Dabblings in Verse

Emulating - A Poem

2011-11-09T00:46:00.000-08:00

Emulating - A Poem

Whether it's teens who are influenced by others with whom they're impressed, or fully grown adults who have chosen to try to emulate others as a way of becoming successful in one type of endeavor or another; emulating, while not a bad thing, is something that (if not exercised judiciously) can sometimes bring a high price.

LISA'S COLLECTION: "Words Not Written"

2011-04-07T22:22:00.000-07:00

LISA'S COLLECTION: "Words Not Written": "To write words that must not be read,and must not see the light of day,and say the words that should be said,and words one plans to never ..."

Inner Beauty

2011-01-16T20:41:00.000-08:00

When you look in the mirror, is the person you see

someone who has dignity?

And respect for others, as well as you?

Is that person kind and thoughtful too?

Looking back from that mirror does the person who sees you

see someone who tries not to judge what others do?

When it comes to understanding, is that person the sort?

Who'd prefer to understand when others fall short?

When given the chance does that person you see

Always aim to view others with generosity?

Does that ever familiar person's face

try to put himself in someone else's place?

Does he try to treat others with honor and grace?

Is the heart that shows in that person's eyes

a heart of truth and not of lies?

Does it try hard to help when someone else cries?

When you look in that mirror, does the one that you see

think more about others than think about "me"?

Is he someone who aims to right what is wrong?

(and someone who tries to help others belong?)

Are the flaws in that person that kind that aren't seen

in the polished and glassy, reflective, sheen?

For all that reflects is not seen in reflections

and things that are truly imperfections

can sometimes hide behind and below

the surface, where mirrors never show

the beauty that gives a heart its light

and the soul that makes

a reflection right.

As all that is glittery is not gold,

the story of beauty is not always told

in silent, cold, pictures and mirrors at all;

for if it is beauty you hope to find,

that beauty may be of a far deeper kind.

for mirrors can't measure the light of a soul,

and reflections don't show a heart that is whole.

Afraid to Love

2010-11-27T02:20:00.000-08:00

(Written in response to a title suggested on a writing site)

Some say that it's "afraid to love",

but maybe it's "not made to love".

When such a price is paid for love,

sometimes it's just too high a price

to pay.

And when, down deep, within my soul,

I'm quite content that I am whole.

To cross the bridge there is a toll.

I need my quarters and my dimes

for I've so many miles still yet to go.

Though spending coins some folks may say

will let me pass beyond today.

The only route for me to take is my way.

While once I had the coins to spare,

the road's been long from there to here.

Pennies from Heaven don't fall with rain -

only water

With tolls and roads and signs to heed,

before I get to where I need,

then it's not fear, or even greed

that make it seem as if I am afraid to love.

It's just when coins are low

a person kind of knows

that he's not made for love.

And cents and sense and rainy days

will take their tolls on love in ways,

like exit ramps and passing lanes,

and roads not taken, u-turns made.

And so you see, it's not that I'm afraid.

It's just that there have been

too many quarters

and "pennies from Heaven" paid.

Anything for You

2010-11-27T02:16:00.001-08:00

I'd move a mountain,

reach the sky,

fight the tides,

and soar so high

just to share the view

with you.

I'd change the world,

stop the rain,

and tell the sun

to shine again,

make some music,

make some magic,

just for you.

And if your heart

should ever break,

I'd do whatever

it would take

to mend it

so it's good as new

again.

I'd give my life.

I'd sell my soul,

be a hero,

be a clown,

so many things,

most any thing.

within my power

and then some.

There's nothing

that I wouldn't do,

but some things I know

I couldn't do

Still if I could

there isn't anything

I wouldn't do

for you.

A Poem in My Pocket

2010-09-17T00:23:00.000-07:00

A poem in my pocket,
not a penny to my name.
Just words that came from somewhere
in a writer's heart, untamed.

Words of inspiration.
Words of dreams to come.
Words that seemed of value,
but not a worth a dime to some.

Words of strength and wisdom,
Lines of life, undone.
Words that never really rhyme.
Lines that have grown old with time.

Thoughts aimed at someone or no one,
Now battered and tattered and torn.
Lines that once seemed so important
in the heart, where they were born.

A poem in my pocket,
Why I keep it, I don't quite know.
Words on a paper that's softened with years.
Words of wisdom, courage, strength and fears.

A poem in my pocket.
I guess, perhaps, it's time.
To toss it out, for after all,
those words don't even rhyme.

