Ride out the hollow hills, my corgi steed
Though your size is tiny
Your brave heart is almighty!
I'm struggling with the life I live.
And depression consumes me.
There's no escaping these troubles,
at least not that I can see.
My only choice is to ride out
this raging storm of no hope.
The devil is taking aim at me.
I'm in the crosshairs of his scope.
The struggles of life overwhelm me.
To find seclusion for myself is a must,
and honestly, it's a dangerous risk
because it's myself I cannot trust.
I'm forcing myself to ignore my thoughts
that are swarming around my head.
If I were to give in to them,
there's no doubt I'd be dead.
Life has become a tug of war.
For me, it's between life and death.
I've been so close to dying before
that I have seen the river Lethe.
A child's war
suddenly, there was a war
people drew the curtains called " blinds"
the boy had no idea what was going on
only there was a fear in the air
the next thing he knew, he sat in a basement
as fingers of light clawed the night
A long bus ride out of town, his mother
was not with him, he didn't ask why.
A big farmhouse near a German camp
The soldiers loved him and let him sit on
their big horses
Then it was all over, not knowing why
back with his mother, who was busy walking
in a factory, most of the time, he walked
alone and witnessed the men he knew dragged
women out of their houses to the police
station and had their hair shorn, they
were raped by angry men
Raped, not what he knew what the meant.
Nein, he said, those people are not nice
like my friends, the soldiers.
what one's experience as a child
is not forgotten
it pained me to see Germany suffering
from self-imposed guilt after the war
not speaking up when Israel behaved in a way
that even tops the Nazi's atrocities
Europe needs Germany, an industrial
and cultural nation finding her place again
I always hear the sound of guitars strumming
harmonica music and cowboys humming
when I feel a warm night breeze upon my face
Whenever I look at a summer night sky
or hear the sound of a coyote's lonesome cry
it always takes me back to that peaceful place
Where men who did not care where they spit or cussed
with wrinkled leather faces covered in dust
would gather around the glowing campfire light
Singing those songs about how life used to be
when cowboys on the range were peaceful and free
until the day’s work tucked us in for the night
We’d rise up each day even before it was dawn
throw on a hat, a shirt, and shove our boots on
ride out to the herd to meet the rising day
It may not have been a fancy life that’s true
seems we always had a million chores to do
but this old cowboy still dreams of living that way
She's up in the morning
two hours before dawn
has done most of her chores
before the lights come on
Already milked the cows
and gathered up the eggs
even put liniment
on the horse’s sore legs
Bacon and eggs are cooked
the biscuits are baked brown
the gravy has been stirred
and the plates laid down
Once the pans are empty
the last bread's been buttered
the men tack their horses
while she clears the clutter
Now a fifty mile drive
just to get to the store
to pick up the supplies
they have been waiting for
Time to fry the chicken
and put beef in the beans
cause stomachs on the ranch
are never full it seems
After serving the meal
and cleaning up the mess
she'll ride out to the range
and work beside the rest
She has to be able
to ride fence, rope and brand
just as good as any
of those other hired hands
When the day is over
tired and hungry as hell
the men wash up and get
set for the supper bell
She'll be in the kitchen
cooking vittles again
Cause work for a ranch wife
never comes to an end
vexed to gall
no anchor for rancour remains
no safe harbor for grudges on crutches
nor bitterness born of regret's aftertaste
for we agreed to differ, with our bygones forgone
to move on to settle on a calmer, sheltered shore,
where rancour's chains and anchors hold fast no more
and we'll ride out the tempest with sails lee-bowed or on ashore
let it be, let it be,
let the rancour
be done!
If not standing on solid ground
Small setbacks can be sapping
Exterior cracks can compound
Stress that was already flapping
Daily difficulties easily expand
Into a full season of suffering
Questions outnumber answers
As stuck in a state of buffering
But able to break free from the haze
Finding an antidote from the craze
Allowing us to escape the maze
Igniting our ambition into a blaze
Despite the swirling above the surface
Can be rooted in a strong home base
With the ability to ride out the storm
No matter what situation we face
Once we begin to turn the corner
Setting our foundation firmly in place
Can tackle any upcoming speed bump
Handling them with newfound grace
We all have same god
It odd
We come together
Ride out the bad weather
Not a sin to make a friend
To hate bad for heavensake
Be strong we all belong
Never be weak
TIME FOR PEACE
When the leaf falls from a dying tree
in the brisk autumn breeze,
It seems to sprout wings
like a fledgling that spreads its wings
and sets off from its nest to explore
the wide expanse of the free skies.
