In her — I poured my All —
As Rivers — to the Sea —
No drop withheld — nor secret kept —
She was — the Whole — of me.
Her eyes — a Sabbath Afternoon —
Where Solitude would pray —
Her voice — the hush of Chapel air —
Where Angels lose their way.
I gave her — every Pulse I owned —
Each Breath — a borrowed song —
Till Life — grew pale from Giving —
And left — its ghost with Her.
She never knew — what she contained —
How vast — the quiet Fall —
Of Souls — that lose Eternity —
In giving — gave their All.
She keep the conversation superficial
never lending any experience or advice
not icily she be overly expressive in others
frequent disappearing acts
started with a potential romantic interest
everything is centered around meeting
new people
finding that special something
that would bring the current Statius of
your relationship to an end
new connections always centered around
a new connection that feeling of newness
without the lack of interest
a promise of something new
all while deceiving you
all without you as the main interest
your freinds and family never speaking
you and her as one
she allows people to sponge off your success
and allows people to undermined your
best effords
those then are seemed as more influentail
oppossed to your present state of mind
You know you are better off by yourself
and those you like and speak to get off
by your lack of ability to make the big score
SHARING GOD’S SHARED POURED WORDS
For me,
Penning poetic words,
Is a desired labor of love;
Sharing life’s awareness
Of the guided wisdom
Poured out of God’s cistern
To wave and froth inspiration;
And the beauty
Of it all
Is that God’s cistern
Is eternally overflowed
With such frothing words;
Energizing
Thirsty searching souls
And strengthening
Our tested spirits
With His peace
Love and healing grace;
And I pray
My poetic well
Will continue
To be flooded
With buckets
Of hydrating words;
And when God
Retires me
I pray
My keloid
Clanging echoes
Will continue
To quench
Inspirational thirst:-
An hour poured into my fragile mind, each minute carrying meaning,
Seconds stuffed, the death of the past pulsing silently in their ticking,
The future hides beneath an aged present, slowly fading away,
An absent figure from the future asks me if I will be or not be.
Thus, I found within myself, hurried to face the moments that ceaselessly flow,
Tiny traces of infinity in my current occupations, endlessly repeating.
Attached to life, in my square dream, without profit or clear aim,
The secret, tenacious struggle with windmills that are my own burden.
I seek the antidote, the anti-EVERYTHING, to my poetry, the tears of burning candles,
Passions long corrupted, unfinished sculptures, from stones still uncarved.
When I feel my soul weary from the youthful sprint losing its momentum,
I shake all the windmills of the biosphere, while I am still alive and present.
Through life's intense stress, an illiterate of success, I pass through sonorous time,
The seconds of the past, fractures from a future losing its outline.
In the flow of thoughts, an esoteric and melancholic dance begins,
Searching in the mystery of time for a hidden meaning that can still uplift us.
If it is written, so be it,
but who'll admit
to writing what was writ
when the fan is hit?
And, if, having inscribed,
the finger does proceed,
whose digit was it
when the words were decreed?
Yet, carved in stone,
or etched on glass,
who'll confess to pouring such concrete
when it comes to pass?
You are such a tool go back to school
they yelled at him without hindsight
You got nothing between your ears
pack it up Joe, walk only by night
He took his thermos and left for Rome
feeling like a dumbass, quite stupid
When he got there, two arms alone
greeted him, " dad your home!"
You would have thought the King arrived
together they made Osso in Buco ...
Drinking in the elixir of life his child derived
happiness, for his dad was really in the know!
Joe gave his resignation and became a chef
no, they didn't ask him for a passport.
He worked with a nice old man named Jeff
together they served Portuguese red port;
No one ever made him feel like a dum-dum again
as he poured the wine he asked, ... " say when?"
For me,
Penning poetic words,
Is a desired labor of love;
Sharing life’s awareness
Of the guided wisdom
Poured out of God’s cistern
To wave and froth inspiration;
And the beauty
Of it all
Is that God’s cistern
Is eternally overflowed
With such frothing words;
Energizing
Thirsty searching souls
And strengthening
Our tested spirits
With His peace
Love and healing grace;
And I pray
My poetic well
Will continue
To be flooded
With buckets
Of hydrating words;
And when God
Retires me
I pray
My keloid
Clanging echoes
Will continue
To quench
Inspirational thirst:-
out from me sins poured (5)
always thankful to my Lord (7)
my ship safely moored (5)
to see you glad will be (5)
and thank you for loving me (7)
God set my soul free (5)
This are my Horn Haikus for the day.
