SEARCHING FOR A RATION OF PASSION  

Wrangling of words might become a tightrope  for the writer to *****

While the reader may feel the fervor that an author still hasn't discovered

Frequently fondling of familiar phrases may become dull,lost in a lull,hiding behind hope

Basking over prose a browser can feel close,bring themselves to find what the scribe may not have recovered

Lost in a webster's lottery laboriously lamenting in language, mindless and in a mope

Scholar wanting the lecturer to teach ,essayist out of reach,more reason for rhymes for which they hunger

Easy essays aren't eloquent,lingering thoughts quickly lost,locked in with no code

Simple students wishing for more a peek inside the penmans mind ,giving them even more reason to wonder

Almost lost like an old cowboy song,left to search in a field with little yield,memories too easily erode

Bookworms wringing hands await on the edge of a seat ,their fondness for dialog wanting to be pleased but the dramatist waiting to ponder

Wordsmiths wants sometimes leaving them empty,then like an open sky raining down phrases leaves them with a new day and new way to reload . R.C.

HELPLESSLY HOPING

Hindsight is no time to find out that you made yourself alone

Grasping at memories is dangerous when needing to build a strong future

As inner strengths are built from each other ,now in triplets,their calendars are unknown

Caring can lend itself to corrupting,fleeing in fear to find out the forgotten was yourself,going down easy is impossible,once it's you in the position of elder.

To much gained through pain,builds a rough exterior but delivery from the heart is rarely shown

Why must we bow preparing for some fatal vow,should we feel appeased and know our souls have shelter

Empty promises made and duly accepted,should guilt be for the giver or receiver,if nothing is gained have we grown

Self supporting can be seen as selfish,we must have our own power before becoming strong enough to support another

How are we left with nothing to ask , wondering if we completed the task, will the truth be shown

Optimistic, stuck on idle or reserved with integrity from our knowledge of being realistic,because nothing new will occur

Many roads traveled are open but leading to the same path, no matter what decisions are made, who really holds the key to the gate is unknown. R.C.

CLEANSING THE HATE

Many awake not knowing their fate but still automatically muster a smile
Another never evolves past hells gate

Comfortable in brewing pots of care, extending themselves so others cups run over
Broken bloke receded to deep within

External,internal many blessed with something maternal ,solid not just for awhile
Lost in limbo ,faceless unknown role with no soul

High pressure parenting,tactfully tickling insuring the recipient will be no imposter
Mostly consumed with animosity

Babes born with a grin set to win,can't wait for the game to begin,someone to admire
Many on auto negative, burning,to late to grow

Not all is merry minstrels don't be a fool, ready to move forward seeing clear & sober  
Inner darkness blocking light,Closed doors leave no insight

Adjusting our way to enlighten our stay, a positive edge makes a bad day not so dire
Simmering in hate is the greatest weight,always outranked

Take a day to break away or the sour will overcome,find time for a chime as we grow older
When only hearing in black tones all that is felt is moans & groans

Spreading good cheer brings many others near, passing on the wealth is in good style
Negative vibes leave a soul closed

Often learned late or mellowed with age ,hearts enlightened for the owner
Fast pace can leave us out of the race

So make a moment to mimic a clown and don't be down ,learn to make ourselves as the model to inspire
Starting in negative or always on zero makes an easy to solve equation. R.C.

THOUGHTS ON NOTHING

What if I simply to wanted to say nothing

Caught in limbo,not agile or limber ,nor stuck in the middle

No pile of lists  or testy jests ,drawing from an empty well,no thoughts running

Not producing even a wink or nod,no logical rhyme or reason or answer for the riddle

Devoid of a new view ,empty halls with blank walls ,neutral not worth discussing

Midland mind,nonsense aside ,absurdly adrift again ,but taking middle ground wanting no committal

But sometimes simply life provides pushing pressure we want freedom from it's rushing

Deciding to make an about face,just not enter the race, take a step back from the pace
simple is more civil

Somedays leaning left or bending right,bold red or bright white now simply beige bypassing loud or crushing

Lazy being low, crazy or hazy  when too high,today my hero is zero ,being neutral is not artificial

So today before things may go astray or pretending to be happy or gay  or being seen as corrosive simply seek to be impassive ,save tomorrow to let the emotions go back to running. R.C.

