T
Hi all, I just wanted to anonymously share a couple poems that I wrote about 2 decades apart.
[FONT="]The first is a poem I wrote at a down point in my life which happened to be in the middle of a period where I resided among demons between 2 & 3 decades ago. The second poem is an interesting one to me. I'd been getting into the scripture and praise & prayer etc., quite heavily and at one point I was overcome with a peace and joy that amazed and thrilled me for a while sufficient enough to induce tears. Sadly, that feeling didn't last forever, and as I contemplated feeling that way, I started rhyming and had composed a poem so fast I was concerned about forgetfulness while scrambling to open notepad once I'd determined I liked it enough to write. There were only ever a couple other poems I wrote and they were to a fiance a long time ago. I only say this to highlight that I must be emotionally moved significantly to inspire me to poetry. Anyway, a day or two later I remembered the new poem and I opened it to read it with the idea of deleting it. When I read back my poem, I teared up and gave myself a chill, and in that moment I remembered the first poem I wrote so long ago that was so dark and how it contrasts the experience that inspired it. Anyway, I never titled either of these poems.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]After nine months of pain, the woman grew weary.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Alas it happened, that day so dreary.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]An infant boy, born to a face of stone,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Soon learned that he stands alone.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]A smile could not be forced upon his stale face,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]For the boy realizes self-disgrace.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The boy’s disregarded by society abroad.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Love is a myth, it’s merely a fraud.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The boy chases myths but knows in his head,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]It cannot be caught, hope is dead.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]His hope died as did belief,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]He’s now occupied by disgust and grief.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Years have passed; this man’s the same;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]A loser he is, as once he came.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]His life is worthless as a rusty tin can,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Cannot be recycled, only fills land.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Alone he has been, as alone he will be,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Yet, his dreams within cry to be free.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The man exists for no reason but one,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]What should be cannot be done.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]It’s not to say that’s what he wants,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Yet he finds no more than torture and taunts.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]His soul weeps, as it’s a fragile being.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Nowhere to hide from the pain he is fleeing.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]He seeks a life, one he never had,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]That’s why the day so dreary, was so sad.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Tears from Hell are not heard by God,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Because the man still thinks love is a fraud.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The man’s eyes look so bare.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]This poor soul has no reason to care.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Alone he has been, as alone he will be.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Is there anything that can set his soul free?
[/FONT]
[FONT="]If future is what past has been,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]This soul’s dreams will never be seen.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Tears taste salty this man knows well,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]For gallons have come from within his hell.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]He questions his creator from deep inside,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Such a mistake made He, the infinitely wise?
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The man’s existence is shallow indeed,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]It will remain that way until his soul is freed.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]To catch the myth is the dream.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Here is the last poem that I was impressed enough to write a couple weeks ago:
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]I am forever thankful that finally now I see,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]In life's moments with all its passions, even reflective melancholy,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]and every appreciative emotion that has ever encompassed me;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]In the jeweled glimmer captured of the sun in a drop of dew,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]precariously clinging in the breeze to the leaf of a Maple or needle of the Yew;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]and those secret moments where I thought I was alone; for I never knew:
[/FONT]
[FONT="]It was Thee! It was You!
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Adrift in those moments...
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Like the Dandelion seed, or flake of snow dancing in the air,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]or, the flame engulfed embers of the warm fire enticing my stare;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]In all the wee hours of my stellar observations,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]where I was lost in the cosmos and imaginations,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]and in those subtle whispers that would touch my quieted soul,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Even ignorant of You, I counted as gold.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]And in the wide and honest swirls of a young child's eyes,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]or hiding in a joyful smile in the dimples is where you hide...
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Perhaps watching, lingerly savoring those moments as I,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]connected through true appreciation, where there's neither ego nor lie,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]but, unknown to me and invisible before my eyes,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Now that I see, I do realize;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]In all life's beauty and marvels like the universal expanses with glowing bands,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]tapestries of flowers, fireflies, symphonies of frogs: And....
[/FONT]
[FONT="]A family meal, simple kindness, and out of every delight filling the land;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]You embrace me and take me in Your hands.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]No matter how small I may be, I can finally see;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]that behind it all: my first joy, my first love, and my new perpetual glee,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]my longing, my first step, and my first victory,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]My Lord: it is You! It was always Thee!
