Do not carve wisdom with the blade of fear,
Nor strike the mind as one would strike a stone.
The soul is not a wall to break apart,
But soil that waits for rain and patient sun.
For knowledge, like a bird, will not remain
Where hands are raised in threat instead of care.
It nests where reason builds a gentle home
And questions open doors the whip cannot.
Ask not with thunder why the child has erred,
But sit beside them in the quiet light
And let them search their steps upon the path
Until they see where shadow crossed their way.
For truth is born in dialogue of hearts,
And virtue grows where understanding leads.
He who would teach must first be just and kind,
And guide the mind — not break it into shape.
Before the Breath admitted—
We dwelt—in Neighboring Mist—
A Corridor of Quiet—
By Seraph—sometimes Kissed—
No Clock—presumed—to tally—
No Noon—to be—declared—
The Light—was but a Whisper—
That would not say—we erred—
We lingered—in a Silence—
That had no Need—of Name—
A gentle—Pre-existence—
Too delicate—for Flame—
The Souls—like folded Letters—
Awaited—Earthly Hands—
To open—what was written—
In unremembered Sands—
And I—perhaps among them—
Sat—Docile—in the Air—
Until the World—requested—
My small—appointment—here—
Thus—when the Cradle called Me—
I rose—from Ether’s Home—
Exiting—an endless Chamber—
To find—a Mortal—Home—
Do not interrupt
When your enemy got erred
Silence has damage.
IN AND OF UPLIFTING ERRED FEELINGS
Though we are of God,
We are not, in no way, God:
In no way are we perfect–
No matter how hard we try:-
It’s true: to err is human;
To forgive divine:-
Thus, let us be
As we must:-
No matter what depth
We may sink into,
God will always forgive,
And raise us back up:-
If the Muse bolts from me, I'll love her more
still and pen heartfelt songs of forlorn rhymes;
yet, I'll still wilt within internal climes
of gloom from her forsaking me before
I empty her spirit, for I've sometimes
gone to cruel lengths to dash her gentle heart.
So, having erred, the consequence for art,
and ingenious meters, thus makes betimes
my Muse's faithfulness to then depart
(from me). To shortly beg her forgiveness,
I take my medication, lower my stress:
renew my efforts to make a fresh start.
For my patient Muse, a Pierian empress,
inspires my dark, bipolar mind's fitness!
Do you remember it all? Every word, every whisper, I see them clearly,
Somewhere you erred, somewhere I did too, in a lost, ephemeral time,
I remember everything, I don't let memories die in the silence of forgetting,
Praying that life doesn't become a bitter burden, a bitter longing.
May we never reach the place where the sight of you becomes a burn,
For I remember everything, every glance, every secret quiver,
Your selfishness, not as a reproach, but a quiet observation,
Perhaps I was naive, lost in the mist of an illusory paradise.
But when reality struck, paradise transformed into flames,
All those moments of laughter, burned like fires of eternal memory,
Reminding me how, from heaven to hell, our path has changed,
How from the light of love we stepped into the shadow of a lost love.
Now I'm left with memories that dance like shadows on old walls,
Each smile, each tear, like echoes in my soul,
Telling me the story of a time that never returns, a lost time,
I remember it all, every word, every whisper, like a melody.
PARDONING HELL
(Red Monday Justified)
It’s one thing forgiving those who have erred.
Criminal and criminals a free herd:-
it's another to grant then clemency;
Their injustice stampeding you and me:
Hell, what a term this is going to be:-
Just who am I
I have never known the answer
It's said children should be seen and not heard
Those words are a nonsense
Children really need to talk and be talked to
To learn how to behave and engage with others
Feeling truly loved and content
I guess you will see why, I don't know who am I.
It’s a long road
To where one is wishing to be
Happy in mind, very loving and kind
I hope I’m seen that way
Though I’m not perfect, have erred occasionally
I pray to become the best I can be, always
With generosity of heart
So the woman - who am I - does become - that’s me.
