Poetry-Thing Thursday: Take My Hand

Take my hand.
Walk with me.
We’ll follow the sunset,
all the way to the sea.

And there we will sit,
and long reminisce,
about lovers and lives long-passed,
and the hope of future-bliss.

So when next the sun rises,
and you and I part,
we leave without sorrow,
however heavier of heart.

Because choices are infinite,
but decisions too few,
perhaps for us both,
it’ll be “if only you knew.”

But I do know one thing,
this I can’t deny,
that in my heart I’ll keep you,
if the stars I must defy.

And through ages to come,
and those that have passed,
I’ll know I’m not the only one,
with such feelings that last.

That is, only if,
you take my hand,
and hold it with yours,
so together we stand.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Fill

Fill,
the void in,
yourself.
The world,
your heart,
their minds,
then turn away.

Fill,
the widening hole,
in your soul,
in the world’s heart,
in a lost art,
in a broken home,
then turn away.

Fill,
the silence in,
or violence wins,
and finds within,
your healing words,
to add in verbs,
so you might turn away.

Whether to the top,
or the the half-way mark,
just fill the world,
with all good things–
love and compassion,
and other such things.

For freedom’s not free,
it is won through sacrifice,
and the loving passion,
of the courageous and brave,
for their loved ones to save.

So just fill up the world,
so we can go on,
us along with it,
radiate like the sun.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: It Starts With You

Blood on the tracks.
Blood in the street.
Blood from the workers’ backs,
stains the rich-men’s feet.

They call it economics,
a lack-luster draw,
but its no card game, lunatics,
and we’re dying for your flaw.

The rich get richer,
and the poor keep dying,
while they feed on the ichor,
formed of the rich-men’s lying.

It’s an old song.
Its grooves worn down.
No less wrong.
No fewer wearing a frown.

But it can change.
Especially in this age.
We can treat the mange,
start fresh on a new page.

“How?” you might ask.
It starts with you.
We all take part in the task;
just live life true,

not in vain,
nor at others’ expense.
Inflict no pain.
Seek no recompense.

Live and let live.
Do, do not, or try.
Learn to forgive.
Let your spirit fly

Make a joke.
Plant a tree.
Be kind to folk.
Embrace creativity.

Just remember:
it can change.
But it begins with you.
Be tender,
fear no emotion’s range,
and speak softly if you do.
Humanity is the sender,
and even though strange,
it needs all of us, and we it, too.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Burdened Shoulders

The figure of an adult,
and the mind of a child:
what a pitiful waste.
What an unfortunate slight.

To have been born with a silver spoon,
tucked firmly beneath one’s tongue,
so that no matter one’s ignorance,
they might always carry on.

We’ve surpassed evolution.
Made obsolete natural selection.
All by virtue of intelligence,
and this is the price we pay.

What a burden!
To live the life of one,
whose whole world is fortune,
and opportunity.
And then for that one,
to besmirch themselves,
and choose mental mediocrity.

What is the definition of a fool?
The one graced with all,
yet still achieving nothing,
or the one whom allowed such?

The answer,
is as simple as it appears.

So take pride in your mind,
for it may rest above burdened shoulders,
but so long,
as it is put,
to good use,
it shall never be squandered.

That is more than can be said of some…