Oh God free me from this wretched prison.
My soul, bound to this body.
Chained to this earth.
Yet, honestly, who chains me but me.
Yes, and why?
Because… otherwise I’m afraid of what I may see
On the other side.
Contemplating life after listening to the radio late at night...
(a found poem)
Do you suppose thunder island
is in the middle of fire lake?
(I can still hear your voice from across the bay)
Which of us made the first mistake?
I have no time left now to go searching
for maybes without answers.
(I did not find those wings or better things)
If you had only dropped in to see
what condition I was in
(after I tore my mind on a jagged sky)
I would have taken a long shot gamble,
(ignored the green grass and high tides)
rode away with you down a carefree highway,
where we might have found
those castles of stone and peace of mind!
Songs:
Thunder Island by Jay Ferguson, 1978
Fire Lake by Bob Seger, 1980
No Time by The Guess Who, 1969
Just Dropped In by Kenny Rogers and The First Edition, 1967
Green Grass and High Tides by The Outlaws, 1975
Carefree Highway by Gordon Lightfoot, 1974
I'm standing
In a line
Patiently waiting
For my turn or time
Standing in the lane of success.
I keep wondering
So many had made it
Why is mine staying longer
Sometimes I admit
Maybe mine is bigger
Or it will never come to my time or turn.
I keep racing for it
So many times
I work and prayed
But still a delay
Then I try to replay
Just to see if I'm not doing enough.
There are those who squirm
at the sight of the urn
Others can’t mask it
sobbing over a casket
As for myself, I’m like the elf ~
floating in formaldehyde on the shelf
I had faith,
I had faith,
But later I realized
That all my ideas were wrong.
I had change,
I had change,
But my habits keep coming back
And want to hold me back once more.
I have friends,
I have friends,
But when I have troubles
Seldom I can see them support.
I have love,
I have love,
But I have not found love
In reciprocation that I had wish for.
glorifying days gone by
meanwhile wasting time
i’ve got nothing more than an alibi
to make sense of this paradigm
i’m betting on a future paradise
where starry moonlit nights entice
and sunshine saves the day
while guileless children play
AP: 3rd place 2025
Submitted on April 6, 2025 for contest STEVIE WONDER sponsored by KAREN JONES (Pastime Paradise) - RANKED 2ND
like the full moon
seeking fulfillment
there i hung
dangling in space—
half empty—half full…
gradually
the tell-tale linking
of the gibbous moment
of truth’s awareness
came in the still of night…
then i realized
fulfillment is preceded
by life’s crucifixion
fulfilling resurrection:
it’s the emptiness
of life’s cross
that brings fulfillment…
once again i ink crosses
of words and pray
they empty themselves
and become
ascensions to the minds
of blessed children
anointing them with sacred
guidance…
we poets must never be
cocooned in non-metamorphosis
imprisonment of abject silence…
rather we must be evolved
liberated poetic butterflies
soaring life’s skies
pollinating them with divine
shared words of peace and love
and divine wisdom and guidance:
we poets must indeed
be ascended saints
of god’s cistern
sharing cups and saucers
of his shared words
nourishing seeking souls
with awareness
confidence and encouraging
inspirational spiritualization:-
I often find myself weighting pros and cons
Should I stay? Should I leave?
If this life truly is so devoid of happiness,
If death truly is the absence of responsibilities,
Should I leave? Should I stay?
If I truly love my family and friends,
If I truly love the idea of freedom,
Should I leave? Should I jump?
“Pure hearts take from God permission ~
To feel in heart, bliss ignition”
~ quote by poet
We know yet deny, each breath’s new
It’s a gift from God, we abuse
For we follow not, our heart’s muse
Where’s our childlike heart, pure like dew
When we were born, our soul was pure
Why then now are our steps unsure
Trapped in form, we’re caged in this zoo
Walking as though we’re in a daze
Lost and bewildered in life’s maze
We’re desperate for a breakthrough
It seems ego’s broken love’s link
No wonder then, we sink, we sink
Show us God; nothing less will do
With the pulse of bliss magnetism
Set aflame this mind-body prism
We know yet deny, each breath’s new
Where’s our childlike heart, pure like dew
Trapped in form, we’re caged in this zoo
We’re desperate for a breakthrough
Show us God; nothing less will do
Sunflowers like smiling balloons,
round and robust, sounds
of the stem bobbing like a string
tied not to the past but to the soons.
Lost before noon, the duct
let out one final tear. Now
she is nearer to God than me.
Like a sheepdog, I guard my Dad.
Sunflowers, weaved into a frame,
deluded in happiness while we pass.
Petals pull at the heart, switching
moods between Winter and Spring.
His tears fill up palm lake, pulsing
of his broken heart. All delusions
fall off the cliff. Reality of life
without her, within.
Sunflowers’ dark brown centers,
the grief stricken eyes, tarred
and feathered. Childlike questions,
those eyes open wide…
So pretty purple urn; claustrophobic
words can’t contain the expression
of who she is-was. Ashes in eyes and
hearts of contemporary ascendants.
Sunflowers’ reflections, so alive,
slowly dying. We watch ourselves
fading. The funeral parading
before us, bypassing us.
Where lies the fulcrum of a sneeze
Or for that matter, flow of breath
And joy graced by love’s healing meth
Who’s most enlivened by the breeze
Is it the skin, mind or the heart
As bliss is added to soul’s cart
When will we wake up and unfreeze
Free from clutches of our ego
By simply choosing to forgo
How may our cravings we release
Save by melding with the vast void
No longer by thought forms decoyed
What’s the path to ascend with ease
Is it in symbols or in space
To touch God and feel His embrace
Where lies the fulcrum of a sneeze
Who’s most enlivened by the breeze
When will we wake up and unfreeze
How may our cravings we release
What’s the path to ascend with ease
Contemplating Civilization
Roger White
Civilization is the skin that covers the body of mankind.
It warms man when he is sanguine; enlightens man when he is melancholic.
When torn by conflict, Civilization bleeds.
As mankind recovers from disaster, Civilization heals.
Its complexion bears the scars of rivalry and mortal struggle.
Dissension does not wrinkle it, discord does not stain it.
Rather, Civilization grows translucent, revealing the layers of its timeless beauty.
And hidden within the layers of Civilization lies the immutable question:
Did mankind create Civilization or did Civilization create mankind?
Stopping to contemplate a slug
I marveled at this taciturn bug
Designed to live underground
occasionally it is found
making its way ‘long a crosswalk
using up half a day’s clock
on its tortuous path homeward bound
~ never making one single sound
The falling snow is lovely
some place else!
I will dance in the snow
like an old woman
finding her second childhood.
The snow flakes
are as big and heavy as half-dollars
moments before turning
into raindrops.
Schizophrenic clouds
can't decide weather to drop snow
or cry rain.
warm wind
snow angels
fly away
The first day of spring
seems as far away as you.
The gifts are wrapped and ‘neath the tree
in brightly colored bags and bows.
I now sit back, my mind set free
to contemplate these thoughts I chose
and share this verse I now compose.
‘Tis quiet on this Christmas Eve;
a soothing peace now fills the air
with calming grace as I perceive
this moment meant for all to share
and bless it with a silent prayer.
And yet not all this time enjoy
for somewhere in the darkness roam
forgotten souls devoid of joy
who scrounge for food in constant moan
upon the street they call their home.
It’s right that we should show our love
and buy fine gifts for those held dear;
but don’t get lost in thoughts thereof
forgetting those who’re not so near
and close your ears their cries to hear.
December 24, 2023
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