And starting the first chapter, of the second book;

and my life continues a new.

A new beginning continues the saga;

but change brings out a new birth of ever changing obstacles,

that without perseverance, my reality of past trials;

will bring me back to the first chapter from which there is no return.

I choose to prevail with successful ones,

and separate myself from the barely surviving.

This separation has allowed me the ability to comprehend my wrong’s

I used against my peers for internal gain.

Now, I have broken the chains that have once restrained me from true freedom.

My soul is no longer camouflaged with empty dreams of success

Without the first chapter, I have no foundation from which the second could exist.

I believe one’s destiny comes from the first chapters in life.

What is accomplished is totally depended on those choices that are made.

As I turn the pages, I look at what I have become.

I see the colorful wings of the butterfly, free from pain, but dripping from the rain

painting a beautiful picture on the pages of my life’s chapter’s.

Marcus Du Bois turner

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Life’s Chapter’s.

Glory and the smell of lightning
And I, my mouth full of salt
Gazing on the polished stone
Of a silk-purple draped palace

Pleading at the threshold
No heed for the crystal sphere
Already emptied from pockets
Stomach starving from fear

The already delivered cry
“Lord have mercy on me!”
A sound not heard from hell
But a lonely heart’s mourning

Warmed by a breeze of breath
Becoming known in knowing
Commingled but never confused
Many by grace one, yet many

(Non-commercial reuse free provided attribution)
http://nothinghypothetical.wordpress.com/2010/02/25/no-heed-for-the-crystal-sphere/

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at No Heed for the Crystal Sphere.

I wish to be amidst green mountains
And rivers that sing a flute
Away from all the din and tension
With just nature absolute

I wish to sit gazing day long
Across the deep blue oceans
As the gulls and pelicans fly over head
With no worry of recessions

I long to dine with serene herbivores
The fresh and juicy greens
And play and flip all day long
With no call for medicines

I wish to rest on cushioned clouds
Watching the starry skies
Oblivious of the world below
And all its complex lies

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at Spread your wings.

Of bushes and forest and small hills; and readied himself, with a chance.

He stood on the edge of a sunset, with houses not far from his rocks,

And somehow the sunset was lengthened, slowed up through a trick of the clocks.

He harnessed the wings he had fashioned, aware they’d permit him to glide,

But never to fly any higher; and planned his penultimate ride.

The suburb he’d wandered for decades had come to its outermost edge.

He felt like a pioneer, waiting for strength to step out from the ledge.

Around him the movement of minutes had now (from his viewpoint) grown slow.

But night can’t be held back forever, since time need continue its flow.

The slowdown had only extended the best hour of one summer’s day,

With sunburn unlikely, and also an hourglass providing delay.

Recalling his visits to galleries, with sunsets of canvas and paint;

He’d never seen anything like this, as time showed its generous restraint.

The colours of twilight would summon orion to twinkle and shine.

For once that could wait until someone had soared over branches and vine.

He bent his legs quickly and kicked out, so eager to see so much more.

Beneath him were fresh summer breezes; and he took his first chance to soar.

He curved over treetops, and wondered if branches beneath them were sharp.

With everything else in slow motion, he somehow could still hear a harp.

He veered in another direction, to mansions built next to the fern;

And spied, on a balcony-courtyard, the one who had caused him to turn:

A feminine woman, whose music was flowing in relative synch

With time’s little gift for the glider, who knew he had no need to think.

He had enough height left, and reached her, as nightfall and real time were set

Concurrent with both of them, once more; its duty done once, they had met.

Like him she’d spent all those years waiting, unaltered by children or change;

So both could embrace their fulfilment, which destiny chose to arrange.

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

I wish I were an Eagle
Soaring high in God’s blue sky.
Effortlessly flapping its wings
Taking it ever high.

Surveying the earth beneath
Sharp eyes taking all in
Searching a likely prey
A tasty meal for him.

Swooping swift as a bullet
Feathers fluttering in the wind
A hare, a fish, a bird
His talons soon will win.

Back to the aerie
Three hungry chicks to feed
With mouths wide open
Ingesting nourishment they need.

His daily chore completed.
His family will survive.
Then back to Gods vast range
To swoop, and soar, and dive.

Oh, for the life of an Eagle
What freedom that must be?
Oh, for the life of an Eagle
Knowing you are free.

Tom Fenning
7/22/2005

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

Out of the GOLD of the fading west,
On strings of the slanting rain;
ANGEL….bring me another song,
On the slanting strings of the rain!

You can laugh about “WHOSE BOYS THERE ARE”
In the shade of the appletree…
I have woven them into an ANGEL SONG….
AND THE SONG BELONGS TO ME!

Out of the DUST of a prairie road,
Softly the melodies chime-
Wrote on the clouds of the evening sky!
Played as the wings of the wind go by-
THIS SONG IS NOT YOURS……IT’S MINE

The road was steep and dark and long,
And though a bleak and lonely land-
but God gave me the GIFT OF SONG,
And put a lantern in my hand!

And I am faithful to my rhymes,
And though the dusty days they sing;
And where the wild wind leads away-
So short, the fleeting hours of May.

They have left her out there in her grave
North of town….
She can write no more letters to me;
But a BLUE FEATHER came, through the night,
Drifting down……
And I know that her HEART is set free!

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at This Song is Mine.

Then why cant I fly like an eagle.

Why cant I soar like that mighty bird,
high above this troubled world.

To fold my wings and soar,
At speeds to high to ignore.

I would catch the wind and float,
Or just fly around and gloat.

Or I could sit and watch with a keen eye,
The world and its creatures go by.

To be able to fly is what I desire,
To fly here and there I would never tire.

But Here I stand feet planted on the ground,
My head in the clouds with wonderment all around.

An eagle’s flight is want I want,
To do it would be a wonderful jaunt.

And some day when I am taken,
In an eagles life I will awaken.

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

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at My Guardian Angel.

Some one is trying to play, the mandolin of the mind;

When the deft fingers touch the strings of the heart,

A tone suppressed in tears, emanate from its haggard look.

And the staggering mind is retreating…Forsaken dusk!

Even the waxy moonlight appears to you as the burning summer.

And, spectacular vistas of spring, as sad rainy days.

The woeful heart, in an impeded wobble, tick feebly.

You became a singing bird, with wounded wings,

Flying queasy, through the gloom.

The bangles of the wind ceased to tinkle, and

Spring diverted its path, evading to brush

Mascara on her delightful eyelashes.

Unattained aspirations, wept in the chariot of rainbows.

Through millions of rebirths, we have been seeking

Frantically, for each other, and still our desires are unquenched.

Are you now a peddler, selling dreams and tears to me?

.

This post was originally published on Your Poems, Your Stories at A peddler….

Like an enchanting gift,

The changing season has endowed;

Like the blossoming of a thrill,

Enriched by a sweet embrace;

You unfolded as a poem on the alluring

Tender branches of my first love, when we both

Started, dreaming of the mysteries of love..

I sought you, my first love, forgetting everything

Around me, fluttering like a wild butterfly,

All over places and time, in and out;

I liquefy myself into you, through the spell

Of your honeyed seductive smiles,

And turned into a swan wading in the pools of heaven,

To become a flamingo with resplendent plumes;

Like the full moon traversing, among the silvery clouds.

The day when you tried to bid farewell to me,

Wilted by the stinging distress in your mind;

Our dreams shattered, its wings clipped off

Into smithereens, scattering into silence,

All the emotions rancid, and mortified..

And my mind whispers mutely;

“All good wishes for a happy married life.”

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