my sunshine through winter's clouds
my warmth through the Arctic frost
my joy through life's sorrows
my shield from depression
my flower in a field of thorns
my love—
she was my one true love
Over so many years
Sprang so many fears
Creating so many tears
And pain to surpass my peers
Growing an aching burn
For a desire to yearn
Which is overhead
Yet over my grasp, broken once I learn
Captured in my soul, with my mind's eye
Where my dreams dwell, sprouting high
Alluding to a time not unforeseen, hidden in the sky
Fortune favors the brave, don't be shy
The prints from my past mistakes left
Marking their trace, having carved depth
Between the walls of my spirit in my breast
Nestled where my dearest secrets are kept
Eternal echoes haunting my mind
Each step I take, looking for happiness to find
Missing out on now, feeling behind
Driving the force to take on the grind
From this day, never forget my word
A slit in the abyss of forever to be hear
Mutual grief and joy to I
Euphoria reverses to dysphoria
Lessons learnt warmly
Action speaks louder than word
No regret with bitter aftertaste
Colour varied, bright against dull
Hope invites its beautiful face
Owning emotion rare and true
Looking ahead, lighter walk in step
Young at heart, never give up.
reminiscent of faeries and elves
lemon dipped wings, flitting in the verdant grasses
taking dainty sips of dew off pink crepe myrtles
magical tango of life, reminiscent of faeries and elves
mystical majesty reminding us of childhood whimsy
I guess the reason of god is to provide a blue print for right and wrong. A fabled story or a endless song.
From Our Father to Ramadan and the candles of Hanukkah.
Where I’m from a sin is a sin.
Truthfully I commit, that’s why I forgive.
The sky is the limit now I fly in it.
Laying on the clouds I’ll admit it.
Mary Jane gave me guidance.
Don’t live life if you don’t like surprises.
Sun rise, sun set,
Time ticks by but you can’t forget,
Wishing those good time could resurrect.
The Moorings of Yesterday
Looking out at the moorings of yesterday, wondering what was.
The long pier of forgotten purpose skeletal remains peaking above the surface of ancient waters
Attempting to peer through the fog that is tomorrow,
Wondering what will be.
A moment in time to displace the here and now,
To dream of history’s future.
A day dream of a story that may or may not have been told by someone before,
Or may or may not be told by someone after.
Before a beginning of an endless ending,
A thought occurs...
I lie here in the placid darkness
Silent and still all around
I am reminded of a night as such
When love we unknowingly found.
Indeed, it was a long time ago
Although still feeling like yesterday
And that alone calmly reassures me
Together, we've come a long way.
I do know it's not quite the same
Lately, we drive each other insane
But i wouldnt have it any other way
And have nothing else to gain.
I'm sorry for giving you a hard time,
But it sucks not having you here
And it makes me miss you so much
That i always want you near.
Hold on to this sweet love, will you?
It's surely worth all these tiny sorrows
I know i can get through anything
If i have you in all my tomorrows.
We are the crying children of the 70’s,
not much changes inside ‘other than knowing better now ,what undoubtedly would have been the keys to the kingdom back then .
We are the innocent generation of comic trusting gullibility ‘the worry of our world and blame For its care or lack of ‘now placed firmly upon us .
We are the children of an era where life ‘as a fact was better and way more safe in the groove that we knew as the 70’s.
We are the trapped children sentenced to incarceration? in adult bodies,
no one speaks of our future anymore, only that of the up and coming millennials who flee willingly to adulthood ‘only to find out to late their folly .
We are the crying children of the 70’S ?
Remember Being Reminiscent
We really remember being reminiscent,
Of the time together that we had spent;
Time of year,
Do love dear;
Each of the things to us that they meant.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
I have written this poem for the
Brunswick Beacon of Shallotte,
NC our local newspaper. Maybe
this poem will stimulate others
to start submitting poems also.
A literary challenge they all need,
And hope this helps plant the seed;
With me, all of you have agreed.
Do not know if other poets from
Poetry Soup send in poems to
their local newspaper. Think I
also will submit this to Facebook.
Being Reminiscent of Concupiscent
Often reminds me of being reminiscent
Of days when were all concupiscent
With several great strides was glamorous
And also enjoyed being amorous.
After all actions were over and done
For President he did decide to run
And what will be his greatest glitches
Making fun of someone that twitches.
Gold Star Mother he badly abused
Her husband mishandled and misused
No matter what Trump was hell bent
On becoming next, new President.
Jim Horn
Redolent oak tree
Sweetens air with scent freshness
in holiday day
5-30-2016
Acrylic is an exuberant technique
giving life to colors so unique,
reminiscent of a Matisse.
The pine-scented breeze drifts
from mounts to hills,
an ambient of skylarks trills.
The French Autumn landscape
with mounts and lake,
an escape for the elite.
The noon holds mystique,
away from harsh critique
paints lovely Bernadette.
The delicate cotton canvas
is too small to contain all images;
the artist, struggling manages.
The brush drips on grass
changing the shade of the violets;
she stoops down to clean up the mess.
It warms my reminiscent heart
When Christmas preparations start
When the bells of Christmas chime
I am taken back to happy times
With special friends and family
And all the Christmas memories
When Christmas preparations start
It warms my reminiscent heart
There's a flower revival beyond my window pane,
Where velvet petals of fragrant rose remains.
Spring renewal spurns the colder freeze,
And casts love upon a floral breeze.
Pixies steal ribbons from a maiden’s room,
So her long loose tendrils catch nature’s bloom.
A green carpet of grass stretches beneath her feet,
While her beau makes her toes curl with kisses so sweet.
She pretends the world's a magic wonderland,
And fairies sprinkle dust to make love so grand.
Ah, for the splendor of this season in time,
When the youth feel giddy, but strong in their prime!
Oh! I long for those days when I was young,
And danced with pixies ’cause Spring had sprung.
Reaching into the quiet,
these last hours of evening.
They beckon one last look
at the all encompassing beauty about me.
So reminiscent of the One,
the One who put it there,
and all I can do is write.
I write the praises that echoes my hearts’ song.
As the rain misted cloud hovers
so low over the valley,
Jesus, I am reminded of you my Lord.
As I am under the Shadow of Your Wing
and comforted by Your abiding Presence,
what I see about me slips into
the inevitability of night-
but no matter
Footnote:
I wrote this while listening to Vineyard Worship leader
Brian Doerkson sing ‘Refiner’s Fire’ and looking out over
the valley at a place I love to write
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