...that I saw
And how did it mine eyes perceive?
For I saw - albeit with hindsights perfect focus -
Beauty and passion and God,
But how did that shine?

How did that preciousness
That value and that potential
Light mine eyes
Through all those layers
And years of accumulated ****?

Yet once seen such a glow,
However glimmering or pale,
Cannot be denied nor yet become
Unseen nor unknown, and
Definitely not undesired,

And now the effort spent
Spitting on rags,
Buffing hard to remove
Decades of perceived unworthiness
Are bearing fruit,

For now I see a more
Even lustre as my
Project and my protégé
Steps out in confidence
And power,

Shining ever brighter
With a light inextinguishable,
Because although my effort
Undoubtedly played its part ,
It's GOD that's powered this change,

Not me...

Can change a life,
Yet not just the one
That you'd expect,
Not just the existence
Of two souls involved
But also those of others,
For not just our hearts
Were gladdened
When I said that I love you,
But another heart jumped at that
Phrase for it pleased
Your mother too

What is Poetry?
When your legs are numb,
Blood parching in your veins,
Throat choking from the pain,
And the fingers hitting the keys of the keyboard ceaselessly,
Trying ever so hard to create something impetuously,
Its poetry, you type.

When you dream of the possibilities,
And in what was once unimaginable,
You make the reader believe,
And change the way how their life, they perceive,
Its poetry, you dream.

When you play with words,
Just as an artist would play with colors,
To create a masterpiece,
That reaches the depths of the reader’s soul,
And burns them inside like coal,
Its poetry, you paint.

When you thread
Your fears, your desires,
Your insecurities, your pain,
All just to stay sane,
Its poetry you weave.

When your heart is melting
Like wax candles once lit,
And drops of tears smudge the ink,
To your knees you sink,
Its poetry, you bleed.

It's funny how hospitals,
Whence one goes to heal
Or die,
Focus ones mind upon
Profound things,

Life and death for sure
But also the life that's been lived
The life being lived,
Being dead and also
The process of dying,

I do not wish to die
In a hospital ward,
I have seen this and
I have heard it
And it is horrid,

No,
Let me pass good Lord
In the arms of a beautiful woman,
Or the embrace of a wooden boat,
With sails full and ocean spray
All about me,

Let me die astride a galloping horse,
Or in the metal clashing of swords,
The crack and ping of an airsoft war
Or the twang and thud of archery,

Let me pass on a zip wire Lord,
With the scream of a block
In my ears,
Or wining and dining
With my loved ones,

Any of these things Lord will do,
Or anything else the same,
But let me die while living Lord,
Not on a hospital ward
In shame

Odious indeed is he who sits uninvited
And unwanted at our table
And yet refuses to take the hint and leave,
So throw that ******* imposter out
With a contemptuous boot
Right in the rear and
Cry "******* satan"
Loud and clear,
For unless we permit,
He has no authority here