Someday God will call you, you will be in the court of God, presenting your life story, the good the bad, the what if and what you did.
Someday God, may call you, to walk by his words and his ways, making all the others look with amazement.
Someday God may shine his mercy, his love, his anger, his might toward you, making you unable to hide from his light and sight.
Someday God, may end our story, give up on us for all of our sin has mounted so high that there is no end.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Turn the page, start again, maybe the next page will be the winning end.
Life is like a book, it has many pages, many chapters, each one is like a season, it leaves its impression.
Turn the page, and smile again, do not feel sad if the last page made you sad, look ahead and smile again, for each page will make you grin.
Life can make us happy, it can make us sad, but we can turn the page and start again.
Sometimes in life, we need to keep going, keep on moving forward, life is like reading a book with many pages.
Do not give up, keep learning and growing, if you hit a bad page in your book of life, just turn the page and move forward.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
no more confusion
you've come to a conclusion
to give God the pen
to let Him determine what'll be your end
exalt Him edify Him
give God the glory
as He continues
to write your life story
let His righteousness correct
address your issues and redirect
you on the path to now receive
all that He wants you to achieve
exalt Him edify Him
give God the glory
as He continues
to write your life story
you'll never envision all God can do
It's more then you'll ever conceive
the Author and Finisher of your faith
only requires that you believe
stop grabbing the pen
as this ain't no autobiography
God is writing your life story
and only He knows
what the ending will be
exalt Him edify Him
give God the glory
as He continues
to write your life story
let God correct
let God redirect
let Him determine the narrative
of each chapter
let God conclude what'll be
your happily ever after
exalt Him edify Him
give God the glory
as He continues
to write your life story
exalt Him edify Him
give God the glory
as He continues
to write your life story
(“Tapestry”, 2025, original encaustic)
I like the stories I tell myself about myself.
As cliche’ as it sounds,
They are the story of my life,
But yet, not the actual life.
They are instead the mythology of a life
Of actual moments
Woven from birth by family, friends, and self.
Firstly as a warm, soft, comforting blanket
Then as a home secure and sound
Finally as a world vibrant and vast
Giving us everything we need,
A psycho-spiritual whole to contain
And explain it all.
At some point though we reach the limit
Of our story, our hopes and fears,
As vast as they may eventually grow to be,
And the crack in our cosmic egg
Reveals something completely different
Beyond us, beyond our world and story.
Of course we just add this to our story
But it will never really be the same.
Once the truth is seen
The lie can never fully be unseen.
But lie is a harsh term
For the comforting half truths a child needs
As it prepares to know Life
Outside a blanket, or home, or even world,
A life that weaves and leaves stories in its wake,
Of Self as friend, lover and mate
Or trickster, seducer, adversary and foe,
But as the creator
Always something more.
(12/4/25)
The story of my journey has many pages.
I open to a one that is yellowed, old,
crumbling. Oh, that park at the end of our street,
where I would sit on a bench with father.
We were still, lost in the hues of green,
and blue of the river flowing by.
The man was
handsome, intelligent,
and good in bed.
But he just
had nothing
to say.
And all of his days
were the same.
Monochromatic
introspection followed
by a sort of smothered
self-expression.
He never
felt like himself.
And he always felt
worried about what
other people thought
about him.
Who even was
he?
His routine?
His career?
His interests?
His beliefs?
Beliefs?
The man had
no beliefs, the
man didn’t need
to believe.
For if he started believing
in something, he may have
actually needed
to start existing.
And that idea
scared the
hell out of
him.
we …
are ALL
reflections of
common miracles …
echoes of a
simple music,
divine …
and we are
ALL ordinary people,
living extraordinary
lives …
don’t keep that
amazing story to
yourself …
share your life
from cover-to-cover -
it is a wondrous
adventure …
all your …
own.
Started high school days, with science and math,
Dreaming of becoming an engineer's chosen path,
Time flew by, engineering degree achieved,
No time for novels or poems, I believed.
Limited vocabulary, science fiction in my hand,
Never thought poetry would be part of my plan,
Married life changed, loneliness took hold,
Expressing pain at 60, stories untold.
