Live not the life that others think you should.....
Live instead the life that you yourself would!

Metamorphosis from the start of the day,
January’s promises,
had so much to say.

The beginning of the cycle,
to the end of the new.
The remnant of the spring morning dew
moves summer breeze
into leaves of a green hue,
and the Heartache of July.

The sun rose and set with You,
until it rained
and the skies once again turned a somber shade of familiar blue.

Metamorphosis of the self,
turning like a snake.
Shedding the skin of heartache and
remaking myself, again.

Metamorphosis I bloom and break,
I wither and wake
through the hardships of the year,
taking a new found shape
of me-

The moon wanes and waxes,
while the heart mends and sax’s
continue to play sweet melodies from the month of May,
and we are reminded of the day
that breaks and dawns.

The body yawns
from the weight of the year.

Yet still, the metamorphosis blooms and births
a new beacon of light,
preparing herself for the thirty-first night
and the turn of the calendar, again.

To settle down and reflect on the months passed,
Relishing memories and moments kept sacred,
Looking inward and healing a child once forgotten,
A year's end to really pause and live,
For self actualization is as complimentary as winter and rain,
A chill flourishing among a fresh becoming; annual.

I appear to not have matched pace
with the rest of the world.
Feet thumping like heavy rainfall,
bodies rushing around me
towards something - an end goal,
a vivid, visible finish line up ahead.

I'm shoved towards it
despite my heavy feet
chained down by a weight in my stomach
that lets out a muffled yell,
as if from underwater:
"Stay where you are!"

"I know," I tell the voice, "I know I'm supposed to,"
but it's drowned by the rain.
So I continue to be shoved around,
helpless,
as my stomach grows heavier
as the finish line dawns right before me.

I struggle with what little might I have to not cross the line
just yet.
I'm not ready.

My strength gives out and my left foot pushed forward,
followed by the rest of me.

It doesn't feel as bad as I thought it would,
to be where everyone else is:
past the finish line, into another new track
that would last another few hundred days
to finish.

The swarm of bodies are way ahead of me,
I notice,
and I sigh as I drag my feet
and the chains
and the weight.

Forward, forward,
knowing it was the only direction life granted us.

It's not the Amount nor The Cost Because
As long as we cherish what is so precious
We are about to measure and Treasure The True Value
of those things we had from the most recent to Long ago

If I state I’m going to do something
then don’t, as often happens,
then I’ve planted a ***** seed
that’ll grow into a choking vine,
not free, or wise

So dark January resolutions
might help Calvinists,
or masochists, or both,
but for the rest of us
comfort in our skins is better

I have no preach for you
to do this: just listen

Your own heart cries and sings
all day, every day
and you will beat yourself
far harder, over cheese and *****,
than anyone who loves you would

So go inward a while and think,
and even if your conclusions
don’t match the zeitgeist,
love you, as we do

This is New Year's Day.
The new year has arrived today.
I hope things will be great during this new year.
I hope there will be no misery, suffering or tears.
2021 came to an end at twelve o'clock last night.
During this new year, I hope things will shine bright.
I hope life will be very pleasant in this year that is new.
We said goodbye to 2021 and we're saying hello to 2022.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                            We’ll Write a New Idyll This Year

                The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
                And God fulfils himself in many ways

             -Idylls of the King, “The Passing of Arthur,” 8-9

Janus faces both ways, and so do we
A last, lingering look at the year that was
And then a turn to the year we must meet
Marching to it through Janus Pater’s doors

We will most remember about the past
Our friends whose pilgrimages came to their ends
We joy in the remembrance of their happiness
Their stories and songs, their unfailing kindness

Janus faces both ways, and so do we;    
But now our friends, our happy friends, they see
Light


                 And the new sun rose bringing the new year

                       -Idylls, “The Passing of Arthur,” 469

New Year, once again

things remain the same as I --


experienced them.