I remember I fell through that wooden floorboard.
I was careless where I stepped, and the weight of my mistake made me fall right through.
I remember the embarrassment I felt... it nearly broke my self-esteem.
I can hear them use their traitorous tongues.
I remember I walked carefully over those wooden floorboards.
I see their eyes glare and hear the whispers of people who judge me for treading so cautiously.
I am wary of what they are saying. ..of what they may think.
I walk confidently around that wooden floor.
I am aware of their judgements and their hateful glares.
I don't care what they think.
I no longer have to tread so carefully.
I can run free.
I remember...
People admire the spotlight,
but they rarely see the mornings that created it.
While the world is still asleep,
every sunrise becomes a silent investment in the future.
Those quiet hours, where no applause exists and no one is watching,
are where discipline is forged and character is built.
Success is not born in moments of glory.
It is born in ordinary mornings,
when you choose purpose over comfort,
vision over excuses.
The alarm at 5 A.M. isn't just asking whether you can wake up.
It is asking who you are becoming.
Every time you rise while others remain comfortable,
you strengthen a version of yourself
that motivation alone could never create.
One day, people will call you lucky, gifted, or extraordinary,
but they will never see the countless mornings that shaped you.
Legends are not made in front of crowds.
They are built in the silence of mornings
that most people never have the courage to face.
I keep the soft fire that guides me,
step by step through doubt and hope,
growing into the self I was born to live.
I thought my words were stars, unshaken,
But they were only lamps in mist—
Too bright with pride, too quick to waken,
Too eager for a fleeting tryst.
Now softer rhythms touch the page,
They move like rivers, slow and deep,
A gentleness comes with quiet age,
And truth no longer stirs from sleep.
The vanity of sounding grand
Has slipped like ash between my hands,
I lean instead on earth and sky,
And write the way the roses die.
If I have grown, it is by loss—
By setting down the crown, the gloss,
Until my words are bare, yet whole,
Like light that falls and heals the soul.
slanting hue
sink every desire due ~
cackle at humans
In halls where silence speaks louder than words,
I stand, a beacon amidst the unseen.
Their gazes, sharp as unspoken swords,
Pierce through the facade, where I've always been.
Once, my voice resonated with pride,
Now, it's drowned by murmurs and disdain.
Yet, I endure, with dignity as my guide,
In a place where respect is hard to attain.
But within me, a fire continues to burn,
For teaching is more than a mere profession.
It's a calling, a passion that will return,
To a realm where my worth is not in question.
So, I'll rise above the shadows they've cast,
Seeking a future where my spirit is free.
For in the end, it's not about the past,
But the legacy of the teacher I choose to be.
I’m not running from my life
I just need this moment to think
In these moments, in this open space…get a firm grip
So many challenges, so many heartbreaks
The obstacles … the major dips
But I know I must keep moving on
There’s much life to be lived.
Past tears could create new oceans
This awesome power lies with me.
Why must there always be a sacrifice souring the taste of something nice
Just a moment on the lips but a lifetime on the back shelf of the mind
Taking up space you can’t afford
You can barely pay your rent
Not enough to need to forgive but too much to forget
Maybe you are too kind
Wandering the hallways politely knocking on every door you find
Quietly praying that what lies behind is something you can finally put behind
The quest for answers usually begins with more questions
But the beginning has long since passed us
And let’s admit that we’re really tired
And though you tried you know you can’t fix open wounds with plasters
So leave it open it’ll heal faster
Don’t romanticise the scars
But remember to bathe in the beauty of the chaos
Because you are on your way to the stars
Even if your estimate was way off
My pain doesn’t decorate me like precious gems
It’s a raggedy noose around my neck
That I can’t stop tugging
My scars aren’t displayed as badges of honour
They’re fetid rotted wounds
That I won’t stop picking at
My experiences weren’t lessons for growth
They’re barbs of poisonous shame
That I flagellate myself with daily
Mistakenly I thought that I’d let go
Confused, yet I thought I’d grown and improved
Tender thoughts and hands to myself I must use
I came to know a kinswoman recently.
Someone who spoke my words and used my tongue,
who saw my heart and called it her own.
We shared our deepest pains and ugliest thoughts.
