Stripped of friends and family
she lives in squalor’s misery
The tiny tenement room
bespeaks her gloom and doom
Yet when Friday evening arrives
her heart flutters, comes alive
Ignited by kindling Sabbath lights
her face aglow throughout the night
TO DREAMING DREAMS OF REALITIES
Why, only in dreams do we become entirely free
From the gloom and doom of our present melee?
Why, in dreams only, do we become entirely free,
Flying high in the sky, free as we always wanted to be?
Why can’t I dream dreams of visions I can mold
Into dreams of realities, fulfilling missions of dreams?
If dreams are preludes of things to come, then let me
Dream dreams of liberty dreaming back to me, in reality:-
Here, wide awake among hopeful thoughts of life,
Let me mold my sweet dreams into my life's reality.
Sitting and crying in the waiting room
They face a life of gloom and doom
The father from another gang, was a spy
So the Man ordered that he must die.
You don’t spy on the Man
He kills you because he can
The Man has all the power
Because you, he will devour.
He will train you well
To serve him until you fell
If by now you can’t tell
You have chosen a life of hell.
He will tell
If you don’t serve him well
Serve him good or serve him well
Your days will be spent in hell.
On the street he will have his way
If he slips up, this will be his last day
He is afraid of the Man
So he does the best he can.
One day he started to cry
Like his father he has become a spy
He knows he is about to die
Next to his father’s grave he will lie.
My wish is for joy
Not for myself, I have more than enough
But for three others who seem to dwell on the worst possibilities
Their agenda is full of gloom and doom
I want them to feel joy at least one more time
One has stated she wants it, she does not know how to get it.
I have made suggestions but they will not work
Another said he has not felt joy since he was a boy
He is seventy-four-years old.
Surely, we can get some joy to him, wishing well.
The third person who needs joy does not realize she needs it
She thinks her life is fine
She is always fine
I want her to be more than fine.
I want joy for three.
That would be enough for me.
If I’m ever filled with dread…feelings of gloom and doom….
I look for new leaves on the trees…and flowers about to bloom.
I greet the stars up in the sky…watch the sun rise on a new day…
I stop and watch baby rabbits in the field as they play.
I listen to the baby birds in their nests…not quite ready to fly free…
I look out on the water and find baby dolphins in the sea.
This time of year in Florida…I like to walk real slow…
and greet the caterpillars and baby lizards everywhere I go.
Why is this important…because in the way it helps me cope.
It reminds me how Mother Nature has not lost her hope.
If she wasn’t filled with hope…if she was filled with gloom and doom
she wouldn’t encourage her trees to grow new leaves…
or invite her flowers to bloom.
She wouldn’t excite the birds to sing…
or inspire the stars to shine up in the sky…
and if Mother Nature places her hope in caterpillars and baby lizards
then, Gook Heavens, so will I.
I feel sluggish
can barely move through the sludge and mud
burdened with the woes of the world
turn off the news! my soul shrieks at me
it will bog you down
until you are stuck in a tar pit of unhappiness
This idea has merit
but am I ready to give up my horrible feelings?
gloom and doom sometimes works for me
I reach for a newspaper,
turning it to the obituaries
“not that!” screams my psyche
I do not care
I am tired of having my soul tell me what to do.
Rattlesnake
Stealth reptile, scaly skinned viper,
Flickers fork tongue to smell direction:
Slithering through the environment,
Camouflaged to avoid detection.
Snake eyes focus without tail rattling,
Coiling into strike kill position.
Slowly, jaws separate; fangs exposing
Venom delivery of neurotoxins.
The gloom and doom shadow looms frightening,
Mesmerizing, the serpent unleashing.
The rodent stilled, listening for hissing,
Delaying reaction and is bitten.
Coffee in morning
Listening to the news unfold
None stop gloom and doom
Soon, all too soon
The dismal news overwhelms
Must shut it down soon
In the afternoon
I listen to the blues playing
Just need to chill out
As the sun starts to set
I open a bottle of red wine
with the love of my life.
Gloom and Doom
Dark clouds veil the sun
Grim darkness spreads all around-
Sign of gloom and doom.
In seventh grade I should have known better
Than to sign up for dissecting in this kind of weather
It was stormy and dark, the sky was gloom and doom.
In the lab, I fished my frog out of his box-like tom.
I poked him with my knife to make a little slice.
His eyes popped open, which was not incredibly nice.
He stuck out his tongue and ran around the table.
Whose frog is that? Asked the teacher, named Mable.
The chase was on. He was quicker than light.
I grabbed him again and tried to hold on tight.
I ended up letting him go, that Halloween day.
Frog who refused to die on a day that was gray.
Every day seems to stop and start
With shapes and colors and God-given art
Yet I only exist within the warmth of your gaze
But for a moment to then disappear in the haze.
So I go amidst the multitudes and the commotion
I go there and witness the grand seduction
I'm but a remnant who's been ripped open
Undone, broken, remolded and woken.
Behold my muse of milk and honey
And her siamese twin who struggles within
Behold the patrons that show and tell
And all you artists that live under her spell.
O tiger tiger I now feel somewhat ill at ease
I'm stricken by some kind of strange disease
I ponder the chain that shackles my brain
And the mighty spears that brings her to tears.
Behold my muse of milk and honey
and her twin who lives for silk and money
It's gloom and doom and flowers for tomorrow
Lilies for her bedroom and roses for her sorrow.
Summers’ over fall is here
Full blooms of color
Cascading the trees
With artistic independence
Reds and oranges
Leave me in awe
Such pleasure to see
It is as if my existence
Has been refreshed
A new world
Envelopes my soul
Casting over
The gloom and doom
I have to let it go.
It's not a workingman's truck, too pretty
but it is still a sweet ride.
Pain at the pump,
not getting any richer just older.
I got to bite the bullet,
squeeze into a squeezer.
I see a small hatchback in my future.
My wife puts on that face,
you know the one
"gloom and doom." She mouths silently,
and of course, I can see
she don't mean it.
Feeling sluggish, shelled.
Lithely lingering in the dust and grime.
Palette grey and dull, devoid of crisp bright hues,
Brushes all furry, frayed, blunt, incapable of fine detail.
Apathy and complacency palls to gloom and doom in my room.
Inactivity and being non-committal, chokes the creative urge, to be stillborn.
But then, words and poetry flood into the brain during sleepless nights.
There's no stopping it.
Its spell, dispels the squashes, and quells the squishes to splats.
A tree is a tree,
whether small or tall, but free,
touch it to feel its vibes,
watch it to feel its hues.
Spring delights trees,
Blossoms bloom, fragrance teems,
Bees and birds taste the nectar so sweet,
Touch and feel the hope of future meet.
Oblivious to summer heat and wind,
shelters the birds and bees in kind,
Stands tall for selfless service with elegance,
Keeps engraved love message forever with grace.
Autumn trees display glamour of falling colorful leaves,
gloom and doom of loneliness intensifies,
The leaves get trampled, twirled around in swirling wind,
Get close to a tree to feel the lonesome sadness in mind.
The winter trees, standing bare bones,
Cold rain and snow freezing its bones,
With branches raised, reaching for the sky,
Inviting divinity, survival spirits fly.
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