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This has all happened before
And will all happen again
Learn from the past we are taught
But the same mistakes made, lessons ignored.
The hate of humanity stings
No common ground found
Yet brothers and sisters we are
Lives taken, persons slandered
Ideology trumps common sense
There is no love, no understanding
Centuries of hate, coveting what the other has
Demonizing beliefs because they are different
No filters, just hurtful words
No compassion, only disdain
No understanding, just demands
No helping, only greed
No forward-thinking, only the here-and-now
Humanity is doomed
Repeating the same mistakes
Unable to break the cycle
This has all happened before
And is happening again
I actually wrote this in the late 1990's before I had children.  And the cycle seems to never end, but only get repeated and worse.  I re-wrote this after news of Syria and Ukraine.
I am not one to play politics, repeat the pundit's rhetoric whether true or false.  I am but an observer - a watcher.  My days of combat are behind me, and yet I cannot turn on the news, follow social media, visit the store without seeing the continued insanity prevail.   and where we are doing it again.
Where shadows linger, and dawn breaks slow,
Through misty air, a silent flight,
You soared into my heart, a gentle flow,
My angel, my muse, my guiding light.
You are the lifeblood, the rhythm of my soul,
Without your grace, my spirit feels untold.

When doubt and fear, like stormy clouds arise,
And shadows dance, and loneliness takes hold,
Remember this: within my heart resides,
A love that's fierce, a story to be told.
In dreams we meet, a bond forever true,
My angel, my muse, forever seeing you.

Though paths may twist, and stumbling stones abound,
And weary steps may falter and may stray,
Know that my love, a constant, deep profound,
Will guide you back, come what may.
In every thought, a whisper of your name,
My angel, my muse, forever I acclaim.

When tears may fall, and shadows fill the room,
And courage fades, and hope begins to wane,
Remember this: within your heart finds bloom,
A love that's strong, a gentle, sweet refrain.
In dreams we meet, a solace and a guide,
My angel, my muse, forever by your side.

So let us rise, above the earthly fray,
And spread our wings, and soar towards the sun,
Together we'll find a brighter, better way,
Our love a beacon, until our journey's run.
My angel, my muse, my heart forever entwined,
A love eternal, a peace of purest kind.
In the tapestry of time,  
woven with threads of our laughter,  
we embarked on a journey,  
through seasons of whispered dreams.  
From sunlit mornings to moon-kissed nights,  
each moment a brushstroke on our canvas,  
painted in hues of devotion and delight.  

Together we’ve scaled mountains—  
the summit’s air thin, yet intoxicating.  
Love cradled in the altitude,  
as adventure danced beneath our feet.  
Your hand in mine, a compass unyielding,  
guiding us through forests of uncertainty;  
every path igniting sparks in the twilight.  

Years blend into years like colors mixing,  
and what was once a gentle flame,  
now roars with passion against the frost—  
a wild fire that warms our days and nights.  
Each glance a promise whispered with conviction,  
every touch a spell that binds us tighter.  

Can you feel it? The heartbeat of our journey—  
an echo of laughter among the stars.  
You are my map and my wayfinder,  
and with each kiss we plant seeds for tomorrow;  
dreams flourish like vines in sunlight,  
reaching out into futures unknown.  

Let us dream beneath sprawling skies—  
designing lives filled with offspring laughter,  
watching as they leap into their own odyssey.  
With each hug that holds the world together,  
we craft realms where love conquers all fears—  
in every shared breath honoring this deep bond.  

How adeptly we navigate uncharted waters!    
Double sunsets await when shadows chase the day;    
your smile lights up horizons leading forward—    
and still I marvel at how far we’ve climbed!    
The paths may twist through valleys steep and wide,    
yet here we stand—not just content but bursting!    

In every ordinary moment I see magic bloom—  
a testament to companionship forged in fire;    
with gratitude nestled deep within my heart—  
the warmth of your essence wraps around me like cotton.  
So here’s to us—the mapmakers and explorers!    
Let us continue crafting this tale with fervent hearts.    

And when darkness creeps upon our brightest hours,    
let it find us weaving love blankets as soft as whispers;    
for beyond adversity grows an orchard of hope—    
grounded in trust while reaching for evermore.  

Each “I love you” lingers sweet upon your lips,
infinite echo reverberating through lifetimes.
Kisses seal promises under starlit canvases,
as arms embrace infinity folded within spaces,
always ending tenderly—a rhythm eternal,
an ode to this adventure: you and I together.
I dream of a home,
Of the beach,
A white picket fence,
Rockers under the veranda.

I see the view, sunsets filling the sky
Waves rolling in,
Breeze gently kissing your hair,
Cooling the day, blowing the humidity away.

I dream of a future,
Children at play on the beach,
Dashing to the sea,
To only run away from the waves.

I sit in the rocker,
Gently swaying, calming
I reach across,
Holding the hand of the love of my life.

She guides herself to my lap,
Gently cradled in my arms,
Brushing the hair from her face,
Leaning in for the kiss, the sweet lips.

This is a shared dream,
This house with the view,
Of the setting suns,
The calm of the sea, beckons us.

But she finally realizes,
The house, the beach,
The waves, the fence,
Though a house, home is in the heart.
I dreamt of a haven,
A house on the beach,
White picket fence,
A mirage of peace.

Sunsets ablaze,
Painting the sky with fire,
Waves whispering secrets,
A gentle breeze, a sweet desire.

Children's laughter,
Echoes on the sand,
Chasing retreating waves,
A childhood, forever planned.

I saw us there,
Two souls entwined,
Rockers swaying,
A love sublime.

