The stream (all workshops)
As the pendulum swings, the alarm bells ring
Time is ticking away
His days may be numbered, with this house he is lumbered
But he’s grateful for one more day
The grandfather clock, like a stoic old man
Stands there for all to see
His face almost clear, bar a couple of smears
Pretends all is well but you’ll see
To his left is a space, that was filled, now is void
Of a clock that was just as unique
The grandmother clock, ceased to tick-tock
In for repair went the wooden antique
In situ
Detached from existence
Threadbare and stupefied
In an airless room
Buttons for eyes
Weep tarry drops
Inaudible sounds
Through dried up blood
Arms that flounder
Without the rope
Legs that will not stand
Waiting for her master to come again
A crest of waves
fall deep in the night
by the light of a silver moon
your feet step gently, upon the sand
a meeting to resume
your heart is pounding,
tears rain down
your mind couched safely
within a prayer
fear not, a voice whispers
all is well
by the light of a silver moon!
Life which I stand in front of lose my ends.
I forget about each step. Why, When, Then.
I have so many emotion, so many lose ends, and I stand.
In front of my own grave.
Forgetting that I am human.
Dear Self, take a seat.
Please read this.
Before you announce defeat
I know you’re going through hell.
There is no doctor for this.
No pill they could possibly sell.
Surender not your cup of tea
you wear boxing gloves
As you start punching me
I understand your heart is breaking.
You see a coward.
I see a hero in the making.
You walked though flames.
As you start calling
Me weak names
I am perplexed.
Do I hug you
Or do I wait
For what is next
Self Inspection
Human beings as we are
Tend to act bizarre
We cry when we should laugh
Always seeking all not half
We only listen to daily desires
Not what prayer inspires
All the hours throughout our day
We simply neglect to pray
We are constantly on the run
Looking only for daily fun
Our selfishness will only cease
When we receive God’s peace
There are twelve
mallards on the lake -
seven males
five females
Now the rest of the day
shall slowly drift by
with little left to count
Lord please,
can you tell me
what it is I've done
to deserve the anguish
and loneliness
pounding like a drum
that enter empty ears,
and leaves me here undone,
longing for a better life
with family gathered round
I'd give the world to hear your voice.
the way it used to be
that we might sit and talk
if only in a dream
We often think about major events
And really neglect those that
Control our lives each day
Waking in the morning
Greeting family members
Driving our cars
Arriving at our jobs
Communicating with fellow
Workers
Purchasing goods at the super market
Buying gas and
Chatting with neighbors
Each of these events
Causes us to make choices
And effect decisions and actions
Daily activities and events
Provide us with the ability
To understand major events
Down a stone paved path I go
shoulders hunched against the damp.
My pace becoming halting, slow
staff secured by old hand's clamp.
The path follows a river's way
beneath huge beech and 0ld birch trees
where on most days squirrels might play.
Today they hide from frigid breeze.
My trail is bordered by thick ferns
growing above cool dense green moss.
Somewhere ahead a lantern burns
which offsets my sense of loss.
Pages
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.