THOUGHTFUL THOUGHT
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
Would
things have really been so
different
Would the world really have
been so shaken
If when I were a much younger
man
I had chosen the road not
taken
Would
the days have been any the
brighter
Or the nights darker than
they are
Would I still have lived in
such obscurity
Or shined brighter than any
star
It
does little good to wonder
Of things that might have
been
For who, and what I have become
I must live with in the end
Though
life could have been much
better
All in all I do not feel forsaken
I count the blessings that
I have
And cry not of the road not
taken
BACK SPACES
Gazing
out my window
I thought of yesterdays
The faces and the gestures
And how the laughter fades
Wondered
if you're happy
Or if you found your way
From long nights in November
And the promise that we made
JUST MY MOTHER
Did she have stories never
told?
One's she lived so long ago?
Would I have listened if she
did?
She was my mom and me a kid.
Just
my mother, not really real,
is this the way, of her, I
feel?
Did she love, did she cry?
Was there a time I asked her
why?
Mothers,
they are always there,
too many times we aren't aware,
that they are people just
like us,
to remember that would be
a plus.
I
sat to listen of memories
of old
as my mother talked of long
ago.
She spoke of Daddy and his
faults
and of dancing to the Tennessee
Waltz.
We
laughed and cried, just two
gals,
not mother and daughter, just
two pals.
She was just my mother so
I didn't know
that she had actually lived
so long ago.
WHO'STO SAY?
The knife cuts deeply to the
core
The spirit bleeds forever
more
A pain to last a whole life
long
But who's to say if this is
wrong
We loved beside a diamond
bay
That flashed the sun in bright
of day
And glittered in the starry
night
But who's to say that it was
right
Dark shadows danced around
the two
Not wanting joy for me and
you
I'll never know until this
day
Just what went wrong, but
who's to say
Unhappiness
would be my fate
But wisdom always comes too
late
I look at life as one big
stage
The eye more sensitive with
age
I
watch the drama now unfold
The truth upon the stage is
told
I laughed and cried but I
was strong
And who's to say that I was
wrong
Perhaps
the love I lost in youth
Was never meant to be, in
truth
It seems that love can cloud
our sight
But who's to say that I am
right
If
I were meant to live again
The same beginning to the
end
I'd tread my footsteps all
along
And who's to say if I am wrong
WOULD YOU LOVE ME LESS
Would you love me less intensely
if my thoughts were less profound
As a pigeon's passive waddle
to the tidbits scattered round
Never wondering nor dreaming,
never questioning belief
Pecking contemplation's morsels
thrown by others at my feet
Would you love me with less
passion if the twilight didn't
creep
To the inner most contentment
of my heart before I sleep
If the fluttering of feathers
swooping down to nighttime
perch
Didn't incite a song of glory
from my soul at nature's worth
Would your eyes be less inclined
to notice little things I
do
If I didn't stoop to see the
world from a child's point
of view
If the innocence of little
ones didn't touch me every
time
That a child gazed in honesty
into these eyes of mine
Would your love be less exiting
if I didn't share my dreams
That are floating in the current
of imagination's streams
If I didn't open up the fragile
door that leads to me
In the songs and dreams and
thoughts that drift within
my poetry
All these questions posed
in haste within a moment's
happiness
And among the sound of laughter
comes the little answer, "Yes"
TWISTS AND TURNS
You
have to have luck
With a mile more to go
A crooked road
It's a vicious circle.
A heart of gold
Bears silent witness
To the kindness trait
Of being a good observer.
Your enchanted eyewitness
Do you know what I mean?
Invitation to contraction
Of the life lived sweet and
fragile.
I'm in your corner
Read between the lines
Go forth and forward
To where beauty lies.
PASSING THROUGH
So many times I think of death
And see how many fear,
But for me it's just a journey
With heaven drawing near.
When
I close my eyes at night
And in my sleep, time passes
by;
I think of death as just that
way
With life in dreams when I
die.
