Where is the strength to be strong ?
For strength is not a passing season ;
it does not come and go lightly,
by and by
The true nature of stalwart love " is " unconditional ,..
an enduring friendship, in and of itself,
cannot pass alone ―
Strength knows not colour
nor measure of dark or light
The creed of its roots ;
the plea of its strife,
within misery becomes belief
Yet is the sorrow felt a contradiction ?
Our own vision's
day by day devise
to bear diminishing life ?
Where is the strength to be strong ?
The doubt in faith that ebbs and flows ;
lost in gravity of deepest oceans'
blackened push and pull ?
No matter the despair embraced
that which makes the broken feel whole
Where is the spirit to be strong ?
The verve that emboldens strength ?
A Life is driven by a Will to BE ― is ―
Manifesting transformation ,..
Rise up the hidden fountain springs within
where all spirit waters begin
Sturdy strength ― Resilient and strong
"Never enough" belies love’s urgent calling
"Never enough" is of enslaving device
a fleeting moment
ne'r a candle burnt out
The Will to BE
is always enough!
to BE ―
© Harlon Rivers ... January 6th, 2017
thank you for reading
introspective thinking out-loud
" weep not for the memories "
of cross roads
and finding the strength to move on ―
peace & love eternal ... rivers
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Storm is gone
and all hypes have settled down
i go straight to that one place
for that much awaited
i strip myself of clothings
on the surface
and those underneath my skin...
Under the shower
i am bare
as a newborn babe.
sighing....as i surrender myself
to the trickles of water sliding
I turn around once...
to spray the wetness
all over me...
...i turn the knob gently....for more water
...close my eyes
...as countless thin drops flow out, touch my head,
i let them trace
of my face...
Mouth opens a bit
i drink in some...to quench my thirst
let go of some...and retain the rest
be overcome by the coolness of the tap water,
.....take time to reflect...to ponder...
....while wet eyes give way to sniffles
....blending with those refreshing trickles,
...........erasing muddy stains of fear
...................and dried marks of tears
................sighs, of fatigue...and regret
.............these, i most often neglect...
.....under the shower, they'd be quashed
..........i'd let them all be awash
......................save for my personal friends,
..........like grit........and good ole common sense.
As water saturates my whole being
...a few expectations and dreams
..........go down the drain
........and dwell within.
Some feelings just cannot hide
...some, refuse to surface, and stay buried deep inside.
Copyright October 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Snow's melted, and all she's got left is the cone,
the skeletal bone streets, where she was
yesterday once so Snowwhite pretty.
Mountainous mounds of shit from canine and human kind
allude to beasts that roamed these streets in nights gone by.
They thought their tracks and cigarettes butts were covered
in a cloak of snow, but sun can't wash away sin.
All she's got left is the grit, beneath fingernails, iron rails,
bitumen - Pech! - from clinging on too long to yesterday.
Her face was pain stricken while she lie asleep.
You could see the effort in her smile, although her grin was weak.
She stayed searching for something of some substance,
She couldn't find any but she'd keep searching the rest of her existence.
Always in bed crying or writing down a piece of her,
As a result of her fear of her mind, she was thought of as a wanderer.
With a mindset unlike anyone's else's,
She had an opinion on everything, very thoughtful ones that is.
She never let anyone tell her what she could & couldn't do,
But she was her biggest enemy, & that could never be truer than the truest truth.
Of course she wanted to be happy,
But the Depression she was battling with was tough & scrappy.
For her there was no escaping the realms of black,
But she knew she could find her way, because she needed to get back.
She needed to return to the life of love & smiles,
She wouldn't stop looking, even if she had to for miles.
She would get to her final destination,
She would not let anything get in her way, she would avoid procrastination.
It was truly sad how every time she tried she fell down,
But she need not worry because on her head, held high was her crown.
No matter what tripped her & made her fall,
She would not succumb to black's intoxicating call.
See her crown was beginning to drop but it would not plummet.
Because though her climb was tough, she's approaching its summit.
You cannot say she is at the top,
But you can say she'll get there because she will not stop.
So sick & so tired of these nights of tears,
She's had them for so long, no not days, or months, but for years.
At seventeen years of age it's heartbreaking to hear such a story,
But don't let your heart fill with uneasiness, because in a short while she'll reach her glory.
A tale like hers is common & unfortunate.
Depression is something we can beat, so long as we stick together, we will be victorious, I'm sure of it.
Roads taken are not always perfectly laid out.
Some do not have markers.
Intersections do not indicate the direction with most promise.
When we are faced with obstacles
Smooth out the imperfections.
The hard work comes from solely our own determination.
Understand when we should cut and turn back
When to press on.
We may stumble, we may fall.
A little bit of perseverance
and faith to reach some destinations.
I have found that, once reached,
the journey was worth its sweat.
Earned by grit, guts, and purposefulness.
Satisfaction of will.
don't write me any more love poems
i hate them they're bland
plus they all sound the same
unimaginative boring bullshit
give me something with dirt
lots of it
something that breathes
give me something from where u feel it
if u feel it from down your anus coming out like feces
give it here!
rub my face in it
but no more of that hallmark shit.