In the midst and turmoil of daily life where do we cross to find ourself?
A Bridge to Our Self Once Taken — a free verse poem
I came across a bridge and lingered before crossing
Stone and mosaic moss, it slept before me
Paths worn and tired, it tempted…
How to know if the choice was right, a review when cuddling after 40 years.
The Disclaimer : I am not boasting the years I have accumulated, that is not my intent, I was fortunate and I recognize everyone has their own road to walk. …
Standing in No Man´s land, a charred post views our heroes.
The post stood alone, brittle, bereft of kindness, a peering eye.
Between the trenches it watched as man´s hubris sputtered by.
Raging courage, to quell the fears, it saw men blindly race to the fore,
Soon to be slaughtered…
Her door, six steps away, gloomily echoed in the distance
My legs shuffle with drips of hesitation
A world of cold, brittle vibrations
Clattering, hospital-beetle bodies
Sounds bark and snap, lacking the softness to care
They cut my sludge steps with supposed consideration
Assaulted by fragrances, slashing invasive odors,
A poem in response to those casual insensitive insults
Let me tell you of my hurt as I stand sobbing in the silent dark
Your intent was wolf-like, your fangs, jibes, attacks left a jagged mark
You tried to say it with your ‘humor,’ as if you were just having fun
Ignore, pity, dismiss, berate, how do you truthfully respond to the less fortunate.
I passed her on the street, huddled in open despair
Quivering on an island of cardboard, to stay clear of the grime
She gazed past me, a phantom, as if I wasn’t there
Eyes, like caves of sorrow, gazed forward…
A free verse tragic glance at the stain of life
I awoke to the sound of death.
Death washed coarse and brutal on my ears.
It scraped a gnarled finger across the surface of my heart and scarred it, leaving it bleeding in the street.
Blood, life’s gold, leaked on the…
I thought it a truly magical moment and done with style. Kept in secrecy with less than a handful of insiders it stunned a mountain top.
A little background.
In late July my son managed to gather thrity friends to do something the Japanese say should be done once in…
If Prometheus and Sisyphus were to somehow bear offspring would the newborn write for Medium?
Damnation, futility, laborious efforts, chastisement, perpetual effort, disillusion… it would be easier to have my body gnawed upon by ravenous beasts.
I like Greek mythology. I believe it offers a huge amount of creative stimulation…
it can be welcoming or daunting
it is can be opportunity or a suppression
it holds you and releases you
it contains you and lets you go
it is a barrier to outsiders and insiders alike
it can be spiritual, mental, or physical
What am I?
There are many answers…