salt poured from my eyes
and landed on a petal's face,
i lost my motivation to embrace
the beauty life holds for me-
i have searched for a place;
an unknown field of emerald
lands peeking through
blossomed creation
the reasons i am in this
situation is because i faltered
adrift seasons of divination
salt poured from my eyes
and nurtured a floret's blade-
i lost all the progress i made
while the hues of nature began
to fade…
but i stayed-
should've gone far,
to distant lands;
but i knew where i belonged,
safely saved from solitude
by soft sands
...devoid disputes of sanctified pursuits...
for i am nothing but a
wilted weeping woman
wearing worn roots
salt poured from my eyes
and filled a leaflet with joy-
how could my pain not
destroy such magnificence?
my diligence freed my
experience and my tears
gave a lovely flower significance-
lamentation can reside in creation,
as does can make a bright day hazy-
but today…
salt poured from my eyes-
and nourished a beautiful daisy
_______________________
29th of January 2020
When one looks out on their day
the first thing that comes to mind
is what the weather is for us this day
nine times out of ten none can find
The one forecast we all don't want
a four-letter word called simply rain
maybe those in hot lands can take it
but the rest of us feel it a real pain
Living in a wet climate here like I do
if in Scotland just had a bit more sun
but then we'd complain it was too much
never mind pouring it down like fun
Poured out from the skies
these clouds just burst alive
pure clear waterfalls on me
for how long? I'll give it five!
Effervescence
of sparkling champagne
caressing the glass
in ebullient mood
euphoria.
------------------------------
Chosen p.o.t.d. 22Apr2016
Past Poured Out Of me
I don't know what just happened!
It's not supposed to be.
You asked about my past
and my past poured out of me.
You sat there in stunned silence
at the tears I can't control.
People looked in wonder
at the purging of my soul.
Suddenly I'm back in time
abandoned by my brother.
Just a frightened little boy
and sleeping with my mother.
He came in, he's back again
I heard her tell him no.
That's all it took, the whole bed shook
he delivered just one blow.
I hear her calling out my name
with heartache in her cries.
I rose up in the morning
and I looked at her black eyes.
Within another day or two
no more childish dreams and wishes.
Standing by my mothers side
and drying her washed dishes.
Overwhelmed by sadness
first time I lost control.
Long before I knew the value
of the purging of my soul.
They say that we get stronger
from the things that we endure.
They say that time will heal all wounds
for me I'm not so sure.
With scars inside, tears not yet cried
life still takes it's toll.
A brighter day tomorrow
cause today I purged my soul.
Edwin C Hofert
In all times there will be young who die.
There are too many people to list.
Those left behind alway wonder why.
In our great sadness we shake our fist.
It's not fair they are taken away.
There are too many people to list.
With war there's always a price to pay.
We sacrifice our young at that cross.
It's not fair they are taken away.
In the end is it worth all that loss?
Causes written down in history.
We sacrifice our young at that cross.
Winners or losers there's misery.
In the end we must all pay our share.
Causes written down in history.
It's not a matter that we don't care.
in all times there are young who die.
In the end we must all pay our share.
Those left behind always wonder why.
I dedicate this poem to my friend Timothy Hicks.
He has recently lost a close friend to war.
Debbie's Dying Young Contest
Poem written May 14th, 2013
Now there's been some times in my life and some situations
That looked all impossible, but that dosn't mean I didn' face em
I didn't hide and and I did'nt cry
I took it like a Soldier looking the Devil in the eye
And I seen a lot of evil and things that wasn;t pleasant
Went through a lot of hell trying to find my piece of Heaven
I seen a lot of hard times I never thought I would'nt see
Changed a lot of heart's and mind's that never thought of me
And you cuold say I've had a lot of friends
And yeah! I've been betrayed by a kiss
But I never thought I was slick
I'll take the worse and never call it quits
Never trust a b^tch, never love a ho
Never let the Devil in my soul
And all the times I felt cold
Listening to my own voice echo
Jailed and back for more
Hoped and never let go
Forbidden, restricted, trusted, but never loved
Poured out and wasted
But still I ain't never gave up
Tears poured out of me like rain today
Written By Dean Masciarelli
November 3, 2010 (5:15pm)
Tears poured out of me like rain today
When I had found out that
my best friends
Mother had passed away
And in that very moment when I found
out about her loss
a numbness and a silence came over me
Because it was so hard for me to accept
that the good Lord had taken her away
So quickly and suddenly
But death has never been
something
that was ever easy for me
And I am almost sure that you feel the same way
When a cherished loved one of yours has passed away
But it just goes to show all of us
That this will inevitably happen to us some day
( God bless you Barbara Smith you will be deeply missed )
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