Imagination can be a curse.
The worrywart will visualize the worst scenarios.
Wasting the day to oblivion.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They sit folded on the windowsill,
a geometry of silver bones
holding lenses thick as bottle-bottoms.
Morning light catches dust particles
dancing in their patient curve.
He wore them low on his nose,
peering over the frames
while reading fishin’ magazines.
The bridge bears twin grooves,
softened leather pads worn thin
by decades of Sunday morning news
and crossword puzzles.
Now they frame only stillness –
ghost lenses reflecting the garden,
empty orbits where his eyes
once measured the world’s sharp edges.
Cold metal remembers the warmth
of his temples.
Depression,
It’s a silent killer.
It’s like being stabbed in the back,
But it’s Invisible.
The pain is sharp, sure,
And your screaming at the top of your lungs,
However to everyone else it's as if you lost your voice
You're powerless.
And so you just sit there;
You feel paralyzed,
While the world keeps moving, and moving, and moving, and moving,
And you're just stuck.
That's depression to me.
My rose-tinted lenses get me through the day
My world isn’t plagued by the white, black, or gray
Just rose
My rose-tinted lenses show me only love
Not any hate like the kind you hear of
Who knows?
My rose-tinted lenses made me “naive”
They say I only saw what I believed
I suppose…
My rose-tinted lenses make all flags red
Which is probably why I didn’t see her in the bed
Her clothes
My rose-tinted lenses hid your deceit
How could I have missed, I’d already been beat
So exposed
My rose-tinted lenses aren’t even real
They were made up to help me deal
I oppose
I believed you would change
I should’ve known that was out of your range
Just shows
My rose-tinted lenses have turned red with defeat
I’ll admit I’ve been beat
Your betrayal was indiscreet
But our story’s incomplete
We’ll wait and we’ll see
How rose-colored lenses provide what I need
The sky is a dull blur this morning.
At such opaque times,
I clean the lens of mind,
to see what clarity is behind
the gray filters.
Surprisingly, I perceive,
some last snowflakes
have been painted emerald,
by thin rays of light,
The air appears now,
as an ethereal lathe
turning the ill-defined into
buoyant landscapes.
Wiping my glasses,
the sky and earth
sparkle brighter still,
behind a clearer mind.
Seen
Through God's lenses
You *
Are Worthy
Up's Our Lead, .... Six Lenses Bring
Work's, Letter's Faith Our Prize!
A Len's Of Six, A Len's Of Six;
All Rudowski's .... Might!
As a young child
breakfast time was my favorite time of day
Mommy hovered over the flaming stove
as she sizzled a bundle of my favorite meals
tuna, corn beef, sardines , and steamed sausages
served with a side of white grits
dashed with warm butter as gold as a coin
I sat at the table and gobbled down the meal
like a contestant in a pie eating contest!
Fast forward to the present day
as I matured into adulthood
I no longer have the craving desire
for this type of cuisine,
eating grits now gives me
the feeling of indigestion
forcing my stomach to spew it out
like lava from an erupting volcano!
Now I just stick to enjoying
a cup of brewing decaf coffee as hot as the desert
with sprinkles of succulent sugary powder
and a bowl of chicken souse seasoned in high sour lime
and bird peppers as spicy as chili
with light floured coconut Johnny cake!
Hopes Our Lead, "Six Lenses" Bring;
... Word's, Letter's, Faith To Prize!
A Lens Of Six, A Lens Of Six,
.... All God's Strength And Might!
_______________________
The Significance Of Holy Week .... By Peter Rudowski
Reading The Bible Through Six Lenses
.... By Peter Rudowski
Pete Rudowski ; [email protected]
Emotionally handicapped,
This man is but a child,
He speaks half truths of pure delusion,
When sentiment arrives,
Emotionally handicapped,
Nothing's truly sincere,
The shallow love he shows for you,
Is nothing deep or dear
Tears drawn from a memory well,
oft overwhelm a broken heart,
recalling love's magical spell.
Tears drawn from a memory well,
imbue tomorrow, where hopes dwell,
with the sadness such tears impart.
Tears drawn from a memory well,
oft overwhelm a broken heart.
With the sadness such tears impart,
trickling drops betray how you feel,
as dying dreams get torn apart.
Liquid lenses blur what's real,
with the sadness such tears impart;
you don't even know where to start.
With the sadness such tears impart,
trickling drops betray how you feel.
Selective and Corrective Lenses
Always for eyes are corrective lenses
So after knocked out, return to senses;
Are weird ways of looking at things
May sound horrible when someone sings;
What happens when your brain condenses?
Jim Horn
Two Lenses
While studying Masters in my teens
also in service in early twenties
I was prompt and ready
to catch the train in hurry
jumping from platform crossing rail lines
Now I have turned senior citizen
and always choose to avoid train.
If go on compulsion,
over bridge is solution,
also by slow walk without strain
02/27/16
Two Lenses Contest First Place
Sponsor Sara Kendrick
How
I loved
summer fairs -
the cool night wind
in my hair as I
twirled on the tilt-a-whirl
or climbing into sky. . . then
descending at lightening speed,
stomach leaping at the thrill of it;
I was buzzed, wishing it would never end.
My fifty-ninth birthday at the state fair,
I sampled again the drug I craved
when I bought two tickets for rides.
But my pleasure was short-lived.
By the second ride and
feeling nauseous, I
had to accept
I’d taken
my last
ride.
Written 2/25 For the Two Lenses Poetry Contest of Sara Kendrick
When I was young and had zero dollars to spend
Grandpa's skiff with succulent mangoes I loved to tend
With view of City canal, flowing not far from home
Near thoroughfare with perfect patrons; few not so grown
Not so proud as I, safe with shillings from tropic fruits, sold
Sans chant. I never had to beg, my joy was always two fold.
Times have changed, I wouldn't sell jack; my family knows
Sales has never been my forte; I'll be lackadaisical, and let it show
For I'd rather be a P.R. person, who sniff labels and goods that entice
As deals, but trick the masses with much gook, some unnoticed
But that's not all with sales; folks will look you up and down
As though you're part and parcel of goods they've found.
...
Entry for Sara Kendridk's 'Two Lenses' poetry contest
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