It rained again, again it rained.
Taking with it. Nothing gained.
My dreams now gone,
What part will I play;
In the future, will I belong?
I know not. Come what may.
What I thought were my dreams,
What I thought were my hopes,
What I thought was wicked rain,
Turned out to be good again,
And things I thought to be bad,
I wait, I wait, again I wait.
For cleansing rain to my soul take,
And wash away the evil bait,
And what I thought was good escape,
But no longer I’ll run from rain.
I’ll stay put. I’ll embrace the change.
Another one about welcoming change. Being content with where you are in life isn’t a bad thing usually, but when it keeps you from trying new things or even changing your routine then I would think twice. I used to be afraid of change. hate it. abhor it. I still do to a point, something I’ve been trying to get over. I love consistency and there is nothing wrong with that. Although, it is something I am learning to love less.
I reach for nothing but extend my hand,
I rise, towards hopes homeland.
And there touching cloud, return and say,
I’ve touched hope and come to show you the way
I’ve been there I know you can make it,
And down this path together we’ll take it.
The picture for this one is a sculpture by Clay Workman he does some really great work in a few different mediums. Check out his stuff at http://clay-tablet.wix.com/clayworkman
Escaping from overwhelming darkness,
He is rising from the well of defeat.
To the shadows he has ceased to hearken,
With friendly aid he’s left this evil seat.
Not by wisdom entirely his own,
Brothers and sisters have all played their part.
Never will he, traveling alone,
Be very far away from all their hearts.
Then upward into the dazzling lights
He soars, behind him: dusty shadows fall.
And opening his eyes to this so bright:
Peaceful hope, to this so joyously he calls.
Close to despair again he’ll not be found,
Now that he’s heard the heartbeat of hope sound.
The picture for this one was done by my brother Jesse, I’ve used a few of his pictures and artwork as inspiration. The poem itself, as well as the picture, I think of being about my brother overcoming. It’s about letting family help you in your darkest times, they will always be there when you need them.
Posted in Rise Above
Tagged hope, poetry
Awoken at the break of dawn I have,
Or all this time have I just been awake?
The sunlight, now a necessary salve
For my tired mind left in the moons wake.
I’ve been here so long in this waking world,
Must sleep. But still there’s so much left to do.
I listen to the cat ’round my feet curled,
She purrs. I relax, closing eyelids too.
I forget my tasks, tomorrow take them,
And as I rise the purring fluff-ball stirs,
Tries to sway me to stay with eyes like gems.
I leave, now that night into day has blurred.
Dreaming beside my wife, in grateful rest,
I think of how, with her, I am so blessed.
They thought that they were safe
They thought that they were all
The thing they thought was safety,
Really it turned out to be,
Nothing more than a lie,
Wrapped in a false sense of security.
She said to me: “This is all
I said to her: “I’ve something
What I showed her was a route,
That was more than a way out,
But a life, a fresh start, a freedom,
No more lies from within, without.
Complacency we can now
Within these walls, alone, we
Stepping outside our comfort zone,
We discovered our true home,
Mediocrity no longer our tomb,
Change itself, had saved our soul.
This one was written in light of a new direction our life is going thanks to my wife and I learning to step outside our comfort zone, and trying new things. Not being afraid of change is so essential when one is pursuing ones dream.
What’s become of her soul so worn?
What of her heart and mind now torn?
These questions may never be answered, but we hope,
To teach her, show her some way that she can cope.
Her memories: the cemetery of her mind.
Here she seeks to raise the dead, unbind,
Some measure of forgotten joy.
She says, “That forgotten demons return to haunt you.”
Then frightened of what she might find, she turns back.
Believing the lie that it’s courage she does lack.
We now find these broken: her mind, soul, and heart;
The price she paid to forget. She tore herself apart.
As I gazed it was thee who then did die.
I wondered why we had come to this place.
I shamefully hung my head and I cried,
Knowing I’ll never see your smiling face,
Never to give me strength or joy again.
I cannot help to think I was to blame.
It was I then, who, to your death did send
I should, could have ended this. Its my blame.
Though I’m not sure that it matters much now,
You are sleeping, in that rest you’re dreaming
In heaven I’m sure. Angelic. Crowned.
Without you, this battlefield I’m leaving
With those left standing through the wastes of war
Much worse I’d say than those who fell before.