Alright, someone erred
Stole a moment of glory
Occupied centre stage
Through means unethical
To which most took umbrage
This is a time for reflection
Do we hesitate to forgive
Instead condemning the soul
Who momentarily went astray
Is not love and light our goal
Let us mindfully gentle touch
In each and every situation
As we leap forward to embrace
Assisting those who faltered
Leaving of past wounds no trace
Written: April 23, 2024 For Hilo Poet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
shed my skin in light
subdue flakes of old self-blight~
glance whispers of night
I'm born on deep moon
as tide beat on the lagoon~
I erred heart signs soon.
smoke flaws stall the air
sign of unlit porchlight glare~
yet, raise emblem snare
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
hide gloom in my flesh.
catch sheerness of your fresh self~
slight shouts of the dawn
I croak forth weak rage
as ebb smashed into ocean~
stood next to plush fate.
truth skills clear its lack
a doom of bright escape sneer~
yet, throw hatred fails
I fell but was held
in God’s warm embrace
who drew me into His heart
I erred but was forgiven
by the light that lights all lights
now aflame in the cave of my heart
I sought naught but Him
but though my sight was dim
He revealed Himself in my heart
Should my muse depart from me, I'd love her
still; and pen songs and odes of dulcet rhymes,
singing of love uncommon, and warmest climes
with hearts afire, for there's none above her.
But she feels great sadness; for she needs more time
to be free of me: for my sinful heart
has erred, and so despised her inspired art:
disdained, she can no more for me sing sublime.
So my betrayal has made her feel unloved
by me; I beg her forgiveness to no
avail: silent, she turns away; to go
to her and confess my sin leaves her unmoved.
Muse? O Muse! Forgive my sin and return,
so your love for me will not cease to burn?
Short prayer I say
Each day I keep all day
Each night I breathe and pray
With my sweater, all night I dream so gay
Clothes I wear with no pocket
I change and bring with locket
Picture of faith I keep in a bucket
All year round I lit with socket
Whenever I feel blue I just sing
Songs of fife that life can bring
Songs I bite without a sting
Melodies I strike with my light string
Strings of faith and joy I play
Keeping my feet on the ground, not stray
Living a life so cool that lay
Wreaths and olives I reap, not wray
One day I lost my faith
Erred and haunted by wraith
Wisp of tendrils creeping and saithe
Noshing my body and molded like dearth
Then instant light flashed on my face, I freezed
I was speechless, frozen without a mouthpiece
A prayer inside my pocket that please
Sweater I wore again to keep myself at ease
Despite the fact that you erred,
I can still stand firm.
You made me cry, and now I can't fly.
I threw back your ring because you clipped my wings.
I require a replacement.
Someone who will go out of his way to treat me well.
And bring back my bright smile
You ruined my smile.
How will you present yourself in town?
Tears have filled my checks.
My heart is filled with anxiety.
Oh, I discovered my true love! If only I knew what you did was difficult and cold.
Oh! This is a story that will be told
What on earth did I do to deserve this fate ?
From my insouciance I awoke much too late.
'Tis to Tomi now in exile on the Black Sea
Augustus in his wisdom has condemned me.
Julia's company and that poem where I erred
Removed me from the leisured life I much preferred.
And now my sorry assize I needs must thole
With only my wife's tenderness me to console.
This crude and inclement clime I must now call home
Sequestered so far from my distant beloved Rome.
Surrounded I am by dull furs and guttural sounds
Where in my mind life with bright togas and verse abounds
If I am not to lose my precious muse
Their language I must learn and use.
Caesar hopes me to have metamorphosed
From sophisticate to rude yokel indisposed.
Yet my Epistulae ex Ponto plead for his mercy to contain
Hopes for my return to Rome, though that all looks in vain.
If my poetry cannot soften his implacable heart,
Then perhaps others will appreciate my art.
Enchained as I am in this Hades of a living tomb,
My poetry must transform it into my Elysium.
Where Rome was once my sucus et sanguis,
Tomi must now serve as my grand palace
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