And still, for reasons I don't know
those words are there wherever I go.
Yes, tattered and torn but mostly whole.
the private whispers of a soul.

You Are

2010-08-22T00:20:00.001-07:00

All the things I am
I am because
you are all the things
you are.

Strong enough to carry on
I am because
you are all the things
you are.

and you are so many
things to me -
A guiding light.
My destiny.
The wind beneath my wings.
The reason my heart sings
and the happiness love brings.
My universe, my world.
My smile,
and my song.
So precious
and so treasured.
My shining star.
My love,
you are

my child.

Again

2010-05-18T01:17:00.000-07:00

Even if just now and then
I long to hear your voice again.
Again, to simply touch your hand;
just have the chance, each now and then.

Even if just now and then
to know you're always there again.
To hear your laughter, see your eyes;
Again to hear your words, so wise.

To have things as they were again,
and not to wonder if or when
we'll have the chance to meet again;
each now and then I wish these things
again.

Nightmares

2010-03-31T05:28:00.001-07:00

Dreams of fire
and awful pain,
and feelings of fright
in the awful night.

A fitful sleep,
shallow and deep,
trying to yell,
with no voice, from my hell.

A lesson to learn
for my troubled head:
Don't mix apples and coffee
'fore going to bed.

Parents

2009-04-29T00:06:00.000-07:00

Always there, that's how it seems,
though fear they'll go
shows up in dreams.
The most familiar faces
that we know.

The kind and loving world we know,
hands to hold,
a place to grow.
The way they always see to it
the world we see is whole.

They hold us on their shoulders
so we see the parade.
They leave the light on
when we're scared,
so we won't be afraid.

How to be kind, and how to love,
are things they always teach us.
And stray too far, or climb too high -
they always try to reach us.

The little world they wrap us in,
a nice way for life to begin,
the strength they show,
the tears they dry,
the fact that all they ask
is that we try.

And when one day that world they made
is sadly, cruelly, gone,
because of them and memories
we've what it takes
to somehow carry on.

Some say we never know just
how our parents love us
as we grow;
so Mum and Dad - wherever you are -
I hope you knew
I know.

Don't Pity Me

2009-04-14T18:14:00.000-07:00

If you see that I struggle

because I'm a child,

don't pity me.

See that I'm learning.

See what I've learned.

If you see that the years show

in these tired eyes,

don't pity me.

See all my riches.

Know that I'm whole.

When my burden is heavy

or my journey too far,

don't pity me.

See that I'm strong.

See how I keep going on.

While battering storms winds

unsettle this life,

don't pity me.

See I'm still standing.

Know I'm still strong.

When the rain beats down

and tears turn to floods,

don't pity me.

Know tears won't kill me.

Know, too, I'll still find

some sun.

If you know that I'm hungry

then give me some food.

If you know that I'm tired

then help me.

If you know that I'm friendless

then just be my friend.

but don't pity me.

Though struggles and sadness

will challenge a soul.

Pity's for the pitiful.

Don't pity me.

I am whole.

On Getting A Common Cold

2009-01-27T17:53:00.000-08:00

A scratchy throat,
a sniffly nose,
fever and chills
right down to my toes.

A hacking cough,
a foggy brain.
Hey, universe - why not
throw in some rain.

I hate the Winter.
Turn up the heat.
Dig out the snugly, warm socks
for my feet.

Get out the lemon
and honey and tea.
Get out the package
of Vitamin C.

Prepare for a diet
of only toast.
The Rhinovirus
found its host.

Get out the blanket
and favorite CD.
I think I need
some time for me.

Tell all the friends to
stay away.
Hello, Work? I won't
be in today.

First Love

2009-01-13T14:47:00.001-08:00

Forever was never on my mind,
nor thoughts of time at all;
and yet moments spent together
were measured
in moments left,
but never moments left behind.

Moments seeming never-ending,
yet, as well, too brief
for hearts so young.
Forever was never on my mind
when moments whispered, "always",
oblivious to time.

Fairy dust, magic, love songs;
kisses that happened
or promised to happen -
but sometimes didn't matter,
for Valentine cards were
their own kind of kisses
to save in a scrapbook,
and treasure forever.

First love, we learn,
to our dismay and gratitude,
like silver-haired dandelions,
falls apart and flies away.
And with it, takes the
fairy dust and magic,
the love songs, and kisses that happened
or didn't, and now never will.

