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Randy Berthelette Poem
People will come,
and, people will go.
Blossoms in Spring,
In Winter 'twill snow.
The in and out
of every breath,
The twilight of birth
and mourning of death.
This orbital life,
on a linear course,
sometimes spins at dizzying speeds.
The joy is the mystery,
with each revolution,
of not knowing where
the next turn leads.
Copyright © Randy Berthelette | Year Posted 2006
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Randy Berthelette Poem
There's no decision
to become a Bohemian;
You either do
or you don't.
You find yourself there
absent marriage and career
It's no choice,
You either will
or you won't.
It requires not consciousness
of which way to go,
relying solely on its' own momentum;
akin to a river and its' direction of flow.
It's who you are
at the very core;
The fear of conformity,
The desire to explore.
There have been others before
and surely, will be again:
Kerouac, Henry David,
and Of Mice and Men.
To those brave souls
I pay tribute and salute.
For having taken their bite
of life, this fruit.
Copyright © Randy Berthelette | Year Posted 2006
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Randy Berthelette Poem
Unchosen paths,
yet for us to follow,
give us hope
to change our course of sorrow.
Fear of death,
or fear of living,
Either, or
Neither, nor
In any case, unforgiving.
Our Broken Dreams,
Our trail of friends,
Our forgotten fathers,
shape our pain.
But, future twists
and childrens' laughter,
no doubt,
like water,
will lift us once again.
Smile Jenny, Smile.
You know, you have that way
of touching someone,
at any time of any day,
and never knowing it all the while.
Copyright © Randy Berthelette | Year Posted 2006
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Randy Berthelette Poem
Flashes of lightning
and energy twist,
Revealing skies
replete with anger.
A sailors' gut
tells of something amiss;
Blind eyes,
they sense the danger.
All hands below
and folded in prayer.
Time spent and on the borrow.
Trespasses confessed in hasty repent
on hopes to see the morrow.
It's been the grave of many before
and surely will be again.
To keep
the deep
waters cold,
it needs these souls of men.
Copyright © Randy Berthelette | Year Posted 2006
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Randy Berthelette Poem
Vitality and youth,
so wasted on the young.
Briefly we've tasted,
then it's gone,
but remains on our tongue.
The poetry of love,
illicit with sex and its' prose,
wanes with time,
but it's scent
remains in our nose.
Truth is what's seen,
heard are but lies,
visions become blurry
through old, tired eyes.
What's left in the end
is what was there at the start;
compassion for man,
and kindness of heart.
Copyright © Randy Berthelette | Year Posted 2006
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Randy Berthelette Poem
Imagine.
The smell of a baby
days from the womb.
The smell of a rose
when it's in full bloom.
The smell of a corpse
exhumed from its' tomb.
The smell of fear
and its' impending doom.
Copyright © Randy Berthelette | Year Posted 2006
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