing - ruled, controlled the blueness of this planet, the heavens. Our bright Sun, sprinkles life giving particles, waves, out in all directions – into the endless firmament. Then there is the cold souled, silver shield that traverses that moth eaten, dark cloth, that hangs like lead in that dead laden space, blackness the place you choose to ride – your life to hide. Oh !, if only we would climb down from the edge of fences. Oh !, if only we would leave behind, walk away from defences. Oh !, for us to, but if we only could, reach our dreams Oh !, for us to, not have all those things, it seems, that get in the way – life’s experiences, what it means, from time to time, - that should be left behind – long ago, that hang on so tightly, from fears that you won’t let go. Oh !, for us two, to find the door, to see, understand, to know. Oh !, for us to, for us to realize, that after the end, the winds will blow it all away, into waves of rainbow colours that will show it all to have been a necessary, but unnecessary way to go. No matter what is said and done, it all is the universes flow. A straight line, towards your destination, is the obvious choice. Unfortunately, a jumble of thoughts, experiences, become the voice. A trip – full of baggage – and around the world we go. A carrousel ride, on each and every horse, the story doth show A very dizzying ride it is, the point, to get to know is a journey, of many directions, on winds that blow Live and let live the life one so chooses. Seldom is it necessary if one wins or one loses, not much concerned for – or where or why. For in the end, it is all in the beholders eye. Much too much involved !, much to obsessive, with others and the lives they made a mess – ive. I can only wonder ?, make an educated guess, live with my analysis and know, from the heart you give. I cannot carry the weight of your life into today, for all that was, all that is, need not words to say, for nothing will change, not before, nor after, it’s your way, no matter what one chooses, or not, to express, it’s the game you play. All has come into, become a part of, is constantly shared with, and no matter how it affects, it’s no longer cared for, for it all distracts, disrupts, disturbs the air that we are inhabiting - and not – it is unfair I know that it is part and parcel of the lady fair. If only to the point, but you never seem to get there. Hours and hours go by, I cannot help but cry as I listen and listen, understand, I do try. Actions, activities, motion, play are the order of the day, board games to win, games to lose, but they cannot be had, for it is not in the cards – alone – one can have a say, only but for two, does it come though, to share and that’s not bad. Vocalizing, expressing, gossiping, complaining are your way. Hours to exercise the body, the soul, the mind, it is so sad, for it leaves so little to share, so little time for making hay. Not such a bad way to connect, what a great fad ! Just some of the differences that have come to be what is between you and me, yet there is much more to see that could come into you and me as we ride this rough sea of life, that at times you find joy in this old boy, so free. Happy am I when you come near, when you are here. A little hollow, a little empty, in the end, harbour fear that the sunshine will fade, be covered, will disappear. Which way ?, - our ships passing in the night - will we steer. A Mole Will the Mole, leave her underground, black hole ?, to – with eagles fly – reach out and touch the sky ? will this night hawk, this owl, venture into day light, play in sight of shadows, created by a sun so bright and warm, where day creatures know the storm that rages throughout and within, who shout with voices searing, with knowledge clearing, with understanding of choices made by rending, choices made for, and by them, behind a closed door. Living a life that has been over flowing with strife. There is much to know, about what was laid upon her soul. Some can, some cannot let go, why ?, I do not know. Can the bound, the nocturnal, the frightened ?, find freedom, find in the diurnal, find in fearlessness, a soul mate to travel with, upon day light roads, opened. A soul mate to take into the darkness, the coldness. Can they be blended, one into the other, if the story be told. Differences – are they few or are there so many ? Are we able to live with them ?, or without any ? There we are – two old birds on the wing, with different voices, different songs to sing of any or all, to the table, want to bring. Shed light, and let show, what is our thing which at times has put us into the ring. Sparing in defence of our particular notions, beliefs, as we express – in animated motions, a light, who we truly are in the heat of the moment. Yet the hurt, the pain created by wards, was not meant. Yet they have lent a truth, some truth was sent out from the heart, the soul, life ancient that dictates - in the moment – what’s fates sentiment. PS And what are the differences you see ? What are they ?, what is between you and me ? B. J. “A ” 2 March 15th 2003

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014




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Date: 5/2/2014 3:28:00 PM
Personally I am a fan of free verse, there is no evidence of a lack of education in your pieces. I appreciate a certain rawness in your work. If you have a chance check out some of my free form pieces. Like you I lack formal education but have learned a lot on this site.
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Date: 5/2/2014 1:01:00 PM
This is very good, I'm surprised there are no comments.
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William J. Jr. Atfield
Date: 5/2/2014 3:23:00 PM
That is very kind of you Richard, to think so “ This is very good, ”, and as for “ I'm surprised there are no comments. ”, you should not be, I am not, as you may observe, that seldom comes to the style ?, the subject matter ?, the technique ?, I employ. As an uneducated, I realize the immaturity of my writings, my style and its repercussions. I just do what comes naturally, unfetter, unstructured by the status quo for writing poetry / rhyme. I just lay down what comes to me at a moment and then it’s gone. B. J. “A” 2 ( Bill . )

Book: Shattered Sighs