Best Occurs Poems
This day I grow tired
and so incredibly weary.
My heart holds only dreams
of a Life unfullfilled
A Life not nurtured,
yet barely a glimmer
of the spirit that once was.
I do have memories of some things good
-not all bad,
But the fear that I am alone
is Like a fingerprint on my Life.
Shadowing, waiting to pounce,
always there, unshakeable.
It's the mirrors that hold me accountable
to my actions.
Proof positive that where ever I go
there I am,
Naked, vulnerable, and yes
still alone.
As I try to allay this fear,
one Lonely and painful pluck at a time,
It becomes crystal clear, that I alone
am damaging my soul to the very core
with each stroke of my hand.
I steal one Last Look in the mirror
and know that I alone
have self inflicted these blues
Leaves me to ponder one question:
Will I ever allow myself the strength and grace
it will surely take to heal my scarred soul?
This poem was written in hopes of begining the healing process for my self. I
have a disease called trichiotillamania. It is an obsessive and manic urge to pull
one's own hair until baldness occurs. I'm a 48 year old woman, married(with kids
& grand kids)and have been doing this since the age of 5. It coincided with the
begining of my stepfather raping and torturing me which lasted until the age of
thirteen. This disease has me trapped and is NEVER letting me go. There are
two inflictions in regards to my hair pulling in this poem, one must know about
my disease in order to understand this poem.
“There’s not a word yet for old friends who’ve just met.” - Jim Henson
Most people hopefully know that feeling
when things just happen to “click” between two people.
That has happened to me more than a few times in my life,
and often through poetry it occurs, as it did when I met
Caycay!
A tad younger than I and living far from me on the east coast,
Caycay lives in a house filled with kin, cats, and chaos -
bundled all together with love, for Caycay is most kind and generous.
She believes in things like Karma and being true to oneself,
not dwelling on negativity, and trusting things to the universe.
I credit her devotion to this belief system (along with other friends
of mine with similar views) to affecting my own views in these past years-
years which have been fraught with strange new circumstances for me.
In many ways, Caycay and I are quite different.
We have had very different life situations
and very different types of trials heaped on us.
Physically, she is short and petite; I am average in those regards!
She is ruled more by the heart and I by the mind.
She is not fond of writing in meter as I so often do,
but her poetry reverberates the multi-colored songs of her soul.
We both adore playing with words,
but while I often adhere to strict rules of grammar,
Caycay sometimes throws those rules to the wind,
and this wind-tossed creativity cleverly delivers
unique poetry phrasings that waft touchingly to the hearts of her readers.
Yes, Caycay was born to write, and as with all conscientious poets,
she and I share that marvelous passion.
Caycay is special because she never judges me;
she always uplifts me as she uplifts everyone who crosses her path.
We are completely ourselves with one another.
Nothing is held back, concealed, or sugar coated.
My other close friendships are all like this too:
not restricted by rigid conditions or confounded by silly misunderstandings.
How wonderful that I found a friend whose Horoscope chart
is even so compatible with mine!
Not just friends in poetry, we are soul sisters!
Sept. 24, 2019
* Caycay's birthday is coming up Oct. 3. Remember to wish her a happy birthday!
Lying in bed..
In my deathbed
Don't have much time..
I am filled..
with nostalgia..
Memories of which I will always cherish..
Within my deepest thoughts
I imagine I am a child again
the child inside me..
Such joyful memories ..
Memories of running so freely in the grass..
Holding hands with my playmates..
Sharing secrets
Laughter..
The innocence of it all..
Years progressing..
From childhood..
To adolescent
To adulthood..
Being a curious teen..
Having major crushes ..
My first kiss
My first love..
Living as an adult..
Major responsibilities occurs..
Finding the love of my life..
Marrying the love of my life
Having children..
Living a blessed life..
Years progress..
Often wondering..
How my body is frail..
How these wrinkles..
Gave me character
How my health deteriorated..
Within a blink of an eye..
Now I have reached my final stage..
Sadly I am..
Slowing waiting for my own demise..
How shall it feel ?
Shall I embrace the unknown ?
My beautiful family is gone..
They all have made their final departure..
Before myself..
I have lived a long and full life..
I feel alone now..
Alone in my deathbed..
Awaiting my transition..
Perhaps when one door closes..
Another door opens..
Going from one state of being
To another..
Energy cannot be destroyed..
It only changes form..
I do not fear death..
It is dying I fear..
Fear of the old door..
Entering into a new door..
Which is fear of the unknown..
Is it a myth that History repeats?
This universal question that time deletes
Is the evidence clear that it occurs?
Through eons and eons it strangely recurs
Is it true that horrors are dulled by time?
This forever, unchanging paradigm
If wars are to end should it start with me?
To account for mankind’s insanity.
August 31st ‘22
For Dot Your I's and Cross Your T's Contest
by Hilo Poet
howmanysyllables =10
Listen
The vortex of deep ocean currents
Pushing my foolish spirit
Up towards the surface.
Sounds echoed rising
To perfect silence.
And there I am alone.
Try to listen
To the music of the spheres.
Can you hear anything?
No friends
No Enemies
No lovers.
