i stare at a green stem
with this small bud looking thing
growing off the top of it
someone told me to sit there
and watch this little plant
while he went to take care of other matters
he said to tend to it
water this little plant daily
and that i was to just wait and
be surprised in time
i saw him do the same with others around me
giving them a plant to care for
the weeks went by and i followed my orders
nothing seems to be happening i said
everyone else’s plants are more beautiful
i look and see the splendor and fruits of their labor
before me and i grow restless
desiring my plant to show itself off to the world
that same someone who gave me this stupid plant
said i’m supposed to wait
i asked him why i had to when everyone else’s plants
have blossomed into awe inspiring flowers
that splash the field with
blues and reds and yellows
he told me to continue to wait
that the final result would please me
and joy would fill me
so after a while longer of tending and watering
i began to see a spark of life
it was beginning to open
the glory i saw next overcame me
and joy filled so completely
it came out from my eyes
rivers running down my face
and my flower was indeed wonderful
definitely worth the work
it was a gift i did not deserve
but one i received anyway
Open a door to a room
peer inside to see that it contains
the images of a life that it once held
of a child, a young boy
expectations of car posters, baseball cards
and last night’s after-dinner snack plate
are all unfulfilled
what is found?
four walls that find themselves naked
empty drawers and notebooks from no childhood hobbies
a tv rarely used for anything but re-runs
seen 10 times over already
it’s unknowinlgy becoming his shield
from what much of the world others find as normal
the latest (and not so latest) movies are not on schedule
children’s rhymes and songs had no place here
and now – when this boy stands in the mirror
he sees a reflection of a life he feels few
can truly connect with
points of contact are few and far between
he knows all this is not that important in the end
yet he demands to know why it frustrates him so much
to walk into a room and know it fully
yet himself to remain unnoticed
walking through gathering information
of the deeper intimate things
with no or little questioning into the questioner
his desires to speak but not knowing the words
he stands quiet about his heart’s condition
holding all his emotions along with
the stories told to him in his lifetime that demanded
his attention and compassion
only to understand the receiving end
of love that doesn’t ask for anything back
that is content in giving freely without complaint
to find a way to remove the emptiness that fills me
this apparent lack of connection with anything or anyone
longing to be reached out to before reaching out first
knowing how it is to be a child in a parent’s arms again
I just heard this 11 days into the month, but it’s time to celebrate it nevertheless. When back on my personal computer, I will dig up some writings from my more sensitive days in high school and college to share with you all during the rest of this month. Anyone have any poems they’d like to share, written by you or a favorite author?
this was a follow up to frustration
frustration returns again
to my tired soul
unable to withstand
holding back the tears
and emotions inside
i desperately try to hide from You
i strive for more
than seems possible now
to my bloodshot eyes
from moments of sorrow
that last forever in my mind
as dreams look impossible
i pray from my heart
as reality seems unbearable
i will call out Your name
for Your love to guide me
and my hope to be restored
so i do not crumble
from the trials i face
brought only to bring me
closer to You
in the end
July 11, 1996
i see your eyes staring at my own
am i looking at the inside
or merely beautifully made curtains
thin enough only only to know
someone left the light on
but unsure as to what’s happening
leery to take the next step
pull the shade aside
and peer into the living room
will words ever tell the whole story
or will actions contradict the fairy tale
told to everyone
do the cinderalla dreams
always start after midnight
certainty so boldly displayed
has now been torn down and destroyed
leaving behind the soul
with a label saying “FRAGILE”
will any hands be gentle enough
to caress this one of a kind artpiece
and tend to it forever
and not become tired of its beauty
waiting for an answer
the questioning is paused
as i walk away from the mirror
a sad tear falls
i look through the blur
i see nothing
with my bloodshot eyes
from nights of endless despair
if my life will get better
my hopes have not matched YOurs
and my soul aches
my dreams cannot be lived
and i try harder to achieve
Your will seems no longer mine
i need to know hy
i say yes i hear no
frustration fills me
why is the hurt so real
when will it go away
i ask how come me
i hear just be patient and wait
engrossed in rage
controlled by the love
i blindly depend on
with no conscious thought
through the tears
February 20 1996
i look around.
no hope for me.
as i look on.
no hope i see.
life gets worse.
i wait more.
my heads aches.
i am sore.
no love inside.
a smile i wear.
my tender soul.
about to tear.
tears i hold.
beg to fall.
i hold tight.
will not bawl.
sit on my chair.
i watch the time.
fly by my eye.
no longer mine.
to the dawn.
yearning for you.
you i behold.
the time you come.
still left untold.
as i pray here.
a trumpet call.
my head looks up.
i start to bawl.