Monthly Archives: July 2015

Days Death

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Into the sunshine
Enjoying the passing of time.
Nothing giving,
Taking nothing.
A six days times killing.
I do not wait for it to end,
I do not wait it to begin.
A passing of time savored,
My tired form labored.
But not.
One more moment caught.
Before the day is lost.
A final breath,
And sleep before the days death.

Seasons Passing

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Beneath the rolling of the clouds,
The sun declining smiles, gives me frown.
The wind, to no wall would bow,
Not even to the cedar, reddish-brown.
Awakening to dance with their friend, the breeze,
On the tips of their branches, the red ceases hold.
I in its midst, observe all of these,
Sigh to witness summer yield to autumns cold.
With one more Summer past,
Now I wait for winter.
Knowing it too, shall not last,
Its snow melting with springs cinder.

Aftermath

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The sweet lies he tells himself
Before descent into that hell.
“It’s not so bad, it wont hurt.”
Though doesn’t believe it when his turn,
Arrives and he must face the flames.
He must sacrifice all without promise of fame.
And for a time he endured,
And for a time he succeeded.
His goal of victory, took some time to achive it.
Now at the end with his hair of white,
He sits and questions, “Was I in Gods delight?”
Though he knew the answer when he crossed the border.
No soldier can say “I was just following orders.”,
When called on to answer for actions immoral.
There he sat and he mused, there he sat and he thought,
“I’ll make right all my wrongs whatever the cost.
Then on the day when I stand to be judged,
I won’t be afraid, I’ll be proud of what I’ve done.”

Falling Water

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Alas, I am not one so fortunate as to spend my day in rain.
Luxury it would be there to discover any gain.
Oh, but I am one who’s deprived of such many, rainy things,
And must wait for what beyond the dark and cold clouds then bring.
Daily closer to my goal: one to love and one to hold,
I shan’t shiver in the cold, ‘cross this wide, expansive shoal.
The hour then arrives and the water from sky to cease.
From behind the rain: sunlight; your face quickens my heart to beat.
No longer longing for the rain, for the dark, and for the grey,
But to hear the words “I love you” from you to me, every day.
My wish is then granted, every bright or cloudy day,
A home with you I’ve found for my heart and soul to stay.
Falling water running freely from the shoal and to the sea.
The rain kept my hidden desires, my heart open for you to see.
While I miss my dances there, in long, cold, summer rains,
My dance with you is so much more, and here it shall forever remain.

A Longing For Dreams

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Then, in closing his eyes he seemed to say,
Without drawing in a cold evenings breath,
Another of many, so ends this day.
He watches as the dusk signals its death.
He’s off to dreaming, now he’s off to sleep.
In finding his sleep, he has lost his dream.
With nothing left but to follow his feet,
He goes searching for that last one deep.
The indifferent journey down this path.  Black.
The night being too long to continue,
And needing the rest he so gravely lacks.
Preparing to leave this dreamy venue,
The one regret he’ll have the next day,  this:
One more nights sleep without a dream filled bliss.

Remembering Her

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One more ended and he closed the jar,
Another memory on that shelf, afar.
Thinking back throughout the day.
On certain words he chose to say.
The jars, their labels, filled the walls.
Memories stored there, stacked tall.
Trying to recover one, he fails.
Its location long set sail.
The words from that morning spoken,
In his his mind he finds a token,
Something small that he remembers.
Words before like burning embers,
Laying there slowly shirinking,
He’s careful to not give in to blinking.
And when he finally does close his eyes,
He knows the chance has passed him by.
The jars fade from view and he,
Can’t remember what he wants to see.
Then a look at the embers on the floor,
And he’s allowed something he forgot before.
His favorite jar, he finds it in place,
He remembers why he forgot it: her face.
A blessing to remember, a blessing to forget.
One that hasn’t turned into a curse just yet.
While great joy to him her face brings,
From it such suffering and pain then springs.
Back into the jar it goes before long.
This memory kept where it doesn’t belong.
And like so many growing dim on the shelf,
He’ll replace it and forget…
And become less himself.

Workday

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The end of this day,
I return to rest my feet.
I know not the next.