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SiouxF Apr 15
The trials and tribulations you go through
Are testament to who you are
And the strength in you,
For you will never be tested beyond your means,
So hold fast to your values,
To your dreams and desires,
And show them who’s wrong
And who’s right.
Nikkie Jan 30
We never have the essential answers, to the questions in our daily lives.
God takes the lead and remains in control.
God touches our hearts beyond wishes untold.
I know you’re hurting so very much; I want to help but I don’t know how.
This storm of yours is barreling toward you; sweeping you up and spinning you within.
You hide behind your strength for others;
but you my friend need someone too!
I can’t imagine, in my wildest dream the intensity
of your pain; the complexity of your damaged will!
To lose so many whom you love so dearly, has got to be
robbing your emotion.
When your insides feel like a drowning sorrow,
When your days and nights regret tomorrow,
When your eyes tear up behind their sockets,
(because you refuse to let your feelings show).
When you just don’t want to be the “old” you,
When you can’t see yourself making it through.
When you just can’t seem to gain any control.
When you feel like giving it all up for good,
When your pain and hurt is misunderstood.
Always remember what I am saying.
Dearest friend in “my whole wide world”,
Our Heavenly father is right by your side.
We have our pain and rock hard endings.
We have our trials and tribulations.
We have our moments of dis-repair.

We have our moments when we just don’t care.
But you serve a God who is all around you.
Holding you close in your raging storm.
You may not see it; you may not feel it.
But God is standing faithfully behind you;
waiting for you to Trust him and fall.
kevin wright Dec 2020
Its winter, cold, stark and yet beautiful
Hearts bounded to this existence
Fingers interlocked
Warming soul breath blows across the palms
Sanguine legs warmed against heated stove

     Human in thinking, doing and being

The virtuous kettle starts to boil
Truculent steam sinks quickly to the floor
Tea leaf’s start to surf on the gathering tsunami
Stale scones start to brown on the stove
Honey eases the dry scones path to oblivion

     Human to absorb, resist and learn

A heavy coat and the door open
Scarfed mouth and nose brace the sub-zero air
Dogs paws, skiter across the frozen boards
Winter boots crunch the snow emblazed path
Outside loo engaged

     Human to explore, try and teach

Spaded snow bound potatoes lifted and sacked
Encrusted river trounced and bucket filled
Animals fed and watered
Mucked and swilled
Back aching and poulticed

     Human to be tolerate, effect and apt

Potted vegetable dances a tango with dried lentils
Slices of dried sausage thrown in for good measure
Stew partying all day long
One bowl for the dog and one for its master
Liquify the flour for a batch of scones

     Human to dream, play and appreciate

Gods hang out heavenly green curtains to dry
Driving freezing winds blow for weeks
Trees groan from the strain
Animals cower in vain
A frozen river provides no fish

     Human to choose, empathise and endure

Banks of glazed snow
Moonlit evangelical trees
Malls of Isolation, lonely, impenetrable but ajar
Welcomed aestivation spreads its joy
The curtain on spring time is drawn free of an icy grip

     Human to protect diversity, past and future

Bear trails getting closer
Time for the dog to earn its keep
The scent is taken
The hunt commences
The scope picks up the target
The young bear is marking its new territory

     Human to destroy, interfere and absolve

Pull the trigger
The sound echoes around
Crows explode into the sky
A small cloud of snow billows up
The bear now heading East
A few judicious air shots keep it heading away

     Human to observe, savour and respect

Ice starts to give way to the warming sun, air and water
Time to check and prepare the boat
Set the nets in the river
Cherish natures delicate flowers
Let the animals out to graze

     Human in relaxing, changing and evolving

Enjoy riverine skinny dips
Untangle knotted hair
Adrift in the shallow pool
Newly skinned dragon-fly cruises
Preened wagtail eyes up the feast

     Human to feel, laugh and cry

Cleansed of winter odours
Calloused fingers ****** with beeswax
*** boiled doused clothes
Gaping holes where threads fail
Skin soaked in warming rays

     Human to theorise, invent and engineer

Wading through heaving rivers
Enjoying fresh food again
Bountiful mushrooms
Plentiful hunting, trapping and fishing
New born in the sty

     Human to aspire, educate and archive

Turn over the vegetable patch
Dig in the winter compost
Embed tatties and vegetables
Potato atomiser goes for spirited liquid
Wood logging, stacking to cure

     Human to navigate, articulate and embody

Day tripping ventures
Mail pick up and friends reunited
Provision shopping and wares sold
Dental extraction
Hair curtailed

