Long Just a thought Poems
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In the increasing constriction
Of government restriction
I offer the following observation
Of freedoms suffocation
Of daily liberties
Savagely curtailed
Of your war on everything
That has sadly failed
Of your attempts to control the masses
Becomes comical as it passes
Many like me question your sanity
Or is it simply blind vanity?
Why is it so important to control the mundane?
Why is power such a treat?
Why relish the suffering at your feet?
Do you really believe
That you’re the “elite”?
I can’t help but laugh at that term
Please forgive the disrespect
As I snicker for effect
To me it’s simply ludicrous
Because you’re such a joke
The masses you seek to silence
Are angry and awoke
I wish to simply confide
That you might want to step aside
Before the masses take you for a ride
To your “unfortunate suicide”
Are you getting the vibe?
Eric (and sometimes not)
Although we all enjoy
Looking at beautiful things,
Appearance is shallow
And often means nothing.
However, if to take a deeper look
Is the option we choose,
We'll find colourful qualities
As jeweller finds rainbow hues.
For like the facets in a diamond,
True inner beauty radiates.
A mere glance will miss so much!
Just a thought to contemplate.
The most extraordinary people
Are not the glamorous who pose.
Their beauty lies in who they are
And is as delicate as a rose.
They may not have a nightingales voice
Or the perfect figure.
But their hearts are golden
And couldn't be much bigger.
If you base your estimation
Of a person on their looks
You forget that this is just a backing
To their story book!
Taking time to turn a page or two,
Do you know what you will find?
Someone truly beautiful
Rare, precious and kind.
It is that of your body next to mine as if it was from an ocean spray of mist
with warmth in mind.
As if it was of a hearts desire to feel that of a delicate rose silk flower.
To know of it’s elegance and beauty, only to smell and taste that
of a warm mist of beauty.
To lay with something of such curves of standing would make one’s heart
race for a Winston Cup standing.
That in heaven he has found one of out standing, which brings a warm mist about.
Not of eyes but of heart instead, that to love one would be like heaven instead.
That it’s like a dream come true to have you.
That in all I know, not only have I got beauty instead but
I’ve got that of heart because you got mine instead.
Just a thought of you is a warm mist to me but to be next to you would be an ocean breeze.
Filled with that of a sunshine breeze but with that of a cooling mist.
That in my heart plays the mist of time and that’s you here with me in time.
And us making loving like it was going out of style.
As I feel that of your passion unfold and become that of a warm mist heart.
All wrapped up in nothing but skin as I taste that of your juices drip in.
As we involve our bodies in that of a warm mist spring and we sweat like its rain.
It is that of the rain that makes the mist, as that ocean wave blows at a twist.
You can see the colors for miles, that to which is the bottom side of that ocean wave.
That like you, its beauty shines through; that with every wave is a warm mist
blown through.
That I know I have caught the biggest wave because with you,
there’s a beauty blown my way.
And in my heart I think of us laid on a beach this day, with nothing but
the wind and a warm mist spray..
Slipping away
A granite pillow placed above my head
Red clay covers my six-foot bed
Several relatives beside me long laid to rest
Another family reunion, I'm the newest guest
I've joined the past my names carved in stone
My body has reached its final home
It's the quietest crowd I've been around
No more voices, no more sound
To all of my friends, I'm just a thought
I've checked into one-room lodging called a vault
My soul departs heaven bound
My bodies shell remains underground
Minute by minute, all thoughts disappear
I can no longer think; minds been cleared
Quiet here; there's no sound
The final resting place is what I've found
Please think of me often as we were friends
My aging life has come to an end
Now things are quiet I utter no sound
Laid to rest six feet underground
Lpickard
When thoughts become obsessive,
is my heart being made redundant,
laid off, cast off, sent astray
recycled pulse rates mere skip hire fodder,
atrophied organ sinking into deep morass,
panic stricken warning notice object,
abject part indigenous scarred,
or scared from sudden rupture,
once a golden seal enactment,
the intensity of love and verdant pathways,
but thoughts they zigzag devious,
without a leash, curb or rein,
they stray like homeless after dark drifters
whose piercing blue eyes scupper vagrant mist,
but oh those torrid thoughts,
of past romantic Himalayan peaks,
where nostalgic loitering a back to front yen,
currency of tantalising moment,
fluctuating in a reckless high stake instrument,
cliff top shudder inadvertent plunge,
yet each thought I used to frolic with,
in meadows of a mythic mystic mind,
we’re so glare blind and delusional,
dragging me on circuitous dandelion epiphanies,
symbolising gurgle stream limestone cave exit,
some dual world attachment barely visible,
detachment on aloof scorched red wood boundary,
thoughts are like those joined at hip beings,
feeding off the actual mesmerizing carousel,
of fleeting guests and life events,
or so it seemed, perhaps it’s just a thought,
of all those things that never settle in one spot
How do I say everything I wish to say
When I back so far away
Easier to text Easier to be alone
Lack luster life
Every day a battle to see through all the voices
The screams the sudden darkness
On the tip of my tongue can't seem to make sense of it all
On paper so much confidence so much charisma
A pen and paper I can say it all
Can take it to the limit Speak with so much clarity
But in your presence a fog of shaded distorted what ifs
So scared to show you what is inside
What your beauty does for me
How you reach out to me without judgement
How a peace over takes me with just a thought of you
It's tormented realization that I have so much fear
That these scars have determined my journey
And still steer my direction
It's the thoughts when I am alone that free the demons of my existence.
