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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
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|Wednesday, December 13th, 2017|
never really gone
I DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START
ITS HARD TO WRITE WITH A BROKEN HEART
SO MUCH MORE I WANTED TO SAY
BUT OUR TIME WAS SHORT
AND YOU WENT AWAY
AND A PART OF ME DIED WITH YOU
AND I CANNOT GET THAT BACK
BUT YOU STILL LIVE ON IN MY HEART
SO THERE IS NO LOOKING BACK
AS LONG AS I HAVE YOUR MEMORY
AS LONG AS I CAN SEE YOUR SMILE
I CAN FIND THE STRENGTH TO CARRY ON
AND WALK ANOTHER MILE
I CANNOT SAY GOOD BYE TO YOU
AS YOU ARE STILL WITH ME
AND AS LONG AS MY HEART KEEPS BEATING
YOU ARE NEVER REALLY GONE.
days that end in why
I only think of you
on days that end in y
sometimes i have to stop
and wipe the tears from my eyes
you were my little girl
no one can replace
i like to think that we
will meet again some day
your smile lit up the room
youre always in my heart
and as long as i have your memory
we are never far apart
|Monday, March 13th, 2017|
Eternity of Joy and Sorrow
Eternity of Joy and Sorrow
The joyous snow, the grieving sea
Are all a part
Of your love to me…
The light skies, the dark trees
Are all signs
Of our eternal bond, you see…
And when you’re cold,
I’ll melt the snow
To make you warm
Right up to me…
And when you laugh,
I’ll turn the seas
So you can sail
Away with me…
And when you fade,
I’ll light the skies
As you disappear
Right into me…
And though the light skies, the faint breeze
All play tricks on my mind, you see
The way you smile
Will always shoot
Both joy and sorrow straight through me…
Why the Angels Cry
Why the Angels Cry
The angels cry in solemn skies, while I pray our love never dies.
The Fates weave the fabric of our lives…
And all too sudden turn the tides.
While rain falls like teardrops from the sky,
Our cruel fortunes forever intertwined,
Reverberate throughout in time-
Which once had stopped for you and I-
Now keeps ticking aimlessly as it reminds
That we are doomed and destined till the end of time
To be apart, not side by side…
As misfortune drives
The heart grows weary, cold and wild…
And from above they hear our muffled cries
They see a life full of wonder and surprise,
But heavy fall in it’s demise…
And this is why the angels cry.
Till the End of Time
Till the End of time
The tide will turn,
The sea will rise,
And I will drown
In your sorrowful eyes…
The snow will melt,
The leaves will fall,
And I will fade into you
As the sirens call…
The storm will peak,
And time will stand,
To wait for us
Or slip through the sand…
The tempest will cease,
As the clock’s hand looks for a sign
That we’ll never part,
Till the end of time…
|Monday, September 29th, 2014|
A Question of Time
Question of Time, Ecc3
The question that is asked the most: we hear it every day,
"What time is it?", they want to know, and then they go away.
It's time for bed or time for work or time to feed the fishes,
It's time to take your medicine, or wash and dry the dishes.
Time in seconds, time in hours, so many freckles past a hair,
Depending on the Zone, or whether Daylight Saving's there.
Time is measured many ways, from minutes to the months,
Time is what keeps everything from happening at once!
A time to live, a time to die, a time for having fun,
Clocks and calendars alike, all scheduled by the sun.
Intervals that can't be hurried, will not be denied,
A season that we know is coming, as surely as the tide.
If there ever comes a time when time will be no more,
I wonder how we'll know to quit, or when it was before.
Do we hurry? Do we loaf? It depends upon the time...
Had we started earlier, we'd be finished with this rhyme.
|Thursday, August 14th, 2014|
I too, am subject to her fantasies
Flinging things around,
Leaving in their wake impediments of gloom.
I too, am subject to her frowns
And paralyzing tides
Clattering chaotic in their underwater shelves.
I too am subject to her whims -- those rancid
Thoughts that unify her dreams,
Those siren swells
And scenes of rabid light
The gray goddess weaves
And furiously imparts into her mind!
|Sunday, August 10th, 2014|
|Tuesday, April 15th, 2014|
Living life to the full on the slippery bank,
Excitement and danger like a tiger in the tank!
