It looked firm as I stepped forward Believing then in solid ground It gave away and pulled me in Yielding with a sucking sound Struggle only pulls me deeper Suffocation in the wings Standing frozen cannot save me Without aid from other things No one seems to see or hear me As I draw closer to death Sinking slowly ever deeper Anticipating my last breath.
Category Archives: Poetry
Lame attempts at poetry, generally written to please myself or as a form of self-prescribed therapy.
I sat to write from deep inside To plumb the depths down in my mind To analyze what festers there Then sort it out and solace find But looking in and peering 'round Find jumbled masses in a rage Each voice insisting it's the one Demanding freedom from this cage Retreat with haste and turn the key No wiser than I was before Close me up with bolt and lock Scared to e're reopen that door
Drive to be productive, Time to be creative, Focus to be innovative. Success that pushes forward, Progressing toward complete, Till the vision is realized. And now it stands finished, But no one but me cares to see - My voice doesn't matter here. Creation stalls out cold, Wasted work mocks new hope, And shouts it's nothing new.
I have been to the mountain And seen through the crystalline air The valley below shrouded in fog And the goal that lies just beyond I have wandered the paths of the valley Groping through gray of the mists Feeling for wayposts and markers Hoping to progess without knowing how I can stand above and know the way Or go below and press the path But never both.
I can't give reason It doesn't matter though Jittery hands and pounding heart I'm tight from head to toe
Purposeless motion is chaos That ends right where it began Wasting both time and effort When expended without any plan Planning gives sense of direction Providing a goal to achieve Setting a clear objective And something in which to believe But plans have a transient nature That shift with the altering tides Changing the traveled direction Till my plans and future collide And the end point I had longed for Falls victim to what must be So sadly I concede defeat And forcefully subjugate me
I knew it all when I was eighteen At thirty I had some doubts Now middle-aged with teenage kids The doubts are all that remain
Clear and open my mind I'm told
But nature abhors a vacuum
It refills faster than I can empty
Flitting from thought to thought
As I banish them one by one
Grab a meditative thought
A gurgling stream to fill the void
But it won't remain without effort
So I fill in the cracks and crevices
With thoughts that defeat the purpose
Meditation is deliberate boredom
I don't know how to do that...
I seemingly never really can
Shut my mind to constant work
Without falling asleep
At twenty-one my limber legs
Could run without complaint,
My creaking back was years away
I was never tired or faint.
But years of active vibrant use
Have slowly robbed me blind,
Of these mortal strengths and gifts
Leaving memories behind.
Single threads placed one at a time
Contrasting in color and tone
When viewed from the weavers stance
Seem random and jumbled - meaningless
Laid in over time and with great effort
It asks us to wait, then step away
To discover the grander design