Riding a roller-coaster ride along
with the free-spirited wind,
the leaf wings its way through
the fields and the plains to find
a safe haven to ride out the winter.
~Contest: "Feel Free Poetry
~Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
(7. “Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, Their only chance to soar.” Owens, Dalia. Where the Crawdads Sing,
Chapter 17: “Crossing the Threshold” (P. 124)
What is it about Sunday night
that the universe just can't get right
Sunday days, often serene
Monday morns, fueled by caffeine
But Sunday nights, phlegmatic and placid
as if all of creation just went flaccid
I guess I might as well cash in my chips
and ride out this night's eternal eclipse
In the ascendancy, authoritarians
their regimes, totalitarian
Their world a joyless place to be
so take a page from history
Like Noah did, build your ark
a shelter in which you'll park
to ride out the era's stormy seas
'til dawns a new day's breeze
Hurry! Hurry!
All aboard the Cosmic Trane
Where the mind runs free and
the soul feels no pain
A location for the elevation of
humanness to the existential
realm of salvation
Galactic spiritual religiosity in the
form of rhythmic sounds
Free. Free. Running freely into
dimensions away from the third
A ride. A glorious ride of
harmonic bliss
A kiss, a sweet kiss...
So fasten and secure your headphones
and be sure not to miss
Because this is sure to be a ride
of epic proportions
Away. Far away from the chaos and
distortions
My God!
Jones will be thudding
With Tyner tinkling the keys
Oh yes, Garrison will be a 'bassing'
And Coltrane blowing like a breeze
A ride. A celestial ride out of
this world
To places and spaces where all
dreams and hopes are unfurled
O' Wise One in the sleeper for a
Song of Praise
And Afro Blue reflects on Africa
Giant Steps in the coming days
Blues Minor to Sweet Naima
I have my ticket, so you know this
means I can not stay
I just pressed play, and now I'm coasting
and floating away
For many seasons I have sheltered here
In safety behind these walls
From lyrical youthful days of spring
to banshee like winter's squall
Golden harvested days with a nip
My favorite of them all
In the dead of winter born to this place
Summer an alien world
The month of July a gauntlet
A course to be abhored
The stark beauty of a winters day trees
black silhouetted against sky
A fire to stay warm easily done
Escape heat I'd see you try
Even if we strode around naked
There is just more to cook to a turn
Convectional winds superheated
Solar rays guaranteeing to burn
Within these walls where I reside
of flesh and scaffold of bone
I would happily abide with winter,spring,fall
and leave old Summer alone
The light is at the tunnels end
the weather channel predicts
The dog days arriving well before time
No more this year summer sics
I'll eat popcicles whenever I want to
Shower ten times a day
Do whatever to ride out this heatwave
and let summer have its way
So Here Is why
From: Cuba
I help you lock things down tight - order comes from your bones
Grabbing my hand, you look and say “ yep “ 98 years
I look at yours “maybe 99 for you”
might you miss me when my storm comes?
The door is open to the love birds cage
where could they be?
Off to start their adventure, I say
a predictable, great adventure
I am happy,
you are worried
#4 Strawberry Mango
Lots of Mango
#5 Cuba Libre
My other will have the Cuba Libre,
Excellent choice for the lady
Sipping away you say…
we took the same lashings in our youth
You turned inwards
I took the first flight to Cuba
I’m so glad you did
That’s why I never asked you what your
CA 125 # is or was
Numbers don’t matter to me,
you do
I won’t embarrass you
worry you
make you feel other
(that is a sin)
our life, any life
is happening now that’s all.
We curl together to ride out another
Havana storm
And what of the love birds?
They always return
Let them live free in Cuba now
We all must live free while we can
There are days I when loathe the touch of another,
Where fingertips burn like cigarettes upon my skin,
And a hand on my shoulder carries the weight of the world.
Moments where comfort could cure, but I must ride out the pain.
There are moments where I am a normal human being,
Where I can shake a hand without the inner recoil of disgust
When a kiss upon my cheek is just a kiss upon my cheek
And my mother can hold me in her arms long enough to feel it.
There are times when everything has a meaning,
When two eyes lock and suddenly it’s a love people write poems about,
And I long to melt into each crevice of your skin, down to the bone,
So that when you finally leave, you’ll take me with you.
Related Poems