The adrenalin full flowing, the wind in your face,
Try anything once, and don't let up the pace..
On a gut wrenching high, always out on the town,
But knowing for sure what goes up must come down.
When your candle of yearning is lit at both ends
and you earnestly struggle at making amends..
To regain control of your life and your fate
To vomit forever what looked good on the plate.
You find out the monkey for sure isn't frail,
And the part of the tiger you have is the tail!
|Saturday, April 12th, 2014|
Passe-Partout(if history were written on rings of trees)
If the rings of trees could write or speak the past and history
Of the proud and the meek
Of the strong and the weak
History would not be written by the victor
It would be written by a just passé-partout of earths earliest ancestors
For the rings of trees
Would hold skeleton keys
To the many locked tomes
For the rings of trees would be like a picture frame
Like a carpenter
The building that houses
Of veracious paintings and delineations of old antiquity
For the rings of trees would become the paper for this very purpose
The true account of herstory
Unfettered by consciousness
And chauvinism and bellicism
And preconception and illiberality
Difference Is Not Damning
The tree stands out among a background of evergreens
Its branches barren
Till the coming of spring
Some would look upon this tree as worthless
For it does hold the beauty of leaves
Tell that to the birds
And the chipmunks
And the squirrels
Who reside in is form
In the human world
Very much different than the natural world
Difference and standing out against the backdrop of glib commonality
Is seen as worthless
Or even dangerous
What if the roles were reversed?
What if it was a lone evergreen against a backdrop of barren trees?
It would be the outcast
Like the lone Goth kid
Against the backdrop of their
Or for that matter
The lone business college graduate
Suit and tie in all
Against the backdrop
Of his flower-power parents
Difference is not damning
Difference is beautiful
Because in a room of two
Both are different
If they are not the same
|Friday, April 11th, 2014|
The fiery finger of GOD wrote The Law
in the tablets of stone,
And once a year the blood of a goat
did for their sin atone.
That Old Covenant they had was for
the purpose of teaching a lesson,
and now we have a better deal,
'cause the blood is real,
and we're no longer guessin'!
The gentle finger of Jesus wrote the
Law of Love in the dust on the ground.
His forgiveness of the woman adulteress
was an act of this truth so profound.
He was the one who became the goat for us,
and also the ram in the thicket..
He is the Lamb that covers our sin,
and gives righteousness to the wicked.
The literal truth comes first,
and leads to the abstract truth of the poet,
And the things recorded in His Book
have a deeper meaning: Don't you know it?
It may not be just what you think,
because the language was once confounded,
But it will surely enlighten your eyes,
if your brain hasn't been impounded.
|Thursday, April 10th, 2014|
Happy for Individuality (Poem)
Pink and white
Western sakura blossoms of spring
Branches and blossoms hanging down
Pointing to the earth
Like wedded rain falling from invisible clouds
The vastitude of all the metal framed forests
In all the misnomered commonwealth's of capitalism
Pale in comparison to the beauty of this single tree
Whose white blossoms
Are a multitude of color in comparison to the pale of the cities
This single tree and its unique artistry is easily over looked
In the hustle of factory lives
Like the individual beauty of a person is lost to the urbanization of
Brain Train by Bob Smith of Foreman AR
It doesn't have to use big words or veiled innuendo,
Nor does it have to meter up enlightening crescendo.
But poetry should teach, or pose premeditated thought,
Making clear with words so dear, what everybody ought.
The lines don't have to be so long, but when it's just a dabble,
My train comes to a Crossword and turns into a Scrabble.
It doesn't have to use clichès, like "Beauty is as Beauty does",
But the eye of the beholder shouldn't always fill with fuzz.
It doesn't really have to have a punch-line or a grabber,
but poetry that doesn't rhyme has a tendency to blabber.
Even so, Poetic License is like the exception to the rule,
The fun of saying it diversely is our most portentous tool!
The subject of the rhyme is like a trip from here to there,
Hopefully the journey doesn't leave you in the air.
Of course when it leaves you laughing, you'll probably be back..
