Best By Choice Poems
"I WAS NOT BORN LIKE THIS BY CHOICE"
My eyes are my voice,
I was not born like this by choice,
My eyes enjoy all they see,
And on most days I am quite happy.
My eyes are my voice,
I was not born like this by choice,
My voice, although not quite loud,
Can always melt hearts in a crowd.
My eyes are my voice,
I was not born like this by choice,
Please don't judge me because I am unable,
I don't deserve that kind of label.
My eyes are my voice,
I was not born like this by choice,
My mom says it's part of Gods plans,
I believe her, we're His biggest fans!
Are your eyes your voice?
Were you born like that by choice?
Is your voice quiet or is it loud?
And can it be heard, or felt, in a crowd?
My eyes are my voice,
I was not born like this by choice,
Some people think I am broken,
But others say, no, just soft-spoken.
My eyes are my voice,
I was not born like this by choice,
My smiles and giggles are not misplaced,
They are there on my pretty face!
My eyes are my voice,
I was not born like this by choice,
I have feelings like all the rest,
I am me at my worst, and my very best.
My eyes are my voice,
I was not born like this by choice,
Researchers are searching at a steady pace,
Rett Syndrome cure is their race!
My eyes are my voice,
I was not born like this by choice,
Look into my voice, it's plain to see,
A cure is needed for my Rett sisters and me!
COPYRIGHT ©2010 ~ Ronna G. Reid
RELATED BY CHOICE
For my adopted grandmother Nancy Enloe
I met you at a friend’s house,
standing stately on your cane,
tall and rosy-cheeked like me.
In your smile, I basked and thought,
“Long-lost cousin, could you be?”
Like my great aunt long ago,
when you learned I love to write,
you gave me three r’s of verse:
Robert Wash, Service, and Frost,
and asked to read my own work.
Like my aunt in my childhood,
you invited me for swims.
In your pool, I splashed and laughed.
Like her, you asked to hear me play
my organ -the whole grand staff!
On a ten-day Rockies trip,
Jasper, Banff, and Lake Louise,
friends asked if you were my mom.
We smiled at that pleasing word
like Gilead’s healing balm.
One day, as we drove along,
you said just out of the blue,
that you’d be Grandma to me.
As if you spoke my own thoughts,
I grinned as wide as you could see.
Oh, once we got to be twins
in blazers you bought for us.
You knitted us two rainbow scarves
for walking in wintry air
or through the winds on the wharves.
You’ve been family to me,
all six relations in one.
How fun it would be to find
on genealogy sites
if we’re related for real.
No matter! It feels just right!
There is a jolly man this time of year
who shakes and rolls from ear to grinning ear,
so while he laughs like mad
there are some who are sad...
that lump of stocking coal brings them a tear.
Canadian by birth, North American by choice
Yankee, Canuck, Mexicano, I speak with one voice
We live strong and free
These great countries three
I raise my voice in harmony and happily rejoice
© Jack Ellison 2015
we spoke in sweet voice
of the love we found by chance
and then lost by choice
~
endless sky brushes crimson strokes
upon a cloudless Summer void
sea soft to pastel blue benign
robs shore of its sparkling treasure
trees drip opaque tears 'pon sharp blades
of velvet grass stood to attention
queen bee summons dawn's light to blaze
a trail across talc-ed pollen paths
birds drift thermals as if hung
to dry their new inked melodies
whilst lovers lick chocolate from lips
agape for breaths of fantasy
at speakers corner atheists
sing amen to politics' tarnished guilt
as listeners turn a blind eye to memory
I'm master of my life. I've just myself,
my family, and friends to please. Then why
do I feel saddened by my freedom? Why
do I fear utmost joy has passed me by?
I love someone whose passion for me died.
He cared for me but couldn't resurrect
the love that made my life complete. I'm left
to sit alone at night, weep, and reflect.
Love can't be forced to stay or to return.
With its demise, someone is left to grieve
and reminisce about those days when love
seemed like a blessing that could never leave.
January 16, 2018, entered in Brian Strand's Mid-January 2018
Premiere Contest
Contest
entered in John Hamilton's Lost Love 2017 Contest on July 30, 2017
An awesome sacred relief
When we let the heart be chief
In power of love beneath
The sacred faith in love belief
So let your sacred winds blow
Let the entire universe know
Let your special love glow
And poems of poet will show
A poet that doesn’t know it
`Tis very soon to blow it
And never will he show it
I know it for I’m a poet
Was tagged by Simone Segal, I tag Sara Kendrick
"write something that ends in (I am a poet)"
Telling that gotesque humanid shape ( i know it was humanoid but i love the sound of humanid)
concaved on the lid of the toilet bin
tapered on the rim
I hate you
then i realised i'm not him
trapped within
Jokered grin
death can't surprise me
cause i don't care
ready anywhere
life was a chore i skipped
when no one watches
danced beneath the undressed trees
cried for crying sake
given what i took
taking the edges of the universe
and ripping it a partly invisible in daylight
Moulded by the contours of the seas of the moon
Licked by every wind
Spoke to
Sooner
Couldn't care to be angry
just a bare pool table
no felt no feel
Psychopath by choice
was was that an echo
or you reading my voice
You can plunge that dagger into my very heart,
you can take your hands and tear my skull apart,
smother me with a pillow as I lay asleep in bed,
empty an entire clip of bullets into my head.
You can pour petrol on me and set me on fire,
beating me broken to satisfy your desire,
you can try to drown me in the sea,
use a chainsaw and cut me into three.
You can hit me with a car,
cave my skull open with a crowbar,
but even after that I'll still stand before you,
because I choose to live by choice , not by chance
no matter whatever you do.
I may have good companions—
Ready to spend for me their money or time;
To share their knowledge and experience with me.
They gravitate to me mostly by chance
And may leave me, again, by chance.
Left alone, I’ll only have
My thoughts and feelings
To keep me company;
To account for my mental ambience;
So, I’d better choose
My thoughts and feelings carefully,
And ensure that the two sets match.
Let me do it when there’s time yet!
***
in the depths of pain
lies a sort of sane dementia
entangled by strains
oblivious to gain
it stirs one's essence
into a tide's surge
while reality will sure emerge
leading nowhere
or rather now here
to reap and cherish
the benefits of survival
because the depths contained
a choice for revival
I am walking alone
and therein lies the problem-
your absence from my side.
I go on with just memories.
The echo of your laughter,
still ringing in my ears.
I distinctly remember,
choosing the path of isolation.
I knew I would be lonely,
that I had no right to want you,
but I was not prepared,
for the tearing, burning pain,
that is life, without the privilege
of holding your hand.
In
the ear
sweet
melody
hear
composed
our
eyes
a painter's
heart
disclose
this
humble
art
upon
my page
only
lives
when
read
aloud
What's goin on with this
an organized mess
tragic while impulsive
living the stress
robotic,when the auto-pilot's on
cutting oneself off from experience...
no lyrics
in your self-destructive song