     Human to socialise, protest and survive

Time to be bitten by the flying blighters
Darkness gives way to the light of all day
Abundant berries and supplies of jam
Visit downstream farms with homemade fruity scones
Piglet bartering for shorn wool

     Human to be mortal, resilient and dependable

Dry fish and meat
Start to restock the wood supplies
Collect the honey bounties
Contemplate the shortening days
Drying pools and amorous clouds of pollen

     Human to shape, fill and transform

Rewiring damaged fencing
Barn hinge annealed
Bury another dog mauled victim
Re-shingled roof gaps
Collapse into bed every night

     Human to lead, serve and follow

Reddening foliage
Stores a brimming
Sacking of nuts
Smoking fish and magic mushrooms
Last visit to the doctor before the freeze

     Human to make life worth living

Watch the last of the departing birds
Snuggle up with a moonshine viewing the rising moon over mountain peaks
Card and spin the wool
Pull out the knitting needles for the first jumper of the production year
Hibernation and snows will seal the year

     Love to be a human
A multitasking thought poem, three poems in one, can be read as one, or as three poems. (Stanzas, verse, stanzas and verse).
Whos says its a mans world. human currency
Sally A Bayan Apr 2020
The sun has become harder to bear
this late April morning.....under
a perfect blue sky, the sun is bright as ever,
it slightly ****** the skin,
grass takes all the heat but is just as green
and still sways to the blowing wind...

we're showered with many tribulations,
bombarded with dim scenarios...revelations

of despondency, death, desperation,
......and of man's evil inclinations...

fear and confusion filter through holes
and tiniest crevices of grounds and walls,

we make do with small corners,
just to create spaces apart  from each other

we hear warnings...talks in apocalyptic
tones...we learn of events cataclysmic,

yet, we ignore earth's stormy winds and waves,
telling us.....begging us to change our ways.

we breathe, we can see, we have ears
clearly, we choose what to see and hear...
........................................................
­.......................................................
.........­.................Spring's sky is all over,
but, the lilt, the spring feeling, is nowhere
.......................................................
.­......................................................




Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 5, 2020
(forget the beach, be safe on home shores
  lest you get the virus and.....be abhorred.)
Alexis Jul 2018
Always out of place,
And looking for more.
I have many hopes and dreams,
Yet they never soar.
In need of a push,
Some motivation.
But all it ever does
Is turn into frustration.

Wake up with adrenaline,
But it never lasts.
All I ever think about
Is how I failed in the past.
I’m stuck in a rut
And can’t get out.
I feel like I can do it
But then my head fills with doubt.

I try and try again,
But I always fail.
Do I try again?
Or keep walking down this trail.
Everywhere I look,
I see success.
I keep going nowhere
Even though I try my best.

Tired of being comfortable
In the same place.
All of this talent and ideas
Going to waste.
It’s time to get to work,
These words I must embrace.
No more sitting on the sidelines,
It’s time to join the race.
Sequoia Jul 2018
The dagger is deep in her chest,
In great precision with the heart.
Empty eyes fill up quick with tsunamis.
Her sadness weighs a ton on her shoulders.
When her kindness is taken for weakness, she becomes broken, little by little.
Her bright smile surpasses a lifetime of pain.
Her way with words shows experience & tribulation.
Her eyes possess conundrum & distress.
Body imbibed by caliginosity,
She is trapped in an eerie forest.
She is a fly in a spiders web,
Struggling to detach herself from the dreadful bleakness.
She's been incapable of doing this all her life,
But now,
She seeks revenge on the killer of happiness
With high hopes of restoring her contentment.
December 31st @ 5:55 A.M.
brandon nagley Dec 2016
Even in mine worries,
        Angst, despair,
                    Don't worry mine Jane;

Mine love is right here.


Even in mine trial's;
          Tribulations I face.

With thee,
       Right next to me;
                There's a smile on
                              Mine face.

Though the sand may
    Be crumbling, and
          The castle's slide to the sea;
                
  There's the beauty of me
                  Having, thou that
                  Set's me free.

Though mine flesh
   And heart mayest fail,
      And the cloud's shalt roll around;

Mine soul is at ease
          With thee mine queen;
           With thy voice I float
           Off the ground.
                  
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedicated( agapi mou)
Angst- a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically an unfocused one about the human condition or the state of the world in general.
Mine- means my.
Mayest- may.
DEW Nov 2016
Golden coin gleaming in hand.
All his hopes took refuge in that vestige of conjured worth.
The man with no name would buy his name this day...

