Old Man Wishes Poetic Prose
When you're old you usually have a wish or two, the big one perhaps being, to settle everything unsettled in your life, before it ends. Make peace where there is no peace; to do what one thought he or she should have done but never did: at this ripe old age, the age of the last wish, the age of reclining, the meltdown age of old age creeping up the spine, at this ripe old age, one's wishes, can be punishing, frightening, all for no reason whatever, because s/he deserted those dreams and wishes long ago, for a less troubled life, I suppose. The old man, and I mean by saying old man, really mean, the old person in general, is likened to bird settled down in a nest;
Because I Could Not Stop For Death - A Discussion of the Poem by Emily Dickinson
Because I could not stop for Death - He kindly stopped for me - The Carriage held but just Ourselves - And Immortality. We slowly drove - He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility - We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess - in the Ring - We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain - We passed the Setting Sun - Or rather - He passed us - The Dews drew quivering and chill - For only Gossamer, my Gown - My Tippet - only Tulle - We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground - The Roof was scarcely visible - The Cornice - in the Ground - Since then - 'tis Centuries - and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity - Emily Dickinson was an innovative and talented American poet who wrote nearly 1800 poems during her brief lifetime from 1830 to 1886.
Broken Dreams
It lurked behind the sun, watching. Waiting for the curtains to close, When all dogs finished their dinner and All vendors took their last satang. At last it succumbed the entire city, Spirits drifted up and down their sleep. The shriek of silence so deafening; Darkness! Underneath the soft cotton blankets, Beside the silky pillows and The hugs of plush toys; A soul was fully awake. Could anyone free her from those barricades? Her hands struggled for freedom, But her wrists were tied. She screamed for help but no one heard. The joyful song of the river swallowed her screams. The same soul stood above the waves;
The Courtyard A Poem and Commentary On - Specific Poetry
Do not weep for me this day as you lower me down into my grave, for I am, a million miles away... a million miles and then some. So do not look here and there, within, this courtyard, rather look up, up into the blue, blue sky- there you'll find me, every alive; there I'll be passing by, in a whisper of the night, in a chill within the winter's light, in the colours of an autumn leaf, within a rhyme of some- one's poetry: with Christ. No: 2410 /6-29-2008 Poems Dedicated to my wife Rosa. Commentary: "Specific Poetry": Some poetry is specific in that it is carved out of, or into the roots of ones beliefs, culture, and means what it means within perhaps its own language and genre (being religious our having a philosophic view), or whatever: it becomes different once you change the dynamics, thus, the characteristics or descriptions change.
Confrontation, Controversy and Revival - Shaking Religious Mindsets
Many cave within and feel far less, as they do reject their true God given identity and glorious purpose filled destiny. Choosing to rather swallow everything society tells them to be, quickly appeasing and swiftly pleasing the cruel powers that be. Such a mentality must be killed by the pulpits aggressively to bring to the enslaved a great awakening and liberty. So once again they can freely feel, happily taste, and see all God originally intended them to believe, become, and be. Otherwise we in Christendom will fade and perish in obscurity. Instead let us arise fearlessly, never bow to cruel controversy.
Starting the Day in a Consistent Way
As a leader in my family, at my workplace, and over my own life I must recognise now the power I have to choose my attitude. This day is likely to bring unexpected challenges, struggles, trials, and tests. The only defence I have is my positive, humble, non-complaining, uncompromising, and overcoming attitude. If I do fail, and often I will, I can choose to smile and then simply get on with the next thing. I can be tolerant, patiently accepting the present difficulty. I can become aware when my attitude is faltering, and in that moment, rectify the imbalance. I can decide to see my life holistically which reminds me that though this piece of time may be painful, most is actually very tolerable, indeed, enjoyable.
Emerging Poetry Writers
Jamaica is not to be left out: although a small Caribbean island it is holding its own in the literary field of poetry. Poetry is an aesthetic, evocative emotional language that lends itself to many interpretations. It often uses particular forms to expand the literal words to evoke these emotional and sensual responses to be appreciated much time by each individual reader. The poet has many writing tools from which to choose. There are over fifty types of poetry styles from which to choose. However, most poets work within the eight basic poetry-writing styles, Free verse, Humorous poems, Limerick, Lyrical, Diamante, Haiku concrete and Ballads.
Caught in the Arms of ED
YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONG I THINK YOU GOT IT WRONG I LIVE LIFE DAY TO DAY HOPING IT WILL GO MY WAY I HAVE MY FRIENDS AND MY FOOD PLAN MY THERAPIST AND MY THOUGHTS MY EXERCISE AND MY EXCITEMENT THEN SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I GET CAUGHT CAUGHT IN THE ARMS OF ED TURNING MY EYES AWAY FROM MY FOCUS TO WIN THE FIGHT THAT I THOUGHT WAS GOING TO STAY. HE TELLS ME THAT I AM SELFISH THAT I SHOULD DOUBT MY EVERY MOVE ONE MINUTE I AM HAPPY DO I HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL THIS GOOD? DOUBTING MY STRENGTH AND CONFIDENCE AS ED ALWAYS KNEW I WOULD I AM LOSING INCHES AROUND MY WAIST AND MY PANTS ARE FALLING OFF I SEE THE FACE OF ED IN MY HEAD AS HE BEGINS TO LAUGH AND SCOFF YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING STRONG YOU THINK YOU GOT ME BEAT LET ME SEE YOU LOSE EVEN MORE YOU WILL SEE THAT YOU WERE WRONG.
Skinny Memories
By the age of 15 I was already dangerously under-weighted and also avoiding 2 or 3 meals every day, working out intensively and still being able to manage a whole world of lies I made with the purpose to hide my own private nightmare from my parents and teachers. I thought that moment, It was lucky the loosen 90 s fashion I wore those days allowed me to succeed on my slim down self-imposed goals. But, after two attempts of commit suicide I chose to confront my problem and welcome myself into the healing process. It was not easy, the healing process took seven years of my life and several mistakes, wrong choices that did not helped me out.
Roll Into the Night
Ride the Zephyr across America. See the sunset and sunrise and the plight of America from aboard the train. Passenger train roll into the night Into the morning and into the night Forever I roll across America The steel rail glistens along the way Into the night and into the day The streamlined cars roll Across a land so big Places to go Places to be and places to go Across the mountains and across the plains Across the rivers, wide and mighty Past picked-fences and broken glass allies Neon lit nights, sunrise in valleys Mailboxes on roads, the train rolls by A tractor tills soil; a dog chases its tail The locomotive plies onward Into the night and into the day The train sails clickity-clack The engineer waves, the crossing gate dings Across our land the east bound sings Bacon hits griddle;