While trying to go forward,
I backed up, reassessed,
and
stepped
to
the
side,
nearly...
missing...
the...
BUS!!!
Where is the secret of the rainbow?
At the edge of one's own life?
Whence does it come, with those lovely pastel colours?
Is it a heavenly art or a mere human illusion?
Some form of an ancient creative masterpiece?
Perhaps expressionism was reassessed?
The spiritual in natural art is oft-forgotten
in musty mists, where the soul engages
in confrontations with the deadly reaper.
The appalling midst of winter intensifies in the freeze,
and the psychology of death deepens,
for we are too much attached to worldly cares.
Characteristic emotions in cowardly conflicts.
One can say so very few words about
the astute business of a measured life,
like autumn's falling bronzed leaves,
its face value is not easily perceived;
for dead leaves turn into compost,
no peaceful transition true, but a must
that leads and helps life's renewal in spring.
Forget the troubled dream of dreary life,
let the seasons daub their watercolours bold and free,
the rainbow assigns a variety of mellow hues,
chooses always the brightest.
For the secret of the rainbow
a symbol of new hope lies in its Creator.
Turning fifty was a watershed.
I reassessed my life.
I was no longer content
to remain a dutiful wife.
I saw the years ahead of me
Stretch in an unhappy line.
What would I do without
those beautiful girls of mine?
The party was a blast.
Memories made to last.
Still I knew that night
my marriage was fading fast.
And so it came to be.
In the end we did agree
to go our separate ways.
My daughters stayed with me.
We only pass this way but once.
Each day a precious gift.
Turning fifty made me realise
I must make that enormous shift.
"The Writer Within"
by: Eric L. Boddie
It is my thoughts that I wish to share
Many nights I have fallen asleep with the pen right there
As if it's glued to my fingers, half empty glass on the table
Roaches in the ashtray, fuel for the inspiration for my fable
Cd still on repeat as I awake with last night on my breath
A swallow taken as I review the latest addition to my literary wealth
As yet unfinished, inspiration re-attained
From the words of the previous night being reassessed by my brain
The unfinished edit acquires perfection as you'd suspect it
Taking my words in a new direction where the prior Beauty is still reflected
Crafted by my passion, evolved from my mind
Beautified By The Love Of God, suitable for any time
Comprehensive with my Faith aligned with my knowledge
Descriptive of lessons learned while still enrolled in Life's brutal college
All my struggles, all my victories, perfectly rolled as one
Read my words, experience my Life, my work is never done
Be “blessed not stressed” yeah, that is the test,
Just a little bit o rest, that is my quest,
But the zest of the fest got me hard pressed,
There’s a pest in my breast, cardiac arrest,
My chest heavy like Mae West,
I confess, I’m distressed and a little depressed,
But I divest my unrest, priorities reassessed,
I request a glassful of the best, kindred spirits coalesced,
The fest repossessed with jest and all the best
Peace.
Happy New Year
H ope, fresh, is what it is all about
A s the current year is on its way out
P eace too is sincerely sought after
P rayers for new year full of laughter
Y oung and old are, with new vision, swayed
N ew beginnings are therefore sure made
E fforts to reach goals get again stressed
W orks incomplete are reassessed
Y esteryear’s follies are sure reviewed
E ven the elderly cheer exude
A nother chance for failed attempts derived
R ejoice, all. The new year has arrived.
26/ Dec/ 12
Acrostic
It is easy to determine something is wrong.
I get that feeling each time I hear your song.
You admitted that you are but a fool.
You love Carol, but she treats you cruel.
There is a bit of faulty grammar I see.
You should say she “treats you cruelly”.
She hurts you, and she makes you cry.
However, if she leaves you, you will surely die.
Your song became a hit throughout the nation.
Neil, you are not in that bad of a situation.
It is about time you reassessed Carol’s worth.
She is not the only living woman on the earth.
The Marvelettes say, “There’s too many fish in the sea”.
Let go of Carol and get yourself free.
When I hear your lyrics, you sound a bit wussy.
There are plenty of other girls if you want some CENSORED.
Entertainer, songwriter, and recording artist Neil Sedaka has had a fabulous career
spanning over several decades. His fine work continues today.
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.