When I was serious
You took for granted.
Totally ignored my requests
Treated them like games.
Used it against me,
But support your anger.
Flying those Fs words
Towards my simple world.
Once, I tried teasing you,
You found it too offensive.
Ended our very unstable friendship,
While behaving insensibly and immaturely,
When thing has gone dead,
What would you do instead?
Long for many new days,
So I could stay away.
Faith let you and me meet.
Trust built confident while strenghtening friendships.
With respect, honest, polite and courtesy,
Helped keeping the relationship long lasting.
What you did to others "Karma"
Love makes most things go around,
Hatred tumbles people to the ground.
Life is short to muck around.
“I will die; but I don’t know when, how and where. If I die from a mortal sin, forgive me, Lord!”
~~~ Quote/Prayer by my grandmother ~~~
Death
is not
an issue
for me for I
do firmly believe,
life is given to us
temporarily, while we
are here on earth to do what we
are destined to be or meant to be
for I give credence to fate, destiny.
Yet, there are some doing what they want to
be, successfully and somehow death
comes immaturely, giving up.
Success, family, money,
prestige do not fill the
void they feel inside
and choose the way
out, end life;
own fate,
death.
2/16/22 E Forms- Etheree - Poetry
Theme: #2
Constance La France
Used: How Many Syllables
It's my neighborhood
Yet I happen to be here
First time in this spot
in 14 years
As the name shows
The road has a grove of apple trees
Two in front and hundreds behind the stone fence
Stop my brisk walk
Look up at one immaturely green and one maturely reddish
Every life stage is beautiful...
I was supposed to be at the store
at 1:00pm
and so resumed my walk
The road is white
Nobody but my shadow
No sound but the cicadas,
and the song, "Solsbury Hill"
by Peter Gabriel
in my heart
Will there ever be a time again,
when a new pair of sneakers,
holds such promise?
So clean,
smelling of rubber, glue,
and somehow,
faintly, clean rain?
Hunted down,
in the forest of cardboard,
crowded shelves,
overflowing with orphaned high tops,
bursting with the newness,
untarnished, and immaturely proud,
the possibility of paths to run, scuffle,
slap slap unworn treads on dark pavement,
marking progress homeward in street lamps,
chased by younger shadows,
paced by fireflies,
quick breath echoed off quiet houses,
now summer's reminder in autumn days.
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