More fragile than snowflakes,
or butterfly wings;
memories of magic
that grow beyond tears;
when off to the winds
silver-haired dandelions flew,
forever was never on mind.

Yet forever I'll always remember
those moments and magic,
long after first love
flew away.

On Artificial Christmas Trees

2008-10-22T00:50:00.000-07:00

Real trees are life
cut down in its prime,
thrown out in the cold
after Christmas time.

Real trees have needles
that mess up the room,
and you spend through July
with a vacuum and broom.

So leave the real trees
in the woods, wild and free -
and give me my beautiful,
FAKE Christmas tree.

A Day In An Ordinary Life

2008-10-20T01:59:00.000-07:00

Rising sun, coffee's on;
There are things I must get done.
Write some checks, sort a drawer,
Rake the yard, wash a floor.

Meeting at 9, kids to call,
Move that chest from
the back hall;
Plan a meal, business calls,
Internet and shopping malls.

Talk to daughter, think of one son,
call other son before day's through.
Sign for package, do some work.
Customer service person was a jerk.

Plan to worry from 1 to 2.
That's a sensible thing to do.
Worry, too, from 9 to 10;
from 12 to 1, worry again.

Notice fine lines under eyes,
Mental note of cream to buy.
Water ivy, feed the cat,
Buy blueberries. They're low-fat.

Plan a life, manage money.
Take a walk, the day is sunny.
Find more work; find some meaning.
More to life than work and cleaning.

Back at PC, work some more,
Clean up cat "sick" from the floor.
Make a list, and make another.
Each day's different from the other.

The Atheist

2008-10-20T01:51:00.000-07:00

Shall I do what is good
and the right thing to do
just because I fear someone
is watching?
Or shall I do what is good
and the right thing to do
because my soul and my heart
tell me to?

In my awe of the Earth
and its wonders,
in my love for my fellow man,
when the beauty of all
Nature's creatures
fills my soul with wonder,
am I so devoid of virtue?

If I love with a love
that's so grand and so strong,
If I feed the hungry, give to the poor;
If I share what I have and then
share what I know,
If I try not to hurt anyone or the world
can I be so devoid of good?

If I'm wrong and I find
that He really exists,
and I get to the gates of His Heaven;
Will He forgive me for not believing?
Will He bless me for all of the
good that I've done?
If He'd send me to Hell in spite of it all
then it won't have been I who have failed.

If I'm right that there's nobody watching
then I've been the best man that
I know how to be.
I will rest in that peace.

Author's Note: This verse does not necessarily reflect my own personal beliefs.

I Am

2008-10-20T01:44:00.000-07:00

The words I write
without thoughts of who may read them.
The words I speak
with only thoughts of those who hear them.
The all too familiar person in the mirror,
and the stranger in the mirror too.

The feet that have walked a million miles
and climbed a thousand mountains,
but still have a thousand more to climb.
Pale pink nail polish on girlish hands.
Hands of a mother, a worker, a poet,
and a princess.

Gray eyes that match a thousand storms.
The girl who liked giggling and Barbie dolls,
and flowers and music, and crackers and cheese.
The woman who still likes all of these.
A child, a man, a warrior, a lady -
depending on the day and year.

A core of strength that few can see.
The hope of lighting someone's way.
The wish that I could find my own way.
Yet always knowing where I am.
The starting gate, the finish line.

Thankful for a million blessings.
Joys that hide like sun behind the clouds.
Worries, fears, pride, and secrets.
Laughter, tears, love and loathing.
Accustomed to the rain.

These are things I am.

Facing the Past

2008-10-11T02:08:00.000-07:00

The happiest of memories

now smothered

in the darkness of a day

no longer warmed

by the sun.

Reminders of happiness

too painful

to think of as gone;

not enjoyed, but mourned,

not invited, but fought off.

Saddest of memories

now smothered in my battle

to move on

as they fight

to return, unwanted.

Time has not dulled

their edges

but instead has sharpened them.

Memories, each painful

in its own way,

cutting the soul

more now than then.

Facing means fighting,

and fighting means winning,

and winning amounts

to keeping at bay

those happiest and saddest

painful memories

of a past

treasured, mourned,

and endured.

To My Newborn Child - A Verse

2008-10-11T02:00:00.000-07:00

Quiet months of waiting,
and worrying have ended now.
A frightening storm
and your journey are done.

