Doom sets in watching night turn to day, horror and grief at what I’ve done—circadian rhythm brutality murdered by my own hands.
The light bleeds in through the blinds, thwarting my best efforts to block it out.
I know what I must do.
Hide the evidence—the bags under my eyes tucked away, the subtle pause in my movements, and my draw more southern than I usually give.
The bitter black mixed with sweet richness keeps me going for the rest of the day.
They all know what I did that night.
I know they can sense it.
I killed her.
I know my flaws are multitudinous
so I pray my best efforts are illuminous
so that underneath you cannot really see
the broken fragments that once made me.
The darkness that lives inside my chest,
clings to me like a safety vest.
Don’t want you to know that from my very core, I’m chasing someone who isn’t here anymore.
The time has passed and the years have flown
yet nothing seems to have grown,
since when I turned about eighteen
when everything had not yet been seen.
Each day feels heavy and set in stone,
each day I feel more alone.
If you had told me all those years ago,
that still today I have nothing to show for my torture, blood, sweat and tears
I’d simply shake my head and jeer
because there’s no way I’d have placed me here
drowning alone, drowning in fear.
love …
was the air
that you breathed …
there was no course navigated
no interaction made
no thought processed or
act completed
no example set as people or parents
that didn’t have that concern as
its primary edict …
and while life has blessed me far
beyond what a fool like
me could ever hope to deserve,
there is not and never will be
a grace granted me that exceeds the
very simple, very precious gift
of having been your son …
time does NOT make the loss of
you any easier or kind
but I have found strength in the
promise of carrying on,
at least in my best efforts and
hopeful intentions,
your inestimable legacy …
of love.
~ for Mom & Dad - I miss you like lovers miss moonlite ~
( photograph of my mom and dad taken from family archives )
Copyright © 2024 Gregory Richard Barden
the ocean is unfamiliar
i see the aging in the seaweed's expressionism
oh how i love getting reacquainted with an old favorite
change is inevitable despite my imagination's best efforts
the ocean is unfamiliar
i went broke and left broken mirror glass in different spots in the sand
oh how i love catching up with an old loyal friend
change is inevitable despite my self constructed planet's best efforts
the ocean is unfamiliar
i became a victim once again of my own poor decisions and unfortunate pickiness
oh how i love the PeaceFull Feel of Charlie's Unconditional Acceptance and Love
change is forever inevitable despite my dusty wishes spring filled hope's best efforts
Sometimes our best intentions
miss the impossible target-perfection
Sometimes our best efforts
leave us hopeless and contemplating defection
Sometimes our goal
of being everything to everybody
misses the target so that we feel
we give very little to anybody
Oftentimes we must stop
to refuel our bodies and our minds
so that when we are engaged in lifting up
we do not leave ourselves behind
Sometimes our best intentions
must be reexamined through the lens of gratitude
Sometimes our best efforts
must be weighed on the scales of self-affirming latitude
Sometimes we must pause
to just give ourselves and others grace
so that we empower our vision
to redefine the target for this race
Some people can play poker
Not me
My thoughts and feelings sit at the edge of my face
Jumping on the necks and backs of people
If you disgust me, my disgust might take a bite out of you
If I listed all the things that irritate and disgust me
You would feel put upon and irritated
No one wants to hear this
Instead I bring my rant back to my unhidden feelings
When I am sad they yell, stomp, scream, and screech.
All without benefit of voice
But you see my face and you know
See now why I cannot play poker?
When I have a winning hand my crescent smile lights up Manhattan.
And I live in Kansas.
My thoughts and feelings cannot be secured, lassoed or hidden.
They blaze forward like a super hero on speed.
In spite of my best efforts to act aloof or indifferent.
'Tis off to the races now that homeschooling has ended.
One half earns for their subsistency,
other half learns about delinquency.
Be they friends and their best efforts were suspended.
Tale spring muses as the anticipant's
appraised specifies traditional hopes
load stages standard addictive transplants
secured cognitive lodestar prolonged copes.
Missteps venture the wide-eyed sneeze, and runny nose
a caption reads, "This be the Time.", gone are
the reporting authors, counting those
to acknowledge them, minus their star.
Bloom's wilt and hues fade know not the hour caused,
advents trending acquisitions neglect closure
but fail to end the brotherhood of friends exposure.
halls went silent the schoolyard empty, turned men paused.
~ for Mom & Dad ~
love …
was the air
that you breathed …
there was no course navigated
no interaction made
no thought processed or
act completed
no example set as people or parents
that didn’t have that concern as
its primary edict …
and while life has blessed me far
beyond what a fool like
me could ever hope to deserve,
there is not and never will be
a grace granted me that exceeds the
very simple, very precious gift
of having been your son …
time does NOT make the loss of
you any easier or kind
but I have found strength in the
promise of carrying on,
at least in my best efforts and
hopeful intentions,
your inestimable legacy …
of love.
