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Marta C Weeks Apr 2017
Remembering our dead
Mansions, or humble abodes
Virtues or deeds

Learned by heart
Nights of gladness
Morning sorrows

Stories as grains of sand
Forming eternal rocks
Or leaves from a tree
Shelters of hopes and dreams
  
Ocean waves drowning breath
Dreams crumbling as castles
Small homes becoming shrines
Images we choose, or not

Our great grands looking back
Thinking of us as we of ours
Long for memories to grow

Good grows as hands reach out
In time to lift, serve or destroy

Things break and lose charm
Those we feared and loved
Or guides found with sobs

Moments of shared delight
Human frailties, loss and pain
Keep us in want
Never enough, always too much

The hell of heaving
Infernos of inherited pride
Or careful purpose and deeds
Blessing those left

We follow their climb
When plotting our course
In darkness hides the light
Doors close in mind
I would appreciate critiques and comments on this poem.
M G Hsieh Jun 2016
I will paint a sky
of stars in our room
away

from burdening lights,
fill the road
with laughter
even as
the sun sets behind
a shadowy treeline

The city across the lake
will stay quiet
as ripples
make their way to shore

lather the sand beneath our feet
wiggle our toes
close our eyes
look up

and taste
the scent of manna
everyday for the first time.

— The End —