I see myself at the tender age of five.
A strange loneliness I feel, and I am shy.
I wonder sometimes why I’m even alive.
I chase fireflies and watch clouds in the sky.
I’m fifteen, more confident and doing well at school.
I read, play records and dream about guys.
I like to think I’m nobody’s fool,
and I’ve no time for watching clouds in the sky.
I’m thirty and still, there’s so much ahead.
Married, with two kids, I am having great fun.
Health concerns haven’t yet filled me with dread.
I swim often in a pool and lay out in the sun.
I’m fifty; my children have long since left the nest.
I teach and write poems; I’m a grandmother too.
Except for health issues, these years could be my best.
Life’s gotten so busy. There’s so much to do!
By 70, I still feel blessed, yet also have some woes.
I care less for possessions and the world’s triviality.
I want to be grateful no matter how life goes.
I realize now my purpose seeking spirituality.
Everything I Try,
I Make It Worse.
Not Again!
Stop Trying.
It's A Test!
Yeah, Failed To Try!
Try Not...
To Be Upset!
Trivial Triviality;
Terrible Trifles!
Everything's Different
From What Anyone
Would Do, If They
Were Me.
A++.
-Gray Squirrel
08-19-2026
Love is a luxury,
You need to have a lot,
Prepare a lot,
To truly guard it.
A little triviality in life,
It will slowly wear it away.
Until the last point,
There's no light left.
You see whether in life or at work,
The pace of two people is out of step
There's no way together permanently.
Market is cruel.
People are knives.
And you are a fish.
How would you survive,
In a pool full of sharks?
A crystal path I paved
to the realm of futile triviality
along the contorted contours
of the disguised desire
where intrepid roses bloomed
amidst the spiculed cactus,
the scent took me on mirage trail
to the oasis of reverie.
In the motif of morphed image
in my unclosed eyes
the lanced landscape turned
into a garden of glory.
The fringe of flying clouds
captured the colors of horizon’s pallet,
the beguiled breeze conducted
the captivating concerto of twilight
for the ruby moon to rise.
Within my deepening dismay
you in my orbit gleamed
with moonshine grace,
while the floating tinsels of silver dust
fluttered like fairy wings
on your silhouette face.
In mystique night you came enticed,
drifted with argentine flair
in the amorous aurora
of the sequined moonbeam,
lifted the shroud of secrecy,
entered my forlorn abode,
where I dreamed,
I was the full moon in your sky.
I thought I am right
to get angry with a fright
with anyone as a right I have the plight
I despised when I thought
They are also justified
When they shower their unjustified
anger on me.
My ego should be pleased
So, I wish others to be teased
So comes trouble in thousands
So, asks the me my sense, "Why this nonsense?"
I think myself of my triviality
As I am in my mundanity.
"Anger is temporary madness."
Said a wise man in his full sense.
Forgotten the other sense.
As some one must have on him an anchor.
Anger gives you a feeling of great monger.
(Only while getting angry)
To be angry? Or not to be?
Tells me my fellow inside
"Get angry, but first with your inside.
Then with the right person, at right time, for right cause.
Not on wrong person at his wrong time
Because fine anger brings finer results."
Oh! My strange inside pet fellow
Choose! When should you be angry?
I see a long winter coming
(yes, I know)
the dull gray spreads ahead of me,
there ain’t no use in running
(if I could)
from yourself you can never flee.
There’s a long winter coming
(how’d I know)
you’d take it to such an extreme,
thought that we were something,
(yes, you did)
when to ‘benefits’ we agreed.
…Oh, the lies we tell,
to fake peace with ourselves,
you were in that dark place…
but nothing did you say…
In the long winter coming
(how will I)
forget the picture I was shown
by a cop so condemning
(let me see)
just how you’d laid yourself low.
In this long winter coming
(I will ask)
why you couldn’t tell me the truth,
always said we’d end it
(if we found)
ourselves in love with someone new.
…Oh, how could it be,
a triviality,
with fire took a turn,
and how it left you burned…
O’er the long winter coming
(I will say)
I’d have left her if I had known,
if I’d learned of your feelings
(I’d take you)
as mine to see if it would grow.
Now the long winter coming
(weighs on me)
all that was lost with your dark choice,
I’m left here, undone, and
(every day)
I wish I could still hear your voice…
A mountain sits
And a river flows
A mountain suffers her tears
And the infiltration of life
Wildflowers necklace it
As the goats dance up and down its rocky parts.
It can wiggle off snow as well as a buffalo a gnat
Knowing it will be better for the snow to leave for awhile and come back when it has changed from its journey back.
The mountain stays
And only changes slowly
And it comforts the variable lives
That tend toward a flippant love
All around it
How weak is a volcano to succumb to its burning lust? How selfish.
A mountain is our shoulder
It endures the triviality and variability of short bursts of butterflies
In the meadow
Constantly
And outliving most of us.
Like the crying sky whose tears fall on him
And forget on a sunny day that he will always be her shoulder
Even when there are clouds between them.
