Ordinary Poet

He'll be Alright

His eyes are growing heavy,
as if the weight of all his years
has settled there.
He can't remember how he's lived,
his father's face,
the wife he loved and lived with.
Still, her touch brings comfort,
and a grace to finish out
this fading time.
He's not afraid;
he's tamed the raging questions.
Content to let the grey mist fall around him,
he surrenders; there is no need to grasp.
Long ago he made his choice,
sought redemption for his soul,
listened to a higher Voice.
Now as his eyes grow heavy,
gathering darkness cannot hide
the rising light.
He knows he'll be alright.


These prison walls are high and built
Of cold accusing looks and guilt.
Silent coils of disapproval
Snake around my feet, remove all
Thought of change. I've built this hell.
Smile. Pretend that all is well.
Admire and smell the paper rose.
Applaud the Emperor's new clothes.


The endless tide rolls in and out
As every day for eons it has done,
The earth breathing, the same
If watched by thousands or by none.
Honest, powerful and whole;
You are to me the earth's eternal soul.

Will you take me with you,
Out to where the air is filled with freedom?
Would you let me learn to breathe
Through the wild and changing skies and seasons?
Honest, powerful and whole;
Let me touch the earth's eternal soul.


I took a step away from  me
And there did stand and wait,
But found that shedding me from I
Was not to be my fate,
And though I do not like the person
That I have become,
I can't ignore, outrun, pretend,
Or wishful-think her gone.

The Waterside

Come then, weary spirit
To the August waterside,
And let the time and cares go by
Till day has all but died.

And if I then should question:
What profit this release?
As evening draws its shadows long,
I'll hear you whisper: Peace.


Any decision made here will be wrong;
It's clear now that that’s how it’s been all along.
How can I know when faced with a choice,
Who it may hurt or cause to rejoice?
Waiting to ponder the options I see
Might leave it too late for some options to be,
Yet any decision made slightly too fast
Could miss certain factors, then that chance has passed.
Why do I break my brain trying to find
The answer to bring all of them peace of mind,
When efforts to satisfy everyone ends
In hurt and offences I'd never intend?
Am I better off hiding inside and not trying
To help anymore? Shall I just close the door? 

Overseer of my Soul

Overseer of my soul,
When the dark despair
Would drag me to the hopeless pit
And leave me, empty, there,
Whisper hope, and keep me
Through the swirling torment grey;
There are dark roads yet to travel
Ere I see the light of day.

Overseer of my soul,
Behind, beside, before,
Each hour brings me closer to
That blessed clear white shore,
Where pain and sorrow find their end
And lonely strivings cease,
There, as the long dark falls behind,
I will find home, and peace.

Tea at Four

Tea at Four, a perfect time
To sit and think on thoughts of mine,
To ponder as the water heats,
To look out at the quiet streets,
Then ease the bag into the brew
And steep it to a flavour true.
Pour the cup that warms the hands,
And breathe the steam of other lands;
I do so love my tea at four,
Just, please, not a.m. anymore.


Do not too deeply look into the darkness,
You will not see there what you hope to find.
Your seeing will not be an aid to caution,
Your thinking will take place outside your mind.
The fog that shrouds the lie lies undetected,
Whispering that here at last is peace...
Do not too deeply look into the darkness,
You will not find, once caught, a swift release.


It breaks upon the soul like sun-filled morning,
Following the terror of the night;
I lift my head to see what wasn't hidden,
Blinding beauty blinding not new sight.
Bright music dying ears were unattuned to,
Soft fragrance that enfolded unaware
Are weaving now new fabric of my being -
And light, such light, comes leaping on the air.


This deep dark sad - what is it?
I grieve a loss unspoken;
Yearning. Weeping. Dying.
Something, somewhere, broken.
Shadow. Hope for this world fades
And I hang on
To what I have of Heaven.

I see the space I live in
But cannot seem to fill it.
A cold stream courses through me:
My eyes betray and spill it.
Weary. Today, today, unending
And I begin
To plead for place in Heaven


I sit and dream alone this winter's night,
Afraid to sleep, but shattered by the light.
I pull the words out ragged and rough formed,
Frozen words that never will be warmed.
Perverse desire to paint this wretched view
Demands my mind turn yet again to you,
Though far away, too far away to see,
You sleep in peace and never think of me.

From Some Far Place

From some far, celestial place unobserved by human eye, He came,
Unfettered by the chains of time and space.
A mystery:
God’s vastness, concentrated in one tiny seed
Would grow to be a child of form and face.

She sat within the starlight and held Him while He slept,
Her firstborn child, she laughed with joy,
Would bear her sin and die, she wept.
Beyond the distant hills she thought she dimly heard a song-
Did angels sing?
Quietly she stored these things within her heart
And thought of what the years would bring.

Her husband stood beside her,
An ache to understand inside his heart.
The angel-dream had told him,
He had know about this moment from the start
And yet, Jehovah’s Son? his wife?
Could it be that they would give each other life?

From some far celestial place unobserved by human eye, He came,
A stranger to the weary race on earth.
A mystery -
He, Spirit, took on human life
To give us, human, Spirit birth.


It ended today;
a sad solitary life
I never understood.

Hope starts to rise with
Sunlight, fresh air and freedom;
Winter is over.

A desolate man
who never figured life out -
doesn’t have to now.

Speak what’s expected -
breathe the cold reality
no one ever hears.

Outside winter howls –
inside the candles flicker
and the night is calm.

Waves of fatigue wash
over me and leave me weak;
my life ebbing away.

Living should be more
than simply not being dead;
but sometimes it’s not.

The day's chaos past:
I sip a warm chai latte
And watch the snow fall.

Pain will claim it's time;
I must submit to that then
Grab what's left and live.

It just keeps coming,
Every minute every day;
I could turn it off.


Eaglefive5 said...

good work ordinary reader.....

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