Tomorrow I will be bold,
moving forth,
in ways untold.

Tomorrow I will stand up,
make a change,
in many ways.

Tomorrow I’ll speak the words,
once held inside,
I will not hide.

Tomorrow I’ll move away,
change my home,
no need to stay.

Tomorrow I’ll help you too,
finding ways,
to start anew.

Tomorrow I’ll change my life,
learn new things,
forget the strife.

Tomorrow I thought I’d find,
preparation to renew my mind.
Tomorrow I thought I’d find,
time to learn to change my life.

Tomorrow, I thought you’d be,
awaiting always,
patiently.

Tomorrow, you were not here,
I lost you somewhere through the years.

Tomorrow, you were not patient.
You were not waiting for me to see,
what dreams could have held for me.

Tomorrow has passed me by,
with a glance,
I let it fly.

January 20, 2010

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Tomorrow I Will….

Hallow heart,
once made of gold.
You I sold.
No one foretold.

To he who has it,
never part.
Can’t return it now,
I must restart.

To he who has it,
you have all force.
Strength deep within the source,
feel no remorse.

Heart of hearts,
I once knew.
From the start.
Full of truth.

Not bound by glue,
to me this day.
Hallowed out now,
with new decay.

My spirit and soul,
still remain.
That I cannot change.

Hallow heart,
once made of gold.
Forgive me heart,
for you I sold.

Given away,
not for montery gain,
to help a man,
for he could not understand.

Selfish was he who emptied my heart,
selfish was he for he knew from the start.

He was less than whole,
playing a role.
Life out of control.
Seeking a soul.

To he who was empty.
Golden no more.
To he who was broken,
No wings to soar.

High was the cost,
that day I lost,
that day I sold,
my heart of gold.

To he who has it now.
No longer creep,
no longer crawl.

Use the love to change your life.
Rid yourself of all the strife.

To he who has it,
live life anew,
with your gold heart,
a new fresh start.

Change the pain,
so others can gain.
Knowledge retain,
from love you obtained.

When strength renews all blues.
Give the golden heart away.
Do not betray that day.
On your gold heart it will weigh.

It will be your day.
Do not be led astray.
Give that golden heart away.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Hallow Heart.

Multitudes are under sedation of scriptures,
Translated, according to their whims.
Religion has truly become, the ‘opium of the people’.
And turned them into puppets; strings in the hands
Of marauders, behind the curtain.

The world is under siege by demons,
At the helm of all affairs; good and bad.
This is the Golden Era of Enlightenment!
Similar to French Revolution, Renaissance
And Second World War!
We talk of global warming, common market,
Ozone layer, nuclear power, and landing on Mars,
When people are leading strife strewn days,
Vitiated morals, and spewing violence;
And people are dying without food and shelter,
Of tsunamis, earth quakes, floods, and hurricanes.
We are progressing! But whither?

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Enlightenment!.

                                                                             I love a parade

The Memorial Day parade

Happy, yet a somber day,

Honoring those who gave their life

So all may

Enjoy

Basking in freedom and liberty

Free from strife.

                                                                  The rat-tat tat of the drum

The toot toot toot of the horn

Brings out the innate

Love of a parade

To which every man was born.

The rod straight sight of the marchers

The twirlers so deft and true

The multi colored uniforms of the bands

And their sweet music thrills me through.

Our flag unfurled and steady

 Stiffly waving in the wind

Brings a restful peace

To everyone from within.

Many of the marchers

 Men and women

Who fought to make our country free

These are the ones who gained for us

Our right to liberty.

Boy scouts, girl scouts

Proudly marching in line

Showing their patriotic allegiance

On their way to adulthood

They’ll mature just fine.

Clowns and jesters

Grace their places

They add smiles

To children’s faces

Strings of cars

Line the parade

Politicians and dignitaries

Wildly wave

To potential voters

Watching the parade.

Tom Fenning

6/3/2006

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at I love a Parade.

it’s been more than a year now,, since father left us,, mother, and i alone.. things have not been easy,, but we are making our way,, in this strange world,, into which we’ve both been thrown…

with father gone, and little in the coffer,, after his illness and burial and such,, our one saving grace,, has always been, the ivory keys on fathers old piano,, under mothers gentle touch..

every eve, after we’ve sup’ed,, in the dim light before we go off to bed,,, mother sits down, and speaks thru those keys.. they are her words… words left unsaid….

she speaks sometimes of her love for him,, and the music is soft and sweet,, it is playful and ticklish and smiling,, sometimes i have noticed her blush,, with a thought,, perhaps indiscreet….

and others she will wail,, and bang down hard,, on the surface of black and white keys.. reliving her days of frustration,, whilst fighting that horrible disease..

the wasting sickness that swept up father,, like a pile of old spent leaves,, and carried him away to the dustbin of life,, like a swift cold unforgiving breeze…

sometimes she will play,, and i am sure that it is,, hope i hear springing to glorious life,, and as she continues i pray that it wont spiral down yet again,, filling her heart with strife…

it has been for us both,, a blessing and a curse,, our nights spent around that piano,,, catharsis, and hope,, anger and joy,, she’s accompanied us,,, mother and i,, where ever we go..

and tomorrow when they come,, and haul her away,, to her new home in a place far from here,,, we will look on with sadness,, as if we are losing a friend, one we have both held most dear..

i cant help but wonder how we will fill our nights,, with both her and father reposed,, just mother and i in the still of the eve,, after supper,, when the drapes are all closed..

will we sit every night in the darkness,, speechless, thinking solely,, never saying a word?? or will it draw us closer,, on this road full of losses, which together she and i,, have incurred..

it is my solemn prayer,, that one night very soon,, mother will draw me to her bosom and say,, “tho’ it hasn’t been easy i’m richer by far,, having you,, daughter,, here with me each day…

by: paisley

photo:
At the Piano by James Whistler

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at at the piano.

This aeon is treacherous;

An age of strife, evil and wickedness

We see only masked faces

Turning our life into masquerades;

Feigned smiles, convincing flatteries,

Fetish beliefs, false promises;

All carrying a shackle attached to their ankles.

High- octane thoughts, high pitched laughter,

œLike the crackling of thorns, under a pot,

High-speed affability, pretending hypocrites;

Hyperbolic utterances, simulated snobbishness.

When man loves another man

God is taking birth in their minds.

When he starts hating another,

HE dies in the mind, and HE is buried!

On the sacrificial stone at the alter

Of unseen fate, the Time has placed man

As a sacrifice; his limbs tied up and

The guillotine may come down, any moment..

Truth has been chasing the dumb shadows

Of falsity, and myth always, in vain.

Time is a torrent and in the deluge, the desires

Plunge and surmount, rambling and drifting

In a quandary, as in a Jacuzzi.

We may believe that the quaint horizon is at hand

Yet, when we near it, it becomes distant.

That is the horizon of our desires!

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at VOGUE.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at The Choice.