The silent killer the useless lies I play over and over
It's wondering if this is as good as it gets
Is this my destiny solitary confinement for what this life has become for me by my undoing.
If I could only maneuver about
Or manipulate this stone
Then perhaps, by chance
I'd loosen the grout
This mountain, I would hone
Maybe I could toggle a bit
Molding my world of clay
Evaluate and calculate
Every inch of every day
If luck would have it
I'd be dealt a pleasing hand
If smart enough to grab it
I could answer the game's demands
But experience whispers
Reminders from the past
Struck down by spurs
Unfinished tasks
Just a thought that I've been thinking
An idea I've bounced around
Proceeding ideas that resulted in sinking
Inevitably we all will drown
So I become quiet, calm and still
The evil voices subside
I fall to my knees, before God, I kneel
Surrendering worldly pride
I hear a verse, I've heard before
It lingers and rolls off my tongue
I can do all things through Christ
Once I open the door
I recall the cross where he hung
My charred motivation begins to spark
Before long, my fire, restored
For that moment my vision is razor sharp
It belongs to me once more
I know that there will come a season
Floods of frustration will take my breath again
A chill of doubt will leave me freezing
If I am quite enough, I'll hear God's voice through the wind
O' I see them so vividly
Beautiful and strong, and such a BIG part of me
So, so deep they run... them ol' roots
Whenever I lose my way, just a thought of them lines me right up like pastor Morgan on Sunday in his 'Big Meeting' suit
Mother, father, uncle, aunt, sister, brother, all the grands and great grands, and cousins—yes, cousins galore
The irrefutable link is sometimes in the gait, the smile, the laugh, the frown, the wits, the style, and the great looks, Need I say more?
Them ol' roots run deep in that black soil
From all the way back over the Great Atlantic through the Middle Passage and throughout the diaspora
Yes, they run deeply and vastly into dimensions that are immeasurable and so beautiful that it can't be justly captured by a camera
Rain, yes, the rain. So very thankful for it because it is essential for growth and strengthening them old roots
And the sweet, blessed Sun that comes to sustain life and help spawn new life to that ol' tree bearing sweet fruits
O' them ol' roots, I see clearly
So beautiful and strong, and such a BIG part of me
Form:
It has been twelve years
Every one of those years
I have been turned away
by officials of the city
Twelve long years
of being on the housing waiting list
Being the only breadwinner
Times got tougher
To my children I imagine
that to them
I am a failure in many ways
No where for me to seek refuge
The only way is inside my head could convince me otherwise
What do you say to a
man living with cerebral palsy?
Who has to proof himself on all fronts
Spiritually it becomes draining
in a one room flat
He becomes out of touch
with those immediate loved ones
Wife then kids or vice versa
All freedoms are compromised
Specially the kids
As a physical impaired man
I am not much affected
Considering my boarding school days
It becomes tough
when it is an all female club
And I am the only male
and physically impaired
Mentally the impact takes its toll
There is a heaviness within me
I cannot seem to find an outlet
That's why I'm living on a page
Out of control
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liars chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
If you see me smiling
It is a front
this is how I deal with my pain
Many second job attempts fail
I am beginning to doubt myself
I sometimes stare at myself in the mirror
My wife's take on it
is that I am full of myself
That may be the case
It runs much deeper than that
Maybe I am taking her
too much along with me
But I can't help it we are close knit family
The Lord has blessed me
With three daughters
They could write
a book about me
one day if they are aspiring authors
along with my wife as their editor
Poetry is my only sanctuary
My world in black and white
I silently wish for all those material things
Things that is out my grasp of understanding
Why some of us
gets it easy and others hard
Is there a lesson
to us that are disenfranchised
or are we nearing our expiry date?
Hey, it is just a thought
along with my perception of things
Who gets to build us up?
When you hit rock bottom
What is the bottom line?
What if we get to that helpline too late?
What will they say in your obituary
Were you worthwhile living with
Or were you known to be a prick
Only time will tell
Poetry is my only sanctuary
My world in black and white
Sitting outside a cafe as I watch the world go by,
Then from out the blue is that really you, as again her eyes met mine.
And as we chatted on what has happened, since those long and far off days
An image of rekindle love seem just a thought away.
Memories of once forgotten time as we walked along the sane.
The gentle smells her perfume gave, still intoxicates my brain,
My mind plays like a movie with every twist of fate.
And yet the end eludes me through the thoughts I try to make,
Melodic tunes come from the streets,
Its brightly painted bars.
Like pearls the Basque on the water’s edge,
As they seem to touch the stars.
The little bistro where we sat and those gentle sips of wine.
Her youthful playful nature we thought we’d have the time,
But war its head then lifted and all our world turned grey.
Like a knife that stabs right to the heart our world now ripped away,
A hand across the table, then reaches out for mine,
Transported in an instant back from that void in time.
Her body seems to tremble so, hit by the evening air,
As I drape my coat around her but she says she doesn't care.
My mind keeps coming back to why I let her go,
With hopes of what the night would bring and some answers it might show.
Back at her apartment she offers me a drink,
We settle on the sofa to reminisce and think.
The feelings that we once had, could stand the test of time,
Regrets and broken promises, again as lovers we entwine.
N Windle © 20017