Precious seconds mine With you close beside, only Moments out of time. Going home a must, leaving, No hurry, no rush, but still, I have a deadline. I must rock it, so speeding, The curves sneaking up, At ninety, slightly leaning, Not that I should be trying Such, I am not fit, But ah, the years fall away. I remember when Driving like a racer was Routine daily, so again. The typing it goes Slower, I never was good, And poems are hard With the making scattered words Come together on the field. Since it is before The midnight hour, I am done, Count it victory, I beat the cruel beast time – Oohrah, I remain alive.
Sometimes there is nothing, But if you hold on, keep going, You may discover everything. Life keeps right on giving Amidst times both good and bad, Love shows up unexpected Bringing joy you never had. Look for the happiness Make it if you must, you have Within you the wonder, the purpose, To become whatever you wish. Believe, never give up, you are Strong enough to gather All you need to change Any situation, dare to capture The courage residing in you Make your dreams come true Change the world that holds you. Be bold, be brave, do not allow Others to tell you who you are; For only you, yourself has The right and power to define you. Your creativity, passion, love Are what is needed now and always, To lift lives and let others see We, everyone, can be free.
Today it seems the words are most insistent. I cannot escape them; they keep coming strong. I have my doubts about them because they seem no audience to find, but I keep trying. Poets writing poems, it could be a thing. I make it mine anyway. I hope maybe with the post of this; I can pull away. I get tired of inciting no interest, and I have an abundance of other things; I should do. Usually, though, when the muse takes over, I lay everything aside and let what words come, that bubble up, from inside.
Seeing with new eyes All the times we almost had Ahold of the precious prize, But our gaze was called astray Fingers slipped over broken edges And sudden walls blocked our way. The question justly arises, Can we grasp new horizons Getting our self-satisfaction With blatant mediocrity Over to the side, out of our lane? Trouble speeds like a missile Targeted to do incalculable damage Causing fatal amounts of pain, But our vision is alive again.
Writing seems the entree today. Not accomplishing much else, and I can live with that circumstance. This poem has a political edge to it, but it is also about the simple actions of continual living.
I hope you will take some time to create something today. Most often, it is the way I keep myself from spontaneously combusting. As a prompt, you might think of the state of the world currently and create something which provides your take on it, either from a personal perspective or more wide-ranging.
Somehow, sometime, there Is a chance of change, to be, When happy becomes, Taking over history; Love, money, all the little things. The smiles wild blasting Able to overcome all The mosquito troubles, Discounted into oblivion; Until they, undead, rise again. I look, for once, at you, Wondering, could we be real Becoming something more Than beneficial friends? Remembering how I fail, Time and time, always again; I turn myself around, Expecting to walk – because I cannot survive another breaking – Of my oft shattered, tattered, torn heart; But this time, maybe, one time, My dice roll different numbers; The soul of love knows the game, Infinitely well, it gathers and tells. Your hand brushes my shoulder, My leaving, I hesitate, wait, You softly whisper, “Will you stay?” Going no longer seems The needful thing to do I get a hopeful glimpse Of what might happen if I chose to embrace my dreams. Life evolves from complication, To a rising sense of simplicity And living all on my own Becomes a rumor overwritten By secret looks, shared music, laughter, Bathed in acceptance and respect, Growing perhaps into love beyond What mortal life can measure, Something captured on the intake And outflow of every blessed breath.
You did not have to Be the who you have become, But I am happy You are precisely who you Are, and claim yourself to be.
Thank you for visiting, please follow Haphazard Creative, or in your rambling find your way back here again. I hope you have a blissful weekend with plenty of time for creation, both the making of things and enjoying the gifts God so generously shared with us.
As a prompt, pick something dear and create about it. You may choose to share or keep it to yourself. You are the one in charge of how you interact with this reality.
I did something rare overnight. I watched an episode of one of my guilty pleasures. I had not done that since February. Maybe one day I will catch up the show.
Haphazard Creative 
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