With Borrowed Faces in a Place
We are turning around with no faces,
Just in cases.
Heaven in our places,
Just two faces.
Screaming out so everyone hears our bases,
We can't hide our faces.
But truth still chases
Through hidden mazes.
Slow and smoky phrases.
Now we are visible - with our borrowed faces.
Time erases.
There are no traces.
We are turning around with no faces,
Just in cases.
Heaven in our places,
Just two faces.
Categories:
mazes, life, mystery, philosophy,
Form: Rhyme
You cannot know a person's strengths
When he is very young.
Which group with talents will he
One day find himself among?
The math or science whizzes
Or the athletes on the field?
The writers or artistic types
With pen or brush to wield?
You try a bit of this and that
To see what rocks his boat,
Remembering that your own choice
May not procure his vote.
And certain smile-inducers
May not last for very long.
You think you've found the perfect match
Yet find out you were wrong.
But at the moment, though it might
Be just a passing phase,
Henry is enamored of
The paths within a maze.
His pencil grip is wobbly;
Still, he navigates the lanes,
Avoiding traps most deftly
As some confidence he gains.
I watch him as he travels
From the start until the end
And I wonder at the mazes
That in life he'll have to wend.
Categories:
mazes, childhood,
Form: Rhyme
Every man's life , every man's truth , Every man's take on the road of life . with a trip like a blip which switches to zip . What truth distillates my heart .... in a daze in a maze can you gaze on what remains by graces sight for truths roots to take hold . What motivates when hope is lost .... every lack of faith seals fiat , yet every bit of faith enhances , enriches which eclipses sorrows rigor touches . What strength is in me .... every day in maze , grace rises to attain sustained to par . But if you daze within lack of faith it seals your fiat in mazes lost , gone to waste . What road will i travel .... every journey joint to anoint a point in graces measure by every man's faith . Every maze every choose raises miseries reign . Will I fight the good fight or rest in comfort .... every test to arrest the less that arrest the best in me that a test with grace arrested in graces ways . Every comfort that waste the best in me strays from joy . Every road leads to one choose mazes or graces , faith or blind .
Categories:
mazes, spiritual,
Form: Free verse
The sun closes in on itself imploding.
Storm clouds clots like cream.
The sky tinged a rancid yellow of dream
raises tornadoes like totems scolding.
A wet haze weeps through the pine trees
furthering the sky’s somber malaise.
Life, a missing actor on the stage,
the rare and ripest red of blood, ceases.
Yet, the bole of trees carved, coalesces to form
the winged memory of bird, man and bear,
letting all of those who have forgotten stare
upon the aged markers of clans long gone.
And so life, death and the day end eternally glazed
making way for rain-bowed hues within the maze.
Poet: D. Guzzi
Date: 8/13/11
Categories:
mazes, introspection, life, loss, nature,
Form: Rhyme