A Repost
• 04/27/24 at 02:57PM •Giving thanks is most important,
while traversing, this life we live.
We are not perfect, but if we practice,
we can be better. I hope you enjoy.
Giving thanks is most important,
while traversing, this life we live.
We are not perfect, but if we practice,
we can be better. I hope you enjoy.
What in hell am I doing here,
Lost in my anonymity,
Surrounded by indecision,
At times sinking in my own self pity.
Life's sweet moments, are the sweetest I've
Ever known,
Coupled with bouts of depression,
Interspersed among my mundane moments.
Existence is for the sake of existing,
Nothing more, nothing less.
Aspirations of importance pervades all.
Few achieve, most while failing,
Do not fail, but attain that level
Which we all must rise to.
God, if I will understand,
That having been, I will ask
No more.
Having seen, I will see no more
And having loved,
Be loved forever.
Words written,
then read as we
become smitten,
for what we see.
The words are so many,
I write down a few.
How do I capture them,
When I think of you?
Words appear in a mass
of those I must undo,
to capture all the meaning.
It's what Poets will do.
Writing of words, over time,
searching for one or two,
finding words which will rhyme.
Words pouring out, so quickly,
those sublime, one more time.
Writings will fade, after ink
becomes old, with paper brittle,
thoughts now forgotten, they sink.
No one reads; very little
as I say now to you,
no matter the day it's
here now for my friend, you.
Life can be funny,
Life may be bland.
If you enjoy laughter,
you must understand.
To admire someone
from afar,
shows how precious
lives really are.
I have admired you
from near and far,
creature of beauty
that you are
and I see you.
Secretive glances
that I've made,
unable to utter,
my words unsaid
and unspoken.
We are worlds apart,
you and I,
nor can you see,
the look in my eye,
as I think of you.
I feel like,
I'm in a trance.
My body wants you,
I want to dance.
Dance with you, slowly,
the old style dance,
and keep you close,
as I'll have a chance,
to love you tomorrow,
and the following day,
for I won't let you go,
I need you to stay.
Slanting, driving, Summer rain
How you wash my heart of pain!
How you make me think of trees,
Ships and gulls and flashing seas!
In your furious, tearing wind,
Swells a chant that heals my mind;
And your passion high and proud,
Makes me shout and laugh aloud!
Autumn rains that start at dawn,
“Dropping veils of thinnest lawn,”
Soaking sod between dank grasses,
Sweeping golden leaves in masses,—
Blotting, blurring out the Past,
In a dream you hold me fast;
Calling, coaxing to forget
Things that are, for things not yet.
Winter tempest, winter rain,
Hurtling down with might and main,
You but make me hug my hearth,
Laughing, sheltered from your wrath.
Now I woo my dancing fire,
Piling, piling drift-wood higher.
Books and friends and pictures old,
Hearten while you pound and scold!
Pattering, wistful showers of Spring
Set me to remembering
Far-off times and lovers too,
Gentle joys and heart-break rue,—
Memories I’d as lief forget,
Were not oblivion sadder yet.
Ah! you twist my mind with pain,
Wistful, whispering April rain!
Summer, Autumn, Winter rain,
How you ease my heart of pain!
Whispering, wistful showers of Spring,
How I love the hurt you bring!
This poem from Jessie Redmon Fauset is in the public domain.
Jessie Redmon Fauset (1882 – 1961) was a poet, essayist, novelist, educator and editor from the Harlem Renaissance. Her literary work helped sculpt African-American literature in the 1920s as she focused on portraying a true image of African-American life and history. She wrote several novels, including There Is Confusion (1924) and Plum Bun (1928). Fauset also served as the editor of The Crisis from 1919–26.... Wikipedia
From a time when I wrote, as if I was a Poet.
You are like no other woman
I have ever known.
You turn darkness into light,
with your smile.
You chase the doubt from my mind,
with your words.
You dry the tears from my eyes,
with your kiss.
You turn sadness into joy,
with your presence.
The touch of your hand,
makes it real.
For I will never know,
another you.
Is it time to quit,
this daily drama,
in this routine life,
was something I asked.
A way to be happy,
without taking a pill.
When your love,
is unconditional,
leaving nothing to chance,
love will become traditional.
6 years ago, Twas written.
Let me sip the nectar
from a hundred silver cups,
and taste the honey,
produced by the bee.
Let me live today, as if,
tomorrow will never come.
Let me share my love,
with a stranger and
after I have loved,
with no remorse or sorrow.
Perhaps, all the love I've shared,
will bring a new tomorrow,
with a bright beginning,
for in loving, you will find,
another day for living.
For all to see.
For all to view.
A tribute to all,
except a small few.
What are you thinking,
about your God above?
Don't be too sad, for you,
may be falling in Love.