Poetry

Direction

Inside out, outside in, clearing house,
Knowing only nothing, knowing only a love undefined,
A wanting within, a desire, a moment of peace witnessing,
Unable to copulate, unable to know intimacy, unable to be pure,
No options, an intervention God, I will kneel down,
God please place the demons away, or keep them near,
As you please, Thy will be done,
The crowd joins in reminisce, yet the past is not a return,
The past is what it was, and there is no bitterness,
No return, a bow and a begging for forgiveness,
Humility falls into place, God I turn to you, burn me as I need,
Your immense love waits,
I am all yours!

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Impression and living

There is nothing there, except toil and fear,
Fear is not of God, the enemy lurks,
Wounded and real, enticing and inviting,
Observing life, while being drawn in, a captive,
Soft skin and lipstick, high heels and talking, a stripper,
A young lady in her panties, trying to make a dollar,
Mesmerizing, she smiles as she shakes off a knowing grin, underneath,
The innocence and bravado of youth carries forth, arrogance in drag,
The manipulative spirit of one with confidence, daring and unafraid,
Willing to draw others in, while protecting, an overshadow,
She watches her back, quick with mind and overstepping,
No boundaries, neither direction, she leaves when she sees nothing,
Always watching from a distance, smart and intelligent, piercing while waiting,
Watching and then watching some more, she waits within her instant gratification,
Take a walk on the wild side, she invites,
She knows she has no profound answers, so she plots and schemes, reflecting not upon contemplation,
She knows she can recognize deep wisdom, yet she cannot tap into the resource,
I wonder what made me think I could be her better.
She cannot be defeated, for the desperate never recognize defeat, painfully they war,
She is a warrior of self-destruction, a soul wandering and confused,
I never stood a chance, she was ready for me before I even arrived,
She saw me coming before I parked my car, complexity and compounding,
The wicked one exists, waiting and picking his teeth, watching and laughing,
Laughter erupts and keeps waiting, a dark horse voice sounding, bellowing, caressing,
A silly girl presents herself, and because I am a son of Adam, I am amazed, watching and wanting,
Look at her dance, underneath the spotlight, a soul twirling
Life is hard for me, very hard, and there is not much fun, nor reward,
I wonder which side I am on, most time I am confused.

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Echo

a poem by Christine Rossetti

Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream; Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.

Oh dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again tho’ cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath: speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago.

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Immolate

  • There is nothing there
    Dry kindling for a flame
    The crackling caress of a strain
    The weathered relief of time
    Passing alone in the light
    Remain sitting still for the taking
    In the moment fulfilled within longing
    A mystery revealed within sacrifice
    The burden of sin aching, silently pleading
    Impudently depressing, confessing
    Honestly enriching, there is no…
    Nothing, yet the presence and prayer
    A mother, a Child, and a Father
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Weary in Well-Doing

a poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti

I would have gone; God bade me stay:
I would have worked; God bade me rest.
He broke my will from day to day,
He read my yearnings unexpressed
And said them nay.

Now I would stay; God bids me go:
Now I would rest; God bids me work.
He breaks my heart tossed to and fro,
My soul is wrung with doubts that lurk
And vex it so.

I go, Lord, where Thou sendest me;
Day after day I plod and moil:
But, Christ my God, when will it be
That I may let alone my toil
And rest with Thee? 

After reading selections from Ms. Rossetti’s to start my day, I cam across a humorous effort. It tickled lightly and made me smile. Christina is truly a poet parallel in mindset and heart. This brought a light-hearted soothing.

Wee wee husband, 
Give me some money, 
I have no comforts, 
And I have no honey. 
Wee wee wifie, 
I have no money, 
Milk, nor meat, nor bread to eat, 
Comforts, nor honey. 

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Shall I Forget?

a poem by Christina Rossetti

Shall I forget on this side of the grave?
I promise nothing: you must wait and see
Patient and brave.
(O my soul, watch with Him and He with me.)

Shall I forget in peace of Paradise?
I promise nothing: follow, friend, and see
Faithful and wise.
(O my soul, lead the way He walks with me.)

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An Outcast Standing

Seeing things from the outside in,
Opposed to reality, a sidewinder slithers,
Seeing Things From the Inside Out,
Always being where you’re not, stalking,
A prisoner with delusions of a king,
Rather than a brother in need, lonely,
A gypsy Caravan too much settling down, isolation,
Wandering amidst wanderers, uneasy,
A dream with reflections upon a screen, images and noise,
The subconscious battling itself, a soundtrack for the voyage,
Worldly life and experiences a consequence, constructing a poor sheltering,
Always on the move wounded, hiding behind lies,
From one point observing, peering out from a manhole,
Amongst the world to within, something transformed,
Centered upon another, higher in being, a Mother,
Now within the church to without,
She was a rare thing, living pure.

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