I have told my story before in a different way, long before I became Speaks Volumes. I still consider it original, as new readers may pass it to someone that NEEDS to hear it.....
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"A realisation that no longer was it a duty to rid myself of pain but a duty to others, not to." ~~The Poet~~
I cried a million tears while no-one was around,
I bottled all my fears and didn’t make a sound.
I remembered all the cruelty that was said.
Only loneliness and despair filled my head.
I could envisage no future that was to be.
Everything was hopeless, nothing left for me.
Not one nice time in my life that I could recall.
I was ugly and sickly, and a burden to all.
I was tired of forcing myself to go on living
Seemed I was always taking and never giving.
As I stood on that cliff looking down at the sea
I somehow looked forward as it beckoned to me.
Bold enough now to walk away from that cliff to give living another try.
Its because of what I heard and I’d like to tell you why
All of a sudden a voice came from somewhere above
"Your hurt wont go, you’ll only pass it to those you love".
Imagination can fly one away
To those places where one’s fantasy’s stray
Hitching a lift upon a passing cloud
Seeing the world anew, from upside down.
Imagine being on a sunny beach
When the possibilities out of reach
Soaking up the sun, swimming in the sea
Wearing only trunks or a bikini.
Envisage the summer love never ceased
Flowers in one’s hair, a signal of peace
Dancing in the streets, a hippie’s delight
In San Francisco, from morn to night.
Imagine how wonderful life could be
If all folk on earth lived in unity
Across the world all people holding hands
Happy as lambs and babies in their prams.
Picture a smile upon everyone’s face
Imagine all folk blessed with pure divine grace.
* * *
How would you like to envisage this transience,
now, that you have ascended this mortal realm;
Thousands of references under your options
now choose, with your gifted conscience.
How about the reference of an orphan
sheltered under the rich's shade,
wandering in the streets of merry families,
disappering as the nights fade?
Maybe the angle of a just born lover,
waiting patiently by her forever's bed,
as he holds her hand, whispering promises,
and slowly chasing his last breath?
And how about a trusted devotee of the deity,
a mother who just got sent
in response to her prayers, an apology letter,
from her beloved son's regiment?
Or maybe the man bearing the joy of his life,
on his shoulder so petite and trivial,
an anonymous griever, as they called him,
being the pallbearer of his best friend's casket?
So how would you like to envisage this transience,
now, that you have ascended this mortal realm;
How would you like to improvise these incidents
Written under destiny's poetic license?
Its 9'30 monday morning U K time the skies around London are the
Grey of grime.' Its like in the evening', a somber scene i
Think its taken from 'middle earths book' the fellowship of
The ring.? As by mechanical means the sky is sown.' To
Drown us in gloom, these clouds are grown.' To deny real
Life..To cause the farmers strife.' I consider only sad beings, could envisage and plan such an innings' closing
Churches and pubs.' Which don.'t need the pre-fix of hubs.'
Yet there is great capicity in humanity..' innate intelligence
That will counter insanity.' Dr evil and the devil bankers real Sickos.' Can only be the answer.' May the evil curse of
Pathogens enter into them and cover them, may no rest be given
Ever.' to these cretins of wicked endeavours.' May they be
Soundly mocked and forsaken. May their very presence of mind
Be taken.' May every sickness be their portion.' May they
Be a lesson of morality and cause repair.' So to the Bible
Many will hearken to avoid their own souls being darkened.'
I cherished time walking through Cherry Blossoms,
And when it is to turn pink, it’s mind-blowing.
It’s like a pink rug situated on both sides in Kyoto,
Experiencing the Promised Land while having Cotto.
I love observing the farmland plowing,
The fields appreciate him by bowing.
I am dismayed at the strangers who see me trespass,
Imagine them complaining so fast to the gran who owes the meadow.
Envisioning her catching me while I'm passing through her swath,
She solicits me if I'm trying to display this as my path.
Visualizing my agitation after I get busted,
Then the old wrinkled gran will make me entrusted.
For sure assign me to babysit the offspring,
I’ve to make him feel like a king,
Oh God! I cannot envisage it!
Is not life a mystery too deep to fathom
and is not man, a part of the cosmic soul?
passing through stages four,
human life completes its cyclic scroll
starting with innocent childhood,
in time, our life passes through youth and middle age
and ends up in crippling old age,
precisely as the seasons envisage!
each stage has its thrills and fills
marked by distinct traits and quirk
if childhood is an age of play,
youth, a transition from play to work.
middle age- a time when passions are tempered
and old age, time for a shift from work to rest.
