Through the strata, life and living,
Drawn by promises of more,
Down side streets slyly opening,
Tales of love and lore,
Many fractious paradigms,
New and old devout,
Moments straight and curling,
Folding inside out,
We move with no beginning,
No goal waiting at the end,
It’s all about the journey,
Now and here, not then.
Flow with the moments movement,
No pondering the whys,
Just simply follow shining
With the light that never dies.
Before your day is done, Everything is different, Gone before the fun, rather feel the Inner, the special part of you, that Nobly leads you forward to Narrate your own ‘to do’, Invites you to be different, Not like all the rest, and Grips your unique pathway, So you can be your best.
The first of my new journey with poetry types and formats! Do hope you enjoy.
This is the Acrostic Type – where the first letter of each line spells a word which one normally uses as the title.
There comes a time to say, “Stop!”
Stand to the wind and scream it,
Throw your essence internal through the word,
Hammer fists in the air,
Stare defiantly at the sky,
Until emptiness fills your soul,
Shake your head, your whole body,
Then turn and walk
To a different future,
Carrying the silence.
Ah! Spring returns with a fresh morning nip,
Summer abates with its burning hot tip.
A short reprieve? Or a cyclic return?
Cool, cloudy morns replace sunrise first burn.
‘Tis an abnormal load nature now brings,
To a table so changed the death bell rings.
The moments we cherish slip fast away,
We speed through our lives, our minutes, our days.
What was before doesn’t seem to exist,
Yet still we hold on, our thinking persists
To make it what was, zone comfortable,
And keep it the same, rock tight with our will.
Yet it cannot be so, weather predicts,
Spring, summer, fall come at Gods own edicts.
I found myself in times gone by,
Sinking low then rising high,
Riding waves, some low, some steep,
Floating tides, experiences deep,
Taken to the fullest seen,
My life’s perspective, clear and clean,
Then clouded by bright thoughts around,
Of others perceptions, circling sounds,
Losing grip on my own path,
Led astray by thoughts and tasks,
Other people’s sense, idea,
Of my perception, why I’m here.
Taking breath and holding course,
Now finding my way back to source.