MADNESS OF MEMORY

Thoughts from our past often leave many aghast, something there always staying on the edge

Is it a sin to keep it buried deep within,will holding back effect how fast we grow

Often unwittingly laid aside ,mental block becomes your rock, but still left with a lifetime on a ledge

Building up passion over a lifetime, repairing a soul  became an endless role

Unable to cradle a fable can leave us all alone ,maybe find time to see,  finally make a pledge

Many factors make up fear, some hidden, others right here,but always gnawing like a hidden troll

Mellowed over time but a shadow covering what was behind,in my mind it has made an etch

Midnight trauma makes it's call,vivid flashbacks total recall,asking no ransom as it robs my soul

Awaking from twilight into a new daylight ,bright dawn breaking the yawn,past hours of torment have left me a wretch

Awaiting by the back gate, new freedom needs to play a part,gaining not feigning to be our new goal

Maintaining face while remaining in the race, we can gain new power from leaving parts of the past,find new control without regret. R.C.

FRUITS OF MY LABOR /BASKET OF BLESSINGS  

Started with pennies gathering dandelions from here to the horizon
lincoln heads exchanged for licorice  and a bad case of sunburn......
FRUITS OF MY LABOR  

Soon fall will be making it's call,gently landing, billowing and lining curbs and fence rows.
For a few counted as a blessing for the neighbors and friends that would rather pay a young man to do their raking .
FRUITS OF MY LABOR  

Daily read is an addictive need ,getting out that fresh news is not just a muse ,so a lot of rolling held down with a rubberband ,new bike a new route , Once a month collections left me with a lot more clout.
FRUITS OF MY LABOR  

Some farm boys born into it others just dropped at the gate,rows that grow and sunbleached blisters soon to be their fate. Bales to buck  or the need to ****  those crops that are used to feed. Piece work pay not much reason to stay.
FRUITS OF MY LABOR  

Once only a happy thought for the new munchies that were bought ,soon those plates would be my new fate,hot wet & busy from the starting gate,regular pay & food of the day left many reasons to stay,kitchen camaraderie helping to nurture a future.
FRUITS OF MY LABOR

Boys and their shovels bonded like Lassie without getting sassie ,cooling air brings more flakes ,daily rituals measured & treasured unless they lay on a pathway or roof
piling high brings a sigh, met with manic pressure,pay increasing by the weight, gold awaits as you clear those gates.
FRUITS OF MY LABOR  

Hurry up and wait but still stand straight,little sleep, lots to clean ,Haze grey and underway,mechanical monkeys maintain fast flyers,give it all,life or death play it out until your last breath.
FRUITS OF MY LABOR

Hard trails tell lots of tales ,mostly dollars marked by sweat, spent quick but  with little regret,Heavy metal ways marking days,calloused ,corroded smoothness eroded,
but clean , polish a few layers of paint makes for a quick sale.
FRUITS OF MY LABOR  

Settling in, picket fence with no chagrin,time card stamped life revamped,to travail with no avail  ,endless hours all devoured ,no gain without pain gladly paying penance for our sliver of pie,Anchor & chain bring great weight, left with none when it is done.
FRUITS OF MY LABOR  

Started a race already ahead several steps ahead of the pace,taking it all in anything to produce a grin,rising never to find a prize,suddenly crash & burn at every turn,burning bridges missing mates, finally awakened to an open gate honesty with myself lifted all the weight.
FRUITS OF MY LABOR

Due date time to wait,no choice for pink or blue, advice in the air now even strangers seem to care,instant true love ,positive protection will be their recollection,daily reaching for the teaching to make that simple glow grow.
FRUITS OF MY LABOR  

So as we roll on all we can ask is a new dawn ,learning to live with what we gave, Hopefully blessed with lessons learned in hindsight ,may the light shine on us even at night bringing bounty to all stages of life.
FRUITS OF MY LABOR. R.C.

DARK SIDE OF A RAINBOW, ,DARK RAINBOW

Awakened to a shimmering light bring us out of the darkest night

Easily showing it keeps growing ,can such a broad spectrum be covered by grey

Lumber from our slumber,slim wishes for the day ,what will be found to make the afternoon bright

Hidden deeply behind daily shadows will make bringing a band of color closer even harder to stay

Maintaining mundane mindsets, becoming locked into the lowdown, needing that crack in the glass to let in some light

Gradual gradation slowly shows it's beauty ,brightening the darkest corners is it's way

Bland can be burdensome with no outlets for pressures ,then simple specters delight

Clouds can form many formulas ,brewing,billowing into blackness but as the sun shines through relaxing into a true versicolor display

Globally roaming in a battle of adversity,sometimes brightly beaming  or closing darkening bring about fright

Displayed across a valley marbled mosaics showing the prisms before the darkness  won't let it play

Blinded by blackness most remain sedated while others accept iridescence,
with it's colored arc we remain pacified .R.C.