Sides Poems

Two Sides of a Coin

       white enclaves
          gated jails
       urban slums
          where the sun is pale

       two sides of a coin
  

Both Sides Now

MY ADDED VERSUS:
Bows on solemn flower blooms
and scented layers of flared perfume
flow down rows of headstones and tombs.
I've looked at death that way.
			
But now I tend to ask God why
people visit and freshly cry.
We all know when loved ones die
they rise on His stairway.
				
I've looked at death from both sides now
from heart to soul and

One Coin, Two Sides

What's true for you
even if it is insanity
may not be the same for me
as we each have our own reality
'There's two sides to every coin'
some are said to say
'But what about the edge,
when one is on display,
showing tails and the obverse?'
as a numismatist I insist
even a mirror reflects the reverse
yet when confronted with a conundrum
maybe

Flipping Between Parallel Sides

When the walls of my world crumble right in,
I slip through a portal to begin
Again in a softer place, where the veil is thin -
On this other side I always win.

Some call it dreaming, some call it flight,
But I call it flipping, when strife is too tight.
Changing lanes sure beats a road-rage fight,
I can switch

Sun Sides

Sun is always in east or west but at noon in middle a moment

The Sun Never Chooses Sides

We walked under the same sky,
but carried different forecasts.
your silence was a sandstorm
and mine a drought.

Yet we mistook our survival
as our strength.
I was parched with waiting
and you were eroded by wind.

World saw our resilience not the cracks.
How I begged for rain or
How you vanished behind gusts.

They said strong woman is "silent"
They said strong man is

Two sides

This dark night whispers,
some wait, others turn away,
dream or cozy rest.

A Mother - Both Sides Now

mother  child
nestled  encircled
sings a lullaby  shouts rebuke
forever giving  endless forgiving
cuddles with soft hands  scolds with look of eyes
a candle that gently guides  a flint that fires up the child
kisses heals with tender grace  hugs forgives all falls from grace
silence teaches more than words  songs unsung are yet

two sides of the coin

We could cure all man's diseases,
but we couldn`t cure humanities sickness.
So I`ll bring back history's greatest minds,
to rescue ourselves from these dark, dark days
the gloominess caused by the mistrust of today.
As life crumbled, it was surrounded by the worlds decay,

Conflict: male vs female;
a war between the sexes, a hatred without an end.
The seeds of this

Two Sides of Me

I have given up
So I can never say
I gave it my all
The only thing I can admit was
The weight of failures held me down
No one can convince me that
There is always a reason to keep trying
Because when the sun starts to rise
The darkness remains
I refuse to believe that
There is hope for me
So I always remember

Pick sides

Trying to pick sides
It extracts a terrible price
You may not return

The beat goes on

Since you have been gone  
A lot of water has passed under the bridge
 
A mixed bag of events have occurred
Leaving behind earth-shaking calamities 

Difficult to quantify 
As confusion like whirlwind 

Keeps spreading and threatening 
The very fabric of National Cohesion 

Nobody knows what to believe anymore 
As looters of our commonwealth
 
Keep spewing

two sides to every story

I know there’s two sides to every story 
But I’m scared to know yours 
Is it how you loved me and cared for me 
Until you were torn 
Was it that you were everything and I was just too much 
Was it how you always asked before you went to touch
I’m scared to know what

Sides

Sides

Look for sides of a
right-angled triangle. They’d like you to
do that 
very much. 

Three sides to every Story

Truth is the singing spark
within your soul and the
compassionate veins
of the porcelain moon,
composing lullabies
like an arcane talisman,
when words are mere
daggers to the heart
that aches for an
empathetic empyrean.

I’ve written tales with tortured ink
in silence beneath starless skies,
when the music of life fades
into salt-soaked sands,
drenched in monotonous beads
of obsidian mists,
listening to the golden grains
in the wishing well,
whisper

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