Painting on the Wall
I stand upon the roof of the world,
Rakaposhi breathes soft clouds of light,
Hunza lies below, a painted wall.
Spring drapes the valley in pink and white,
Cherry blooms wake to morning’s light,
Peaks shift their shades with the turning hour.
Black cliffs hold lakes of glassy blue,
Attabad cuts deep with veins of light,
Turquoise water splits the stone in two.
Rakaposhi rises tall and proud,
Mist spreads wings across the height,
Clouds float low like lilies on a shroud.
Autumn comes in fire and gold,
Trees burn bright in amber light,
Valley wears its richest shawl of old.
Thin air shows how nature works true,
Stars fall soft into the night,
Silence speaks where mountains guard the view.
Wind moves slow through orchard rows,
Apricot branches hum with light,
Each breath I take, the valley knows.
Sunset spills gold across the crest,
Pink fire burns on canvas bright,
I’m lost in heaven, held by the night.
Fool a very powerful word,
with four unassuming letters.
Young and dumb in school,
we said we would be best friends forever.
Then came your wedding,
I took you to find your pretty dress.
Your mom and sister were no where in sight.
As your maid of honor,
I stand tall and proud watching over you both.
Your sister came as a guest,
her husband never bothered to show up.
You asked me to keep your lies,
and I did.
My mouth was glued shut,
not a word to be spoken.
Your letter came,
as I read my heart broke into a million pieces,
my fingers were burned from the paper and words.
How could you say these things to me?
Over the many long years,
had I been a fool dressed as a friend to you?
Big, Bold and Sleek
Greyhound Bus
Bus honor
City to City, Town to Town
Observation upon observation
Remembering viewing the Rocky Mountains
Standing tall and proud
Totally Majestic
Being greeted by an Arizona Indian wave
Sitting on a white horse in red and white attire overlooking the overpass
Sight before eyes seeing the Mormon Tabernacle Church in Salt Lake City, Utah
Open Roads, Steep hills and endless mountains
Experienced a young pregnant Woman on the bus go into labor in the state of Nevada
What was supposed to be a 30 Minute Rest Stop turned into 2 hours
Our Greyhound Driver timed the young woman’s labor contractions
A major hospital happened to be across from where we stopped, and their medical team carried the young woman off the bus on a stretcher
Everyone on the bus felt like family as they looked out for one another
Travel for me on Greyhound was always an adventure
North, South, East and West
America and I are acquainted
The spirit and merit
Up close and personal
Through the watch of time
Greyhound bus base
Never any time to waste
Greyhound bus travel
Into the sunset of my mind treasure chest
Hound dog
The ride
The experience.
Being in the shelter is not planned by anyone who enters it's doors. Lost opportunities,drugs and alcoholism,gambling bad choices. Open your eyes to the road ahead,you are at a crossroads, make the right decision for a better tomorrow, create your destiny at this road as to ensure its a smooth road when leaving. Find yourself and take the right steps to your dreams. Don't be entrapped by complicity and comfort of shelter live. Chose the road of advancement of your live on this path. Be mindful that tomorrow your destiny will be decided by today's choices.Use the resources at your disposal for it will not always embrace you walk tall and proud when you leaveDo not approve yesterday's choices that brought you here. Fight with yourself and rise out of your addictions and bad choices
I can't forget the last six years,
They live in the quiet parts of me,
In the way i pause before i speak;
In the things I no longer run from.
There was someone
Not just a name,
But a season,
A thousand small moments
That shaped how i stand today
Tall and proud.
I made choices.
Some brave, some reckless,
Some that replay like a tape
Wondering who I'd be
If i turned left instead of right
I made mistakes too.
Heavy ones.
The kind you don't outgrow,
You learn to carry
Like stones in your pockets
That teaches you how to walk taller.
I dont pretend im untouched
I dont pretend im innocent
I've learned that growth
Isn't erasing the past,
It's holding it without breaking.
Those six years didn't disappear.
They became my spin.
They taught me how love can ache,
How leaving can stay
How memory doesn't fade
It softens.
And now I move forward
With everything I was,
And everything I’m still becoming,
Carrying the past
Not as a burden,
But as proof
That I survived it.
Around the stump, some giant leaves
Are reaching for the sky,
In defiance of the forces
Which allowed that tree to die.
They grow within a little square
Of soil in the park,
A sister stump in its own plot,
Alone and looking stark.
Perhaps those trees were felled because
Of some rare plant disease,
But if some saplings took their place,
It might have helped appease.
Instead, the stumps remind us
Of what once stood tall and proud
And those giant leaves announce
That Nature will remain unbowed.
I may be no primary colour
The trendy say I’ve had my day
But I shall be no shrinking violet
I stand tall and proud… for I’m GRAY!
I’m never seen gracing a pizza
Or the tail of a visiting comet
I’m not in the arc of a rainbow
Nor the colours that emanate from it
I’m in every shadow, for that is my way
My night is my day, because I am GRAY!
Mountains made of waves
tore the flesh from Mother Earth —
flayed and flooding.
The mud grieves beneath her,
clogged with stagnant saline.
