Holidays are good at the start
you look forward to them beforehand
counting down weeks and days till you go
getting the cases packed for the trip
Then you arrive at the destination
unpacking your stuff, getting ready
the weather decides your enjoyment
rain or sun, whatever it may be
But the day arrives when it's time to go home
you really dread it coming, but it's here
the thought of the end of this place
makes one ponder, to think, even shed a tear
Could you live here for the rest of your days?
you wish it could be, but deep down, no
reality has to set in for when you get home
it's old clothes and porridge, as we say here
Look back on holiday past now memories
enjoyed it back then, but now it's old routine
then once over, wish for next one
life affects us like this; so ever has been
This is it,
In midst of chaos -primal
Greeny bloom woods,
Riseth the morning- alive
Is Sunshine a freedom?
Or a journey - lone
Wandering on paths - stray
Desires went abode
Yet on lane destiny- future
Memories meeked all momentum
Yearnings of purpose
Contradict the broughtup- slavery
Of genuine home- egypt
Where needs satiate,
Desires met slight,
Blurred every shades-plight
Stationed present edged
the motion independence
Weaved enough - aggravated
To find a sight - right
Now, ye discern
Of way sorjournees
Who sought only physical
Lapsed away from the head - eternal
Me - desperately denied
as them few - natural
Looking forth unto hills - zion
On direction fifth
With faith bodacious - in above
Walking cadence towards
works which setteth- beforehand
Not to prove, but to love
As a faithful bride
In the end.
I walked through the valley of darkness.
How breathtakingly beautiful it was.
Gaze of birds watching over me,
I draw a veil molded in ocher clay.
I walked holding my breath.
Unseen, the ticking sound of unseen birds,
I walked through that valley of darkness,
Drawing yet another veil.
I do not pray.
At least not in this moment.
Though my body is feminine,
Inheriting the wild instincts of a seven-generation cat,
Before a swarm of cockroaches can infect me in an instant,
I sense it beforehand and let out a fierce roar.
"Meow!" "Hssss!"
Why, you ask?
The life of the slum
Always cries out,
Even within its depths,
Building its own cruel pyramid,
To attack me—
Someone they deem even less than themselves.
I see you coming, old age.
Approaching, at an ever-accelerating pace,
Your face grim
Your expression austere
Your look menacing.
A frightening sight you are
Yet,
I welcome you with open arms.
I yearn to embrace you
To be at your side
To celebrate the twilight of my life with you
To enjoy your company,
The company that so many at my age,
Had never had the chance to relish.
Innumerable battles I have fought in my life,
With vigor and youth at my side,
Thus
Victorious, I emerged,
But
Now, that my youth's allies are slowly abandoning me,
One after the other,
I am left alone to fight the last battle.
A battle, I know beforehand I am bound to lose.
However,
At this moment of trials
When all seems to get tougher by the day,
A new ally I have found, willing to help me,
All my courage to amass to confront you, with
Equanimity, oh, merciless old age:
The wisdom I have acquired all these years,
Roaming the planes of experience and
Learning!
-
-
Demetrios Trifiatis
17 August 2026
-
* This poem was written to celebrate my 82nd Birthday on the 15th of August 2026
entry for Constance La France's contest:
Write a Beautiful Terza Rima
But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation,
a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him
who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light; 1 Peter 2:9
The very hairs of our heads are numbered
and Jesus has called us to be faithful.
Forgiven, with fear I am no longer encumbered.
Is it so peculiar to render the choice
to praise our Prince of Peace for deliverance
from darkness? His Spirit strengthens my voice.
I'm grateful, yet with restraint, to have the chance
to share my faith with those who spurn God’s good grace,
not deterred by their questioning glance.
Beforehand, without onslaught upon their space
I ask the Lord to lead in my approach.
Sometimes I sense, “Wait, don’t speak face to face.”
“Lighten up! This is not the time to encroach,
Show, don’t tell,” counsels my Coach.
Give unto us, a home that puts God first
To conquer every satanic devilish thirst
Cum subsequent tempted thrill reversed
Giving another try to get heart's conviction coerced
Give unto us, a home fervently strong in prayer
Which would beforehand averts despair
And cement hope grace truly ensnare
With everlasting merciful covenant's flare
Give unto us, a home richly blessed
With housing large enough to have guest
Which glorifies God's name to manifest
What our daily supplications; God bequest
Give unto us, a home where love rules
That not one but both are useful tools
Of efforts to adjust necessary schedules
Creating time for each other unlike fools
Give unto us, a home that nurtures children's sights
Aright in Your directives both in days and nights
That Your wills be their surging appetites
Of Your words as guides in earthly frights
Onto hope is necessity
If waiting would not profit
Growth rate of yeasty bids
Boldly into anticipating yields
For anointed oil to fill pot to its brim
Hope hurts hasty head,
Healing heart's hindrance hurting...
Higher honor's host.
Onto chance is doubt
If shaky wait looses grip
Of expected time of being
Beyond what caution's seat
Can tame to ease such tension
Waiting weighs wit's will,
Wether with weight, work wows well,
Wad weary wall's war.