To say the poem o'er again, and get the train back on the track.
|Monday, April 7th, 2014|
Alone with Depression (Poem)
4-7.14 Widow Willow A lone Sullen Tree exists in the dark groundSurrounded by Green Luscious grass It is sullen For it appears as a willow Two L’s Replace a D And the sullen nature is seen with a human face In deep sadness at the loss of her life partner Estranged now from the wholeness of her mate So often the lonely and destitute are left alone Even in a luscious life of green Red Gold Many colors of happy beauty we perceive from the outside The lone widow willow is left in their lonelinessAll the beauty around them is achromic This is the power of depression This is what to fight For depression is not cured by desert oasis Beautiful and plentiful It is still isolated by the sands of ignorance For the lone trees Plant yourself around them Not intertwined in interaction Just plant yourself so that you are there And they are no longer alone
Introspection about Nature (Poem)
4-7.14 Stand a Mile In Their Roots The dense forest stands before I stand amidst and in front at the same timeNo trodden path of previous wanderers The trees are the only natural residents of this land The trees stand together Far apart or closeThey are together in this colorful growth They stand there together Performing their photosynthesis Expelling the achromic oxygen And ingesting carbon dioxide that we eminate We stand with them as symbiotic neighbors Surviving on each other’s gifts of airYet with the urbanization of cities These forests with trees will be mere history in the future If the roles were reversed Would the trees lose us to the annals of their history? Written on our skins
Tree of Degrees
Tree of Degrees by Bob Smith of Foreman
Little by little we take the land,
Wondering how to understand.
Babes and youth and adults too,
Forks of life are sorting through.
Chewing the cud of what it means,
Swallowing knowledge like turnip greens.
Little by little we grow and store
How two and two add up to four.
Digesting all the relevant fact,
Trying to keep the train on track.
Washing down the bread with wine,
Brings elation every time!
Step by step the tree is bent,
Shaped by learning's pure cement.
Inclined up to the higher ground,
Washed ashore by Thinking's Sound.
Adding branches; some with fruit,
Settling down and taking root.
In time a haven for views to nest,
Little by Little comes the Rest..
Storms have altered our physique,
and by degrees we grow antique.
So we who once were just a seed,
Have now become a different breed!
|Thursday, April 3rd, 2014|
Daily Stress (Poem)
4-3.14 Trees and Daily Life A lone tree on the horizon At the forefront of ta grey cloud saturated sky A lamppost at the forefront of that Taller than the tree only because perception dictates Both stand as monuments of stalwart perseverance through daily standard weather and wear Overtime the lamppost will die a lifeless death The tree will remain a symbol to take what the world gives And remain standing Even when rain and wind bedash its trunk It remains Only to be toppled by man-made influence Or calamitous nature patterns Take the daily ordeals of life as a tree
|Wednesday, April 2nd, 2014|
Happyness and Trees (Poem)
Day #26-Learning From Trees
Leaning like the Tower of Pisa
All visual data suggests instability
But the roots are deep and strong
There is still much life in its trunk
I like trees
Stoic and isolated
Or in the fray of a forest
Intertwined with its brothers and sisters
They can be stoic and still at times
Statues created by Mother Nature’s sculpting hand
Existing longer than the statues of man
Eating through rock
Sustained by only a little water
And a little sun
We can learn from trees how to be more life sustaining
Or they can be wild and free at other times
Resurging after a destructive fire
Or a destructive axe
Becoming fuel for natures fires
And man’s fires
Wild to our imaginations
The branches becoming nightmare hands in the dark of a black forest
Wild in growth
No controlling influence telling it where
And how to grow
We can learn from the trees how to be more independent
And less controlling We can learn from trees
|Tuesday, April 1st, 2014|
2 Metaphors (Poem)
4-1.14 Hanging Empty A broken bird feeder hangs crookedly from a barren treeRed with clear plastic Famine Picked clean or dumped out Taken for what it’s worth Leaving it to hang in silence The image is sullen and sad So similar to how many of us treat others Even occasionally Even without sociopathic intent The red and clear bird feeder hangs Swaying in the light breeze That refreshes the lungs of you or I But leaving the emptiness of the vessel more apparent For the weightlessness of the plastic container allows for greater manipulation by the wind And for the pull of gravity to be weakened The truth in metaphor reminds that the empty void of the soul in loneliness and affray Opens the vitality of a restful mind to greater Attack And manipulation by the winds And gravity And a capriccio of time