Best Old As Time Poems
A tisket, a tasket a treasure, in mom's basket.
Old "love" letters stuck, inside a book, dare I take a secret look?
My dad's words are written there, words of "love" they both did share.
Between, the yarn and threads of time, I saw my parents youth unwine.
Their dreams and hopes were scattered there, among each page, of written
prayer.
Letter's mom reads everyday, especially now that dad's passed away.
It's hard to think, of them once young, with thoughts that "lovers" have.
It helps me realize now, why moms so very sad!
They had a special kind, of "love", the kind thats hard to find.
A "love" thats ever-lasting.....
A "love" as old as time.
Before there was time/
As we know it/
Before there was you and me/
There is, was and will be/
A great battle/
Between two brothers, friends, foes/
Who knew each other well/
Both want to be heard/
To be loved, to be right/
They shared deep secrets/
And kept many things to themselves/
Afraid that the others/
Would find out/
They were so similar/
Yet so different/
The both had fire in their eyes/
Shining so bright, yet so black/
Their hearts can be cold as ice/
And warm as fire/
There continues to be much/
Competition among them/
To see who would rule/
And who would come out on top/
Our religion... We give them/
Names and titles/
But, the truth is/
They are a part of us/
That could even be us/
Our shadows, our light/
Our ego, our divine selves/
Crying, screaming to be heard/
To be loved, to be right/
To be in communion/
Yet, be independent/
So, when you see the world/
In all it's pain and bliss/
When you look at yourselves/
And your brothers and sisters/
It just might be/
We are part of that battle/
The two Archangels/
Have been in/
Since time before time/
So, that dark soul/
And that one filled with light/
Might be closer than you think/
And they both proclaim/
I can't be defeated/
So, when you gaze upon/
The world.../
It's pain and bliss.../
Look within yourself/
Remember your brother and sisters kiss/
We are caught/
In this eternal fight/
The clash of light and dark/
Of wrong and right/
And, in this battle/
Ancient, fierce and deep/
Our souls may find their solace/
Their eternal sleep/
I am a dark soul/
That can not be defeated/
A tranquil, Autumn stroll
Parched Northern air
The day would soon unfold
The preceding day’s heir
A humble October chill
Tickles nature’s spine
A predictable daily twill
A tale as old as time
An array of colored trees
Umbrella the path beneath
Framing the dance of leaves
As Mother Nature breathes
Home, is soon in focus
As their walk comes to an end
They blow a gentle kiss
In hopes they meet again
As I grow older, I ponder what it really means to be, and why so much hatred exists.
I think about out where humankind went wrong, and why we constantly speak with our fists.
In the beginning, humans were designed to be good company for a lonely creator.
As life started, we continued to grow, even though humanity hadn't any clue what we were evolving for.
Mankind then took their lives into their own hands, and grew to it's own personal standing.
Thinking they knew what was best, they continued to push others around, constantly demanding.
But according to the plan, told in the beginning of everything, our free will wasn't meant for harm.
Yet, we turned against one another, twisting each others words, and in return we all stopped lending an arm.
So I sit here today, pondering this situation in its entirety, coming to one final thought.
What If our true existing purpose, is to try our greatest, no matter how hard we've fought?
Our eternal judgments aren't based on what other humans do to our well being.
It is in our own happenings and actions, that in the end every soul will be revealing
Now I say this to you, my reading friend, and I believe we should all heed this true call.
Care for your fellow men and women, and together we will never fail to stand tall.
For in the end, of all that is good, evil, and neutral that walks on this planet,
We are all made equal, everyone viewed as one, and that is the way that He had orginally planned it.
A Contest On Aging
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Thursday, June 6th, 2019
Fire in the belly, fire in the eyes
Fire as protection or a smoke disguise
Fire laden rhetoric, incendiary lies
Fire filled with warmth, fire follows drought
We'll keep rubbing sticks together till the last one burns out
We have played with fire ever since we stole it from the gods
We're bound to keep on playing cause we like to play the odds
Someone will get burned
Some will just burn out
There isn't any wonder cause the scars'll leave no doubt
Fire raging wild, keep it from a child
No way to make it stay controlled
No way to keep it mild
It has raged throughout the ages it has never been snuffed
From the lips or from the pages til we say we've had enough