We all have a tale to tell,
And a path to follow,
In this vague and shadowy world.
Some dreams are fulfilled,
While others are forsaken,
And as we grow older
A new reality is unfurled.
We all have a story, with
Triumphs and tragedy.
We have songs unsung,
And youthful visions of
Grandeur and glory.
Some are forgotten, or far-flung,
Simply cast aside.
Some of us learn, we grow self aware;
While others do not, and still more
Rely solely on prayer.
Fed up with fairy tales,
They hide behind lies,
And they believe ancient myths,
Told within a new guise.
Embracing these mysteries,
They never know,
That some defeats, are more
Triumphant than victories.
We all have a tale to tell,
As you surely know,
Since you generously share,
Your story so well.
You reveal subtle insights,
When you share your worldly wisdom,
Your fears, and your brokenness,
With dignity and trust.
Giving more of yourself,
So others benefit,
When their intuitions prove unjust.
Your sensitivity, and savoir faire,
Have untold ripple effects,
As we share, your expertise and flair.
You touch countless lives,
Many more than you will ever realize.
Reminding me again again
I must not despair,
For we all have a story,
And a story can change a life.
I feel empty, like a bottomless pit,
I cannot explain why.
I feel a pain in my soul,
For which there is no remedy.
Everything around me seems to be static and monotonous,
While inside me, there is an endless turmoil.
People ask me why I’m like this?
People ask me the reason for such anxiety?
People ask me why I fee such emptiness?
So many questions for someone who has no answer.
Why there is a need to explain everything?
Why there is none just to hear me without saying a thing?
I seek no answers and no solutions,
I just want to be the way I am, complicated, painful, tearful, melancholy and a poet.
No, the world has no place for those who have no answers,
There is no place for someone with unexplained feelings,
Why not think of the complexity of the human being?
I’m body, soul and spirit,
How to find out where is my concern?
I was medicated for the body, without being healed.
I did therapy for the soul, without finding peace.
I did prayer for the spirit, without being answered.
I do not know if I’m sick or the others,
If I am sick, I accept the fate and seek for healing,
If the others are sick, why they blame me?
Why would they demand me to change?
Cruel world, for both healthy and diseased!
I do not believe in the health of any living soul, we are all diseased,
I have never encountered a complete healthy man!
Those who say they are completely healthy, mostly are sicker than all,
I assumed my disease and have prepared me for the pain,
For everything in life hurts!
One day they reproached me for speaking so much about pain,
The other day they made me deny what I am and what I feel,
People told me to simply put on a false cloak of normality.
I was not born for lies, I was born to walk with a naked soul,
I was born to cause scandal, like the one caused to me by Theresa, the saint, from which emanated so much light, even though she said that she was walking in darkness, she was another restless soul.
I’m this, which you sees, but that changes every moment,
When I explain what I am at the end of the sentence I am already another being,
With new pain, new anxieties, new emptiness.
No, don’t have pity on me, I hate pity,
As the poet said, ‘even Solomon in all his glory wasn’t happier than I’m in my misery,
Neither the midday sun is brighter than me in my darkness,
Neither the healthiest has more strength than I in my weakness,
Neither the wisest knows more than I do in my ignorance.
I’m not lost,
I’m not confused,
I’m not faithless,
I’m just a poet, I’m just a contradiction…
by Luis A R Branco
I’m going out tonight,
I am going to dance and drink,
I am going to say bye to my dignity,
As my dancing skills rather stink.
I am going dancing tonight,
Me and my man,
We’re hooking up with our friends,
And dance as much as we can.
We’re going to be home late tonight,
We’ll be stumbling in,
Its going to be so much fun,
To get drunk, dance and sing.
Not just a myth
but God’s defining Truth;
Not just a means
but the one true Way;
Not only the creator
but the sustainer of Life;
Not only the beginning
but also the end;
Not only a prophecy
but the fulfilment of the Law;
Not only a baby
but the Prince of Peace;
Not only a perfect man
but the Son of God;
Not only a prophet
but the Word of God;
Not only a priest
but the Holiest of Holies;
Not only a King
but the Lord of Lords;
Not only a sacrifice
but the conqueror of death;
Not only my Saviour
but yours as well;
Not only for then,
Not only for now,
but for eternity.
When Jesus walked this earth
He had one message in mind
To teach the world to love one another
And to each other be thoughtful and kind
Spreading his message to the people
With his disciples by His side
Teaching the words of his Father
Who was his mentor and his guide?
Rebuked by the establishment
He still stuck to his task
Spreading the word of God
Knowing that it would not last
Crowds would gather at his meetings
He would heal those in need
The cripples would walk again
And the multitudes he would feed
But alas the establishment arrested him
There he was put on trial
He was cleared of all charges
He thought he was free for a while
But then he was paraded through the streets
Carrying a cross with thorns upon his head
And as he was nailed on the cross
These were the words he said
As the heavens opened and the earth shook
Father forgive them for they no not what they do
But the seeds Jesus had planted for all
Would blossom in this world anew
Hold me Dear Lord; I tend to sway
With each passing moment I get carried away.
