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Thomas Cusick Poem
Time
Time is always wasting,
But where does it all go?
The clock is always ticking
As we travel to and fro.
We're always running here and there,
And doing this and that.
The morning comes, then night time falls,
Each day, in nothing flat.
We always try to cherish time,
And slow it down somehow.
Sometimes we don't remember
All we have is here and now.
We cannot live in yesterday.
Tomorrow never comes.
My friend, today is all we have,
So stop and hear the drums.
The drums are always marking time,
Every moment, every day.
No matter what, the band plays on.
What tune does your band play?
This day has to be the one,
For now is all we've got.
Moment after moment
We're either living or we're not.
Thomas Cusick
Copyright © Thomas Cusick | Year Posted 2010
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Thomas Cusick Poem
Happy Birthday
You're my daughter and I love you
More than you'll ever know,
No matter what I do in life,
No matter where I go.
When I close my eyes and think of you,
I can see your face so clear.
I can feel the love deep in my heart,
In my soul, I hold you dear.
If I listen very closely,
I can hear your voice each day.
I can even hear your laughter
When you were a child at play.
I have the fondest memories
And I cherish every one,
The times we laughed, the times we cried,
And the times when we had fun.
So this is my birthday wish for you,
May this year bring you love,
And peace, and joy, and happiness,
And blessings from above.
Thomas Cusick
Copyright © Thomas Cusick | Year Posted 2010
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Thomas Cusick Poem
My Clandestine Escape
Candle, burning before me now,
Separating me from the darkness in this room in which I sit;
The flame atop your waxen column melts your existence, slowly, steadily.
Your now liquefying composition dribbles silently down your side.
Your lifespan is limited by time, flame, wick, and wax.
Smaller, still smaller, as the minutes pass, you grow.
A breeze or draft from a place unknown
Causes your brilliance to flicker,
Thus casting shadows of you and I dancing madly about the room.
Inanimate, such is reality, I know you are,
Yet your personification has become my companion,
Guiding me down this neverending pathway to my escape from that within.
A teardrop trickles down my cheek, as your flame, now shrinking, grows dimmer, as it dies.
Now, only a hardening puddle remains before my ponderous gaze.
Darkness, total darkness, now surrounds my thirsting soul.
Thomas Cusick
Copyright © Thomas Cusick | Year Posted 2010
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Thomas Cusick Poem
Today's Blessings
The Lord has blessed my soul today.
He deserves my thanks and praise.
Even if all He had done was to keep my heart beating,
And to keep me breathing in and out,
It would have been sufficient,
For I would have lived to see another day.
But He did so much more.
He showed me the anger and turmoil of another,
And showed me how much I have changed.
He allowed me to feel His Spirit working through others,
And gave me better words to say.
He took away the pain of yesterday and yesteryear,
And helped me to see His Spirit within myself
Through someone else's eyes.
That is a feeling I had forgotten even existed.
Now I know that through Him, all things are truly possible.
All I have to do is provide the willingness
To let Him live within me.
If all He does tomorrow is to keep my heart beating,
And to keep me breathing in and out,
That shall be sufficient once again.
Thomas Cusick
Copyright © Thomas Cusick | Year Posted 2010
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Thomas Cusick Poem
Wake Up Call
You wake up in the morning and you rise up in your bed.
The bell on your alarm clock is still ringing in your head.
Another day confronts you as you stand up to get dressed.
What a way to start the day, already you’re depressed.
You run out of your house and then you jump into your car.
You’re fifteen minutes late and your boss wonders where you are.
You run into the office and you sit down in your chair.
You log on to the system and you let it know you’re there.
The boss is never happy and he lets you know each day.
You’re part of one big team, but no one helps along the way.
You work yourself into the ground to try and make the grade.
Sixty hours a week and you’re just barely getting paid.
By the time you make it home at night, you’re weary to the bone.
You wish you had somebody, but you have to sleep alone.
There’s just no time to have a life, no time to just have fun.
Morning, noon, and night, your job just keeps you on the run.
No one pats you on the back, and no one says, “Good job.”
And the people that you work with act just like an angry mob.
Everyone’s disgruntled with the office politics.
You keep it to yourself each day, but still, you take your licks.
One day when you’re sixty–seven, and finally retired,
Copyright © Thomas Cusick | Year Posted 2010
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Thomas Cusick Poem
My Life
I seem to know entirely too much
Of pain, and stress, and strife,
And entirely too darned little
About living, and of life.
I can't remember any time
When I've been free from fear.
I've lost entirely too many
Of the things I hold so dear.
I've felt far, far too much, the pain
Of love that's come and gone.
Sometimes I just don't have the strength
It takes to carry on.
I want so many things from life,
And yet I don't know what to do.
So many things still hold me back,
And I just can't follow through.
I know that there are answers
To the questions that I ask.
But every day I must put on
Another twisted mask.
I'd like to say I'm doing well,
That everything's okay.
But in the meantime I still struggle
Every minute, every day.
No one sees me reaching out,
They think I'm doing fine.
But my life is in a shambles
And the misery is mine.
Everyone has felt the pain,
I know I'm not alone,
But sometimes it just feels that way,
Because my troubles are my own.
Thomas Cusick
Copyright © Thomas Cusick | Year Posted 2010
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Thomas Cusick Poem
Love Is
Love is a feeling which reveals the heart,
It's the selfish heart which refuses this revealing.
To cling to the fear of reaching out
Is loneliness in the truest sense.
Love is a force which breaks asunder
The walls surrounding a thirsting soul,
Reaching within to fill the void
And to dry the tears that one has cried.
Love is a light which shines into the darkest dungeon,
Bringing peace and hope to the prisoners locked within.
Yet the prisoner bound by the rusted chains
Would rather he should perish than to know his freedom.
Love is a song which floats on gentle breezes,
And gladdens the heart of the one who would receive it.
Yet woe shall fall upon the very being
Of the one who would dare to smite the hand
Of Love.
Thomas Cusick
Copyright © Thomas Cusick | Year Posted 2010
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