All right

He held the card and read it,

“Not her again” and threw it in the neighbour’s garden patch.

She was Deborah.

Who loved him,

And sent him a Christmas card, hoping to be his girl.

They were young.

He was fine, she was lovely,

Yet his silence. Yes, his silence was ripping her apart.

And the hurt went deep down inside.

She had a choice, in how she would reply,

To react or respond.

The way she goes could shape her entire life.

Wondering how she would be later on.

And if the same thoughts would still be there.

And if she would be free?

But Deborah stopped by the pavement

And her eyes brightened up.

Singers were there.

For her?

A bit of beauty.

The crisp, fresh, silent night spoke to her senses,

The song on their lips filled her soul,

The people who listened with an ear for hope.

This she knew, would stay, with her, inside her heart.

And the rhymes and rhythms of the night would remind her:

Life goes on.

She clung tightly to the thought that everything is all right.

Balance

It was a long year.

All that thinking,

The ins and outs of precision,

Measured as it was.

All for what?

A tidy result at the end,

But somehow empty,

Not fulfilling,

But lacking that sense of ACCOMLISHMENT.

The year ended down a notch,

But with two more DVDs to go,

To even things up a bit.

Knowing it wouldn’t be enough,

Even with everything on my lap,

And the likes of the world to own.

Nothing else is what I need,

But PERFECTION.

What will I do when I don’t find it?

I’m left with you,

Designated to me.

And how I should pray for you.

To come up to the standard.

For I want you a certain way, and

My vision is not complete yet.

But for the balance I didn’t want,

I would rule for you.

But would I rule for me?

Thankfully, my friend, balance is a slip of my destiny,

A straightening of what should have been,

Overseen by the watchful, good Lord.

Back burner

Putting the poem on the back burner was the logical next step. This after desperately searching for a suitable publisher for it, but realizing there isn’t one, yet. Beforehand, he was deciding on finding a publisher for it or place it on his blog. He had at least decided that he would work on finding a publisher for it, and would continue the search at a later date.

Lonely

How can they offer the world hope if their houses are filled with lonely people?

I lift my heart to skies and give it to God and see what was meant to be.

Caring to see rightly, tenderness holding tightly.

But just another club sandwich at the café.

The walk of life grinds on stuff, somehow, it affirms the very life in me.