Tanka of Dreams

Are some dreams so real
That your destiny they seal
Or your ills they heal?
Can they portend the future?
And can they also nurture?

Advertisements

Time: Friend or Foe? (Free Verse)

Sometimes time seems to fly by so very quickly,
And you wonder where the moments have gone
And what you have really done
Since you last looked at a clock;
And it stuns you to realize how the minutes pass
Without your capturing them to do something . . .
Yet time can seem so slow when you are working;
You wonder if the minutes have turned to hours –
‘Tempus fugit’ is not always the case in this life –
But when time does fly by you often want to stop
And rewind the clock to retake those lost minutes
But you cannot . . . You can only move forward . . .
Ever forward with time, whether so fast (or slow)
Time: Do you have her, or does she have you???

Will It Be Today?

Will it be today, this day, that I hear the good news?
Along the way I wait ever so patiently with my view
Stretched out into the tomorrows of borrowed life
And wonder will I blunder this time or will I chime
With angels in rhythm and rhyme in an alive living?
Oh, will I hear it today that I am free and at liberty?
Will it be today, this day, that I hear the good news?
Along the way I’ve waited patiently with it in view!
Now I’m beginning to feel excitation in anticipation!
Will it be today? Oh, will it be today?

Seven Day Poem (Day Seven)

On November 29th I began a seven-day poem with one stanza, and committed to adding one each day thereafter for seven days. This is the final result of that seven day poetic journey:

Seven-Day Poem

You intrigued me by being intrigued by me
As I wondered, ‘how can this possibly be?’
Am I to have another ‘she’ in my poor life
And will it be but another knife to my soul?

Now part of my heart feels young once again
As I begin to ponder all of the possibilities
But reality attacks and smacks me in the face
Reminding me of my actual place in this life

I am not really old but I am growing old
And though my heart is warm, my body is cold;
And I have not the strength to chase rabbits,
Or to form new habits or weather the storm

But you, you would shove all else aside for love,
To drink deeply from the rich cream of full life,
To fulfill your most cherished childhood dreams,
And no team of strong stallions can tear you away!

You deny reality staring you straight in the face
As you pace back and forth considering the worth
Of a bond newly birthed in raw desire unearthed
Never thinking we’ve nothing to give for this to live

But roses still bloom in season for good reason,
And then their beauty fades, having bade farewell,
And those roses do die and never try to live on and on;
Ah! There truly is propriety in the society of life!

So now, even as my heart dances and soul prances,
Truth lances illusory dreams and advances reality;
What seems so lovely and beautiful is found only
In the crucible of fantasy and is simply not to be . . .



Note: The completion of this poetic journey was first posted on December 5, 2016, and is being reposted now due to some renewed interest as well as for the enjoyment of new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all!

Streets of Gold

But is it worth it                                         There are streets of gold
Or much better just to sit                         So we are told by the bold
This trek takes real grit                                   Where there is no cold

The venture is long
And the going for the strong
And many turn wrong

There are streets of gold                                         But is it worth it
So we are told by the bold                         Or much better just to sit
 Where there is no cold                                   This trek takes real grit


Note: Please go to actual blog page to read or you will not get the real effect of this cross-poem. It does not appear in the Reader as it is actually laid out on the blog page! If you are already on my actual blog page, then, of course, disregard this message. Thank you!

Read Me Like an Open Book

My heart and soul read like an open book
Look and see if there is anything to read
For I need to know if you can show me
And I already agree the read will be short
But will there be anything at all to report?
So I stand with the band of the lonesome
And some would even say loathsome, too
But they haven’t walked in my shoes yet
And you can bet they wouldn’t want to
So I’m not worried about what they say
Only you can tell me if I ring any bells
And if so, of what kind, if you don’t mind?
Read me, then, as only you can and feed
My curiosity, slowing the velocity
Of my own vain imagination,
Stopping the regurgitation of my self-lies!
. . .
My heart and soul read like an open book
Look and see if there is anything to read