A mirror view skimming over waters
When I hold you in my hands
Little flower as warmly your colour shines
Beautiful touching to the vision
Listening to the sounds of birds song enchanting the air
In a cloudy blue sky
Warm winds breathing in deeply touching breaths
I look across the water waves rippling upon the surface
Amazing grace you sit on this world throne
Softly in song sings your praise
A shrine from the mountain speaks
Envisioning a primrose warmly it surrounds
Sweet scent of heavens garden
Taking the eyes on a trip soul searching
Dreaming as I do
Of building a castle in the sky to honour such beauty
Maybe I will never be happy again
Fall will never smell like it used to
The swing set will stay squeaky and rusty, and I will always be too tall
My feet will graze the mulch, and I kick my toes under it
As I have my fortune read
By the only other 4th grader on this side of the soccer field
I won’t marry a man named James
I won’t have three children and an orange cat
I will always be afraid of wasps
And feelings
And whispering
I will always be the kid who won’t swim in the ocean
Or read in front of the class
I will always look across the water to the happier kids
And long to be there as well
And think
“Maybe there will come a day where I will be with them”
Or perhaps I will stay on the shore
Still building my sandcastles
And trying not to think about happiness
And the stars fall and I never met him
And I think that’s what I’m really scared of.
In a waking sweat,
I look across a pillow
and see your peaceful face,
undisturbed by nightmares.
What does your mind dwell upon,
the saints of paradise or another man,
a well-endowed handsome man,
some 'son of a '
who might steal you away from me?
I turn away to stare at a wall
imagining a dream girl,
one I had secretly left naked
on this very bed only last night.
We all have beginnings somewhere,
a place where the soul first took root
and drew its history, fixed a compass
point, a pin in a map to mark its home.
For me it was here
where the horizon began
in a haze of mangrove trees
and broad tidal flats
and boats bellied in mud
when the sea sucked back the river
leaving its gums grinning
under a warm sun. It was here
where my ancestors landed
more than a century and a half ago.
Now manicured to prime real estate,
the tides keep to an orderly flow
within grassy banks overseen
by multi million dollar views.
The mangrove forests have gone,
the swamps sanitised to lawn.
I look across the glistening reaches
of a man made lake to where
the slow drift of sailboats scrape
the bottom of an evening sky.
All seems out of place, not home
and yet I mull as to whether
there is any other beyond this one,
beyond the little sailing boats
and the barking dog nearby.
A mirror view skimming over waters
When I hold you in my hands
Little flower as warmly your colour shines
Beautiful touching to the vision
Listening to the sounds of birds song enchanting the air
In a cloudy blue sky
Warm winds breathing in deeply touching breaths
I look across the water waves rippling upon the surface
Amazing grace you sit on this world throne
Softly in song sings your praise
A shrine from the mountain speaks
Envisioning a primrose warmly it surrounds
Sweet scent of heavens garden
Taking the eyes on a trip soul searching
Dreaming as I do
Of building a castle in the sky
to honour such beauty I hold it in your sunlight
I look across our nation wide
… saddened by the view
Hopes and dreams in shattered heaps
Smoldering and askew.
Trust is lost, alliance gone,
Handshakes no longer known
Doubt and suspicion there
Normalcy’s been outgrown.
Both political realms
Must see what they have done
For in the final tally …
Neither of them have won.
Look at sky above you and tell me what you see
Listen to the sounds around you and carved out
The giant wave that is beating on heightened rocks
And scrolling around the sea with open guts
The clouds are getting dark and the eagle is
Having an altercation with the lark and destiny
Is crawling on its knees in the dark
Look at the shadows in front of you, the thirsty
Desert is mourning for you, the journey is long
But courage will push you along so keep pressing on
The shapeless day keep slipping away and
The morning and the evening embodied in one
And my heart is singing a courageous song
A Force is coming towards thee with magnitude
And power, to break the hearts of steel and
Push you around in the ferries wheel
Look across the sea and tell me what you see
The sparrow on the line with its bulging eyes
Has set out a pattern for you to move
Walk straight then pivot when you confront the dark
The sun has gone down and
And destiny is about to hit the ground
Strap yourself to the tree and the
Shadows will pass over thee.
The turn of a thumb
And the flash of a screen
Another year passes by
With the hum of a machine
Numbers and titles
And words I don't mean
It's hard to ask why
And it's even harder to see
Why am I still here?
Who are these people?
And could they ever be friends?
Why do I cheer?
For all that is evil?
And just how the hell
Could I ever make amends?
