the weight in my bones.


Photo Credit: http://bike-pgh.org/bbpress/topic/why-isnt-there-a-bridge-pedal-pittsburgh

This beautiful poem was posted by Aarthi –  http://sickocean.wordpress.com   on 24SaturdayNov 2012.  Aarthi is an exceptional poet who often moves me to tears.  Thank you Aarthi for sharing your amazing talent with us.  I encourage everyone to visit Aarthi’s blog.  It is filled with so much raw emotion.  

The Weight In My Bones

like bridges made
of concrete ropes

ripping through my existence
keeping me earthly bound

so sturdy yet unchangeable a part
i am all heavy with matter contained

i try and bend yet
the break never happens

like a deeper strength holding me
pain prevents a shattering noise

the water in me weighs more
than what gives me a shape

this will is fragile
and a regret pulls me down

purposes unsolved
promises broken

a thousand images shattered
everything that i never said

all remains in unwalked places
the pores in my soul

each window was blocked
in persistent steps, in days and years and decades

leaving all weight like
ashes of a past trapped

so diseased i feel at times
lifeless like a fallen twig

and the feeling weighs me deep
deeper than skin and all the soft human matter

i feel it in my bones
like i am bond to a mountainous stone

so welded inside with a belief
perhaps i may never be able to sleep

My Daughter’s Eyes


The eyes of my daughter

When i look in my daughter’s eyes
Its like looking into the skies
When i look in my daughter’s eyes
Sometimes all i see is her cries
When i look in my daughter’s eyes
You will never see any goodbyes
when i look in my daughter’s eyes
People will never be downsize
When i look in my daughter’s eyes
Maybe there will be some lies

marlena steiner                   http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-daughter-s-eyes/

 

 

Life is’nt about keeping score


Add your thoughts here… (optional)

Dr Bill Wooten

“Life isn’t about keeping score.
It’s not about how many friends you have
Or how accepted you are.
Not about if you have plans this weekend or if you’re alone.
It isn’t about who you’re dating,
who you used to date,
how many people you’ve dated,
or if you haven’t been with anyone at all.
It isn’t about who you have kissed,
It’s not about sex.
It isn’t about who your family is or how much money they have
or what kind of car you drive.
or where you are sent to school.
It’s not about how beautiful or ugly you are
or what clothes you wear,
what shoes you have on,
or what kind of music you listen to.
It’s not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, or brown
or if your skin is too light or too dark.
Not about what grades you get,
how smart…

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Saying Goodbye


Chloe and Georgia in their Oumie’s bed…
Time is closing in on us
Quicker than I would have wanted it to
I tried to make the moments last
But still they slip away
Day by dayHour by hour
Minute by minute
Our time together lessens
With each tick of the clock
The day,
The moment I have feared
For months now
Continues to draw closer
Soon I will be saying
Good-bye

Saying good-bye
To someone I love
With every inch of my soul
Watching you leave
As I stand crying
There is nothing more I can do
No more time I can savor
No more hugs to drag out
Nothing left
Except time
And distance
A long and lonely stretch of highway
That separates our love

 
Now it is summer
and I must wait
I count each day
until the moment.
Where I can see your face again
and feel your little arms wrapped around me
as we sleep
Together as one
Saying good-bye is never easy
but one must always remember
that good-bye
does not mean forever
and there will come a time
when again we can say
Hello.

This poignant poem was written by a very gifted poet D.L.McHale. When I read it I wondered if this is what is going through my child’s mind. When you have a spare moment please visit the blog http://dlmchale.com. It will be a worthwhile visit! http://dlmchale.com

The Winter Bites My Bones

My dreams are fermented delusions
A kaleidoscope of meandering falls
Through time and space, while the
Screams of my inflictions penetrate
And annihilate my grip on reality.

My waking hours, of which few remain,
Adds another layer of darkness to an
Already bleak existence, while the light
Of relentless self-reflection blinds me to
Any hope of reprieve or absolution.

I stand with one foot in the grave
And the other hobbled by uncertainty.
I do not fear this final step into the abyss
So much as I dread the act of departure;
The inglorious gasp of a final breath
Inhaling the petrichor of a wasted life.

A silent scream rattles from my gut
Cursing the sun of a new day rising.
I cannot bear another savage stroke
From a Sun that fails to warm me.
Let the final night descend and into
Death’s warm embrace enfold my soul.

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Kingdom of the Child


I read this beautiful poem and have taken the liberty to repost it.  I have spent some time in Afghanistan and this reminded me of life in some of the rural villages.
The poem forms part of the Collection of Poems – D.L. McHale, 1981-2011 – It is a site worth visiting.  http://dlmchale.com/2012/07/01/1087

Kingdom of the Child

Why do you weep, my child?
How long have you been sitting here, trembling
beneath these glossy-green leaves of the Banyan,
heavy laden with delicious figs?

Why are you frightened so?
The world is no bigger than you can handle
in any given moment, and you are not alone!
I promise.

Why do you moan, my precious one?
Have I not taught you the melodies
of your father’s father?
Shall I sing for you the soothing songs of your village
where you played “Mboo-bay Mboo-bay”
with your brothers and sisters?

Why such silence, my dear?
Do you not know that the sound of your voice
is as a thousand angels laughing and giggling
beside the cool riverbed.

Why do you hide from me?
Have I not held you warmly in my embrace
and rocked you to and fro
when you were frightened by the lions roar?

You know me, sweetness.
I rule the world with a benevolent hand
as I dry your tears, carry your burdens,
sing your songs, play your games
and hold you close.

Come, offer me your hand and rule with me.
Let us spin the earth like a child’s toy
as we munch on afternoon clouds
and drink oceans from a silver cup.
To your feet, my child.
We have other children
beneath other Banyans
that need our love and reassurance.