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I've heard it said by many,
I'm sure you've heard it too...

"I know you better
than you know yourself!"

I really doubt
that this statement
is true!

I mean,
how does one logically justify
such a crazy terminology?

This assumption is insane,
how dare anyone propose
this ideology!

We've all gone mad!

We dare suggest
that we know
what other's think...?
How sad!

I don't understand my own mind,
and I can assure you,
neither do you!

Do you believe that it is possible
that I might know you better
than you, yourself, do?

I truly doubt,
and disbelieve that you do!

It's impossible!
It's insane that some people think
that this phrase could even slightly
be true!

Nobody knows us better
than we, ourselves, do!

I struggle to know myself,
and I always will;
this much is true!

Only God, himself, knows me,
and he, alone,
understands my mind,

I cannot entertain
any other notion,
my inner-thoughts
are way out of range
for just anyone to find!

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
 Jun 2017 S S
ryn
His Tale
 Jun 2017 S S
ryn
He stares long into the mirror
Only to see a tattered old book
Every page bears little he's proud of
Every morn he sees but dares not look

He's afraid of the stories
His memories would tell
He's ashamed of the scars
He'd known too well

Everyday he would only dress quickly
Before his demons would sing their claim
Everyday he'd battle the relentless sun
He'd persevere the day only night could tame
 Jun 2017 S S
Daniel Irwin Tucker
I got a late call
Just the other day --
    Sister reluctant to say
  What she had to say.

Mama's not well
     She almost passed through
    The veil --
A life of hard work
    Can make any strong
Woman frail.

I'm not an old man
     But time isn't always kind --
Teenage children
Make youth that much harder
                      To find.

It doesn't seem so long ago
               When I was that
        Young and free --
My parents feeling like I do now
            When they'd look at me.

      She was always proud
Of the garden that she grew --
   Working with her hands
In everything she'd do.

But now her body can't
      Keep up with her mind
And father seeks for what
        They both cannot find.

        You're a child with
Parents all your own
Then it's your turn at the wheel
      When you are grown.

Then your children
See you old and frail --
Time goes by faster than
      You realise and you've
Passed through the veil.

I've always watched
      The Agèd Hands of Time
         Winding other lives down --
       They were not mine

But now my past
    Is in the distance and my
Future is as close as my agèd
  Parents and my growing children
     In The Agèd Hands of Time.


--Daniel Irwin Tucker
This poem is an older poem of mine (no pun intended) which works in concert with a poem I posted recently. entitled, "My Mama Died Today".
 Jun 2017 S S
Mary-Eliz
I see you there
suspended for a time
between the shadow
and the light.

You look pale
but peaceful,
in a dream state.

I rest awhile,
a shallow sleep,

then I awake

knowing…

without words
my mind whispers

it’s time

I gently wipe your lips,
brush a stray hair
from your forehead.
It’s all I know to do.

Then I sing
a cherished lullaby
hoping you hear me
hoping it wraps you in love
as my arms wrapped
around you
as a child.

I hold your hand,
kiss your forehead.
In that instant I see
and feel all you’ve been
all that is you

tiny wrinkled infant
delightful, smiling six-month old
curious toddler
proud school age
struggling teen
loving adult

realizing
we're losing all of these,
all that you've been
all that is you

then

I feel your spirit leave…

for that brief moment
I’m overcome with a calm
I can’t describe.

A gift rare and precious –

as I was there
when you entered the world
I was with you
when you left.
     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~        

"The butterfly counts not months but moments and has time enough."  
Rabinadrath Tagore
We lost our son to a brain tumor. He fought bravely and determinedly for seven years, enduring two surgeries, radiation, Gamma knife "surgery", chemotherapy and clinical trials. He never lost his sunny smile or determination. He only let go when he knew it was time, slipping into unconsciousness shortly after his two brothers (his best friends) arrived to say goodbye. He remained in that suspended state for two days. On the third day the four of us gathered for dinner and shared thoughts about him and our life with him. We cried, we laughed, we shared memories. Later that night he let go. I will always believe, being the caring and generous person he was, that he heard us talking and knew that, as hard as it would be, we would be okay.
 Jun 2017 S S
SøułSurvivør
hands
 Jun 2017 S S
SøułSurvivør
smooth or rugged
strong or frail
fist or caressing
brown or pale

long of finger
open or clubbed
wrinkled parchment
child's chub

Mona Lisa
calm and coy
Captain Hook
girl or boy

remember how
his love attracts?
touching with
his finger backs?

hands with nails
lacquered red
tell him that
it's time for

bed

what could ever
be so grand?
as a tender

loving

HAND



SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/11/2017
Hands are beautiful.
I've always loved drawing them,
even though it's difficult.
I especially love the hands
of the elderly.
 Jun 2017 S S
Randolph L Wilson
I believe in the tower bells
They strike the hour without fail
They echo through hill country sunny dales
Through pecan arbors and woodland trails
On moonlit avenues
O'er the lakeside bayous
To the chorus of a thousand blackbirds
Through nightfalls wind chatter , twist and turns
Copyright May 2 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
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