As the world keeps on turning
Like the wheels on a train
They teach me that it's burning
And it's my turn to pay
But their words aren't for learning
And the numbers only add more pain
I'd like to think for myself
And to make my own journey
But I've got no truths to tell
And all their lies have been burned in my brain
So why do my hands
Keep these circuits so near
When deep down I know
My smile isn't here
I look across the land
And see a sky that's so clear
It almost let's the light
Between the space of my ears
When I look across the yard and see
wooded hills and a cold running stream
It is hard to think about those kids
that think Mother Nature is a dream
I pity the child who’s forced to play
on cold cement and bare brick playground
Where weeds growing through the thick asphalt
is the only nature to be found
Their swimming hole a broken hydrant
some have never seen a blade of grass
They only glimpse the blue light of day
through boarded windows with cracking glass
The fruit they eat is a box of powder
their veggies have a metal pull tab
The trees they climb are empty stairways
their grass is just a hot concrete slab
At night the sounds of nature for them
are police sirens headed uptown
Their autumn leaves are just life’s refuse
lying scattered about on the ground
I should value this country life more
stop my whining and shouldn’t complain
how humidity ruins my hair
or the ground is so muddy from rain
Thank the creator for the blessings
that he saw fit to bestow on me
How I do sorrow for the children
that do not have it as good as me
Pouring out my heart, it’s devoid of all blood
Perhaps more knotted, resembling of redwood
Splinters and shavings, fall away with each thud
Can’t escape this logjam, only wish I could
Pouring out my heart, but it’s failing to bleed
I’m losing my grip, roots won’t let me proceed
Failing right now, to try express what I need
Asking friends to listen, then pay them no heed
Pouring out my heart, packs sawdust in a sack
Peep inside the hessian, can only see black
Empty now, that’s ok, voids always grow back
How come I’m still here, has Jesus cut me slack
Pouring out my heart, clots heavily engrained
Tied to dilemmas, escaping leaves me drained
Worse part of all, my collapse is unexplained
For better or worse, gravity’s not sustained
Pouring out my heart, there’s nothing’s left to pump
Felled to the ground, with the slightest little bump
Prostrate and broken, a fragmented tree stump
I’m resting come join me, make a chair we’ll slump
Pouring out my heart, through a duty of care
The fruits of my labor, look across and glare
I gaze beyond them, thinking life’s over there
Vines grow round my neck, help lift me off the chair
Precious bluebird, here alone
I think of you, my thoughts then roam
On flights of fancy there I go
Exotic places I don't know
But everywhere my flight does land
There's turquoise water, powdered sand
And there I make a place for you
And look across that ocean blue
I strain my eyes across the vast
My coordinates to you I cast
And hope to see your sail one day
Approaching me to always stay
Your every want, your every need
Here on earth I'd try to feed
And if I couldn't what I'd do
Is I would play guitar for you
It's my way of giving me
Pure and open, all for free
Its value isn't tangible
But my love is infrangible
It's solid, real, and will be there
For all my life for you I'll care
And wait and hope the day will come
When separate hearts can beat as one
My best guess is that it was some 20 years ago that
the number 100 represented years I wanted to live.
This was my request to The Lord, adding that I would
like to revisit the matter then to see if I wanted to
live beyond 100. It was a prayer of simplicity without
conditions, declarations, decrees, or qualifications.
It was all about longevity, legacy, serving God and
humanity. At that point, the matter was closed.
A few years ago, as I was sharing my longevity dream
with a friend, he countered with the fact that he'd
rather not live that long. For Bob, about 85 years
would suffice.
So, I concluded that I needed to revisit The Lord with
an amendment granting me 'a healthy 100 years'. Having
included that caveat, I then felt much better about 100.
I must say that my friend's comment about being both
aged and healthy was a sobering one of which I took
serious note.
When I look across the horizon of our shattered world
and the challenges to be faced, issues personal, foreign,
and domestic that refuse to be silenced, there is a toss
and turn in my spirit. Although inconclusive with second
thoughts, I'm still inclined toward a climb to 100.
062023PS.
We mostly eat in silence,
After 50 years together
there’s really nothing
much left to say –
We disagree on
everything any way!
I look across from our rickety table
into her tired, forlorn eyes
and see years of struggle, hurt
resentment and complaints.
I look around our
rented, crummy apartment
full of worn-out books,
magazines, newspaper clippings,
paid bills and handout furniture –
Really not much to show
for a lifetime of harvesting!
We, the two of us
who are mostly good,
Who raised good kids,
Who dotted all the i’s
Who crossed all the t’s,
Who paid their taxes
and their bills on time,
Who prayed diligently,
Who toed the line
every step of the way,
Working side by side
day in and day out –
Yet, no spoils good enough
to bring home to.
With kids all grown up
and long gone
and the sun finally set,
Oh, how I wonder...
what will the night be like?
We both get up at the same time
plates in our hands–
Don’t eat much these days, you know;
Now, time and old age
hover around us like
the beleaguered butler
with a frayed towel over his arm!
~04/30/23
~Contest: Empty Nest
~Sponsor: Cooper Etheridge
Growing the fruits of your labor in Socorro county
Around here they call it New Mexico true
Down in Lemitar you can get the best of the best
The warm days' and cool nights, the fields of green chile grew
This crop has become known worldwide in places afar
Dedicated day and night to it being a successful harvest
Long hours and true love of this way of life they embrace
The chile, beautiful and mature, it's the hot days' of August
Sacks of burlap full to the top begin the journey across the state
Crack of the burners, metal cylinders turn, roasted green chile fills the air
This smell, it is nothing short of heaven on earth
Our call to fame with a little New Mexico flare
The season is short, late Autumn wind blows the dust off a cowboys boots
The chile turns deep red now, the last of the season
The ground is bare as I take one last look across the land
The Zia on our flag gives me pride, that's my reason
Why things happen, well who's to say
Perhaps the fields will be green again someday
A hurt in my heart, I lower my Stetson and walk away
The fields belong to spirit now, looking in the distance I see the rain
Time goes on a new dawn
arises. I look across my lawn,
and, wonder if I can bond
with neighbors like Lyn and John,
or Gina and Sean with a new baby.
They stand outside and wave or say "Hello."
They never get close , too busy as they go.
Unfortunately, times have changed and maybe
there is little to no trust between people.
At a distance I can see the church steeple,
and I wonder if there is some sense of security
among the congregation or are there insecurity.
People lock their doors or ignore you when they walk by.
I wonder how many people would help or even try.
2/11/2023
Acquaintance And Neighborhood Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.