In long-haul dreams, we set our sights far-off on distant shores,
Assuming that each step, each choice, each twist, will open doors,
Will keep us heading steadfastly ahead, right on course!
Yet time reveals the dead-weight drag of our remorse.
Looking back on the shortfalls, on the litter of regrets stowed
As keepsakes to repay, all the time-wasters, for ransom owed.
So many life struggles come our way
filled with tension and anxious thoughts
these thoughts are used to put us down
by the enemy of our souls, Satan's clot
Personally speaking life's full of tension
all my day's been stammering stuck
the tension produced in me so sore
bringing blocks in speech like an Arctic truck
Sometimes you've just got to hang in there
wait for deliverance to draw you out
the release button comes praying it on
no matter what inner thoughts are about
Tension can be a terrible thing
making your breath thin and narrow
anxiety seeks to keep you in its grip
tear it down shooting your arrow
In the long term, growth comes along
slowly but surely giving you faith
for God promises never to leave
despite your troubles, Jesus loves you He saith
A desire sets off
towards a place far inland whose spires
lift like raised pikes on the horizon.
There is always a "somewhere" hanging
in the sky above your head,
an El Dorado, a glistening pot,
a floodlit dream plastered like a billboard
on a roadside hoarding promising
a better life on Paradise Island Estate.
But you never get there,
petering out on the side of a highway,
running low on fuel or finding
that you really don't want to go
to that place where you
first set out to go. A lifetime on
you should have known
the answer has always been waiting
back here, sitting at the far end
of a U turn, after the long haul home.
After 5 hours of flying and sitting
we display an assorted redundancy
a sanctioned paraphernalia.
Rumpled files of sartorial inelegance
squeezed shoulder to shoulder.
A night flight,
the tube is wheezing tainted air.
We are a junkyard for travelers
moving not by our own motion
but brought together in economy class
because we are all out of other options.
The French have terms
for these sleeping arrangements:
'Maisones de flop', or 'asiles de nuit'
only we are airborne,
we sleep with our eyes open
aching to be somewhere
before a threadbare daylight exposes
us to our own bleary inspection.
She is a long-haul trucker, traveling the open road.
Rough and tough as she has to be but no more than.
Her children are at home with her husband, stay-at-home-dad.
Why do you do it? People ask her.
Have you ever been at home with sixteen children? She replies.
The school teachers understand instantly.
The other mothers, not so much.
This life can sometimes feel lonesome and that’s perfectly okay,
Our strong muscles and bones are shouting out that we’re here to stay.
Even if we are housing the prehistoric birds of prey.
It’s much like a lonely white pine growing high and mighty on a rocky mountain side.
The challenges are excruciating and the elements we can’t decide.
However, there is still a shelter that we are able to provide,
Adapt to this idea and the internal battles shall no longer collide.
The going of life can be intimidating and pretty tough,
As we overlook the canyon and think that others lives just aren’t as rough.
Just know that some weren’t built for this kind of stuff.
To allow the ability to grow so high and mighty tall,
We must not be afraid of shedding some previously living needles on that steep cliffside fall.
As well as understand, that we are all in it for the long haul.
Book: Perspective is the Objective
Long Haul With Trump Wall
What could happen with Trump and his wall,
Would have created trouble over long haul;
With women crushes;
Law many brushes;
Always be very annoyed when he did appall.
Comments appreciated and can be unrelated
or even inundated.
Jim Horn
Bush 41. I was born in 1941. He was born
6-12-24. 1948 1nd 1996 also had significant
impacts on his life. Now what about 2092.
You think I'm sprinting...
This is just the beginning,
Not even sweating
My heart is barely beating
Living for long-haul loving
Claude Debussay didn't inspire me
As red sun set a fiery red ball
And I ran away with no shawl
Knowing there was no way to flee
Trapped in your shuttered bourgeoisie
Behind the mask, a plastered glee
Pull Daisy's petals let them fall
He loves me, loves me not at all
The keys pound music none esprit
It ends, made it through the long plea
Actually Spanish Quintain
There is no slot for this form...
Inspired by Craig Cornish's contest
Not an entry..
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