Feeding Time

Tid-bits of fish food

sprinkled on the surface

bottom feeders ascend

Superiority

Narcissistic superiority

demanding respect

receiving none

as it has not been earned

Old Age

Old age

a state of mind

when to that which is new

a man becomes blind

a body may age

but one thing I find

if you're still young at heart

your life's really shined

So Tired

I've been told it will be OK

that we'll be safe once again

I sit and question when

my hope squashed daily

extremism

driven by misguided fundamentalists

resident evil shouting out loud

through a hail of bullets

and the explosive vests of suicide bombers

will the time ever arrive

freedom from the terrorists

seems only a dream

bigotry

sparked by the prejudice of the ignorant

leaving death and pain in its wake

another evil that lives next door

these bigots seem bent on attempting genocide

the eradication of anyone who is not exactly like them

is building a master race their wish

I was taught that those days were behind us

told it could never happen again

especially in this US of A

yet that is the political stage that we find before us

it never seems to get any better

I ask again

when will we be safe again

will there come a time men will respect each other

allow others to practice their own religious beliefs

without the ridicule

will the day come when men will put hate aside

a day they will share kindness rather than abuse

I dream of that day

but the wait

so tired

Come Sit

Times may be many

where things might not go my way

but that will never be reason

to hold my children at bay

it's a love like no other

they're my babies you see

I just hope that they realize

I've still got a strong healthy knee

come sit on my lap

let me hold you once more

and whether you're coming or going

there will be a hug at the door

Write On

Does poetry really depend on new ideas

fresh words concerning the nature of lives

Haven't the ideas with their words

all been presented

Throughout time, in one form or another

the stories all been told

Do we really think we have created something new

something original

by changing names and places

The expressions used changed

rearranged

and repeated time and again

Then labelled as cliché

as some have recognized the story

There is nothing new

Nothing purely original

It is all cliché to someone

If new and original are the requirements

and it's all been said

Then poetry is dead

Write on

share your heart

and though it's been said

tell your story

Somebody needs to hear it again

Perspective

One eye blind

self pity grows

with each day

One eye remains

true beauty seen

for the first time

Where

life will not wait

not for my decision

what it brings me

will be what it is

a day of joy

bright and cheery

a day of sorrow

dark and dreary

I have no choice

no control

those of joy

when they come

they're wonderful

I feel all is well

I see myself

on top of the world

those of sorrow

as if from nowhere

they appear

leaving me sad

lonely

feeling buried

beneath my troubles

no way to rise

not from the spiritual grave

that they dig for me

where is the escape

promised from my youth

where I wonder

is that silver lining

that easement

that is supposed to come

with the storms

my search only leaves darkness

the deep grey of a clouded heart

while the comfort is there

being hidden by my expectations

rather than received through acceptance