I never bear my secrets on the skin of my body.
I bear my secrets in my life's anthologies of poetry.
I bear my love within words of my narratives of he and me.
The world is built on bent-back spines,
Of those we draw outside our lines.
We treat them as a hollow space,
A blur of limb, a void of face.
But should they tire and step away,
The glided roof would turn to clay.
How strange to build a house so tall,
On folks we claim aren't there at all.
Winter wine,
a tune,
a poem.
You and I,
winter-bound,
gathered
along a winter road.
A solitary winter cloud
cuts its own way—
a blue vessel
carrying five,
held within
the hope
of a whale bearing its calf.
CROSS BEARING WINTER TREES
In winter daylight,
Falling leaves carpet the ground:
Snow carpets the leaves:-
But the trees are not worried:
Resurrected leaves shall spring:-
The assurance of light
During times dark and desperate
Bestows warmth within freezing cold
Where peace from a storm’s respite
Finds home through dangerous shoals
Guiding your ship on the sea of hope
Finding the port of hearts of gold
Pains are supposed lifetime teachers,
Teachers that connect mind to soul.
Soul, mind connects unto preachers,
Towards time... life lessons made whole.
Pains are pieces of peaceful storm...
Comfort's steeze can not regulate,
Or by any means can reform;
All stings, life's fate violate.
Each never come to mount limit,
Rather shapes mind not to get lost
Of strength wearing out to be fit
Enough for heart, wishes exhaust...
In-between life and death dreamlands,
Once of pursuit in dying hope;
Tired, shattered yet chasing cum grace,
Possible luck could lock by chance-
Either up in the sky to fall...
Like manna released from heaven,
Or in the oxygen breaths breathe...
To keep living and grow nice gut.
Each year Memorial Day causes much lament,
and today will be viewed as another life recap.
A day we honor heroes whose lives were spent,
who, for freedom, willingly stood in the gap.
Too many families are attached to someone,
who served country and didn’t return intact.
Body bags, their ticket home to a loved one,
today, they remember that door knock’s impact.
Spring rain on ancient stones,
A tiny clover full of life.
I wonder, how many life's?
Have passed these stones.
~Byeol
Blitheness bears itself boldly by day,
Surmounting the summit of separative sufferance.
Ridges and ranges below bow in adoring array,
Where homage is payed to the uprising utterance.
Blitheness bears itself blandly by night,
Mollifying the wounds of the worried and the wronged.
Rills and rivulets ripple rosy in sight,
Where brutality is isolated and humanity thronged.
You will know a tree
By its fruit
You will know the fruit
By its tree
A good tree will
Produce good fruit
A bad tree will
Produce bad fruit
A good fruit will
Ripe by its own
A bad fruit will
Drop by its own.
I can come across as confident,
Always known for being too loud,
Sometimes struggle to cope with noise,
Become overwhelmed in a crowd.
Anxiously bite the skin from my lip,
Frantically fidget and tap my toes,
Can even have a sneezing fit,
From a nervous twitch in my nose.
At times can suddenly burst into song,
Even randomly scream and shout,
Nervously talk at some speed,
Or silently struggle to get a word out.
Tried my best to hide it all,
Hoping that people could not see,
All it did was make things worse,
So I gave up and let it be.
Then I started to write my poetry,
Owning the quirks that signify me,
No idea how healing it would be,
Bearing my heart for all to see.
For the well being
Pay attention to safety
For fruit bearing thing.
Quiet and beautiful is the day,
where reflection adjoins -
with bustling children,-
adorned,- with bright,- happy colors and a sense of thankfulness, glory.
It is a stark reality, that must be approached
with Family, Community and the support
of self invited Black Birds and
"just in the neighborhood"- Blue Jays,
comic relief streaking squirrels,
Cats and Dogs on their best behavior,
rolling eyes at each other, like Brother and Sister,
"you can leave it to us, don't be a doubting Thomas,
we have this handled,
save for a containment twitch of tourettes or an acquisitioned snack."
It is a big day for them to chaperone and oversee,
this takes calories.
I witnessed a few quiet moments and reflective genuflective blinks from each in this gallery of motleys,
they know.
How proud the children are that you confided in them.
And your heart is captured here and until your dying day.
He Is, Risen
He died
the day before
his birth
the curse had worked again
Generations
in the womb
their feticide
a last amen
The garden path
a stepford trap
whose fruit trees
bear the scorn
Enoch built
to hide the curse
the Mark of Cain
— damnation born
(The New Room: February, 2024)
Too impaired to even continue to care, if at all,
About how life can always seem so unfair for us all,
As long as I have inner strength to continue to bear it all.
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