I sit in the shadow, being invisible
Looking at the clouds overhead
They float slowly as piles of snow
Or the jade carved white tides
The sun might forget its duty time
And tedious being with streetlights
The moon seems surprised by sight
And keeping endlessly sighs
What reluctance does afresh day start
With those entities that are still alive ?
Making life such spontaneous routines
Caring nothing if blissful or sad
Not Happy
This morning on a site. we saw the hotel where
Hemingway stayed to write an important book
We wait to see which bed he slept in, also
it is an ad when a site feels the need to out-basing
such triviality
In the newspaper, that day was struck the sameness
how articles were written "We need to talk about"
and so on
We are told of a Ukraine war, not the reason only
that Russia wants the rest of Europe and other
blatant lies
Any critical observation about Israel is dismissed
out of hand as anti-Semitic, censoring our minds
when not asking the obvious questions
In Holland, farms are closed to give land to new
towns filled with people who hate the West and
wants to declare Shari law
A replacement of old stock, planned by George Soros
and other, ill-meaning people
In the meantime, the cold wind has ceased, and the flowers
on the balcony sing towards the sun, as we are told
we will have nothing and be happy about it
The zephyr in dainty dusk ruffles sunk sun’s sequins,
ripples the radiant facade of the placid pond,
where on the lilting lap of a silken lotus leaf,
floats forlorn, rolls restless, a rain drop,
a resplendent opalescent pearl.
Lest it gets shoved away, the leaf entwines
its transient trance with the satin threads of love,
unattached to the ephemeral possession.
At the end of twilight time the fluid gem dries up,
disappears in obscure triviality of transient entity.
Swathed by the sparkle of the winter twilight,
frozen at the end of the last mile,
like the wilted leaf of a defoliated tree
my languid life floats on the ebbing tide
of the consumed time, receding fast into oblivion,
where my essence spurts the fountain of elixir.
With the surge of the tsunami of bliss,
under the aura of luminous divinity,
I get jolted by the enlightenment twilight,
imbibe sublime serenity of detachment derivative.
The human nature touched the divine nature on the hills.
The cliffs, rocks, and boulders were full of beatific thrills.
The future of your coming was seen in the present form.
Glorification of the crucifixion shone in the warm storm.
Veils of illusions vanished. The ultimate truth was revealed.
Covenant between the father, son, and spirit was sealed.
Hearts flew and minds touched the heavens of immortality.
Temporal tentative truths tossed the triviality.
All we see are not total truths. The truth treads far ahead.
We merge with the endless elements. Our ego is shed.
Elijah and Moses revealed the riddles of Mount Sinai.
Change of form and shape of physique and psyche spiralled high.
Talking of pitching tents there, disciples were mesmerized.
The meaning of existence here on earth seemed summarized.
Poetry usually brings me joy,
though honestly, I delight in any triviality.
A thousand small things brighten my day.
Like when you smile at me in the morning,
or when you ask me for a hug.
Happiness overflows in me,
especially at Christmas time,
and the first swim of the year,
when you plunge into the sea.
The aroma of coffee in the morning,
or lying down to admire a starry night.
Reading a novel for the first time,
in winter, warmed by a ray of sun.
Ah, such simplicity,
yet I always smile
at any little thing.
I choose to smile, to live without sorrow,
to cleanse myself of maladies and impurities,
to give my mind a deep purification.
For to be happy, you don't need nobility;
you just need to shed any weakness,
and learn to enjoy, even if awkwardly.
open
&
banal
smatterings
submitted
weaved
& stretched
in
gratuitoius
pride
of place
triviality
amongst
the
representive
in
decline
slight
impulses
filtered
by
the
established
contemporary
in
random
selections
regardless
of debate
In the futile triviality
of the desolate wasteland,
a sunburnt solitary tree
languished a long while,
cast nonetheless
on the parched ground
a sensuous shadow,
my secret sanctum.
A crystal path I had paved
to the realm of retreated yearning,
along the contorted contours
of the disguised desire,
where intrepid roses bloomed
amidst the spiculed cactus,
the scent took me on mirage
to the oasis of reverie.
In the motif of morphed image
in my unclosed eyes
the lanced landscape turned
into the garden of glory,
the fringe of flying cloud
captured colors of horizon’s pallet,
the beguiled breeze conducted
captivating concerto of twilight.
In mystique night you came enticed,
floated on the flair of stardust,
radiant in the amorous aurora
of silver sequined moonshine,
lifted the shroud of secrecy,
entered my forlorn abode,
where I dreamed,
I was the full moon in your sky.
Dazzled by something worth comparing; our friendships common majesty
Offers without warning while in unfamiliar waters; we may both be
Lost in foggy noise; we are individuals; of sound triviality
Passing millions of years since our divergency
Horrific is our view; it is found of your arrogancy
Inside minds the size of yours, love grows the same, developmentally
NO, we see in black and white; squandered, you are a gifted tragedy
Save my bottled nose will never understand; the pineapple mess outside; that is sweet within humanity
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