Comes a day when I chart my way
Followed by weeks when I go astray
There’s a clear understanding as to what is important
But when it comes to giving my best I get hesitant
The day runs me rather than the other way around
Negligent amount of work done by day end leaves me astound!
Thoughts of Penny grapple me
As my boss asks to focus on work subtly
On my way home I wonder what do I really want
Cos there’s nothing that I can’t!
The problem lies in preset goals
Work done on them are size of moles.
Until I finish them I’m not going to be free
Unfortunately it isn’t motivating enough to be on a spree
Dreams are thousand but reality is one
I’m a worked up finance guy having less fun
How does writing and photography fit into this I don’t know
But I do remove time to watch Jon Snow
Then there’s House of Cards, Arrow and Person of Interest
Donna is an amazing actress!
Day by day nothing changes other than TV shows,
Neal Caffrey has many foes.
Kiddo, I wonder how will your mother and I meet
Hell! I need to get out of Baker street!
Charlie woos hot chicks while others fake,
Michael Scofield rocks in prison break!!!
Smelly cats purr purr purr,
Thank you Joey, Rachel, Chandler!
Lie to me and I’ll go mad,
The hell yo, I’m breaking bad!!
See, how thinking of my goals always takes me away
Guide me my Lord, I get carried away. ..
- By Raj Vora
Saint George sat all alone
In a tavern enjoying a flagon
He was pondering deep in thought
On how he was going to slay the dragon
He mounted his trusty steed
In his armour with shield and lance
Sped of into the distance thinking
Would he succeed, would he stand a chance?
As he approached the clearing
The mighty dragon stood tall
With fire coming from his nostrils
He stood with his back to the wall
A mighty battle soon enraged
As George lunged forward with his lance
The dragon fought with courage
But alas the dragon didn’t stand a chance
He rid the village of the dragon
So everyone could live in peace
The villages hailed him a hero
For the terror now was to cease
George became the patron saint of England
Where it’s celebrated every year
So enjoy all the celebrations you attend
When you see Saint George give him a cheer
As a child,
I never gave much thought or credence,
about growing into manhood.
And one day to my surprise,
I found I was a man.
As a man,
I never gave much consideration or deliberation,
about growing old;
Moreover, I busied myself with everyday things,
and allowed time to slip by unnoticed.
Then one day I stopped to look about,
I was shocked to discover I was an old man.
As an old man,
I never gave much thought or attention,
moreover, I busied myself with selfish things,
again, I allowed time to slip foolishly by,
and to my disbelief I found I was dying.
As I lay dying,
I find all my thoughts and concentration,
probing my memory
now, I busy myself searching for the memories,
of family and friends from by gone days,
I did not miss until it was too late.
About Me: I am a 63-year-old retired engineer-building contractor who quite recently discovered writing, poetry, and prose. I have no formal training in any discipline where writing was anything more than writing reports or contracts.
One day while reading a novella, I made the remark, I could write a novella like the one I was reading, and the gauntlet was thrown down. I bought a high school English Grammar book and a college English Grammar book and studied them both from cover to cover.
I will admit to this day, I write passive sentences, I do occasionally split the infinitive, and least we not forget I might butcher the mechanics, of the English language. However, Word does a wonderful job pointing out those major flaws in my sentences and paragraphs, then gleefully points out those mistakes, and demands they’re fixed immediately. I hate those little red, blue, and green underlines that appear out of no-where when I type.
I wrote in my journals, and I wrote prose and other works for ten years before I posted the first poem on the blog. I wrote of and about everything from inspirational prose to a 400-plus-page World War II novel. And numerous short stories and essays. I even wrote a porn story of 75000 words, and I think, I will let it languish in the hallowed cylinders of my hard drive until I can find an out of the way place to post it.
Out of all my pieces I have penned, I have had two published one in a book of prose and the other in the Harleys Owners Group (HOG Magazine) Volume 21 on the exhaust page.
Please visit Short Stories and other Writings at http://frgoulding.com. I hope you will enjoy reading them.
Thank you, Frank Goulding.
This saddest chore we will fulfil,
We women weak and weary still
From all these awful days have wrought,
We will embalm him as we ought.
But who will roll the stone away, and what about the guard?
So many things combined to make this day so very hard.
There’s the rich man’s garden, but what happened to the tomb?
My friends nervously approach and peer into the gloom.
An unknown voice calls, “He’s not here!” We scatter, terrified.
A minute later I return and take a look inside.
They’ve taken him! But where and why? What do they hope to gain?
Can’t they just allow us to endure our private pain?
“Please, sir, Mr Gardener, I do not mean to lurk,
Just tell me where you’ve taken Him, I’ll leave you to your work.”
“Mary,” says a voice I know, I look up in surprise,
And wipe the blurring tears from my disbelieving eyes.
It’s Him! He is alive and His body glorified!
“Teacher!” I said, so overjoyed to be there by his side.
“Do not cling to me,” He said, “I must still yet ascend
To my Father up in heaven, I am faithful to the end.”
“Go to all my brothers and tell them this from me:
I’m going to the glory that is mine eternally.”
That dawn began a whole new age, His rule began that day;
We’ll follow our beloved king, the Truth, the Life, the Way!
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!