We know not what each new day brings
So, we must bear life’s curves and swings.
Not knowing when the tide would turn
Is what creates uncertainty.
If only we could ever know
the way that everything would go,
Then we can know what to plan for
and live our lives with certainty.
Since we could never ever know,
the way that everything would go,
We plan our lives as best we could,
and trust things turn out for the good.
God, your maker, knows the future
And he desires what’s best for you
If you yield your whole soul to him
He’ll not leave you to fate’s whims.
In the future God is planning,
there will be no end to our lifespan.
Earthly troubles will then be ended,
and the living will be splendid.
Those whose trust in Christ is thorough
Do not mind the unknown morrow.
For the God who knows the future
Is the one who'll see them through.
Amid falling leaves, my thoughts wander far,
as, gracefully, they cascade through the air.
From long winter sleep, they awoke with spring;
unfolded their fullness at the summer peak.
Yes, what a journey their venture provides-
in very few months, each life is fulfilled.
For them, time is fathomed by seasons of days-
unlike my much longer, well-measured years.
Oh, falling leaves, like my autumn of life-
you slowly drift down on faded green lawns.
Red-orange-gold colors boast your last hurrah,
as they calmly, peacefully, twirl to the ground.
A calm ride from branches to blanket the earth;
yet, you weathered storms on long, windy nights.
You shielded the nests upon fine, sturdy limbs
and honored your seasons as best as you could.
My feelings unfold as each lone leaf descends-
reminiscing my own, long, well-seasoned years;
from green, tender bud to full burnished art-
my thoughts wander far, amid falling leaves-
yet, hang on the hope of the next new Spring;
with awakened birth, new life will begin.
L-ight
E-ternal
A-lways
C-reates
R-adiance
I-n
S-orrows
O-f
S-ouls
T-o
O-pen
M-inds
O-ptimistically
©bfa061825
Monocrostic (Birthday of Lea F. Crisostomo)
A cynical never asks himself,
" How a miracle can ever happen when everybody
goes on without faith through their hopeless day? "
I attest this truth with disbelief!
Faithful can pray constantly with bowed head,
hoping God listened to their plea to all spoken words;
how disappointed they are when nothing ever happens:
and amid disarray they their hope turns cold!
Nobody understand how favor is imparted fairly,
God chooses the ones deserving His endless mercy;
the angry preacher with a harsh voice condemns sinners
who don't cleanse their souls with any repenting tears!
Look for drastic signs that foretell events to come,
be ready for what can and will change Man's destiny;
God's word is unbreakable, his promise declares love:
believers are patient and profess their faith devotedly!
October creeps amid the shadows
Lengthening
The shortness of the day
Dancing amid the pumpkins
Chortling in its chill
Adding boney fingers to the trees
Reaching into our fears
Tickling with terror
The mystery of a gleeful night
As demons dance with ballerinas
Midget masterminds plot
Against larger super heroes
Trembling
As the door opens
A hand reaches out
A shriek, a panic of footsteps
A hollow laughter trailing
October
She scares ‘em every year
But gives really great treats
As it is the way with me, I have the car prepped by individuals whose love of the industry has acquired a rather peculiar name, "Grease Monkey."
I have no understanding of vehicles or their inner makings of their encasement under the hood the concepts of an engine. Repairing a flat tire, or locking the keys in the car, whereto, I leave it to AAA for its resolve.
Now the picture is made clear, the vehicle industry is one subject matter, when it comes to my person, I have little to no interest.
Now we're heading back to the Bay Area, and the four of us have some great conversations, lots of laughing, funny incidences in housekeeping.
I drove up to let all three off at Derek's place and waited in my car, as Derek went to retrieve his car. Jane and I shared some new news and there was no mention of that store incident, though it dwells in the back of our heads.
Derek drove to my driver's window, and I said I was going off to work, and I drove away and off to work I went, as they got into Derek's car till I was unable to see them.
Amid the chorus of guns and bullets
And the thunder of heavy bombardments
A nightingale calls for daybreak
Its song of war keeping me awake.
Amid the whistle of pistols
And the whine of missiles
A child breaks into a smile
Reminding the world to be happy.
Amid the scenes of rotting corpses
And the ruins of decayed lands
A flower lovingly blooms
Revealing the beauty of nature's resilience.
