The Sum
By Benjamin Mui
I am not a failure Nor am I a success
I am not my rejections Nor am I my acceptances
I am not worthless Nor am I special
I am not my weakness Nor am I my strength
I am not a loss Nor am I a triumph
I am the sum of Nothing
Neither the bad Nor the good
Not who was Nor whoever is to come
I am what is Now
I am who I choose to be
I am my actions
…
I am
Lay Down Your Arms
by Michael R. Burch
Lay down your arms; come, sleep in the sand.
The battle is over and night is at hand.
Our voyage has ended; there's nowhere to go . . .
the earth is a cinder still faintly aglow.
Lay down your pamphlets; let's bicker no more.
Instead, let us rest here on this ravaged shore.
The sea is still boiling; the air is wan, thin . . .
lay down your pamphlets; now no one will “win.”
Lay down your hymnals; abandon all song.
If God was to save us, He waited too long.
A new world emerges, but this world is through . . .
so lay down your hymnals, or write something new.
If I remember things correctly, I wrote this poem in my early twenties, probably as a college sophomore or junior. It was one of my first acceptances by a literary journal, The Romantist. But I never received a copy, so I can’t be sure it was actually published, drat!
Sunlight we merely dream of
here amongst the bones
with the memories of the past
these haunted caverns
dank in their prisons
Acceptances specter
teaches our children
there before the pulpit of skulls
deaths contract is written
Reincarnations end pays the toll
rigmarole I see in their eyes
praising as such, this dry arid dust
for in the gloom of their minds
a festival of cadavers
explains their lives
Built to the walls these bodies piled
sacrificial font filled with lies
lay the drudgery
interminable
in this church of the night
The catacombs
devour
there is no light
In pale and empty form of soul
thus the habit of breathing
is the only goal
and here amidst the ancient bones
lays the memorial past
of these haunted caverns
The catacombs
devour
there is no light
What peculiar behavior I see.
That’s what is known as an idiosyncrasy.
It is inconsistent with acceptances in society.
Persons who have foibles in life
have actions that can cut like a knife.
Someone with an eccentricity requiring a nudge,
is in no position to decide or judge.
"I open the door and cross the threshold of imagination"
A Rambling Poet
An enchanted place
Where ex lovers still love me
Dead relatives live
Tears from the past dry
Years of mourning and pining
A forgotten dream
Failed attempts are successes
Rejections acceptances
Then I walk back through the doorway
Ready to accept reality
Haiku, Tanka and Crystalline
Jack Horne for Constance’s Three Gems contest
Written 29th July
Are there reasons why we all hold on?
Knowing well where the path shall lead to…
Finding a place perhaps to feel belong
Yet strangers we are to everyone we knew
The world isn’t at all so small
Simply too kept we all belong to be
Limited to means became things to adore
With strangers chanting for what couldn’t be
And to face with ever moving time
We can only move on with dire hopes to bear
Reasons learnt for acceptances to remind
For every one humanity… life isn’t at all fair
I have seen things others may not
Where others see things I may have pass
To understand remains an utterly thought
Yet… living a wanting life can one ask?
Perhaps of reasons we know to hold on
Wherever the end path may well lead us to be
Moments for places to feel belong
As strangers… are we all not simply humanity to be