O fall, let this lore of love be the last...
as your tight, chaotic grip holds me hostage.
Don't count against me my downfalls,
but the endeavors that have stitched the fabric of my days.
Still, this mask of anguish shapes its heavy cry,
wrapped tightly against the core of myself—
absent of mercy, mocking that pure moment in time
that allows us mortals to be human.
Yet, neither dusk nor dawn can delude me.
They try to imprison me, and hate may fill me with sorrow,
but the flame carried within shall never be dismissed—
a hunger not easily satisfied, refusing to die.
Discarded, a silent alchemy works in the dark.
I am the fire the shadows could not smother;
I turn the leaf, rewriting every page,
rising far above the ashes of my pain.
Last standing—strong,
amidst the dust and foliage of farewell!
Do I believe in myself
Or is that just not enough
Building my life on a platform
That has at sometimes been rough
I never gave up
I gave god my hand
He has come to be not only my eyes
He has come to be my friend.
I endeavor to finish what I started
To another level
Absolutely
Complete
The journey was worth it
It's just a choice I have to make
My endeavors
Open the clasped and ancient doors!
There are mountains of footage
to peruse.
Thousands of long years to sift through.
Who did what or who did nothing
are of great import - apparently.
Who was that fellow
and why did we follow?
That despot killer
where was his karma?
We must seek clues in the dust of ages.
Pages must be read and scrutinized.
Order and reason sought
for we are nothing
without a history that teaches us.
Yet, here there are just trackless words,
statements, records,
testament's from blind witnesses
and towers of hearsay.
How to proceed?
Should we file away the sane
and burn the insane
or will the sane in the end
drive us into insanity?
Somewhere at the very bottom
of a mute pile
wise men have been muffled
have dried-up under layers of faded ink.
Dig on must we?
Or should we close those rotted doors
and walk away on new bought shoes
recording only our steps
leaving no signs on unmapped paths?
The words of God conquer the devil.
The good defeats the wicked one.
Temptation comes not from God.
God's children win by faith,
surmounting the waves
of hindrances
to receive
endless
life
Hey you old cat...
like I can't see you or something !
down there worming …
around my feet and legs
lovin' up on me !
We're still here...today
you and me.
Just like the days and years before.
Sure I'm lookin' for
a whole lot more....ain't that natural?
We all want more than we can get...
or need....But that's Ok, Ain't it.
I'll still brush the dandruff
out of my hair every morning.
And I will shake the dust off of
my feet every night.
We all owe allegiance to our
personal cleanliness and moral endeavors.
And to see the culmination of aspirations
long overdue in the making.
So, with those few words
I now bid adieu, adieu to you,
and you, and you, and you.
Wherever you are....and wish for each
to find your shining star.
copy rite: Charles G. Henderson
Feb. 12, 2010.....Written in the vernacular and dedicated to
my two cats... two ancient toms about 12 years old. Lord, I'm
going to cry when they are gone.
The Endeavors of Lips
by Michael R. Burch
How sweet the endeavors of lips—to speak
of the heights of those pleasures which left us weak
in love’s strangely lit beds, where the cold springs creak:
for there is no illusion like love ...
Grown childlike, we wish for those storied days,
for those bright sprays of flowers, those primrosed ways
that curled to the towers of Yesterdays
where She braided illusions of love ...
"O, let down your hair!"—we might call and call,
to the dark-slatted window, the moonlit wall ...
but our love is a shadow; we watch it crawl
like a spidery illusion. For love ...
was never as real as that first kiss seemed
when we read by the flashlight and dreamed.
Published by Romantics Quarterly and The Eclectic Muse (Canada)
Of the bastard’s son, his mentality belied
That which was unforeseen among simple minded
People. A state with which corruption pollutes and lies,
While women in white sheets must be reminded.
For who can join in speech of which social populace cries,
When thou who is speaking knows not about the world therein?
A world filled with painted red roses living in a civility veiled guise
Must too soon realize that those who rule are those kingpins of tough skin.
Maidens of weak nature who abstain from pleasures of flesh
Are meant to be products of those who they sire from.
While pristine image flounders like a home creche
Mandates order amongst chaos, to live amongst the intellectually numb.
Virgin innocence reins clipped and controlled by those noble
Of intention, while the victim remains stuck in constructs – lost and immobile.
On wings of mystic endeavors
~
Dawn kissed,
this distant land
Uncharted waters drift on dreams
of solitude wishes
~
Soaring high,
like souls afloat on morning breezes,
my mind drinks in the beauty
that only comes from thinking of you
~
For as my heart does fly
on wings of mystic endeavors
and the sun rises in curved formations,
this is my love… for only you
Good morning Soupers
On wings of mystic endeavors
Sun kissed,
this distant land beckons,
uncharted waters adrift on whispers
of solitude wishes
Floating silently upon
pastel blue sky destinies,
my eyes search the heavens
for but a glimpse of euphoria
Soaring high like souls
afloat on summer breezes,
my mind wafts in the beauty
that only comes in a dream
Though as my heart does fly
on wings of mystic endeavors
and the planets align in curved formation,
my eternal love, seeks only you
Good night Soupers
the softness of your fingertips caress teats
the sensual expression of your wanton glances
the shyness of my smile titillates satirize
the meeting of minds avows - passion endeavors
________________________________________|
PENNED ON JULY 24, 2014!
I took a ride that was more like a slide
Down a track called the credit card way
It had no stops and I couldn't get off
But they demanded I pay and pay
My pass was a card that now lay in shards
Beneath my passenger seat
I don't need them now 'cause the statements allow
Me to see what I owe them complete
My phone is their bell and they're calling from hell
I can see on my caller ID
I pretend I'm not home and don't answer the phone
So they'll just leave a message for me
I fully intend to make repremand
And pay everything that I owe
I just hope they can see that coming from me
The process will be kind of slow
Rockman
Relaxing at home
Thoughts of work long forgotten
Quiet and peaceful
Transferring thoughts to paper
In poetic endeavors
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