I’ll write it out for you,
can I be your secret?
A whisper in stages
ripples with every line.
It’s hidden on pages.
I’ll write it out for you
to hold on to at night,
as the fan softly spins.
Where reality ends
another dream begins.
I’ll write it out for you,
so you’ll never forget.
In a way that’s tender
my handwritten letters
will warm you forever.
I’ll write it out for you,
feathery on your neck.
These lyrics will enrich,
each touch luxurious.
You’ll never be a snitch.
Once I was a cold soul
Frigid to the bone cold
I had been raped by men
Couldn’t feel pure my only sin
Elephant in the room was to repent
And healing came in stages
No more dancing in cages
Denying my heart ran races
Men who did offend but inside
Each one was melted ice
Needing me and a forgiving Christ
I have a lamp,
It glows in stages.
I use the brightest,
It lights all places.
Its color’s lovely,
It brings me peace.
The lowest glow
Helps me release.
It casts a rose upon my wall.
Then mom walks in,
so mad, so cruel—
She breaks my lamp, it starts to fall.
I have no lamp,
My room is bare.
No peaceful dreams,
No flowers there.
Apologies
If I say I'm sorry
I will get my way
Your thinking to sway
Apology to look good
Narcissism under the hood
For me everyone will root
Apology to provoke guilt
Creates self-doubt to the hilt
Blame to you will shift
Apologies made from half truth
My own feelings to soothe
Everyone thinks I stand on truth
Apologies to put it in the past
Knowing fake peace won't last
Over you a shadow will cast
Apologies made but nothing changes
To break you down in stages
Slowly your mind deranges
Apologies not from the heart
When you never state your part
Will always tear us apart
By Cathrin Stuart
I grab a pen with my hands cold and damp
Blank stare cascades down upon the pages
Broad strokes of ink beneath a buzzing lamp
Lines land flat with thoughts couped up in cages
Air thickened and foggy with writer’s cramp
Words dissolve like mist slowly in stages
Ideas rendered useless with no say
A poet lives to write another day
Changes,
know what they’re all about;
Flip each of the pages
on double breasted doubt;
Let it go in stages.
Back road
may be a bit longer
but you lighten the load;
The trip makes you stronger
left running in beast mode.
Do it!
You have your future locked;
Sick rambunctious misfit
you always leave them shocked,
I’ve got five on your wit
Changes
can be for the better;
Those ho hum exchanges
gone for something greater;
Blitz fire rearranges.
The ultimate truth pointed out by sages,
being taken as read, needs to be applied,
transforming our heart where a fierce fire rages,
fanned by wayward ego, which to soul has lied,
to which end, shifting to silence in stages,
when in the womb of space we choose to reside,
the light of a thousand suns ignites our form,
as our presence surrenders to God’s bliss storm.
"Because you've deepened the conviction in my soul. I am woman.” Ray Burton
Restful repose.
Seemingly without clothes,
Yet adorned with a quilt.
Serene, no concerned guilt.
Appearing to slumber.
Six women in number,
Or is it just one
In stages til life’s done?
Woman, slyly awake and alert.
Wiles of a temptress she'll assert.
The delicate virgin surrounded by flowers.
Buds turn to blooms as do woman’s powers,
Becoming full and plentiful.
The Painting acts as a sentinel.
Through the ages, she loves and will reproduce,
By gentle round contours her body will induce.
Creating splendid sensuality,
She possesses untold morality.
Depicting an older woman back to the virgin so grounded.
Her gown in purple and blue the maiden is surrounded.
Fertile spirals depicted swirling in reverse,
Showing ever changing woman, in the universe.
Before my mirror, on this summer day,
I see my aging landscape spreading far
in stages of my autumn's own decay-
with weakened frame and aching bones which are
now shielding winter sleep from death afar.
But deep inside, my soul stays springtime green
with love for God that paints my mental scene;
accepting, waiting- that in death I'll rise
in beauty once again, brand new, pristine-
above in Heaven's blessed, Eternal Skies.
risen and shone
did I
snare a dream
untainted in its craft
But rapidly its shine faded
Although I did it in stages
How to beget hold of it?
How to sustain
such purity of heart?
What ecstatic love
a child of the night
It was a calf from the skies!
Written: June 03, 2023
My Life A Book
By: Miracle Man
4/10/2023
My life is a book that I’ve written in stages,
it’s oft been a path of both straight and bend.
In hindsight, I see many dog eared pages,
size alone tells me that I’m nearing its end.
The idyllic pages now show faces in dreams,
even these, I know, that time won’t enhance.
I question, was some page as bad as it seems,
life pages didn’t occur just by happenstance.
Hebrews: 9:27
27 And as it is appointed unto men once to die,
but after this the judgment:
Sometimes caring too much can be dangerous
There is always a reflection of Cain and Abel next to you
It is good to love in stages
So that you don’t allow yourself to end up in a cage
And be enslaved by a misguided notion
My biggest losses came from being too loyal
Often we look at people with a royal outlook
But this can be disastrous
Your enemies are not strangers
Sometimes those that love us the most
Betray us the worst!
We pick our friends and love ones but
In the end, in real situations we sort them out
Then, we find out our true companions!
Sometimes silence is better than unnecessary drama
Because you can easily sense a jealous spirit, negative energy
And most of all, a miserable person
My biggest losses came from being too loyal
Your enemies are not strangers
They are people you know so remember that
There is always a reflection of Cain and Abel next to you
Mark Frank
Copyright 2023
They were wasting the hostages,
This deftly handling in stages;
Thirty minutes another one slew,
Nor bothered they would soon be few...
For the beauty of Twelve Million;
They're not asking for A Trillion.
Twelve fine girls,nine boys handsome
And only Eight left for ransom
Captor tells captives "I love you!
Just that parents do not facts chew;
Like I do kola and bitter pill...
For delays, impatient guns kill..."
Isn't it too hard to swallow:
What we'd do to in wealth wallow?
"Tightropes of the Three Graces"
Tightropes
for hanging clothes
on a line
each piece
pegged wooden
held between closed fences
misfortune's breeze lifts
sleeves like covers
pointing the way home
books and their pages
for The Davenport dancers
all's well that ends well
scene perfect
imperfect fortunes
throughout their ages
the balancing act
seeking Life’s rhyme
saving fates in stages
odd numbers
are never easy,
never graceful
the balancing acts,
tightropes
of the Graces
saving fates in 3 stages
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
mlb, klb, llb
Édouard Bisson , French Pre-Raphaelite
“Die drei Grazien”, 1899
Hans Baldung, German Renaissance and Mannerism
“Three Ages of Man”, 1541 -1544
“Three Graces”, 1539
Sandro Botticelli, Italian Renaissance
“The Three Graces”, 1485 - 1487
Life is a journey
It is not a hundred meter dash
It is a marathon of curves and twists
That unfolds in stages
Every phase serves a purpose
In the university of life
No matter how brilliant you are
You cannot be given double promotion
You must undergo and pass every course
For every course is for a purpose
As you ride through life stop-overs
Refuse to be stuck at red lights of life
Keep your eyes on the ultimate price
Be focused and resilient
Persist and become winners
Quitters can only lose
Keep your hands fasten on the plough
Let go only when you try just one more time!
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