My fears feel quaint and strange these days
I remember a time when my head was filled with dreams
Yet my creativity has gone done the gutter
Losing it like a rush of blood to the head

And yet I’m far away from the one I love
A distinct summer that is warm and humid
Yet in reality is cold and bitter
Again, a rush of blood to the head

I’m not sure if I have my eyes on the prize anymore
I wanted to make it so big
Those dreams have faded away into the dust only at 21
I find myself craving different tastes

I want to find myself in comfort, want to get by
Have a kid or two or three
Make some money
Teach in the long hallways
Simply live a life with my wife

Yet I remember the years of high school
Thinking I could be better than everyone else
Maybe not be another family in the suburbs
Yet all the sudden I want that
The thing I supposedly wasn’t crazy about

Is this a bad thing?
Or simply replacing another thing with another thing?

Or did my old dreams ever want a chance of seeing the light of day?
Maybe they did not

All I’m asking for is one more light
My questions may be answered then

For now I tend to a garden
where I cater to my simple hopes I hold onto in this day and age

Everything else faded away years ago.

I glanced up from the grindstone…
that was stuck in high gear.
My doorbell was ringing....
Oh dear, Christmas is here?
I tripped in a tangle
of unstrung lights on the floor..
I backstroked through boxes...
blocking my path to the door.
I crushed crystal snowflakes
one, large, candy cane…
I lunged for the door knob
as fear raced through my brain.
What would I say?
And how did I look?
My tree leaned hard to the left
and nothing was cooked!
It was supposed to be perfect
like I planned it ALL year…
it clearly was Not....
as I fought back my tears.
With much trepidation,
I braced for bad news.
I could barely look up,
My eyes locked on my shoes
“I bring you good tidings!”
Exclaimed the young boy…
who stood proudly before me...
his face beamed with joy.
I surely was dreaming...
This just couldn't be...
for the boy at my door
Why I’d swear it was me!
He sang a few carols...
Hark the Herald, Silent Night…
and he sang them all loudly…
Each note high and bright.
He finished up strongly
Shifting to and fro…
We Wish You a Merry Christmas!
A tune we all know…
I snapped my fingers
As the melody hopped…
And I found myself singing
Even after he stopped…
Then he gave me a wave
And was suddenly gone…
As I shouted, WAIT!
Running out on my lawn...
I looked up to heavens….
It was then I knew why
God sent the boy…
and I stood there and cried
I whispered a song
Be near me Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay
Close by me forever,
and love me, I pray.
I forgot how to listen.
And to let my heart sing
And to Rejoice in the Glory
That The Christ Child will bring!

gmw '17

This was written just days before Christmas last year. I share it today with you because tomorrow is not...well, you know.

Through this window
I see a life
That seems to be mine.

Episode by episode,
Its scenes flash
Towards oblivion.

Fast and unexpected,
This life falls in front of me
Like a rock through
An endless well.

No feelings or care
To be received,
But the constant action
Of ignoring loneliness.

No screams of help,
When expectations
Proceed hard work.

No glimpse of joy.
This life just rushes out
Of my beating chest,

With every damned verse.

Marin Jul 11

Is it just me
or are these walls getting closer
with every step I take forward?

Is it just me
or is this music going mute?
All the sounds disappearing
and becoming nothing but distant echos

My words slip
and as I try to run
so do my feet

I look up
only to see
that it's just you

Where does the desire come from?
To send someone words on a paper screen?
Where does the inkwell saturate, and settle deep?

Mixing until you’re your dammed up thoughts
Break loose and spill out onto the ground
Flooding the valley at hand below
For when you spill yourself onto a page
You need to be comfortable with the mess you’ll create
It’s inevitable
But why should you worry about that anyway?
I mean it, I say this with a laugh but…
Does any of this matter anyway?
Why should you withhold and hold back?

The rushing words
The kind which actually meant to be swept away

How to write with Sean - You just write until you are. And then one day you realize that you've always been to a certain degree. And forever will be. You! (:

I close my eyes
and drive.
Just for a moment,
not long enough to die
just long enough
to remind
myself that I'm alive.
Lift my face
feel the sunshine.
Been down this road a million times

frantic clicking and running down stairs
flinging books and coffee mugs
hissing steam from ironing shirts
scrubbing boots and packing bags
wrapping lunch and writing notes
doors creak and then slam goodbye
and so part two
of my day
begins with


This poem is very short.
I don't want to write TOO much.
If I say too much,
You'll probably lose interest.
People have short attentions spans nowadays.

Rushing through everything
as if I would cease to live
at any moment
burns me out quite often.
Now its time to pause
not to look back or front
Just to be
but nowhere around..
for a while I guess
let's see how it will be!

I guess knowing when and how to pause is very crucial in life.
HH Mar 27

I like it when you hold me
When I can look into your eyes
For you are beauty, a sense of familiarity, the feeling that you are all I need in my life.

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