This is the peace amid war
A truth we foolishly ignore
Instead, we chase after hollow ambitions
Even at the cost of cherished traditions.
Written: May 3rd, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We twirled amidst the falling rain,
Flowing locks, dripping with freedom.
A gentle touch, our hands entwined,
As we traversed the highways of our lives,
it vanished from view as our eyes met
smiled and gently kissed our worries away.
leaving our reflections
behind
Listen to the rain's gentle song tonight
Feel the tears, they're mine,
Whispering gently on your rooftop.
unrestrained.
Lost amid now
He rambles
Alone
Searches
For footprints
Long erased
Frightened
By un-felt cobwebs
Brushing
Across
Darkened eyes
Reaches
To touch
Agony’s apparitions
Seeking
To be found
John G. Lawless
©2/24/2024
Forget those words, cold, distant calls
Penned to lead you o’er the falls
Toward blank white emptiness below
Hush now, your gurgled snarl
vile drool of fettered rage
Your words have not yet come of age
Yet they burn in flameless fire
Purging all but one desire
One word, that word, that perfect tone
Leave it there, a diamond lost,
Upon the edgeless yellow page
An ember’s light amid the frost
ancients believed time lends...
any-chance for anything
anywhere that science be correct...
so its manifestations not crrrack
however two dozen ancient pyramids sank
into the sands unlike the boats of plank...
that carried the stones across distances
to the desert locale of historic instances...
of stone creations built to float on sand...
ancients science and mathematics was something grand
stan sand
Summer, amid green valley's highest peaks
Through the woods air's sweet release carry on.
Birds quiet among leaves still far withdrawn.
Shade of carmine leaves bath in golden steaks.
Labyrinth fields sun's freedom to rally.
Horned owl rides the air stream, into darkness
Against the fading moonlight's hunt stillness
Joy flying in silence dilly-dally.
Cicadas sing loudly, nymphs mating song;
Graceful gray mourning doves forage in pairs
soft cooing sound, comforting that is theirs
A wee surprise exquisite bliss lies long.
Drizzling sunshine and showers creation,
Promising poetic inspiration.
6/11/2023
Watch your step don't trip over
Your fallen expectations
Walking this course with one foot out
the door
the other firmly planted entrenched in
fact in a masochistic inability to cry uncle
Drawn and quartered by this
Particular style of romantic comedy of errors
Let us pretend you mean what
You say or just
Put it all off for another day
Playing nice so late in the game
Only serves to confuse
I am immobilized not by your charade instead
By this belching,bellowing all consuming fear
How could any place anywhere come
Close to this exquisite unintentional misery
Unintentional as to my role,yours
a well orchestrated horror show in which
You stand in the wings clapping wildly
Calling out to my now deaf ear Encore! Encore !
There are a lot of word Smiths on this site
Who pen good poems that are out of sight
Its likened to attending a beautiful feast
Or eating good bread with just enough yeast
However, I must point out, and it's not a myth
I am in no way, shape, or form a word, Smith
But, I marvel at the talented people here
Viewing their various poems fills me with cheer
I am forever thankful I found Poetry Soup
This community is such a fantastic group
Finding the gift of words saved my life
It rescued me from heartache and strife
So, although I don’t cross every “ T” nor;
Do I dot every “I” writing means much more
I know some could care less about my poetry
It’s ok, well all have different tastes, you see
However, we must respect one another
By not saying nasty things to each other
Isn’t this lovely site about sharing poetry?
The backbiting needs to stop; It’s no mystery
Amid a few bad apples on this amazing site
This will always be a place for me to write
Alexis Y.
08/18/2022
"Amid the jagged shadows of mossy leafless boughs;”
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
,
I stand amidst the stillness of the graveyard and browse
My unbearable anguish like drooping flowers surge,
Amid the jagged shadows of mossy leafless boughs,
While hungry birds fly round twittering a plaintive dirge.
The old oak tree now denuded from all its green leaves
Time pass, forlorn eerie mist descends hiding the grave
Then sparkling white snow flutter down, thus my heart bereaves,
Bringing on hopelessness that dear life can never save.
No flowers by request she always maintained and said.
I could not bear to see others hide her from my view,
I disobeyed her and covered her with roses red.
Memories flooded my mind with thoughts that I pursue.
In the pain stillness of my heart, I know death does part
But like the nude oak tree, no one can refill my heart.
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