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The first is a poem I wrote at a down point in my life which happened to be in the middle of a period where I resided among demons between 2 & 3 decades ago. The second poem is an interesting one to me. I'd been getting into the scripture and praise & prayer etc., quite heavily and at one point I was overcome with a peace and joy that amazed and thrilled me for a while sufficient enough to induce tears. Sadly, that feeling didn't last forever, and as I contemplated feeling that way, I started rhyming and had composed a poem so fast I was concerned about forgetfulness while scrambling to open notepad once I'd determined I liked it enough to write. There were only ever a couple other poems I wrote and they were to a fiance a long time ago. I only say this to highlight that I must be emotionally moved significantly to inspire me to poetry. Anyway, a day or two later I remembered the new poem and I opened it to read it with the idea of deleting it. When I read back my poem, I teared up and gave myself a chill, and in that moment I remembered the first poem I wrote so long ago that was so dark and how it contrasts the experience that inspired it. Anyway, I never titled either of these poems.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]After nine months of pain, the woman grew weary.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Alas it happened, that day so dreary.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]An infant boy, born to a face of stone,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Soon learned that he stands alone.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]A smile could not be forced upon his stale face,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]For the boy realizes self-disgrace.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The boy’s disregarded by society abroad.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Love is a myth, it’s merely a fraud.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The boy chases myths but knows in his head,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]It cannot be caught, hope is dead.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]His hope died as did belief,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]He’s now occupied by disgust and grief.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Years have passed; this man’s the same;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]A loser he is, as once he came.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]His life is worthless as a rusty tin can,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Cannot be recycled, only fills land.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Alone he has been, as alone he will be,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Yet, his dreams within cry to be free.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The man exists for no reason but one,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]What should be cannot be done.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]It’s not to say that’s what he wants,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Yet he finds no more than torture and taunts.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]His soul weeps, as it’s a fragile being.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Nowhere to hide from the pain he is fleeing.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]He seeks a life, one he never had,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]That’s why the day so dreary, was so sad.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Tears from Hell are not heard by God,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Because the man still thinks love is a fraud.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The man’s eyes look so bare.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]This poor soul has no reason to care.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Alone he has been, as alone he will be.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Is there anything that can set his soul free?
[/FONT]
[FONT="]If future is what past has been,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]This soul’s dreams will never be seen.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Tears taste salty this man knows well,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]For gallons have come from within his hell.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]He questions his creator from deep inside,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Such a mistake made He, the infinitely wise?
[/FONT]
[FONT="]The man’s existence is shallow indeed,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]It will remain that way until his soul is freed.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]To catch the myth is the dream.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Here is the last poem that I was impressed enough to write a couple weeks ago:
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]I am forever thankful that finally now I see,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]In life's moments with all its passions, even reflective melancholy,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]and every appreciative emotion that has ever encompassed me;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]In the jeweled glimmer captured of the sun in a drop of dew,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]precariously clinging in the breeze to the leaf of a Maple or needle of the Yew;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]and those secret moments where I thought I was alone; for I never knew:
[/FONT]
[FONT="]It was Thee! It was You!
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Adrift in those moments...
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Like the Dandelion seed, or flake of snow dancing in the air,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]or, the flame engulfed embers of the warm fire enticing my stare;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]In all the wee hours of my stellar observations,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]where I was lost in the cosmos and imaginations,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]and in those subtle whispers that would touch my quieted soul,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Even ignorant of You, I counted as gold.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]And in the wide and honest swirls of a young child's eyes,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]or hiding in a joyful smile in the dimples is where you hide...
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Perhaps watching, lingerly savoring those moments as I,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]connected through true appreciation, where there's neither ego nor lie,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]but, unknown to me and invisible before my eyes,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]
[/FONT]
[FONT="]Now that I see, I do realize;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]In all life's beauty and marvels like the universal expanses with glowing bands,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]tapestries of flowers, fireflies, symphonies of frogs: And....
[/FONT]
[FONT="]A family meal, simple kindness, and out of every delight filling the land;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]You embrace me and take me in Your hands.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]No matter how small I may be, I can finally see;
[/FONT]
[FONT="]that behind it all: my first joy, my first love, and my new perpetual glee,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]my longing, my first step, and my first victory,
[/FONT]
[FONT="]My Lord: it is You! It was always Thee!
[/FONT]