Thus, life in time sprouts, blooms, fades and ebbs away,
as plants through the four seasons manifest!
each stage is a link in the long chain of life
and birth and death, just doorways in and out
life after completing its earthly round,
shall enter a world beyond the reach of thought.
can we still say life is an empty dream?
sure, we wake to sleep and sleep to wake
and the cycle goes on and on relentless
just as the seasons repeat without mistake!
A gift to behold
Who are you we wondered,
Where your path leads, we thought
I knew what we wanted, couldn’t envisage
Then we surrendered…
When in pain, you are the balm.
When there’s despair, you make calm.
When mind wanders, you direct.
When there’s darkness, you reflect.
The world could be treacherous,
Its people delusional,
with your guiding light, ceaseless wisdom,
the path lightens, spirit awakens, tranquility prevails.
As we celebrate, rejoice,
We all have a choice…
To be with others, to help learn, unlearn;
To keep the hope alive, the lights shining bright.
That’s a gift which will behold,
For a guru, who never gets old!
“I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”
Michael Jordan
Every time I have lamented over something lost,
I have managed to do without it at little cost.
Getting over a loss is success, I don’t envisage much strife.
But what doesn’t apply - in the box could not be a human life.
"A realisation that no longer was it a duty to rid myself of pain but a duty to others, not to." ~~The Poet~~
I cried a million tears while no-one was around,
I bottled all my fears and didn’t make a sound.
I remembered all the cruelty that was said.
Only loneliness and despair filled my head.
I could envisage no future that was to be.
Everything was hopeless, nothing left for me.
Not one nice time in my life that I could recall.
I was ugly and sickly, and a burden to all.
I was tired of forcing myself to go on living
Seemed I was always taking and never giving.
As I stood on that cliff looking down at the sea
I somehow looked forward as it beckoned to me.
Walking away from that cliff to give living another try.
Its because of what I heard and I’d like to tell you why
All of a sudden a voice came from somewhere above
"Your hurt wont go, you’ll only pass it to those you love".
Even though they have wings
Emu’s can’t fly. Hens lay
Emerald-green eggs in
Expansive leaf lined nests.
Each emu egg would make
Enormous omelets
Envisage eating that!
Kids are creative, made in God's image;
we parents are just coaches on this earth.
God has prepared for them lines of scrimmage;
kids are creative.
Kids demonstrate a great challenge at birth.
We take pride; their "great"ness we envisage
forgetting their Creator grants them girth.
We focus on our lines of lineage
and give God small credit for their real worth.
Is that why they rebel in alienage?
Kids are creative.
All my days,
All my sojourn,
None do I know,
None, can I tell,
Dawn chauffeurs my existence,
Nightfall retracts me into my chamber,
The passage that my feet find,
I navigate,
The route that dawn heralds,
I walk,
I envisage better days,
I keep hope alive,
As I anticipate heaven's kiss.
February 17, 2023.
She wept for this cause,
They couldn’t see beyond the present,
They didn’t deem it an urgent course,
While few are willing to listen, the majority choose to resent.
They say that how could a child’s eye see beyond the wall,
They are also not without their periscopes,
She can envisage their fall,
It’s like viewing falling meteorites through telescopes.
A doomsday disaster,
All-inclusive none the master.
July 23, 2022.
INSPIRATIONS
entice
the unwary
into
a wild ride
a headlong
gallop into
the surreal
wonder
& magic
of
an abstract
dream
in
the chaos
of
forgotten
ambiguity
invoking
the
unexpected
to
elicit
&
envisage
the
attraction
of
alternatives
favoured
by the imagination
to
encapsulate
the
essence
both
of
the
stunning
& incredible
so
thematically
rich
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Is not life a mystery too deep to fathom
and is not man, a part of the cosmic soul?
passing through stages four,
human life completes its cyclic scroll
starting with innocent childhood, in time,
our life passes through youth and middle age
and ends up in crippling old age,
precisely as the seasons envisage!
each stage has its thrills and fills
marked by distinct traits and quirk.
if childhood is an age of play,
youth, a transition from play to work.
middle age- a time when passions are tempered
and old age, time for a shift from work to rest.
thus life in time sprouts, blooms, fades and ebbs away,
as plants through the four seasons manifest!
each stage is a link in the long chain of life
and birth and death, just doorways in and out
life after completing its earthly round,
shall enter a world beyond the reach of thought.
can we still say life is an empty dream?
sure, we wake to sleep and sleep to wake
and the cycle goes on and on, relentless
just as the seasons repeat without mistake!
July.9.2022
Time between the Seasons Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Kim Rodrigues
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