There’s a kind of power in my failure.
Like a bell that always rings inside me.
Not too loud, but at the same time,
its echo feels like a song teaching me
that failure is but a phase.
It makes the world unpredictable.
It rings when I fall,
as if it's a sign I will rise.
It rings when I cry.
Yet when I hold a pen and paper
and write my pain out,
it barely makes a sound ,
like a bell too shy to ring.
So, I let it ring in its own time,
like it always gives me a chance to be me.
Yet on those days it rang,
it showed me that I was here,
and made me turn failure into a song,
a melody that lingers, uninvited yet welcomed.
Some say, 'There is no such thing
as coincidence,'
but I beg to differ,
for it has been my experience,
several I know have been seen,
and need no persuasion,
at the same place and time as me,
randomly, on more than one occasion.
Tossing a coin,
or rolling the dice,
the results may/may not
be identical twice.
Call it what you will; 'fate',
'serendipity' or 'happenstance',
but, whomsoever wrote the script,
is of the most significance.
I sat inside your office at the age of forty-five,
A farmer's desperation just to keep the dream alive.
Just hoping you would look at me and take a chance to see,
The farmer's steady promise that was still inside of me.
I'll admit I'm far from perfect, and I surely wasn't then,
But I learned mechanic's lessons in the rust beside the men.
That my true value isn't found in polish or in gold,
But in the perseverance when the nights were growing cold.
The months went by, the days grew long, until the layoffs hit,
And when the storm came crashing down, my time was sadly clipped.
I still remember clearly the words you said that day,
"I hope our paths will cross again somewhere along the way."
I spent eight years in other jobs, the foundry called me back,
And finally put my purpose and my spirit back on track.
I know it was my second chance, a light that has been lit,
And I'm glad to have been taught by you the truth in all the grit.
What do I have to do –
to make myself worth truly loving?
It's a fight I never win –
what is it that I am not doing?
Is my patience not enough? –
(do I) not give you enough chances?
For I offer both endlessly –
but still nothing enhances.
The lies, the hurt, the cheating –
it never seems to end.
Why do the things that hurt me? –
(I thought) that you were my best friend…
But friends don't take advantage –
not when they truly value them.
So why say that you love me –
Just to use me in the end?
Their l was striking up conversation
Talking we were about past romances
It seemed a very strange situation
As we met in unusal circumstances
But boy what a feeling of elevation
That moment when your heart dances
What felt like it was a joint celebration
With exchanged smiles and glances
And though despite the hesitation
I found it hard to ignore her advances
Thinking that shes my desternation
I then chose to take my chances
Prequl to fate 98 follow up to poem chances all 3 written back to back 2018
I know it’s selfish of me
To keep asking you to stay
When I don’t try to change,
Especially with all my bad habits.
I’m sorry for telling you all those lies.
I’m sorry my actions weren’t enough.
I’m sorry I hurt you and abandoned you.
I’m sorry for all the pain that I caused.
You keep telling me we won’t work out,
But I still have faith in this entangled mess.
There’s a pulse under all this tragedy,
And I want to bring it back to life.
I don’t think I can stay as friends
When I always imagined you in a white dress,
As you walk down the aisle, looking me in the eye.
If we become friends, I have to let those dreams go.
It’s always been a cycle between you and me.
I kept making empty promises and breaking them.
Nothing I can say can fix what I’ve done,
But I’m begging you to come back.
If this is what you want,
Grab my hand and look me
Right between my eyes,
And watch the love come back.
I’ll become a better man,
And I won’t say the words.
I’ll become the man who lets you in,
The man who tells you everything,
The man who’s no longer afraid to be seen.
I want to be there for you
When no one else can.
"May is the month of expectation, the month of wishes, the month of hope." - Emily Brontë
Erasing wintery breath, the wonder
Lighting the way, through hills and streams
Pouring out hope in brisk stirrings of faith
Recall the music trembling in the wind
Laughing leaves, memories flow through the pine
Reassuring souls of life’s beginning
Restoring heaven’s sensibilities
Rising on the skies, in lavender hues
Brightening each night with a moon’s glow
With gentle twinkle of starlight on May
The brand of Sunday coffee
I used to drink from
brewed darkened exquisite flavor
from sugar and diffusing steam
of addiction, pride, deception, idolatry, lust,
suicide, guilt, impatience, hypocrisy,
selfishness, resentment, anger, profane language
envy, greed, fear, disobedience,
unbelief and unforgiveness
although this brand of coffee
brought comfort to my system
for only a few mornings
but instead it still brought
the intensity of misery and discomfort
into the basin of my soul
This new brand of Sunday coffee
I now drink from
brews crystalline exquisite flavor
from sugar, cream, syrup and ice
of peace, patience, love, joy
wisdom, faith, healing, discernment
and eternal life to my system
prepared by our spiritual barista
with a slice of coconut tart
that will endlessly
quench my intensity for righteousness
into the basin of my soul
TAKEN CHANCES
What life lived well save taken chance
lives not a life at all.
Tis unknown fear stalking the ear,
the spice of lifes long haul.
Safety is fine devoid of a spine,
death bed's deepest regret.
A thousand deaths pain, felt but once
by those we don't forget.
Earned or inborn, beware, be warned
of monkeys on one's back.
Failure doth hunt the fearful heart.
The bold choose to attack
With gusto, guile, gumption, and grit
success kowtows behind.
What e'er affair the heart desires
is purview of the mind.
For boldness does not blindly lead
or scurry to and fro,
it walks the line, in step, in time,
forever in the know.
This road not taken leisurely,
hard work lives with intent.
All for naught when honor is fought.
Whats said must be what's meant.
Whence dust we go, life's said and done,
it gives no second chance.
Take charge, live large, by honor's rule
to own your circumstance.
defamatory accusations
not one sliver of truth
it took a huge bite out of his reputation
crippling his bid to become district court judge
his disappointment was tumultuous
he never knew the rumors were initiated by his mother
a small-minded, evil wicked woman
It’s time
To stop overthinking things
And start taking chances
So you can live your best life
It’s time
To start saying yes
To as many opportunities
As you possibly
Can say yes to
It’s time
To try
As many activities
As you possibly
Can try
It’s time to take chances
Take chances
Take chances
It’s time
To stop
Being afraid
It’s time
To stop
Being scared
It’s time
To stop
Hiding from the world
It’s time to take chances
Take chances
Take chances
It’s time
To step out of your comfort zone
And take a hold
Of all of the chances
That are waiting for you
A second chance may be
A chance to correct a mistake
But what so many to seem to miss
Is that it might not be
Their own mistakes they need to fix
Maybe others
Have wronged them their whole life
And now they're given a second chance
To be treated and to be loved
The way that they deserve
I guess what I'm trying to say is
Can I please be your second chance?
Avoiding the bridal bouquet thrown my way
All that awaits
are the memories
All that’s left
still unclaimed
All that I treasure
lay buried inside
All in those choices
— unmade
(Dreamsleep: July, 2025)
May I have the pleasure of this dance?
I hope I have a better chance
than the sliding snail you see and stalk,
slowly slinking on the sidewalk.
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