( I miss you like lovers miss moonlite )
You got me flowers last week,
The petals started to wilt and fall yesterday,
–So I carefully glued them back on.
Despite my best efforts, they continued to die.
No amount of love and care can keep them alive,
From the time they first sprout to the time they bloom,
Their fate is predetermined.
You got me flowers last month,
I watched them shrivel away,
But I still can not bring myself to throw them out.
Their petals cover the middle of the diner table;
Like a sad circle reminding me that what once was is no longer, and will never be again.
You got me flowers last year,
I had to get rid of them,
They decomposed completely by the ninth month and second day.
You asked me if I would like a new bouquet,
All I could think about was how that first petal fell,
How do we continue to get each other flowers knowing they are inescapably going to die after such a tragic short life?
Why do flowers still grow;
In the face of death?
Why
would
people
criticise
a child’s best efforts
because he does not measure up
to their own abilities and twisted reasoning?
Learning disorders are not to be looked down on; instead, motivation is the key.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
For those of you who aren't
Musically au fait
Let me describe to you
How to set up gigs to play
Despite your best efforts
And the preparation done
Inevitably some snag
Will bite you on the bum
You lug in all the gear
It weighs a helluva lot
Only to discover the stage
Is the size of a table top
Only a single power point
Is available for you to use
Leads are strung up everywhere
To trip on as you choose
Tension is running high
As a preliminary strum
Causes feedback squeals
But the worst is yet to come...
The mics are on the blink
The lightings really dim
Someone breaks a string
It's pandemonium!
Perhaps you're apathetic to my ministrations
fatigued by my futile attempts at suturing
the suppurating wounds inflicted by others
who came before me much like those I suffer
both of our spirits bearing similar scars
Upon removing the bandages to reveal
they have not healed and rankle raw and red
I turn my head not in disgust at the pus
but so you won’t see the tears I shed
on account of my failure before binding them
once again in clean linen after applying a balm
of my best efforts that in spite of their sincerity
will never be enough thus my own injuries
I’ve clumsily dressed will continue to fester
and decay without the catholicon physic
of those three words you cannot say
Quote: Give life your best shot for desires appear and disappear
Love alone unties the Gordian knot
Now that we are here, let us do our very best
with what we have been given, God will do the rest;
Since we have been called to live a life of authenticity
we ought to shun duplicity and deceitful ways
in order to make way for the best version of ourselves.
When we do this we can accept most anything that God
sends our way. Sword in hand we fight the battles of life,
like an Arc-angel of old. No support team is needed
if you place your best efforts in the hands of the greatest
Alchemist there ever was...
Love alone unties the knots of life so knit yourself
to the belief that good things come to those who wait...
Sit by the River Jordan and be baptized into His palpable Love
Unloose the sandals of despair, step into hope and live.
Date: March 26, 2023
Sponsor Unseeking Seeker
Contest Name Now that we are here
Systematic life will lead to success
Certain rules we must strictly follow
Proper discipline, we must possess
Real enthusiasm must finely flow
Cheerful approach leads to joy
Perfect planning brings progress
Our skill, we must wisely deploy
Our efforts must be damn vigorous
We must utilize every opportunity
Taking best efforts with confidence
By functioning with real creativity
We must pray to the Providence
We must not remain lethargic
All possible steps, we must take
To laziness, we must be allergic
Honest attempts, we must make
A hard-worker will ultimately win
As his success is by God assured
Now itself if one decides to begin
All setbacks will be superbly cured.
I have wondered what Poetry Soup would be like
If poems submitted were subject to critical eyes
And contributors were free to critique the poems,
To say how they really feel about a poem, to analyze.
Of course, it cannot be, for we are a thin-skinned bunch
Often our feelings are hurt by the slightest correction
And, I am of the opinion having been here for a while
We all think we are so fantastic, we need no inspection.
Well, I, for one, realize my poetry would be much better
If I had the opinion of those who could read me critically
Not those who would merely wish to tear me down,
But who would help me become a better poet, literally.
I would welcome those kinds of sincere suggestions
Although, I must warn you, I don’t accept advice so well
So, be careful how you approach my best efforts,
I know my poems would improve if they laid aside a spell.
With this being said, let’s continue to be kind to each other
Appreciating each other’s comments and camaraderie,
But, if you see an obvious mistake in one of my offerings
Do not hesitate! Please, by all means, point it out to me.
Written November 27, 2022
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