She used to breathe — rivers ran wild and free,
forests stood tall and proud.
For she was once lush —
verdant skin stretched over a trembling core,
veins of sapphire seas pulsing with breath.
But we carved into her with teeth of steel,
peeled back her emerald skin,
pierced through her bones.
We didn’t ask.
We took.
Her lungs lit like lanterns.
Birds dropped from the blackened sky.
The ocean soured, bloated with grief.
Coral bleached like the bones of the forgotten —
silent, skeletal, sunken.
And still, we kept chlorine at her flesh.
Now she festers —
her winds thin, her skin splitting.
Cities crust her like scabs.
She does not scream.
She simply waits.
A casualty of your cruelty,
she lies open, emptied —
not for mercy,
not for rage —
but for the stillness that comes
when there’s nothing left to save.
And still,
you look away,
call the silence healing —
but it’s too late
to unknown what you’ve done.
In mystic forest, where human wisdom fades,
A world of secrets, beyond our mortal shades.
The forest whispers truths, we've yet to grasp,
As ancient trees stand guard, with mysteries to clasp.
A mahogany tree, tall and proud,
Became the stage for a supernatural cloud.
A sawman's blade, with intent to claim,
Was halted by a voice, an old woman's refrain.
The slap that followed, like a rock's descent,
Left the operator reeling, his strength spent.
Blood gushed from the tree, a mystic's tale,
A metaphysical son, with wounds that would prevail.
The tree, once wounded, healed with mystic speed,
Leaving us in awe, our footsteps to proceed.
We fled the scene, with hearts that still quake,
A lesson learned, some secrets we'd rather not partake.
In the beginning…
There was a tree
One day, a single seed fell upon fertile ground
A falling leaf covered and caressed it tenderly
Sunshine and rain brought it abundant nourishment
the wind blew soil and debris that blanketed its cradle
In due time, the seed sprang to life, and a sapling grew
It matured under Mother Nature’s constant care
Until it stood tall and proud in the morning light
Then, One day, a precious seed fell to the ground
And the cycle repeated as the years rolled on
A cycle with a noble beginning that resisted an end
Nothing stopped its noble pursuit and appointed purpose
Then another and another seed fell; many seeds fell
and they continued to fall until…
A forest was born. all because
in the beginning…
There was a tree
Bullying has made me stronger,
Through all the pain and fear.
Each harsh word and hurtful gesture,
Only fueled my inner fire.
I used to hide in shadows,
Afraid to show my face.
But now I stand tall and proud,
No longer a disgrace.
The names they called me,
The lies they spread.
All of it just made me,
More determined than ever.
I found my voice through the tears,
And spoke up for myself.
No longer a victim of their cruelty,
But a survivor of their hell.
They thought they could break me,
But they only made me whole.
I rose above their hatred,
With a strength they couldn't control.
So thank you, bullies,
For making me who I am today.
A warrior forged in fire,
Who will never again be swayed?
MY SON
In the middle of the City stands a tall gum tree
With a trunk so bright reaching out to Yeah
Jacaranda nearby looking up at me
Yet I stand tall and proud for the world to see
Sun sets on my trunk at the end of the day
Trials Tribulations, I have a lot to say
Don’t mean no harm to come your way
So much to say at the end of the day
I aint no clone I aint no fool
I mean no harm to come to me nor you
Flesh and blood aint no excuse
I need your love not you’re abuse
So hang on tight for time is neigh
So so sad just a wasting away
On your response, I am but waiting
I’m a patient man but time is a fading
Love dad
Colors once blossomed radiantly
Filling the canvas with life and hope
Brightening even the darkest room
With love and prosperity
The ceiling once stood tall and proud
Even in the face of the worst storms
The walls were a profound comfort
In the deepest of desolation
People once congregated here
Filling the room with laughter
As smiles peppered every face
It was but a sense of community
What once was is no more
For here I remain in a crumbling ruin
With a battered faced
And tattered clothes all alone
For the years have not been kind
When days are long but years are fast
The degradation of health takes time
But one day slaps you fast
I call this the cathedral of lamentation
But really it is the confines of my mind
Once a beautiful escape that is now
A prison in which I can never escape
Why do weeds wear blooms of grace,
Hidden in corners in their secret place?
Risen in cracks, in fields unplowed
Stands a splash of color, tall and proud
Unwelcome, they say, as they pierce the rigid ground.
Perhaps in weeds, there lies a truth,
That beauty shines despite its youth.
They grow where no man dares to tread
Encompassed in pink and vibrant red.
They are pulled, yet they return.
In their petals, we can learn.
Weeds, thought of as wild and free
Are Nature's flowers in secrecy.
The tall man cannot see,
He has lost his sense of smell
He is my best friend
Who's life could be a life of hell
He is seldom miserable
And doesn't complain about his fate
He is a man of compassion
Who's heart has no space for hate
He walks tall and proud
And does not need a crutch
He possesses a vivid imagination
And a very tender touch
He is never bitter
Or bemoans his lot
He gets pleasure from living
Content with the life he has got
Sadly, he was born this way
So does not know any other
His affliction will never go away.
But he is more intelligent than his brother.
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