No syllabus, no foot, no poetic grace,
Yet pain in my heart found its own space,
Love poems flowed, in free verse they danced,
Expressing emotions, life's intricate romance.
Worked as Aerospace scientist for many years,
In the vast expanse, where innovation steers,
Crafting the skies, dreams taking flight,
Navigating realms, reaching new height.
Retired now, from the aerospace domain,
No accolades linger, no applause remains,
The once vibrant mind, now silenced, it seems,
In the quiet retirement, lost in dreams.
As a grandfather now, laughter in the air,
Kids' plays and joy, a love beyond compare,
Penned verses celebrating this beauty,
Yet, loneliness lingers, an unwavering duty.
Many do not love my direct way
They shy from the truth
many just loved my looks
in my happy youth
some liked the achievements i had and wanted in on my fame
And some thought what I did for a living was kiddie stuff and kind of lame
So it's a conundrum you see, when you talk about me
It's up down sideways philosophy
I am never stagnant and forever growing
and the depth of who and what I am is possibility overflowing
I have walked through fire
and I am full of desire
And I create at the drop of a hat
and in minutes spit out a new artistic rap
My muse is now inside me
and fuels me from within
And my life is invigorated
I know I don't live by whim
Its purpose plan and accomplishment
which will drive my final goals
A story to tell the world
that as of yet was untold
And that my dear is a poem 12-4-23 Artimus (C) Susan Manley
the story I write
is the journey of my life
destinations end
Don't make your life all about other person
Leave a chapter for your own life story
Life is too short just to scourge out of reason
Pave instead your right way to glory
a lifetime of memories in a box
each one setting her heart aglow
o~ how the years rushed by
the names the joys never losing their luster
even the hard times had their upside
we survived and for it became stronger
and so the wheel of life moves on
AP: 2nd place 2022
Let me tell you a story……..
Nothing new under the sun really.
Happened many times.
Autumn flourished and Christmas was near.
Hark, the bells tolled.
The womanizer discovered love.
Too late.
For now she died much too quick.
Friends rally round.
Especially Lisa, his illegitimate daughter.
All in vain. For now his love is dead.
A year passed.
He stood near a window
as fluffy snow fell gently.
He looked at that set of seashells,
An ivory box and inside his old watch
which she gave him as mementos.
Outside raucous seagulls flew,
a harbinger of further devastating storms.
Yet the worst tempest was in his heart.
Tears fell profusely.
But time flies.
Rapturous Spring is in full swing.
Tranquillity reigns in his heart.
All the family drift
On the boat on the languid lake.
Lisa happy to be with her father,
And his new wife.
He holds his own child with care
Will it be the end of his womanizing?
A white swan glides near.
Euphoric tranquillity reigns.
16 April 2022
Form N - Narrative - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme: Life
Why do I continue with this book
the chapters either deadly dull
or all the action occurring at once
in an overwhelming cascade of events
that muddles the mind
too complex to keep up with
impossible to sort out the storyline
rendering me confused and stupefied
A tedious and tiresome tragedy
The plot painfully predictable
yet I persevere through every page
pensive, apprehensive for the conclusion
that I’m certain will be formulaic
utterly forgettable
I’ve given up on others
under similar circumstances
returned them unfinished to the library
donated them to charity
It’s futile to have faith it will get any better
in the second half
yet I can’t bring myself to capitulate
to wave the white flag of surrender
and cast it aside
I will see this story through
to the bitter end
because it’s mine
A story to tell
If our story was sat on a bookshelf
how would it be to re-read it yourself
Would there be tears shed over past regrets
or happiness as our life is re-tread.
Could it ever be explained in a book
what we experienced during childhood
Would reading the topic be off limits
or a most enjoyable revisit.
Though back in the day times were indeed tough
we were upbeat and contented enough
We would appreciate all that we had
life as I remember was not that sad.
A roller coaster, many slides and swings
the joys, heartaches and traumas life brings
Should our story be acted out on stage
would we desire to script-write every page?
Then when doth cometh our expiration
it’s hoped we receive a grand narration
That folk would have only dear things to say
putting it out there in a kindly way.
Everyone has their own story to tell
whether it would or would not stand up well
We must wait to find if our history
makes for an engaging delivery.
22nd March 2021
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