William J. Jr. Atfield | + Follow Poet |
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This Day Is Bright Thoughts Take Flight

This day is Bright ! 
Thoughts take Flight .

Music – the companion of my soul !
Books – the confidants to my mind !
Daughters – the reasons for life to know
more than experience has allowed me to find
in a life where todays existence
is little more than yesterday’s experience
brought to the surface – from time to time –
in thought, in memory of what was sublime
living, knowing, movements written in rhyme
unfettered by strings, shackles and chains
that tie, bind, weigh down so nothing remains
of the life that once was embraced with enthusiasm, 
– kissed passionately !, the mouths of opportunism –
all its expressions, hugged its passing with gratitude 
for all that this poor old soul was allowed to include
in its brightness, as it burned holes through the black
fabric of times passed, leaving scares, no longer visible
yet still felt in the waning light, but not looking back
at the passing or being passed, no matter how credible
it gives cause for one to wonder, what was truly of value ?,
being passed on, what light did I shed to guide ?
it seems as though, nothing did I provide
to warm and comfort, each troubled soul
these Daughters of my dreams I do not know.

Forces

Inspirations, the force in talent that leads on,
lives on while the unsure, insecure follow, drift, or gone,
carried away by murky waters in roadside ditches,
until it’s all gone, left by the wayside, life with witches.

Father, Daughter Dilemma 
Ships passing in the night

Daughter, Father – two cosmic souls – alone,
who are on the run, empty ships, made of stone.
Stripped clean, rudderless, floundering in life’s seas.
Slipping through fog laden blackness of night, sees
not, but lack of freedom, because of lack of sight,
unable to discern the truth, or know what is right.
Each heard by the other, their sad notes sent into the mist
as they cry out for each other – reach out in need and missed.
They blast out their warning, “ not to close ”, for danger
lies in contact – opening up, setting free ? – be a stranger,
the essence of their distorted shadows, shadows that barely touch
in the night, during sun light, in their flight, and such 
is the journey as they skim the cold waters of life’s surface, 
– even though, as one from out of the cosmic gene pool –
seldom see, seldom come together – come face to face,
realizing, in the fray, that each is being but a fool
as they touch, for a brief moment, in cosmic space,
space shrouded in misty clouds, clouds of fog,
and then, as strangers in the night, pass in silence. 
Ripples, echoes, permeate, the only trace
that shows the distance from whence they came,
upon turbulent wakes created by each passing place
on their journey, lending credence to the distance
of where it stands ?, in all likelihood, antipodal is its name.

The Soul

Living beings essence, their source of energy,
that which brings them to being a part of the whole. 
That place, that space within which I often write
has now been brought down into a conscious state.
A state nothing more than the shallowness of a pizza pie, 
satisfying ones enormous, gastronomic gluttony
that has our glorious souls relegated to, I see,
I hear, in the commercialism of every TV.

I mourn the loss of energy, of the essence of our souls.
Computers, TVs, games, a strange world of words, of images,
the meanings of which we are now living with, living in
this illusory state of virtual reality are so many,
yet, no more so than in times, thousands of years ago, when,
man took facts, twisted them to suite his beliefs, his need to hide
reality, from reality so that he could manipulate, control, 
live out his days with some sense of meaning, of purpose.

B. J. “A” 2 
June 8th 2002

Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2014

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