Though
in life, I always wake,
In death I will wake too,
But it will be another world;
The one I pass into.
A
world where no more tears
are shed
Nor goodbyes are ever said;
With my loved ones I will
stay
And never more get out of
bed.
INKWELL OF THE HEART
From
the content of the heart;
The written word is penned,
But without an inner sight;
Is hard to comprehend.
You
look amazed at words in ink
And ponder on them, the source;
Was it the mind from whence
they came
Or from the heart, that caused
remorse.
Is
it truly filled with light,
In the way you've come to
see,
Or does the content of your
heart
Provide the ink that flows
from thee.
Muddy
dark that tends to smear
Or calligraphy with beauty
seen;
Words that lift and soothe
the soul
Or ones that drag and thus
demean.
From
the inkwell of the heart,
The pen will draw from in
And place upon the paper white
Those things that lie within.
POET'S SOUL
Words flowing from within
the heart
To compose a poetic thought,
Letting the muse control the
pen.
The soul flooded with images
it wrought,
From
within the heart come the
words
Helping to heal a wounded
soul.
Driving deep into the core
To let the one in pain know
No
one needs to walk alone
With burdens too heavy to
bear.
The poet with reassuring verse
Sends healing words of care
Reaching
out to the one in pain
Helping the heart to mend,
Reassuring them not to despair.
For within the verse they
find a friend
What
is it that affirms a Poet's
Soul?
The listener connects with
what they heard
As if the poet wrote the verse
for them
And the healing begins within
the word.
MORNING AND EVENING
The
day starts fresh in the morning,
the birds start twittering.
Darkness is dispelled by light,
and loses the uneven fight.
Traffic
starts getting heavier,
roads get busier and busier.
To school do children go,
by buses and by auto.
Mid-day
sees the blazing sun,
and we can have no fun.
Evening sees the children
home,
doing home work and watching
T.V. some.
The
setting sun turns orange in
color,
and the birds go to their
arbour.
Bats and cats go hunting,
but people turn to praying.
CHANGE
An
addiction to learning
Developed daily by imitation
Opens the door to empathy
And the capacity to love.
The
power of consciousness
Allowing the option of self-renewal
Extension of the senses in
turn
Sharpens the mind.
The
goal of positive action
Coupled to implementation
Creates positive self-expression
And to the inevitable social
evolution.
INSANITY
She's
nuts, tis true,
Of this we know,
We read her writes;
A true psycho.
But
of life
In rhyme, she spins;
Is there not truth
That's found within?
Because
we see
Some colored black,
Does that prove,
She's out of whack?
Thus
we call a poet so
Who writes of things
Deep in the soul;
Beyond our reasonings.
STATE OF MIND
Severe
sensory isolation
The need to reach out
Fear of sleep
The night terrors and nightmares
Walking the streets
Until the crack of dawn.
The
growing awareness
Meditation the door to states
desirable
Will to change
Always the key inside you
The mental serenity
Comes with peace of mind.
YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL
Things
aren't really
as bad as they seem
Listen to me,
I'm your self-esteem
You're
not really ugly
and you're not over weight
Think of your good points
your complexion is great!
You
have a great sense of humor
and are as smart as can be
Who cares if you don't
wear a perfect size 3
You're
thoughtful and caring
your actions will show
The heart is full of love,
that I already know
Don't
listen to those
who throw insults your way
just smile and nod
and think of this day
I'm
saying it now,
and I'll say it again
how you look dosen't matter
True beauty lies within
POET
Pour
out your heart
oh poet, in a poem
Of far away places
let your mind roam
for just beyond
what the eye can see
someone will be waiting
there for thee
Someone you have known
forever in your mind
Somewhere in a dream
true love you find
They are more than words
from emotions spent
they are more than words
from a letter, not sent
Of heart, of soul
of tear stained words
the poet writes
that his voice may be heard
So pour out your heart
oh poet, in a poem
let the world see love
let your heart be known
HOW OLD MY SOUL?