Fear trembled in my invisible stomach.
Yet I try to listen
Who am I?
As planets and stars twirl in the immense universe.
Until a silent vortex of two stars in nova
Send a nuclear quake,
And disruption occurs
As the old spirit is sent back to the abyss
Of Earth’s Ocean.
Try and find me now.
Impossible!
The rush that occurs with Van Gogh’s brush.
Deep in the undergrowth, drawn to two figures.
The dappled landscape, lemon, lime and vanilla.
The close couple strolls amidst rows of trees.
The ebonic widower walks with his spectral wife.
Trees, like stick figures, reminiscent of cemetery stones.
This dreamy scene, romantic and haunting. Momentary
pause, as if for a quick snapshot. The forest, seemingly,
goes on forever. The lovely lady dressed in pastoral green.
Although the lovers pause, you still hear the rustle of her gown,
and their forward swoosh through tall grass and wildflowers.
Completely entranced, in their edenic setting, and with each other,
they blend with the tall trunks, relaxed and content.
Robust in recollection, riveted by exotic bird calls, earthy scent,
mixing with her light-lavender, temporal-lingering on the canvas.
Contrast with eternal life, where our imagination flourishes, alive,
with healing in the leaves, loving, forever and a day, in paradise.
The rush that occurs with our Creator’s brush.
Lord, I praise You for Your goodness.
I praise You for Your love.
I praise You for the kindness,
That You've shown throughout my life.
I'd be dead if not for You,
Of that My Lord I'm sure.
Though I knew it not You followed me,
My safety to ensure.
Lord, I praise You for Your providence,
And protection through the storm.
I've not always had the best,
But I've always had enough.
Oft You've sent Your angel,
To watch over me;
To follow and protect me,
You always heard my pleas.
Lord, I praise You for the wisdom,
That You saw that I acquired.
I was blind and deaf and dumb,
And You brought me to The Light.
Thank You Lord that now I see,
That now at last I hear.
That at last I've found my voice,
My praise rings loud and clear.
Lord I am unworthy.
I know I am unclean.
I stand ashamed before You,
For the way that I have been;
But Jesus came to rescue me,
He pulled me from the mud.
He gave to me a clean, white gown,
And washed me in His Blood.
Then He held me in His arms,
And told me not to fear,
For He had washed away my sin,
Because He holds me dear.
Even when I knew You not,
Even when I turned away,
You followed me, protected me,
Even though I chose to stray.
I tried to become one with them,
The children of the world.
But they would not accept me,
For on me You'd placed Your Mark.
Lord I want to thank You,
For like the lamb who strayed,
I was in grave danger,
And The Shepherd came and saved.
He saved me from the wolf who stalked,
The serpent's tooth that struck,
He saved me from the slippery slope,
And pulled me from the muck.
Lord I want to praise You.
You are The Mighty God.
You bring life and love and joy,
Wherever You have trod.
No matter where You place Your foot,
A miracle occurs.
To be the lowest member of Your court,
Would be an honor Sir.
My computer-- disassembled
is a maze of cables, drives
chips and ports--an array
of connections, silver solderings,
twisting wires.
But when the satiny case
is latched in place
coils and cables disappear.
The smallest particle of matter
is not an atom, but a byte--
a particle of magic that combines
and multiplies unseen
inside the blinking box.
Creation occurs inside my computer--
friends, family rest behind the pressing
of selected keys. Words and faces
form; smiles and frowns
become feelings.
Attraction becomes addiction.
Inside my computer
merchants buy and sell--
musicians sing,
artists train pictures into pixels,
poets recollect emotion in tranquillity.
Inside my computer
dreams are imagined into reality--
inventions, hopes, ideas are born
and nurtured into happenings.
Strangers share a table, touch
hands across the world.
Inside my computer
the pulse of human hearts
waxes and wanes
as people fall in and out
of love.
...Apologies to Heraclitus and W. H. Auden...
We, defeated by the merest things,
in defeat, endure...for now.
No abiding truth in faith:
origins and destinations
we cannot differentiate,
all random, unguided
by any prescient power;
but, not illogical
(there is no illogic.)
We impose all universal order,
influence what subsequently occurs,
to learn, or not, through endless repetition,
endless failure...and we are
but a current iteration,
here for now -- in constant flux,
defeated by the merest things.
Courage and nobility derived
from continued confrontation,
continued endless struggle,
let us show an affirming flame.
Sounds of an acoustic guitar..
Sounds are literally out of this world..
Strings of a guitar..
Deep and joyful..
Penetrates the soul
A soulful magical experience of pure delight
Transendence occurs..
Attributed from vibrations..
Our ears devour the opulent sounds of a guitar..
Speaks to us..
Shoots right to our hearts..
captivated by the music..
Sounds..
Dance..
As we sway to the beat of the guitar strings..
Whisks us away..
To a different time..
Touched by nostalgia
Laughter and tears..
A trip to memory lane..
The sound of an acoustic guitar..
happily brings forth a smile upon our lips..
While we are kissed on our cheeks
By pure bliss..
Stranger
I adore you
Because you think
I said something worthwhile
And your unsolicited uplifting response
Was that I strummed a chord inside
And made you smile.
