Blessed are the meek,
For they shall inherit the Earth
She waits for her man to be released from prison,
One that he made for himself.
His prison is not of bars and walls,
But emotions and feelings,
The worst kind that stalk him in his dreams.
She waits for that glorious day when he is free,
The day that may never come.
Feelings bind forever,
For good or bad they are always there,
They never leave.
They still haunt his nightmares.
He waits.
Self destructive behavior?
Second nature,
Will he ever learn?
The day will come, when freedom reveals itself and speaks,
That day is Redemption Day.
Pray to God it comes soon.
Walt, I'm not looking -- I've been happily married for forty + years to the love of my life -- this poem was dedicated to the friends I've known over the years, of middle-age -- that relate how difficult it is to find a woman of moral substance for a wife or companion as they entered middle-age -- so they end up in a bar with a gin and tonic as their date --peace and love to you my friend -- Happy New Year -- JMW
I hope his comes soon, but I do not want to be meeting God too soon, so no redemption day yet for the rest of us...anyway I am still collecting green stamps to be redeemed...? e
Life is all about waiting and being patient. Some of us can and some of us cannot. I prefer to be of the bunch that is patiently awaiting a miracle..
Peace, love, and light,
Amber "V"
Many of us, maybe even all of us, the ones that have wandered on the war fields roams inside a prison without bars and without a Warden.
It is very difficult to tell anyone about mountains when they haven't see one, or about the seas when they have all their lives been scraping for their lives out of a unmerciful desert.
Some, will never escape the prison and she will wait, wait, wait...
walt .Walt ..........Walt... I get where you coming from..
and I think this may be your best ...... finely honest to the readers and ...............yourse=f
stan
ps hope this doesn't piss you off
stan
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
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Love,
Becca~
fee
Belated MERRY CHRISTMAS WALT!!
Love Tinka
Peace, love, and light,
Amber "V"
Larry
Newfie Hugs, Rose
It is very difficult to tell anyone about mountains when they haven't see one, or about the seas when they have all their lives been scraping for their lives out of a unmerciful desert.
Some, will never escape the prison and she will wait, wait, wait...
Georg
Merry Christmas to you and yours!~
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :(
and I think this may be your best ...... finely honest to the readers and ...............yourse=f
stan
ps hope this doesn't piss you off
stan
(((HUGS))) love and Merry Christmas!, Karla.