Our Own Traveler

Every day

We find our rhythm

In much the same routine.

 

Sometimes

We meet different people

That color our lives

 

With dignity and love,

And leave a lasting impression.

These instances are rare.

 

Usually,

We go round in circles,

Making our indentation

 

In life, the world and time.

Like a beautiful sea shell

We become a treasure

 

Through our experiences,

Our relationships,

And our gifts.

 

 

(Magpie Tales,

Mag 69)

 

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Time and Us

Most are fond

Of yesteryear,

 

Even with pain

And regret.

 

Perhaps one would

Alter a thing or two.

 

But we agitate

When considering

 

The frustrations

Of the present

 

And we seek

To control

 

The coming day.

Strange that we

 

Cannot be tranquil

Towards so much.

 

 

(3WW CCXLIV)

Darkness

Some people are pretty positive.

They look on the bright side.

It doesn’t matter how bad,

They will find something good.

 

This is, I think, a great way to be.

It is a straight way to happiness.

The only problem with it is

They are not prepared.

 

Sometimes life does not treat you well.

Sometimes things happen that are unexpected.

And sometimes life changes you.

Life can change you from a positive person

 

To someone who looks down every alley,

Wondering at every shadow.

And if you come to this crossroads,

Beware thoughts that come in the night.

 

If darkness finds you, it will hold on tight.

It will not be easy to shake it off.

For you have been through something

That has changed you forever.

 

You will doubt, and you will fear.

You will become something

That you may have run from

All of your life.

 

 

(Carry on Tuesday #108)

Trust

Faith comes at the strangest times:

When I read a good book,

When I am touched by another’s actions,

And, yes, when I go to church.

 

I pull back, though, in mistrust,

As if to say to myself:

“Don’t start that again!”

For the many times I’ve been burned,

 

And the many doubts I’ve had,

About the bible, the church and God.

Rocking back and forth

In a spiritual quandary,

 

I struggle so much,

And I hesitate

Before jumping in.

Who or what can be trusted?

 

 

(Poetic Asides

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 135)

Changing the world

 “Whose responsibility is

It to change the world?

And what will be my

Contribution?”

 

First of all, I don’t think

Anyone is going to

Change the world,

Not really.  Obviously,

 

The world has changed

In some ways, some

People say for the better.

I think we can do more.

 

I think we can live longer.

But are we more loving?

Do we forgive others more?

Do we have more faith, hope?

 

No, I don’t think so.

And I don’t think that any

Individual or group is going

To change that.  Inside,

 

We have always been the same,

And we will always be the same.

And I certainly don’t think

Anything I do is going to change that.

And I think it is inside

That really matters.

I don’t think science

Is of everlasting importance.

 

I don’t think the study of history,

Or sociology, or psychology,

Or math, or English, or

Anything else, is going to

 

Change anything

About the world

That really matters,

At least to me.

 

Unpredictable

Solid feelings about a

Contingent future

Adds up to what?

 

And what about a

Future in the extreme,

At the end, perhaps

 

After the end?

Doesn’t our life really

Show itself to be

 

Nothing beyond

One chance after

Another?

 

Does it matter how

We feel about it,

Or what we think

 

About it?

Does that change

Anything?

 

Can we predict

The unpredictable?

Sure, there are

 

Patterns.

There is science.

But science cannot

 

Predict human

Action or interaction.

Humans are unpredictable.

 

And the number of

Possibilities of human

Emotion, psyche, not

 

To mention crazy

Forces of nature—

No, don’t listen to

 

The damn weatherman!

There are too many

Unknowns.

 

And the possibility

Of spirituality,

The force of life

 

Itself, where it

Comes from and

Where it goes,

 

That, my friend,

Nobody knows.

Unexpected Company

Luminous eyes looked down on him.

He had felt them on his back,

Accompanied by the sound of

An erratic scratching back and forth.

 

He stepped away from the fire,

So he could see better in the dark.

“Whatever it was, it was big.

It looked like a wolf.”

 

“Maybe hungry. Not wise to

Feed wild animals, though.

Perhaps it’s time to call it a night,

Go to bed and hope it goes away.”

 

With shaking hands, he picked up

The fire bucket and dashed out the flames.

Quickly he made his way

Into the tent.  “Bad omen.”

 

“Tomorrow morning,

I’m outta here.

No pleasure here knowing

Some big wolf is watching.”

 

“I’ll be sleeping lightly tonight.”

 

 

(3WW CCXLIII

Luminous, erratic, omen)

 

Seasons

Life is full of change.

Some people are really good

At hiding changes in their life,

 

At least for a while,

Until life wears them down.

Some people you can tell

 

Right away that something

Has changed in their life,

But you still have to wait

 

To see how everything pans out.

Most of us don’t handle change

Very well.  Even good change.

 

As they say all around,

“We are creatures of habit.”

But life has a way,

 

Even for those who are lucky,

Of bending your will.

Call it God, call it fate,

 

Or just luck.  Sooner

Or later, there is going

To be a change.

 

When things are going well,

We fear it.

When life is hitting us hard,

 

We hope and pray for it.

And either way,

Most of us,

 

Do a funny thing—

We try to control it!

But those of us

 

Who have tried with

Everything we’ve got

And lost—

 

We know that life

Is like the weather.

There are seasons.

 

And within those

Seasons of life,

Anything can happen.

 

One thing is for sure,

And that’s nothing.

You just take

 

What life gives you,

And don’t worry

About the rest.

 

 

(Writer’s Island

Week #19 prompt: Season)

 

Ambition

I used to be a very ambitious person.

I used to dream of world peace.

I used to think I would have a great job,

Like a world leader, and then, maybe

 

A college professor in Humanities.

I used to be the kind of person

That might have believed in the saying,

“So little done.  So much to do.”

 

Well, I never was good in groups,

So I wouldn’t do well in the United Nations.

I can’t read very fast, so

Graduate school was not for me.

 

Even after my mental illness hit me,

My ego fought long and hard for something

BIG, something to wrap my dreams around.

Finally I settled.

 

I got a real job, working to pay the bills.

That’s when everyday life hit me square in the face.

That’s when I learned that there are two kinds of people:

Those who make decisions, and those who carry them out.

 

And I found myself to be the latter.

No glory in being a producer,

No recognition in making a buck.

At least for most of us.

 

I guess that’s part of growing up.

You realize you’re not as strong

As you thought you were.

You realize that there is always

 

Someone else who knows more than you.

And, the hardest, you come to see

That there is never enough money.

And dreamers don’t get paid for dreaming.

 

 

(Carry on Tuesday #107, prompt:

The last words spoken by Cecil Rhodes

before his death in 1902)