Time’s hands never stop;
All gets vanquished in its jaws;
It cares for nothing.
Born frail
Through my wonder I wander and become pained
and rover subtly these days
Time polishes my brain,
Wisdom lies in the grave
Epiphany Poetry Contest. Sponsored by: Constance La France
By Poet: "Words are very cheap. Actions are worth their weight in gold. Look for actions, Not words."
I have a great friend,
she tells the truth and will never bend.
We love going out,
shopping and eating makes for a magical day.
I help her then she helps me,
that is the way friendship should be.
She called me sister,
what an honor that was.
Then one very sad day,
I had an epiphany.
She was filled with lies,
I had been deceived.
Life
How flexible you are.
Today you are fierce,
tomorrow you are gentle.
One moment, innocent as the morning dawn;
the next, a mystery wrapped in silence.
We chase your meaning,
longing to understand your ways,
yet you flow like a river
endless in its journey,
winding through valleys,
climbing rugged hills,
tumbling down steep cliffs,
then resting in tranquil waters.
Oh, Life,
you are a tapestry of wonder,
forever changing,
forever teaching,
forever beyond our grasp.
Please give me a chance
To explain what’s on my mind
About my career which I dream.
Please your one glance
Is enough to make me blind
To see myself and scream.
It's only a number you said to me,
you so much younger than I,
yet, thinking about it, I find I agree,
a number in the book of our lives.
I turn each page as if to rewrite them,
but reading the words, they define this inaness.
A boring book of too many pages
in a life of endless repetitive sameness.
My father's book ended on page seventy-four,
a book written in a language I never knew.
Filled with intrigue my mom's on ninety-two,
a Western Romance that never came true.
Several short stories that I won't speak of here.
Those lives cut short with characters undeveloped,
whose stories I would gladly have traded with my own,
if the jacket was changed and the pages re-enveloped.
Yet, I continue to read this story of me,
as the day of my birth is counted once more,
and pages turn with the briefest of breath,
while my body grows old with a mind I abhor.
The paper has worn and the numbers smeared.
Dogeared by time as each sentence entwines,
I'm trying to find the worth of my story,
but it's just so hard to read between the lines.
11/15/2024
All I want is friends
For people to notice me and accept me for who I truly am
For me to be my authentic self and not push people away for being different
For others to come to me before I go to them
I know sometimes I just want to be the center of attention but sometimes it’s different, sometimes I just want to have people who truly care about me how I care for them
It’s hard to make new friends
to find the right people
the people who have the right values and morals
the people who make you laugh even when they’re not trying
the people who don’t make fun of you for being different
the people who care
We part ways on the path we shared,
finding it hard to say goodbye.
I hope to always hold your memory;
you were a shadow at my side.
Through thick and thin, the journey was long,
and we both learned what we needed to know.
We stood together through the struggle,
but now it’s time to let it go.
The road is wide, the air is clear,
we walk our separate ways today
untethered, light, and finally,
carefree.
The Bystander
Looking in from afar,
I witness your undoing.
It is a quiet, wretched thing—
a state of affairs I can no longer mend.
You move without a mirror,
blind to the jagged edges of your choices,
unaware of how the world recoils.
Your actions have grown sharp and ugly.
I try to scrub you from my mind,
but you are a ghost in my periphery,
repeating the same hollow patterns
without a flicker of remorse.
You are digging a well with your own hands.
When you finally fall in,
I will not climb down to find you.
I will simply drop flowers into the dark
and walk away.
Goodbye.
Sad for the lost, the ones that lost their lives and never got to see the sky.
Sad for loves that never met their mate, they were lost to death because we failed to protect.
Sad for the trees that fell to death, because of cities that wanted to be built.
Sad for flowers that did not bloom because they were trapped under cement, and could not get through.
Sad for the lost food, the apples and berries that did not grow, they were trying to grow but could not because of all the pollution killed them off.
Sad for many of the lost and want to make amends and send them love and thoughts, hoping we can start again and choose better paths.
We are learning and thinking of the natural ways, the way earth moves and sends us messages that cause us to think.
We are blessed to be here, we will learn and improve with love and time.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
untamed and deranged
romantic thoughts of
the circus
lead to questions
which in time
reveal certain truths:
the tamed lions and
the high-wire act
are illusions from
an overactive ego,
and the infinitely
sad clown cries
tears of wine
and the parallels
to my own life
My life feels like pins and needles
pressed into every direction
each day adding another point of pain
I cannot ignore
in my early years, even the quiet hurts
like thorns under skin
I keep wondering how it could feel worse
why it keeps happening to me
days pass in and out of the same weight
fear following like a shadow I cannot name
I start pulling away from everyone
closing doors I don’t know how to reopen
and they begin to ask what changed
as if I could explain the breaking inside me
questions pile up where answers should be
confusion learning my name
and I am still here
trying to understand what my life is becoming
If they had crossed channels and straits,
Unshod and broken,
Or had penetrated borders at night,
Using the glowing lamps of their pupils only,
Or had come stealthily
Like drunken thieves upon a cooperage,
Breathing heavily
With the heaving chests of grifters,
Do not treat them as spies.
They are Exiles.
So miserable are their auras that
They smell of scandal —
Scandal surrounding prodigals who broke
Every rule that needed to be broken,
Thus breaking free from the gouts of the
Infested and hard-stomping feet of
Their broken land.
Crumbling around the edges,
cracks on the surface.
Slowly, a chasm opens on the inside.
Suddenly,
the surface splits,
swallowing everything inside.
Not with a flash,
not with a bang —
silently,
as if it had never been there.
That's how my world ended —
right then,right there.
How creeps the dark where life was brightly lit
when he who once mighty is idly damned -
to watch destroyed an energy and wit
makes concealed and sad a life long and grand.
Where the acquisitions of yesteryear
become a puzzle piece and not a whole,
where atrophy on each new day impair
the bravest heart! The old sense! The lost soul!
I have seen the inconsolable grace
and pride which inherit the living haze -
that robs all memory without a trace
kept more sedentary in mortal malaise.
When my time draws nigh I pray of the twain
that body and mind this soul still remain.
Written: April 2005
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