Beyond
this realm, I seem to see
And reach to touch forgotten
years.
How old my soul, it seems
to be,
As if it lived in other spheres.
Fragments
seep beyond the veil;
Forgotten wisdom of long ago.
Like a candle with a far off
flame;
I seem to see it faintly glow.
Old
music connects within my heart
As if it were a part of me.
Is it my soul, the words remembered,
That draws me to its melody?
What
in the past that keeps it
sad;
In this melancholy state of
malaise.
This state of sorrow that
seems to linger;
Upon the soul so heavily weighs.
NOT A LAUGHING MATTER
Internal
stresses and conflicts
Painful internal affliction
Sometimes it hurts
To anticipate the second movement.
Duress
with regularity
Endless cycle of pain and
tension
Eliminate the misconceptions
Dissipate the tortured fears.
Persistent
exercise and diet
The rigors of strain
Ease up slowly on retention
Eventually all things must
pass..
UNIVERSE FOR THE TAKING
Consideration
of the space curve
Singularities from mathematical
collections
Mean curvature of residual
space
Come and travel with me through
time.
A
golden elegance
To universal dimensions
A curvature of
Manifold directions and encounters.
Angry
objections
Without foundation
Fantastic energies of trans-light
travel
I am in awe of my Creator.
The
function of a civilization
Is to realize that the universe
Was made for more questions
than answers
Enjoy the mystical vertigo
of experiences unforeseen.
RENTED SPACE
I
rented space within my head
And soon I found no vacancy.
Others' clutter stored up
there,
Leaving now no room for me.
Should
it be that I evict;
Would I find now disrepair?
Is the damage caused up there,
Only room for now despair?
Too
many years of renting space;
Controlling now the mind that's
left;
No longer mine to do as will
But it was I who allowed the
theft.
The
cost was mine and I to pay;
Investment without dividend.
I gave to others too much
room;
A price that proved too much
to spend.
LOSING BATTLE
The weeds reach out to grasp
the life
Of every pretty planted thing
And everywhere, the leaves
have blown;
Their freedom to roam, forever
blowing.
The
house needs paint and much
repair
But where is the desire to
labor there.
For once again the leaves
will blow
And painted surfaces again
show wear.
I
see another gray hair has
surfaced
And body parts are breaking
down.
Put on another coat of paint
And turn that hair a shade
of brown.
The
years have brought their wear
and tear
As ruts are carved throughout
my face.
I run in vain to escape the
years
But like the leaves, it wins
the race.
I
pull the gray hairs and the
weeds
But oh such fatal works of
folly.
For all my efforts are for
naught;
Pretty flowers now debris.
BALANCE
God gave fragrance to the
flowers
And a song for the birds to
sing
So even those without sight
Could see the beauty that
they bring.
But
I can't help but wonder,
At the thorn he placed upon
the rose
And why, suppose, he made
the weed
Or inspired a poet to write
in prose.
Was
it, for us, a lesson shown
That life brings the bitter
with the sweet.
And for the poet, compassion
given,
That allows his pen to paper
meet.
When
a summer storm has passed,
And the sun comes out to shine,
I look to see the sky reveal
A rainbow adorning so divine.
May
I never grow so blind
That my blessings I fail to
see
Nor my ears grow so deaf
That I don't hear what he
says to me.
So
when the thorns begin to sting,
Upon the rose I'll place my
sight
And when the darkness in me
creeps,
Upon his face I'll see the
light.
TRANQUIL IS MY SOUL
The hush of early morning
before the dawn breaks through
The murmuring of the sleeping
earth
covered by the morning dew
In the mist
the luminous ghost of yesterday
fades into a memory
Tranquil is my soul in sleep
as golden rays of light
move silently, through every
dark, and secret place
Chiming bells, from a church
near by
Sounds of song birds, in tree
tops high
The rustle of leaves, moved
by the wind
I listen, to nature's melody
As a cool breeze, chilled
by the night
caresses my cheeks
I rejoice in the splendor
as morning comes to life.