Could I be the river?
Could I be the fire?
Without being consumed
by the vagaries.
Waiting to live a life,
urgently fading away;
Lost in a labyrinth
of the vagaries.
Here lie my words; I had no choice.
Everything was easy, yet I made it worse.
You saw me live through it.
I had no choice; here lie my words.
A most precise parsing
of my amazement at my time.
My meditation
on my vagaries.
Story of existence
Need to share
Make memorable
Pages upon pages of survival
Sounding more like a novel
Instances through circumstances
Proud and sad moments
Deepest honesty
The impact of pitfalls
Deepest core from the inner soul
A Sun that rises and sets
The Moon shines being its specialty
The effects of it all
A sight to see and feel
A wish upon
A world that separates
A wonder of hate and no appreciate
Words only clarify
Sentences only escort
The heart full of admiration
Situations draw attention
One memoir
Many thoughts
Taking a moment at a time.
It seems the best part of my life's near its ending.
I searched all the days through only to find what I needed to know,
is at the ending and not the beginning.
Would that at the beginning of my life, I could have embraced such joy.
However, nearing the end of my days, as I don't know how far I am to go;
I find peace and love for what I now do.
If only it was in the beginning.
The journey of 81 years has proven to be a challenge.
And yet, since I finally found what I do pleasing, I must say
it has indeed been a pleasure.
I found I can express my thoughts in words and in pictures.
I have ventured to write many books for sale.
Having no idea that I could express myself in this manner.
I find it meaningful to leave a part of me behind.
Whether others like it, I do not know.
Since there are no little ones to show; I will have to reply on a guess.
And so, it seems the best has been saved for last.
He came bearing
a polished memoir,
wrapped in the grammar of duty,
stitched carefully
with the threads of allegiance.
The pages marched proudly—
disciplined, measured,
dressed in the language
of statecraft and survival.
Yet beneath the polished sentences,
ghosts wandered barefoot.
The ashes still remembered
the names of children
history buried too quickly.
Mothers still carried
silence like broken calabashes
upon their heads.
And the rivers of the East—
they have not forgotten.
For memory is stubborn.
It sleeps lightly.
It wakes
at the sound of old justifications.
He spoke of unity,
of difficult choices,
of burdens carried
for the preservation of a nation.
But nations are not preserved
by eloquence alone.
Sometimes history kneels,
not for defense,
but for repentance.
And so the book arrived
like rain that touched the earth
without entering it.
For many sons and daughters
of the red soil,
it sounded less
like a full reckoning
and more
like a door left half-open—
an incomplete confession
standing quietly
before a wounded generation
still waiting
for language heavy enough
to carry sorrow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The keys remember her fingers~
soft thief stealing ivory light,
the hammers whispering
through felt and dust.
It waits, a black whale
beached in the entryway,
its ribs humming Debussy’s
Clair de Lune.
Play me, it murmurs,
and I will give you back
the weight of your mother’s hands,
the way they lingered
like slow rain
on a Sunday afternoon.
I do not know how to play the piano~
no one comes and the pedals rust.
And somewhere,
inside the walls,
a spider spins
a web of silent chords.
I understand that this poem is a memoir poem although PS doesn't have it as a cateogry to select.
My young son runs up
the slope of the lawn
toward me.
There’s a large peony bloom
in his long hair,
I guess he put it there.
I am not sure what to say,
or think…
let it be
he is more beautiful
than I ever was,
and we both share a love
for pink peonies.
There was a lady, in nineteen nought three,
Whereon Christmas day, she bathed in the sea.
But when her swimming suit tore,
The crowd shouted out encore.
Just like, what the butler saw, well maybe.
12 / 16 / 2025.
decision to sin
heart yen mistaken for love
pillow teardrop lies
I keep my memories on a shelf
Each one a book, a spine, a name
A library of all I've lived
Of all I've felt and seen
Some volumes end too early
Some, stretched across my years
And I pull them out when the night feels empty
Open to a chapter I thought I forgot
Some, I've tried to burn away
They still echo in my ears
Each one, a piece of the plot
Each one, writing me, even now
For every memory, bound in time,
Shapes the soul I know
And the shelf I keep within myself
Lines the spine of each tomorrow
Driving through the desert vast
sands of time gather, wind strewn
word games and banter reacquaints
from shorn years arise a stagnant dune
tears fall from a grey leaden sky
as bittersweet moments pass by
Living in a world, I know I don't belong.
Wondering if I did something, to cause this wrong.
Feeling deep inside, my life was never meant to be mine.
Always searching for answers, I cannot find.
Living 61 years, upon this beautiful earth.
Learning recently, my life was blessed since birth.
Fighting strong feelings deep inside, I know now I cannot deny,
Knowing I have many guiding Angels, upon which I can rely.
Never knowing what tomorrow will hold,
Ready to go, to help, I must always be bold.
Saving and changing so many lost lives,
I know I'm high, so God takes the wheel and drives.
What should have made me feel so weak,
Just put me on a long winning streak.
My faith, my honesty and my strength,
Can always be described in long length.
Recently finding those many answers I seek.
Who knew Youtube, would be my missing link.
To know I've lived the life, God meant for me.
I'm now free to live my true destiny.
Every year for me begins with an earnest goal,
One only, which I genuinely aim to achieve,
This year I attempt to accomplish my life-long
Poignant dream, an honest tale, a memoir to weave!
This true story my passion for a few years,
Fuse my unfeigned thoughts as sincerely as I can,
Memories turn into reverie, stem from soul, my
Humble quill tries to keep up with the ambitious plan !
At dawn, draw inspiration from magnificent sky,
From radiant sun, delightful wind swaying trees,
Chirping birds, fluttering butterflies my muse,
They surround me with mirth, and frolic with breeze!
This memoir honouring my parents, my ancestors,
Children to realize through adversity they did shine!
I write for the world yearning to delve into the past,
Many may find with wonder their own stories in mine !
In the countryside, while walking
It was a joy to pick and eat wild guava
Papaya, star apple, lomboy, and berries
Our mouth always stained milky or purple
Life was so sweet to remember then
Going back and forth from school walking
We had this routine finding fruits at roadside
If we find one, all my school companions busy
Picking and cajoling the fruit tree's blessing
It's fun, joking and merry eating around the tree
Almost dusk we arrive home because of that gag
Until this moment of adulthood I can still recall
My high school days had never been that fun.
Thoughts of you occur walking hills
In nodding heads of daffodils
In fields of green and waterfall
In trees standing stately and tall.
You are there in the rising sun
In darkness when the day is done
The bright sunshine that follows rain
Raising my spirit up again.
I hear you in string symphony
In choirs singing in harmony
In sound of birds in trees tweeting
In spring’s newly born lambs bleating.
I wish us both back together
Each moment being a treasure
Life has no purpose since you passed
If only life was meant to last.
I sense the softness of your lips
One reason why my heart does flips
The memoirs never fade away
You’re in my thoughts each night each day.
Alone in time, they say one must survive
Flocks of misery must be kept offshore
Even if it presents itself as the goddess of a water
A ruthless gaze is enough to lure a man toward being outscored
A grant memoir as one perceives
A contrast between realities
As one falls again for your charm
A group of fanboys might be in pursuit
A gold medal for those who land a rich husband
And none for those who speak the truth
I can be harsh at times they say
Safe to say my devil never lets me go astray.
Sub Categories
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