Life changes as the seasons do, first our youth along with spring
As all earthly things begin to wake, our life also has its beginning
Birds spread their wings and learn to fly, green grass reaches for the sky
We do the same while we can, never stopping to ask why
Like teens do, the summer too, never stops to rest
While they last, we think these years will somehow be our best
Things are in bloom, we take long days cues
Our bodies growing, thinking life lasts forever too
With middle age, brings routine, as does the coming of fall
Families, work and getting gray, as leaves turn color after all
We find those things that we love dear, and bring them near
As all migrating things, do year after year
But the end of life, along with winter's chill
If prepared for, can be better still
Like wild things do, gather things you know
You need and spend it sitting by the fire's glow
©Donna Jones
I ‘m standing at the crossroads
Wondering which way to go
Do I walk the road less traveled
Or the street that no one knows
Will I tread upon that winding path
That seems to go nowhere
Adventurous in my journey
do I prefer to share?
I’m standing at the crossroads
There is no turning back
When I look I see sweet memories
That put my life on track
I have strolled familiar roads before
They have brought me to this place
I will take the time to ponder
The future I will face
I’m standing at the cross roads
These eyes take me near and far
From the friends that I see passing by
To the brightness of an evening star
I’ll approach each day with wonder
With each careful step I take
walking this road to a different beat
to the life that I will make
My escape to prison.
Was a necessary exile.
I couldn't take the daily grind.
So I live life in denial.
It's a solitary confinement.
I'm let out at supper time.
I used to think I was hell bent.
But now life is just sublime.
I'm lost within these four walls.
The guards have gone to sleep.
I'm not allowed outgoing calls.
So I don't make a peep.
Like Job, I sit and lye in wait.
For God to settle scores.
And finally open heavens gate.
To escape these evil chores.
Within the time one has to live.
We do what we can do.
The man upstairs says he'll forgive.
But I still search for a clue.
I find my time is almost up.
It slowly slipped away.
And now there's nothing in my cup.
And no more debt to pay.
Growing up in life we have been beaten with how to live .
How to conform.
None of this is prevalent to me now.
Why would anyone want to conform to an unsatisfying and emotionless lifestyle ?
Life is about experience, beauty , family and finally being an decent person.
Life is difficult though.
There is not hiding or lying about it.
In life you can either be part of the work force and make money .
Or try the very best you can to fill every moment with joy .
Neither is prefect but one certainly creates a more enjoyable life.
Your life looks like a smooth river
Everything flow away
People you knew forever
And places, and smells, and colors
Suddenly you realize
That your life is just a mirror
You get back any images
What is real? What is yours?
Now you are swimming
The calm water covers your eyes
You cannot see, you cannot know
You can just imagine, you can just wonder.
As I look over my life
There’s a lot of people I could blame
Of things that happened to me.
It’s not worth it though
So I keep my thoughts in my dreams…
Instead I will face the mirror on myself
As I look in the mirror
I have lost the very essence of me
I am invisible to the world
My voice has no voice
No pulse
So u know I can’t breath
Where did I go wrong?
Why has life hurt me?
Or was it I that made these choices
Forced into adulthood so earlY
Unable to experience the freedom of life
The mirror never lies
It only shows what it sees
Take a look in the mirror and when you do
Will u see what I see?
Have you ever heard the sound that silence stirs
it is a sound like no other…as if nothing could possibly ever own an echo
a pair of feet going the wrong way on life’s clearly marked paths
Have you ever heard the sound of someone trying not to breath
no air in…no air out…no air out…no air in…no risk…no gain…nothing ventured…or lost
almost as if life itself enjoys the mockery….no life in…no life out..no winner…no loser
Have you ever heard the sound of someone slipping through the cracks
for one brief second a desperate plea of some sort wrangles your audience
save me….grab me….if you save one person in your life…let it be me….let it be today
Have you ever heard the sound of a whysp wandering idly
a gentle swish surrounds a moment not quite ready to be more than a tic or a toc
more…more than what……what can a whysp possibly wish to be…
....listen closely
Irish
On the edge of the void, that's where we must be.
Somewhere between the thrill of taking your life into your own hands and the cold
realisation that you are finally in control of your own destiny is where you learn to
really live.