The empire's burgeoning halls pressed in around him as he strode.
They would devour him in this moment if they had not done so already.
Yet, why the empire? There are more docile things to tame.
Everything is the same for the man with no name.

"People would apologize for stepping on me, but they knew not what to call me, so they went somnolently on their way."
I try to imagine these are the things he'd say,
instead these are the words of those I know,
those that I can hear, see, smell, touch... taste.
The man with no name's words are a waste.
He leaves no footprints wherever he may go.

The steps to the Hand of the Empire are steep.
Some will climb it, some will weep.
Yet, the man with no name will not turn back this day;
he takes a moment to fill and a moment to pray.

His memories are so vibrant, so full of clarity,
like crystals in the light, banishing insanity;
his tales will evoke the highest majesty,
entrance the gluttonous, deprave with vanity,
they'll bite the snake and poison its legacy,
they'll quietly rake the fields of the mind,
yet each soul is weary, cold and blind,
when he is gone, they pay no mind.

His steps are strong, hard, fast
throughout the night, will he last?
This is no simple, boring task,
the steps to the Hand do more than ask.
They take from you and more than due,
they make you fight,
they run through you.
When the night is cold and breezy,
you'll find the steps are dark and creepy...

Of course, the man with no name bears on.
What has he to fear, you can't hunt what you don't want,
for the hunt is a thrill, and trash is pleasureless.
The steps are perilous,
they hunger for blood,
his steps are thunderous,
nailing thud after thud.

Dawn peeks over the distant horizon,
and what a sight to see: the man is still rising.
In tandem the sky and he play their parts,
so does the Empire, putting bodies in carts,
for the night brings the dead, so many have tried,
to climb up the steps and in doing so, died.

The man with no name treads a feat all his own,
but see? A trembling hand. The ache of bone.
For the man with no name is tiring, tiring,
even in the face of his glory aspiring.

He would tend to the sick and defend the weak,
danger and challenge and evil he'd seek,
to vanquish the rotten
and save the damsel,
but he's always forgotten,
that he couldn't handle.

So this lead him to this fateful day,
to this fateful place.

Just look at the sweat cascading his face.
Look at his knees, how they groan and slow pace,
his legs seem to jostle and wobble out of place.
Where is his strong stride? It almost seems funny.
Many would do this sort of thing for money.
Yet, he does this for his own pride,
and that grim determination, from his face,
seems to slide.

He collapses and the jut of a step knocks his face,
for the steps are at his throat,
trying to crush his ebbing life.

I've known better men
to have fared far worse,
but this man looks on his life,
not as gift,
as curse.

Who is more deserving?
More than he?
Cowards! Be gone!
Pretenders, flee!

What's this?
He props himself up with ease,
the fire in his eyes would startle a lion.
The steps tremble with fury,
they quiver with disgust,
they lust for his end,
he must die, he must!

"No."
He speaks!
"Not today."
The gall!
Don't tempt these steps,
the Empire's nigh trekable wall!
"What I want more than anything,
is to be myself,
whoever I am,
so let me pass, you glorified shelf!"

How strange it would be, to be there that day,
for the steps let him pass, without delay.

He stood in the face of the Hand of the Empire.
Glistening in his palm, the token to buy his face:
his full life's earnings, polished, just in case.

He sighed, "All I've ever wanted is to be respected."
At the cusp of his one goal, the man defected.

One day, he told me this tale.
This he said, into my conscience: burned.
"If you fight death for a name,
you'll lose all you've earned."
It's a rare thing these days for me to feel puckered out after writing a poem, but this one had me panting... metaphorically... maybe a "little" bit literally, LOL.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this!
Let me know if/how much, you liked it :)

DEW
Holey Jul 2016
I sit patiently and wait for the waves to consume the sand house I built
A sand house built with the hate that's grown over a period of time.
A sand house built like a sad house, growing weaker and weaker everyday.
The waves roll over my sand house filling the crevices with water.
After the water drains I look at my house and am shocked.
My sand house is packed with more sand, strengthening the walls.

My sand house built like a sad house, built stronger and stronger everyday.
I sit and wait again for the waves to consume the sand house I built
The sand house, filled with all the hate and distress created.
This sand house filled with me, filled with everything that I am.
So I must be strong if I can withstand these waves of trials and tribulations
If I can push out the water and come back a stronger me.
Wrote this on Vacation (:
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