The shore weeps for her lover’s return
She yearns for his sweet kiss
That lingers long after he is gone.
But the sea
He can never stay long
With each embrace he is pulled away
Into the depths of his own loneliness.
But the sea
He never gives up hope
He gathers all his strength and drags himself back
Back into the shore’s arms
To again be denied what he longs for most.
But the sun keeps shining
The moon keeps rising
And the waves keep crashing on the shore.
I strive to be
like a Bo-Tree,
Dwelling so Deep
my Roots that Seek
water and nutrients from soil
Yet High I Rise
To be more Wise
This came to me when I was looking at the Pipal Tree in my garden. It has grown very tall in 8 years, and it's roots have spread far and deep.
This can be looked at from different perspectives:
1. To be strong and rooted to one's own principles, ethics and moral values. And building on them one should have a tendency to always learn something new, to attain wisdom.
2. To be strong believer of good age old teachings, traditional way of life that we are so accustomed to, that are passed on to us by our elders but also welcoming new changes and good reforms in the society.
Please feel free to reflect on your thoughts and express your perspective.
Why not cry a little too
Hello my name is anxiety
"Expressing your feelings
couldn't be called art."
Shakespearean Walts —
whose puns crammed nature
into mens' hands
and shadowed doubts
that we are all human.
The need to rhyme
and snort out some lines
demoned great minds
who refused to color
outside the lines.
Metaphor ran over happiness,
"A petal is
a woman who fails
when she wilts."
So girls learn to answer,
coyly in high school english,
that everything but petals
are ******* symbols.
No reflection needed,
when nature is a *****.
I didn’t hand it over
I neglected to sign a consent
I never said you could yet you did anyway
a cavity within my chest
anatomical rather than cliché
the mask told me it’s a ventricle then I stuttered okay
hollowed inside thick walls
it gathers substance productively
like a strawberry picker but the berries are smashed
Through the darkest seed
Through the light split by blood and greed
They desire that which is forbidden
Yet persevere disregarding being forgiven
It's in disgust as infestations reap its greatness
Holding broken memories we soak in weakness
It's in these crown of thorns we rest in what we believe
Yet voiced with transparent lungs we grieve
We try to fight the silence but no one is listening
Screaming our emotions translates to whispering
As we bury their hope in the ground gasping their final last breath
We except their fate
Even after death we feel their words resonate
As they breach the great white gate.
They are never forgotten, they are always loved
Looking down on us from above
-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved
For all those who lost loved ones without warning.