Game of the heart…
May 13th, 2008
Playing a game in the squash court,
With rebounding emotions of the heart
As the soft ball, till it bleeds and withers
And the opponent decorating his lips with
A deceptive smile and the gait of a winner,
Walks away and you’re left alone!
The rules were fair, the play a barbarity
Savage words and bitter strokes…
Yet I yielded to the whims and fancies of
Outrages vociferations which led to crucification,
And vituperations of schizophrenia,
Which I meekly admitted, as if I played a foul game;
As he was my best and unique pal and
I never wanted to lose him forever…
The mind always search in unknown shores, and
Far away regions to discern a lost companion,
Missed en-route through your past rebirths..
Every moment the wind writes memoirs on the sand
And wander away, the waves blot it out
The next instant, ruthlessly with a cruel mind.
Calm sometimes, rebellious another time,
Turbulent at times, agitated, and weeping in grief
With suppressed mysteries of desires.
Yet, the fisherman adores its nature
And cling to her bosom, as of his mother
Every man is an ocean, ever on the lookout in debris
For lost treasures and possessions withered from his heart
The Choice
May 13th, 2008The cold dark air is coming soon
Since it is 6hrs past noon
The sun is slowly descending from the sky
Making me feel sad knowing I may soon die
The devil I fear is coming near
The cold wind is like a whisper in my ear
Soon I will make a choice
End my life
Rid myself of this earthly strife
It would be easy to make this choice
All’s I have to do is tell the devil in my shivering voice
And as I was about to make that choice
My angel came and said if I did this choice it I would regret
She wrapped her arms around me and told me not to fret
She said she would be with me till the end
So my choice to the devil I did send
My decision made him turn a dark shade of red
I knew he wouldn’t stop until my angel and I were dead
I took my angel by the hand
As the devil and his chariot were about to land
Together we both stood tall
United we could not fall
Upon his face was a terrible frown
I noticed he wore a dreadful crown
He told me son change your mind and come with me
I can take away your earthly sorrows
They will let you be
Common you will see
I then looked deep into my angels face
In my heart she will always have a place
So I told the devil no! I’m staying here
I’m with my angel I have nothing to fear
So he raised his hand to fight
Then God swept us away out of the devils sight
God took us to a beautiful place wonderful and fair
There I spotted Jesus upon a golden chair
Here God told me if I continued to believe in Him and showing my angel my love
I would end up here with him above
I then knew my angel and me would live a wonderful life
So God sent us back below
And told me my love toward my angel I should continue to show
I promised to always show my love
So he gave us a symbol, a wonderful dove
He said as long as the dove is flying in the air
I and angels love for each other wont die
When our time comes for life to end
My angel and I will rise together into the sky.
This poem dedicated to Eva my love for ever, Joey
The Dream
May 12th, 2008The Dream
Have you ever awakened
In the middle of the night
All sweaty and trembling
Shaking With fright?
Only to realize
It is just a bad dream
That woke you
With a loud scream.
Can you remember
The delight
As you returned
To pillow sleeping peacefully
The rest of the night?
Do you wonder
Why such dreams occur?
Was it something
In past life
Your memory bestirred?
The mind is a huge storehouse
With memories good and bad
Sometimes resurfacing in sleep
Making you scared.
Tom Fenning 1/15/2008
The Reader
May 12th, 2008Worry will take over sometimes. We read blogs in the dark, not knowing the whole story, only seeing what the writer wants us to see. We get concerned. A reader might say this to her favorite author:
Are you doing fine? Could you tell me why you write stories about dark places?
It is a challenge, he said. I really don’t know why I write what I write. I may write something that is sad, or sexy, or even disgusting. I guess the truth of the matter is I do it because it makes me happy.
She had called him to task. Was he sad she asked. Does he need help or company or even therapy? Should she come to his house and make chicken soup. Was he getting enough sleep or enough of anything really?
No, he answered. I like where I am, what I eat, how I feel. I smile when I write. And, he added, you must admit, the fact that you read my writing is the very reason I write what and how I write. I smile because I know you will click on my blog.
Oh, well then! Never mind…I was just wondering!