Forgive me, Father who has shapéd me,
Forgive me, for I know not what You do.
Such knowledge is reservéd still for Thee,
While I, left blind, can naught but cry for You.
Forgive me, Father who has blesséd me,
Forgive me, for I know not what I do.
I know not how to act or speak or be,
And, try as I might, I fall short of You.
Forgive me, Father who has guided me,
Forgive me, for I know not what to do.
And, like a fool, I so oft refuse Thee.
Despite this, You remain faithful and true.
For like a flower, I am fading fast.
But You, O God, You will not fade, but last.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC
Lush is the quietude
of the late Saturday afternoon,
rich are the silencing sounds,
as variegated as the shades of greens
of a man-seeded, nature-patchworked lawn
rays reveal some bright,
some yellowed spots,
all a potent color palette
resting worry wearied eyes,
untroubled by the gentle fading light's illumination,
that soon will disappear and seal officially,
another week gone by
the lawn,
acting as an ceiling acoustic tile,
absorbing and reflecting
the varied din of disharmonious
natural sounds orchestrated,
an ever present reminder
that true quiet
is not the absence of noise
I hear
the chill in the air,
insects debating vociferously
their Saturday evening plans,
the waves broom-swishing beach debris,
pretending to be young parents
putting away the children's toys for the eve
the birds speak in Babel multitudes of tongues,
chirps, whistles, clicks and clacks,
then going strangely silent as if all were
praying collectively the afternoon sabbath service,
with an intensity of the silent devotion
this moment, i cannot
well enough communicate,
this trump of light absolutes,
and animal maybes,
that are visually and aurally
presented in a living surround sound screen,
Dolby, of course,
all a plot of
ease and gentility,
in toto,
sweet serenity
here to cease,
no more tinkering,
leave well enough,
plenty well enough
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:23 PM UTC
Don’t cry for me. Please, don’t cry
I’m sorry that i’m what you want
Please, oh please, just let me slip by
I have made your heart hurt enough.
I can’t be the one that you love.
Don’t cry for me. Please, don’t cry
I’m sorry that i couldn’t stay
Please, oh please, just tell me a lie
Say you never loved me anyway.
Forget all our yesterdays.
Don’t cry for me. Please, don’t cry
I’m sorry for all my mistakes
Please, oh please, just dry those blue eyes
I lack the courage it takes.
What needs to be said, i’m too scared to say.
Don’t cry for me. Please, don’t cry.
I am not worth your tears.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 6:49 PM UTC
silently puppeteering,
ceaselessly poised under our noses and over our heads,
most visible when crawling by,
and too often moving much too fast.
time is an imposing figure,
intimidating and all too present.
yet it is also just the ticking of a clock,
seconds between minutes,
minutes between hours.
clouds slowly drifting across the sky,
the rising of the sun and moon,
generous and unhampered.
and is it fair to give it our burdens?
to use it as a pocket in which we neatly tuck away our problems?
time is not our enemy,
but neither is it our friend.
we ask it to heal all wounds
but time has no cures and no sympathy.
time has no intentions.
and so we ponder and debate and ask it for favors,
and time watches and says nothing.
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 1:05 AM UTC
I wrote a poem when I died...
Another at my birth.
A brand-new sonnet when I cried.
And again when there was mirth.
A song for my confession...
A story for my pain...
A painting for depression...
And nursery rhymes for rain.
My creations live inside my heart.
I keep them there in shame.
Yet you looked around and saw my art,
And smiled all the same.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 6:42 PM UTC
I see you.
With your heart of stone
I see you
With your gilded mask
I see you
With your diamond tears
I see you
With your blazing tongue
I see you
With your glass smiles
I see you
With your empty eyes
I see you
With your fragile hands
I see you
With your broken lies
I see you
With your stooped shoulders
I see you.
Everything you are,
Everything you are not.
I see you
And I care.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC
an object in motion tends to stay in motion.
an object at rest tends to stay at rest.
my thoughts spiral
and i cannot get out of bed.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 11:16 PM UTC
when the ice melted,
the coldness from her soul left.
the ground was fertile
and there was a new beginning.
she could see the life inside her
sprouting and that's when she realized...
she was always there
underneath it all.
just waiting to bloom.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 11:14 PM UTC