Such are the curiosities of chance
Encounters from afar…
As planets and stars collide
Among the stars.
Though we know not why,
When or where
We may be
When the unforeseen collision occurs
Changing the course and destinies
Of traveling bodies forever…
Still,
There’s no denying you and I
Were spinning uncontrollably ‘round and ‘round
‘til we both hit solid ground
As the pull of gravity brought us both
D
o
w
n
Into the infinite
Azure blue atmosphere
Where ideas and words roam free
Waiting for the dust to settle
On poets like you and me.
PS: This one's for Delysia Hendricks
Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it
be salted? It is henceforth cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. Matthew
5:13 KJV
In ancient history, salt was sought and bartered. In some places it was carried by
camels across scorching deserts such as in West Africa where eager merchants
traded it to waiting customers. Salt was used for money in some places, thus giving
us the word salary.
Today salt is used for many purposes, stocked in grocery stores, and is available on
virtually every table.
We use it medicinally, and blocks of salt satisfy cattle’s craving. Salt in water raises
the boiling point, yet salt melts ice. Put salt on meat and it preserves it. Leave salt
off the table and your appetite leaves with it. But too much salt is harmful. It makes
your feet and legs swell and too much is hard on the heart.
Examine one grain of salt under a microscope and note its cube shape. Its sides
are made of two elements, sodium and chlorine. These combine to form sodium
chloride – salt.
Imagine soldiers in a tug of war. An ion of chlorine glares from one corner at a
sodium ion guarding the opposite side. As crystallization occurs the chlorine wins in
the stare-down. Sodium surrenders its single valence electron to chlorine and
together they become sodium chloride. Consider it in verse:
Salty Sentinels
Sodium ions stable,
assembled on the table,
salivating palates crave.
Chlorine ions tiny,
mustering soldiers briny,
guarding corners brave.
Sodium chlorine making,
crystal shakers shaking
cubes so salty white.
Ever fighting blandness;
vectors adding grandness,
enhance the appetite!
There is no wonder Jesus used salt as an example to the disciples in his Sermon on
the Mount. He exhorts Christians to have salt in themselves and have peace with
one another. See Mark 9:50
IMAGINATION
Closed eyes; under a locked prism of unavailable light
subjects our third eye to mind's internal creation;
imagined images viewed by non-existent senses
on an opague three dimensional screen.
In an algorithm of shedded particle waves
Insight quickly fades back into a darkened vision
of only half a picture without reflection.
It leaves with us a broken trail of possibilities
new thoughts, new choices, changes in destiny
warily made under duress of immediacy
trying to conceive a canvas framed
by the hand of God.
It is in response to these panchromatic memories
held back by the sun's blackened light,
that we clearly notice how the prism
reflects an undercurrent. of shadeless secrets
different than the realm of visionary colors.
Sensory detections relinquish an uncompleted picture.
The image within, at times, may reveal an idea.
the transmission of which however placed
when received should strive to become an emotional
mover of otherwise placid thinking where wizened leaders
can in causes wept in sorrow from yesterday's sadness
proclaim a hope for a brighter tomorrow.
INTERPRETATION:
When our eyes are shut tight, there is no light or vision.
We are limited to what we see with our inner mind.
Nevertheless there is an internal sense,
a feeling of a creative process going on.
It occurs as insight and often fades into a clouded vision
of a thought picture barely perceived within.
When we leave the path of contemplative thinking,
we lose the benefit of what could have been.
The choices we make are usually expedient
and we struggle to determine
what it is that we really want.
Often we are faced and challenged by outside forces
many of which we deflect as we espouse our point of view
without exploring all the possibilities.
We see what could be and would like to be
hoping that it will make a difference.
and help humanity move forward
to a brighter tomorrow.
CAK 5-23-2103
Flames of desire mesmerize
Instantly provocative to tantalize
Recklessly smoldering embers stirred
Enticing arousal... seduction occurs
Stoking the fire again and again
No strings attached is only plan
Both have reasons to turn away
Smoke exhausts all reasons one day
Forbidden sex arouses all senses
Ghost voyeurs char pretenses
Once guilt and shame are activated
Hardcore explosions... incinerated
No strings attached cannot persevere
Fire leaves ashes of all we hold dear
Written 5-3-2016
Love is not love if only in books and songs
In romantic movies and poems it belongs
It is life itself; an experience we share
A personal history of concern, commitment and care
Love is a voice that will soothe and caress
A heart that is uneasy, a mind in distress
It is a look that says, "I'm here, I know life isn't fair.
Pour out your troubles, I'll listen, I'll always be there."
Love is a smile, on both the lips and the eye
A suggestive twinkle and a warm good-bye
It is a message that needs no gesture or voice
Yet, in that twinkle it says, "In your company, I rejoice."
Love is the soft touch of one hand in the other
The gentle massage of one heart by another
That occurs when those fingers do gently squeeze
And say, "As long as we are together, life will be a breeze."
Love is not love if only in an expensive jewel or gift
Can it offer us comforts, our flagging spirits lift
Love is life itself, the acts that are done
When two hearts celebrate with the rhythm of one.