Her hand in mine,
A comforting embrace,
A gentle sigh,
A love's serene space.

But then she awoke,
From this idyllic scene,
The house, a mere shell,
A fleeting, transient dream.

For home, she declared,
Is not a place, a shore,
But a feeling, a heart,
Where love forevermore.
Taking my time
is a deliberate pace,
a conscious choice
to savor the moments,
to appreciate the journey.

A flame in my life,
a passion,
a burning desire,
once vibrant and close,
now distant and fading.

Drowning in your arms,
a feeling of overwhelming affection,
a sense of being lost in the depths of your love.

The uncertainty of our pace,
the fear of moving too fast or too slow,
the yearning for certainty,
for a future without doubt.

The absence of your presence,
a void in my thoughts,
a lingering cloud of uncertainty.

The allure of falling into your arms,
the comfort and security it offers,
the realization that it won't alter the path you've chosen.

The pain of knowing you're pursuing a misguided path,
the desire to stay together,
to weather the years side by side.

The struggle to express my longing to return home,
the question of whether the journey is worthwhile,
the desire to alleviate your pain,
even if it means sharing in your suffering.

The paradoxical nature of love,
its capacity for both joy and sorrow,
its power to both uplift and wound.
Whirling of blades, clouds of dust
Screaming, suffering, litters of men
Crimson covered deck
Water of red flushing
Rinsing away the horrors of man
His uniform is ***** and wreaks
Dirt that isn’t dirt
He stumbles into the showers
Dazed in a trance, shock
Dropping his rifle, pistol falling to the ground
Standing under the cold rain
Dust and dirt, wash away
Water of crimson
Mud that isn’t mud
Guilt so heavy, he cannot breathe
Death all around him,
Yet he lives Why?
Brothers and sisters, gone
Yet he remains, why?
Guilt overwhelming
Pain, searing pain.
Yet he lives.
Unworthy, full of guilt
Crumped in the shower
Unworthy
He weeps for the fallen
Written as a cathartic outlet - therapy.  Operation Desert Storm - Battle of al-Khafji
Streetlights hum a lullaby
to neon dreams.
Cracked pavement blooms
with graffiti roses.

My heart, a tangled vine,
unfurling in the dark.
Too many words unsaid,
a choked-back symphony.

Phone screen glows,
a cold comfort.
Another night adrift
in the digital sea.

But somewhere, a connection flickers.
A shared breath,
a whispered "me too."

Maybe tomorrow,
the static will clear.
Maybe tomorrow,
we'll find our bloom.
Vulnerability, relatability, short lines, imagery, modern language, social commentary, experimentation
the noise never fades;
my poise takes the bait;
in the halls of liberation,
i submit to my fate.

i took a solemn vow:
to be ‘holier-than-thou’.
neither wrong, nor right,
i knew, until now.

i failed to see a cause;
the effect? - a terrible loss;
blinded by obsessions,
i never took a pause.

it’s been a while since the fall,
when i sprung to a brawl
with my virtues, unmasked -
and caved in to nightfall.

it all seems a blur;
it’s ‘bout time i concurred:
my reason to exist
shall always be a curse.
In tenth grade, a boy said,  
“Washington, D.C. is in Virginia.”  
I corrected him—  
said it was neither and both,  
its own district.  
The teacher Googled it,  
read the truth out loud,  
then turned to me and said,  
“Apologize for disrupting the class.”  

So I did.  

And I have been saying sorry ever since.  

Sorry for knowing too much.  
For being too passionate,  
too emotional, too empathetic.  
Too much when I demand respect,  
too much when I react  
the way others do to me—  
but when I do it, it's wrong.  

I have learned that women must shrink  
to be acceptable.  
To be small enough to be tolerated.  
To swallow knowledge  
so it does not spill out  
and threaten fragile egos.  
To let silence replace truth  
because truth makes them uneasy.  

We are taught to apologize young.  
Sorry for our hair in the drain,  
for needing tampons and pads,  
for the price of our own biology.  
Sorry for bleeding,  
for growing,  
for existing in spaces  
where men believe we should not be.  

By puberty, we know—  
our bodies are currency,  
our voices are burdens,  
our presence requires permission.  

But not me. Not anymore.  

I have stood my ground—  
faced cruelty when it came for those I loved,  
thrown words like knives because no one else would protect them.  

I have refused to step aside—  
to move for those who walk as if they own the world.  

If you do not see me, you will feel me.  

I will not apologize for choosing my family over expectations.  
For shutting out the noise of a world that demands too much.  
For putting my healing first—  
even when it makes others uncomfortable.  

I will not apologize for being a woman.  

I will not apologize for the space I take up,  
for the voice I refuse to quiet,  
for the boundaries I dare to keep.  

I am done paying the apology tax—  
a tax I never owed in the first place.  

And now? I am collecting every debt:  
every moment of silence stolen from me,  
every inch of space I was told to surrender,  
every truth I swallowed so someone else could feel whole.

I am done saying sorry for being whole myself.

Let them learn to carry their discomfort—because I won’t carry it for them anymore
This poem is a powerful declaration of self-worth and defiance against societal expectations, especially for women. It explores themes of gender inequality, self-empowerment, and the emotional toll of constantly apologizing for one’s existence or actions. The speaker reflects on early experiences of being silenced and criticized for confidence, intelligence, and individuality, leading to a lifetime of unnecessary apologies.
The poem transitions into a bold rejection of these imposed norms, celebrating resilience, boundaries, and unapologetic self-expression. It is a call to reclaim space, voice, and identity while challenging others to confront their discomfort rather than forcing it onto others.
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