We told no lies and spread out all our truths.
We wailed, we screamed, we swore, we wept and we never turned away.
She had been there, done that, said yes too many times, no never enough,
stayed when she should have run and left when she should have stayed.
She yearned for more when she had plenty and given up when she’d almost won.
She was wrong and she was right, she knew nothing and she knew enough.
She questioned herself and turned in to the dark.
She saw the light but didn’t believe it’s glow.
She let herself be played when she forgot the rules of the game.
She put her love in all the wrong places, not giving it to herself first.
She expected more but often settled for less.
She learned her lessons the hard way and often repeated mistakes.
I came to know a kinswoman recently and she is my greatest strength.
so wonderful
you swept me off of my feet
my heels are bleeding,
but the weight is lifted
you take my feet between your warm, reassuring hands,
and make them immediately better
you clean them
you dry them
you massage them
you pray for me
your tears merge with my tears
the most beautiful river is created and so easily it flows
so beautiful
you helped me get my appetite back
now i can fully and properly eat
you kiss me softly
you whisper 'i love you' in my ear so therapeutically
i immediately feel better Being Better.....
Now I Must Return The Favor.....
My words My Life.
.
My words are are not superficial
Or mere contrite
But my deepest thoughts and heart felt feelings
My mistress my love my life
.
Compelled to release both my joy and fustations
My conviction and therapy disclosing
Who I am my earnest desires and the man I be
From the overflowing colourful fountain of my heart
That liberates my soul with enthusiasm and avid passion
Otherwise my world surely fall apart
.
Fired and I spired by experience and wisdom
Through my humble words I hope to impart
Something to inspire others they can relate to
Be of value and ultimately with love and good will
Touch others receptive heart
When the world gets too much
And their worlds fall apart
.
My words are always truthful
For I can never fabricate a lie
They remain my legacy to whoever
Long after I have expired and died
.
Through writing be it good or bad
I hope to find and understand myself
And grow in wisdom and spirituality
Whatever the reader thinks of my words
I bared my soul and this
Is me.
.
Peter Dome©2020.
Trace an outline
blending shade into the gaps between
the teeth chewing on age-old leather
hungry for more
The empty spaces highlight
the contrast in a wrinkle
Pieces of skin burnt
hanging off the brow
disintegrate
dripping as if wet paint melting
beading like sweat or blood at the corner of the mouth
sticking the tongue out to taste
Repeated scratches make dark circles
puddling under the short lashes of the lower lid sagging
Where the abstract eye smiles
the drooping jaw cries
as dead hair grows in patches of cactus and thistle
A disturbing image of shedding in an arid landscape
The rebirth that only death can bring
Tears like rain water the seed
While running from the spectre of day
painted faces claim to see shimmers in shadows
yet refuse to turn and look to check
what's really there
Seeing color beneath the cracks of paint chipping on the canvas
like a hidden door in the wall
or a book bound collecting dust
until that that moment when opened
for the first time in ages
taking a step inside the storyline
coming back to life
There the sheep is in the field
fully concentrated on it's task
head down eating it's green grass
growing up what else could one ask
This is what a sheep's supposed to do
so by it it'll grow large and strong
then it's owner will gain a good price
when selling it at market before too long
This is similar to a Christian's task
eating God's word so they will grow
being nourished and fed in their soul
little by little no matter how slow
Then God will receive no earthly price
but pleasure and glory to His name
for He loves to see those walk in truth
who confess His name and burn His flame
So eat like the sheep
keep feeding your soul
make your personal growth
your life time goal
AUTHOR NOTES:
just a few thoughts watching sheep eating grass the other day and seeing
connection between the sheep and God's believers.
every detective tells me differently the same
every respective elder tells me the same differently
who should i believe but Him who is Mistake Free
investigating the prints of my life with an earthling opinionated but oblivious
reestimating the dints of each period unfinished and so brief and unrecognizable
not realizing the propaganda that printed is actually so dreadfully fragmented
another lifetime ago i asked a reader in whose arms shall i die in
now more deeply in growth i choose life because life tastes like a properly made cookie shake
the Magnifying Glass embraces the Hourglass and perfectly matches my Ebb and Flow for Clearer Vision
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