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David Frye Poem
If not for loss, you would never grow.
Never open up to a new chance, a new flow.
Rivers don't stay on one path—they wander,
Leaving behind old trails, like we grow from blunder.
The river carves new ways through outside influence,
Just as we grow, shaped by pain and persistence.
Becoming static in a meaningless moment,
Like stagnant water, spoiling in its own torment.
If you don’t push past the weight of the fall,
You’ll remain trapped in an impenetrable wall.
But once you turn to pursuit—not retreat—
The coil will unravel, and you’ll rise to your feet.
Wounds, once raw, begin to mend with time,
Etching lessons into skin like a sacred rhyme.
The flood may tear roots from the earth’s skin,
But from that chaos, new life begins.
Growth is not a silent venture, it rumbles, it roars,
Crashing like waves against tightly shut doors.
We fear the fall, the break, the bend,
Yet it’s in the fracture that truths transcend.
For even a river must split to survive,
Forging fresh channels, keeping hope alive.
So let the currents carry what no longer serves,
And trust in the motion, in the swerve of the curves.
Copyright © david frye | Year Posted 2025
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David Frye Poem
As months go by, swiftly they pass,
Only to a grinding halt they would come to.
Unearthing a nasty truth, buried under the dirt and grass,
A heart to be held together by sheer hope.
A heart so scarred, yet covered in a veil of brightness,
Bright like the sun it was, shining so bright,
All former traumas became buried in a nocturnal sleep,
Only when trust rears its head, problems ignite,
Fearing abandonment from connections so deep.
Cutting ties, alleviating this fear, yet no change deep within,
Only fading relationships as I now count days and hours.
Now as time goes by, my mind begins to spin,
Creating false narratives to keep from going sour.
As we begin to fade away with scattered connection, a shade,
Now manifesting a lingering dread of your new masquerade.
Copyright © david frye | Year Posted 2025
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David Frye Poem
The river bends, and the river breaks.
The mind, so pliable, so fragile.
In relation in the oddest ways.
The river effortlessly wanders through the landscape,
The mind effortlessly travels through fact, fiction, and contradiction.
The river exceeds its banks, looking for an escape.
The mind overflows with irrational thought, feeling like conviction.
The river rests, and the river wakes.
The mind, at times tranquil, other times restless.
The river, smooth in its flow, freely running to its end.
The mind gracefully daydreams, releasing daily stress.
The river, rapid in its flow, carries copious sediment along its bed.
The mind, thinking endlessly, dragging yesterday's loss in today's press.
The river gives, and the river takes.
The mind provides, and the mind plunders.
The river gives life through the eternal terrain.
The mind provides endless positivity for perpetual sunder
The river takes life all the same through floods causing ceaseless pain.
The mind plunders this positivity, burying it for cynicism to flourish.
The river and the mind, one in the same, for both can embellish.
Both come with highs and lows, only once you appreciate the highs- Will the lows become more manageable.
The river floods, while causing much destruction fertilizes the land previously starved of nutrients.
The mind similar, flooding with doubt yet, once ceased- begins true sentiments’
Copyright © david frye | Year Posted 2025
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David Frye Poem
Once understanding truth, is when fiction becomes paramount.
If not for fiction, truth would never expand, rather stay static.
Without fiction, invention would not become possible, just a cosmetic.
Without fiction, creativity would become impractical, in turn ceasing much doubt
Without fiction, where's contradiction? Relying on fact alone creates a closed mind,
Unwilling to learn or listen to opinion or interpretation, with a mind stuck behind.
Letting go of what is already known imbeds a sense of venture, a willingness to interpret.
If not for this sense of venture, opinion becomes subvert.
Learn from past followings of mass consensus,
Think for yourself, form your own opinions, free from collectivization.
Only once you have your original thought, begin intertwining with truth, make it pragmatic.
In order to grow, you first must relinquish that which is known.
Copyright © david frye | Year Posted 2025
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David Frye Poem
She says she likes me, yet I don't like myself
I've yet to be the man of my dreams, yet such to aspire
Not one to keep promises to himself
The one without peace behind his eyes, an unquenched fire.
Waking up unproud of the way of life, wishing to go higher
Yet she likes who I am, while I ache for who I could be,
And some days, that gap feels like failure, a longing to rewire
She sees a light I've yet to earn by my own standards, I can't retire
Perhaps that's what love truly is, a quiet conspire,
Not to wait for someone to arrive, not only for when things are dire,
But believing in them while still on their way, like building an empire
Maybe becoming isn't about being ready first, no need to perspire
Becoming is rising, its chasing desire,
for Someone who sees who you fully before yourself, are the true inspire
May be the best motivation to become what they know you are; you may now retire.
Copyright © david frye | Year Posted 2025
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David Frye Poem
Everything i'm not made me everything I am,
Without imperfection, without flaws, all is perfection.
However perfection leaves no reason for strive,
And without the urge to change, the world would stand still, no transition, no drive
People would never reach for more, believing they have it all.
only Once imperfection enters does improvement begin to call,
While Sounding counter intuitive, consider the true downfall,
Comfort breeds stagnation, discomfort sparks an overhaul,
Faced with flaws, one begins to think, to question, to solve, to push past the brink.
Without these minor troubles tugging at convenience,
How many minds would awaken with brilliance?
If not for that wonder, that itch to grow,
Many, including myself, would never know
The drive to rise, the hunger to transcend.
For wonder fuels dreams, and flaws are where they begin.
Everything I'm not made me everything I am
Copyright © david frye | Year Posted 2025
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David Frye Poem
Endless thoughts swirl, of that girl with endless ardor,
Without remedy, my spirit slowly fades.
Urging to feel, with fervor growing harder,
This mindset pulling me deeper into shades.
Feelings break down both mind and soul,
Morale crumbles, and you lose control.
Involuntarily, you start to accept,
Anything, just to feel, to reconnect.
Here, in this place, peril finds its home,
Broken, yet standards must not roam.
When this arises, decisions are swayed,
Shrouded in misjudgment, choices betrayed.
Companionships dissolve, like mist in the air,
From kinship to strangers, the pain is unfair.
Misguided attempts to tether and bind,
And misplaced blame, so unkind.
Catalysts cause this rift to grow wide,
But don’t blame yourself, don’t let it slide.
For this separation, don’t let it worsen,
It’s not all yours to bear, not a curse to burden.
Copyright © david frye | Year Posted 2025
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