It is not the same for you and I, each of us must find our own void and peer
carefully over the edge, for we are human and we must look, or wither away, but to
carelessly leap into the void would surely mean destruction.
So we tread the fine line of life and hope that one day we shall learn to fly and bask
in the glory of that we can only watch from a distance.
When we walk through life and some steps are tripped..
Its human nature to look back and wonder if the past took a flip..
We all have certain times in life where we wish we can change..
See I look at things differently and expect that a trip is in my range..
This is how I deal with tremors and storms that seem to come from nowhere..
Because if you search your soul you will know it came from a time unfair..
Not a prophet or a philosopher, just a man who's eyes truly believe how it's done..
Another inner look to a Poet who loves the rain but still follows the sun..
A Poet , a dreamer , a man named Michael.
Named after my father and also a saint.
Drifting through time with my pen I paint.
Just a soul gliding in and out of God's cycle.
My name is known as the Godfather's last son.
Also a star who wore a little white glove.
But mostly just me who writes from love.
An Angel I'm not , but there's no harm in my fun.
Though I'm not Michael the second.
I tried to fill my dad's big shoes.
We coached together whether win or lose.
Such times imbedded in my heart as his son.
Now my own man and later in life poet.
I share my life in words to those who can't see me.
I hope to touch a few of those who read and feel me.
Each new write is another way for me to show it.
Now you have a clearer view of Michael your friend.
A confused life at times but now has found his sight.
With Rosanna by my side all is good, and life is just right.
I'm stronger for it all and never will this heart bend.
"What's In a Name Contest" by The Sweetheart of Poetry Soup
In the midst of our lives we experience knotted phases,
where life happens quickly and we only remember moments
through hazy clouds,
Even through our joy and pain we try to unravel the
threads of life that remain tangled and obscure,
hoping that the clarity will lead to a brighter pathway
of revelations and resolutions.
How much louder can I shout ?
How much higher can I scream
How far can I fall?
How high can I fly?
How much love can I give?
How many times can I hate?
How old until I lose my virginity?
How young can I be before naivety?
How quick can I shun the poor?
How rich can I be before I am the Joneses?
How far can I walk?
How did I learn to run?
How did I become a color?
How did I get my gender?
How was I born a Christian?
How can one submit to atheism?
How does a life end?
How does a life begin?
How many questions must I ask?
Before anyone realizes there will never be any answers
I drag my life as excess packages
in the bag lady’s cart.
Dropping my ingenuity in puddles behind doorways,
the sleeping cats hiss their start,
interrupted from their dreams.
Solace in solitude has no voracity,
Yet solitude drapes around me it seems,
as cynicism backs up to yellowing pale of mediocrity,
My life flows backward rewinding to the place
found in the innocence of youth.
To the days when wonder unfolded
with temple like aura, a masterful truth.
Truth is no longer a valid argument for me.
As her smile, there are too many interpretations.
Hiding in the folded arms of escape
I cringe with trepidation.
Self confidence seduces me, it fills my cup with excuses.
Then, forced to drink my own despair.
I choke on the words that are not there
and sip the silence mendacity peruses.
Can I have my life again?
Not the politically correct version cloned?
I can say now what I couldn’t say when
on the top floor of Wall Street, I was owned.
© 16 Dec 2010 Charles Henderson
For Paula's "You can say it now' contest
We can feel and remember with our eyes and our minds..
I can write for hours telling my life from now to a
different time..
You don't so much learn from distress or heart break..
Nor does another view change what's not their when
you wake..
We can paint the wall a new bright color, yet its the
same doorway only now no cover..
I can close my eyes and still smell the spring,
breathing it all in as we know its more then a fling..
The stools on the walkway at that small cafe, holding
hands laughing if only for today..
Our missed flight in life has passed , maybe for the time..
These eyes can't go a lifetime without yours circling mine..
you discover what lay buried
deep inside my soul
coffee does not warm the part
now open and exposed
left along the wayside
left without a marker
sparkling in the sunlight
shivering in the dark
one thousand days of rain and sun
while you ponder and measure
wondering if this gem will fit
inside with all you treasure
as you wander and wonder
someone discovers your find
he turns it over and over
thinking all the others were blind
a trinket in the eyes of one
a jewel in the eyes of another
a loss in the life of one
a rare find in the life of another
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