Here in my arms, tiny stranger,
you stare
into eyes that still can't
believe that you're here.

I can't say I know you,
sweet stranger of mine.
I must say I like you
already.

I promise you, Sweetheart,
I'll love you forever
and ever
and more than I knew
that I could.

Hello, tiny Sweetheart,
sweet stranger - my child.
You don't look as I had expected.
Yet, scaly-skinned, blotchy-faced,
baby - my child,
I love you.
You're beautiful.
You're mine.

To Our Love-You-Forever Child (On Divorce)

2008-10-11T01:50:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, no matter

how very hard we try

we find that we aren't laughing,

as often as we cry.

Sometimes, no matter

how very much we care,

we wake up and find

there's sadness everywhere.

Its hard to know just what to do

to make the sun come shining through,

so sometimes

some grown-ups

start again.

Each time we think of you

our hearts kind of tear in two.

We so want you happy,

and know this is hard.

But always, the sun

will follow the rain.

And there's always rainbows

that show up again.

Though some things must change,

some will stay much the same.

We're not broken.

We're just different

yet the same.

And one thing is certain;

we'll love you forever,

our Love-You-Forever Child.

To Veterans on Veterans Day

2008-10-11T01:48:00.000-07:00

Not just this day, but all days

you're thought of

in so many ways.

Not just this day, but all days

You've not been forgotten.

Each time free words are spoken,

each day we wake in peace;

each time each child is taught

what it means to be free;

Someone somewhere remembers

your courage and tears.

Someone knows he can't know

all the things you have seen.

Not just this day, but all days

when we can still say

that that Star Spangled Banner yet waves;

though no words can express

what so deeply is felt

we think of you

on this day

and all days.

When Love Dies

2008-10-11T01:39:00.000-07:00

Where is the person who used to be you?

Where is the person who used to be me?

Where are the people that we used to be?

More importantly,

are they forever gone?

So much of my time I spend just sitting, thinking.

Its clear that we've lost what we had,

and the question is now whether what we have left

is worth trying to save.

Wondering what I'm supposed to be doing.

Figuring out just where it was that we seemed to go wrong.

Asking myself how exactly will I know

that its time now to go.

Wondering, too, if that time really came long ago.

Knowing that sharing a past and that feeling familiar

can lead to believing there's something still left

when its really no more than a matter of writing a story together

and reaching its end.

And when what is good goes away

can it ever come back all the way?

Is this what I want for the one life I have?

Does wanting the "we" we once were really matter now?

And should I be wondering all this all alone?

I'll give it just one more day.

Answers may come my way

tomorrow.

Rainbows

2008-10-11T01:12:00.000-07:00

When storm clouds gather, and

the chilling rain pours down;

and even the tallest and the strongest trees

stand, battered.

When it somehow seems,

there are only broken dreams;

and we're certain we have been

abandoned by the sun;

Then as suddenly as it has come

the rain stops and

out comes the sun,

watercolor ribbons are painted

in the sky.

Perfect, painted ribbons in a perfect, painted, arch -

a gateway to the heavens,

a whisper to the soul.

A gift of hope,

wrapped in watercolor ribbons

in the sky.

If I Could Change the World - A Verse

2008-10-11T00:28:00.001-07:00

If I could change the world
there'd be food for everyone.
If I could change the world
all of God's work would be done.

If I could change the world
there'd be no poverty.
If I could change the world
all people would be free.

No child would not be treasured,
no animal mistreated,
No one who reaches ripe old age
would ever be alone.

No violence in city streets,
no young but lost, forgotten souls,
all music would be beautiful
if I could change the world.

All legs would work,
all eyes could see,
all ears could hear,
all folks could read,
all hearts would beat just perfectly.
if I could change the world.

There'd be a cure for each disease, and everyone would live in peace

If by some magic I should find that I could change the world.

Without You

2008-10-11T00:14:00.000-07:00

The world seems kind of broken now,

when once it didn't seem to be.

My time is spent just being strong.

There's not much time for living.

I can't think of you - won't let myself.

Someday I will, but not today.

I tell myself you'd understand

if somehow you could see me.

I think the me I used to be

is gone,

but I keep on going on.

If this is what you'd call

going on.

I still laugh and find the joy in things.

Sometimes I even sing.

I still dream,

but those dreams are different now.

A broken world,

a me I didn't used to be before,

grayer days, different dreams -

without you that's how it seems.

I can't find my way to me

without you.