Margaret Austin Go: Favorites

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

Psychoticries

you saw sadness,
and you never noticed the pain.

you heard the thunder,
and ignored the rain.

but yet you wonder,
just why you dug my grave.

you saw, my dear.

but you cannot see.

You only saw what I was feeling but didn't see the real pain that I felt.

#depression #what #you #was #only #but #really #see #saw #didnt

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

why write

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

Samantha

why write

"why do you write? they ask.
So I can take my love for you
and give it to the world,
because you won't take it from me"

why do I write? I wondered.
To take my voice, maybe?
and give it to the world,
because I am afraid
that you won't take it seriously

(samber)

a friend of mine wrote the first one :)

11/18/14

#love #heart #afraid #world #rejection #you #me #voice #write

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

so sudden

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

Samantha

so sudden

I was in an open door
everything was a perfect score
all gone in a count of four

so sudden I got torn
to move on or to mourn*

(samber)

11/21/14

#love #sad #depression #life #heart #pain #lost #you #gone #move

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

SPACES---IN---BETWEEN

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

Sally A Bayan

SPACES---IN---BETWEEN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In this present circumstance,
Where a choice must arise,
There is an enormous area,
Situated perfectly...to confuse...
It is too wide...I could just glide.

But, I hear murmurs of apprehension,
A path so dim and unclear, it causes deflection...

How do I deal with indecision?

It looks simple, like an easy way out,
Yet, I could not get through...
A quiver says, I musn't get through...
If I dare start my steps,
What would I find straight ahead?
Would I be smiling, in peace?
Would there be peace, yet, I, in pain?
If I turn to my right,
Would that be an act of propriety?
Would I be smiling in peace?
Would others be smiling, like me?
Or would they be in tears?
If I go left, will I be
******?
Cursed to perdition?
Would I still be smiling in peace?
Would I be the only one smiling?
Would I be kneeling down, lower?

Life used to be simple, without complications.
My mind, right now, is traveling through dark avenues,
And...there is only YOU, I can turn to.
Please.....I'm not that bad,
I need your touch upon my head, your strength, to enlighten me
Grant that I may know...and accept the wisdom of pain,
Make me see the joy, derived from pain....

Take my hand, Lord,
Lead me away from these

S P A C E S
I N
B E T W E E N ...

I don't want to get lost...

Sally

COPYRIGHT 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

***between the straight, the left and right paths, there are spaces in between...
In making choices or decisions, we must look beyond our own
sakes....others,
have to be considered, as well.***

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

THE STATESMAN

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

Joseph Sinclair

THE STATESMAN

Prosaic’ly he plods the path of peace,
Avoiding pitfalls when the dusk is nigh
By treading warily. Does not release
In gay abandonment a heartfelt sigh
Such as the vagabond of Nature’s road
Permits himself when shades of darkness fall;
For he has not to carry such a load,
And is but one of many that make all.

An early poem - written in 1947 - and recently republished in my collection of verse Uncultured Pearls. It was originally intended to be the start of a much longer poem, but I decided that it was perfect as it stood.

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

An Unworthy Artist

Nov 2014 Margaret Austin Go

Shaun Meehan

An Unworthy Artist

a statue the envy of Michelangelo
destiny unknown, the medium—perfection,
growing with age and process,
moulded by the hands of an unworthy artist

the sculptor a paragon of ambition to be,
with enamoured eyes the living stone watching me
a selfish chisel striking cruel and careless,
driven by a hammer of regret, tears resultant
unknowing confused questioning and blameless
staining the surface as sadness' garment
the err of inexpert hands curse by
marks impossible to be unmade despite
a love absolute for the victim of his craft

a father undeserving his son
mouth to match heart, hands to mirror soul
my failure
to see through promise made in
reply to infant breath
by youth's eye the world so meagre
my blessing to be king by innocent observer
a man, by title defective
an artist in whom little may be redemptive
words a patchwork of reparation
futile to hide errant strike, reclamation of relation
so daunting subsequent degeneration

your each tear
my sorrow's weight
my son, forgive me—
forgive
your father's abate

#regret #free #verse #fatherhood #parenting