Onto anxiety is probability
If due luck isn't forthcoming
Gradually brighter to dying eyes
For long viewing afar its due arrival
Building capacity to hastily bear its cross
Anxiety ace acts,
Awaiting apt adjustments...
Alive abounding.
Onto peace is accord
If faith assumes rightly
Tightening Word's interval
Which drowning sea can't sink
Timing unfulfilled drift beforehand
Faith fights for future,
Featuring failure fearing...
Fulfilling fortunes.
Onto belief is assurance
If rest solely on its scope
Trying time's ton ultimately
Search endlessly not too early
Yet assessment bids via grace
Resting relieve risks,
Racing refined regret's reign...
Rapture reserved raw.
Vulnerability
One decided to let you enter one's
Space and thoughts.
I assumed you were finally the one
At least one's mindset concluded that.
Vulnerability isn't weakness or is it
Pumped up for kicks?
Resulted from a deceitful tongue with
The results of broken trust over time.
Revisions like the seasons ensued on the road
Like beforehand.
Similar situations? Sooner or later, individualized
Faces are often challenging to cast from one's mind.
Opening oneself to others allowing yourself
To be deeply known and understood.
Having a preference for being one's true
Authentic self flaws and all.
Scavenging with mixed emotions of inaptness
By the harsh realities of a dubbed life of vulnerabilities.
If instinct could alert beforehand;
Reflecting moments as all stand...
The ought process of echoing mind,
For rights to get wrongs tightly bind-
Assign each voice unto confident tears,
Without been paired with fearful glares.
That, would make a day so bleak off sorrow,
And elegant enough to seek anew cum morrow.
If patience could read through broken glass...
Flexing with a system depicted 'separate class'
That wants eyes to angerily view patience broken,
Just to steer up choler; a muted but flaming token
Which once activatd, consumes the rationally pierced soul
Ought to be veiled intensely for light to be made whole.
If peace could silent memorable pains,
Of a bad day's night battles off stains...
Eyes and dreams won't be easily drifted apart
Like storming mind wreck drowning heart...
And wonder if lonely night of each bad day could come alive
Before dawn without partying, yet make sound sleep thrive.
Why can’t we learn beforehand
life lessons we learn afterwards
Not grounded in experience
words fly off the pages like birds
Sometimes I ask myself if Jesus could speak to the people of today. What would he say and do? With all the senseless killings and a lunatic running the White House, could he still want to give up his life for us? The answer is Yes, for I believe he came to do what he believes for us.
Although His life, according to the times back then, was short. It must have made it possible for us today to live longer. It was written beforehand that he had to die with suffering for the people. It was not an easy way to go.
So, this Easter as some of us Remember His Ressurrection and Suffering and this time of our life, we commend our Lord for his commitment. And ask for forgiveness for all of our transgressions, the big and the small, Amen.
Teach us Lord;teach us
Don't ask why I change
Life is never be the same
I believe things evolve
This year I'm 55, 56 next year
This time I have many gray hairs
Not knowing next months all are white
I see my face has many wrinkles
Before only few of them I manage
I can push up 100 when I was 40
Now at 55, I barely made 50 push up
Before I always greet the morning free
Cause I wake up early and exercise
Now I mostly wake up late time
It's already hot and meals serve brunch time
Before I can jog a mile, now walk a mile
Love to comb my hair, now a hand brush is enough
Daily bath is routine, now interval of a day
No helmet drive motorcycle during youth days
Now, fear to drive instantly at busy highway
I have much foreboding in life when getting old
Life is never like before, sense of safety is a must
I have never such a impulsive feeling than being compulsive now
I have change a lot because of necessity of aging beforehand.
Winter Warmup
Cold
salad.
Cold! Salad?
Warming up, though
I thought, beforehand,
about warming soup. Soup?
Who needs to sip, now? I don’t!
My salad, topped with yesterday’s
tomatoes, dressed with ranch and fig, balm
of nutrition. I’ve warmed up to salad.
Universal love
How to explain( I wrote "explain" seven times
before I got the spelling right)
my nephew, who lives in Spain but not in Valencia
where the storm occurred, played golf
A turbulent of Swedes secure of theIr long spell
democracy against an insecure Norwegian team
The Swedes won, but my nephew got a medal
made of bronze
later in the day, it struck me that should the game
have been played during the devastating new
It was explained to me the tournament had been
booked beforehand
Should they have postponed the game to honor
the victim; they tell me life has to go on and
remembering is a waste of time, but I think not
When the golf players' time can and will they
recall when a game of golf was more important
than spending time mourning the dead
When I wrote the above lines, I was drunk that
proves my inner self is more caring
than the mien of tough exterior, I present to avoid
the hurt and soft heart represent
God answers miraculously, and powerfully!
Suddenly, inexplicably, amazingly
God the Father is able beyond all measure
God gave us the Kingdom of God
Before the foundations of the world!
God is able because we are His Workmanship and
We were prepared beforehand for good works for His Glory!
God the Father is our Source
God is able
His Grace is Sufficient and
His Love is Supreme!
We have His Power working in us
God is the One we can Trust and
We can have boldness and confidence
Through Faith in Christ Jesus
God the Father is Able
He can do that which must be DONE
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.