This season seems to last forever.
Seems spring will never reappear.
Seems everyone is just waiting for the sun
But it’s not here…
All I recall is nasty weather
It is so hard to persevere.
All I have done is sit here waiting for the sun
But it’s not here…
It seems I’ve lost my sense of wonder
Trying to overcome my fear
I don’t want to run, I am waiting for the sun
But it’s not here…
Despair is trying to pull me under.
I cannot shake my spirit clear.
Spring just hasn’t sprung, I am waiting for the sun
But it’s not here…
Is dawn on its way? Will I ever see the day?
Or is darkness all that I will ever see?
Looking for some light in this never-ending night.
Is this how it’s always going to be?
This season cannot last forever…
Soon spring will have to reappear.
Just like everyone, I am waiting for the sun
But it’s not here…
I am so tired of nasty weather
Not much to do but persevere.
It’s not much fun sitting, waiting for the sun
When it’s not here…
she shed her clothes and tiptoed to the water’s edge
the moon bathed her pink skin, showing the lightness of her backside
faeries and elves pretended to sleep, but felt delighted
in the corner of a shadow a watcher stared, mesmerized and intrigued
she took out a spell book and read an enchantment.
The water began to move and bubble; it looked like it was boiling.
hidden watcher was fixated on the witch, wondering at her prowess.
he did not hear the faeries or the elves, having little imagination.
cloud shadows crossed the moon, making the watcher look up.
He heard a splash, but the witch was gone. Had she jumped in?
He stared at the water for twenty or thirty minutes.
Expecting her to reappear, but she never did.
Was she an illusion? A dream? A sorceress? He stayed a bit longer.
It is the bewitching pool, one of the gnomes whispered.
But he did not hear, and was frightened by what he had seen.
Even more terrifying was what he had not seen.
People die and reappear
The same year through rebirth
I have noticed very clear
The same people walk on earth
Face type, character and laughter
Are the same, suppose they dream
The same dreams, before and after
The same places they esteem
There’s one difference, however
They don’t know about revival
If they lived before or never
If it’s their first arrival
It's the mystery we hold
It’s encoded deep inside
Would be worth to crack that code
To unleash the other side
Sometimes very few are gifted
By the force of circumstance
Am I one of them, uplifted
Granted with another chance?
Will you recognize me, dear?
Shall we be the same again?
How about to reappear
Never knowing if we can?
.
Each night in the heavens I am reprised.
On darkest evenings, I am not disguised.
The beauty of my color is greatly prized.
I am a blend of blue-violet ~ Indigo skies.
In the deepest shade of my lovely hue,
I am a calming balm when you feel blue.
Moonlight's glow will enhance your view
of me before sunlight dries morning dew.
I will reappear as twilight yields to night~
the background for stars, flickering bright.
You got a habit vanish, then reappear
Preaching in riddles, then poof disappear
A priest with no parish, a faith with no proof
You speak in confessions but dodge every truth
I lit up the altar, I opened the door
You left your robe but not what it’s for
Fast with the scripture, slow to commit
Saint with a side chick, sermon ain’t it
You holy ghosted, vanished like sin
Then came back knockin’ like, “Baby, I’m in.”
But I don’t do rituals with boys in disguise
Or cross my heart for recycled lies
You kiss with verses, then fast like it’s Lent
Play humble and hungry, but I know you’re bent
You think I’m the pew you return to and kneel?
I’m the storm in the stained glass, not part of your deal
So bless your pattern, habit and all
But next time you vanish, don’t bother to call
I found my religion in mirrors and smoke
And learned not to worship where promises choke
I’m waiting for the bus.
Ain’t nothing to discuss,
ain’t no more dumbing-down.
You’re super-pissed-off-plus?
Well that makes two of us.
I’m heading out of town.
Ain’t no more fight or fuss
(who taught me how to cuss?)
Don’t want to stick around.
A little bar that sells cold beer,
that’s where I intend to steer,
or any place but here.
I need a change of atmosphere
and I ain’t gonna reappear:
the round-trip costs too dear.
I’m sitting at the stop
outside the betting shop,
and all I’ve got’s a song.
Yeah, do it. Call the cops.
There ain’t no crime called “swaps”.
Ain’t me who done you wrong.
Don’t mind them open-tops,
don’t matter where it drops:
first bus that comes along.
Being raised without a father is like living with one ear and one eye
Disabled is the way the child would feel leaving him to wish he would die
Where are the fathers that are making the babies these days
Being a father isn't a game or just a short phase
It's a gift, a privilege and a responsibility
You can't disappear then reappear when that child is a teen
They need you because most things come in pairs
Do you really think the child would turn out right with you not being there
From day one it needs to hear the sound of your voice
Being made and brought into the world wasn't that child's choice
Child support won't cut it to view your problem solved
Being there financially isn't the only thing involved
The judge forced you to do that to make up the time away from me
It's better to be there for your child than to be called "Father Deadbeat
So many friends came to say goodbye
Remember the good times, not going to cry
You were such a part of everyone you knew
A special someone for everything that makes up you
Hard to accept that you are no longer here
Keep waiting for the moment when you reappear
It really hit me, hearing the songs you wrote
Nobody else could quite hit that same note
You just had the voice, perfect for that sound
Never could be matched, from anybody around
You've always been a part of us, somewhere in the background
It doesn't feel right, not having you around
This may have come late, but now I realize
You have always been a special part of our lives
my eyes tried to tell you
golden and round the setting sun peeks
over sloping mountaintops
while cobalt shadows inch into the rust-brown crevices
like a silent blanket smothering the light of day
the moon will be full
or so they say on the six o’clock weather report
there is no sign of rain until the clouds reappear
and the ring around the moon squeezes harder
you wanted to see the rising moon after sunset
and i laid both at your feet
while watching your wide-eyed innocence
as if the circus tent was filled with elephants
it was the only show in town
until i hugged you just before you cried
and we talked all through the rising of the moon
about old songs and dead poets
i searched for words to comfort you
but it was darker than the moon could illumine
and my words were thin as tin foil
though my eyes tried to tell you
tolbert
January wakes us weary,
New resolutions pressing heavy.
Then comes February’s charm—
A month of love, or wasted calm.
We march ahead into March,
Preparing for the chill to lurch.
April brings the planting days,
As a third of the year slips away.
Hope returns with open skies,
Maybe this month—maybe May.
June arrives with quiet tunes,
We wish the world would feel okay.
Halfway through, we count our lies,
From the first month, now it's July.
August urges forward gazes—
"Next year I will be better" phrases.
September and October near,
Students start to reappear.
November brings the final test,
A nation's hopes in pencil pressed.
December rings the festive cheer,
Families gather far and near.
A tree is lit, kids dream of Santa,
While grownups smile, hiding the mantra:
"Resolutions—once again, we fail."
A new year dawns with dreams for a new beginning.
But maybe it’s not about the start—
It’s seeing clear with wiser hearts.
So pick the pieces of last year’s glass,
And pause before you drive too fast.
Make this turn a true correction—
Toward a life of deep reflection.
A planet spins with an atmosphere,
Keeping its species here.
Seasons cycle every year,
Plants die, evolve, and reappear.
Revolving around a circular sphere,
A moon circles around up there,
As we breath its air in and out.
A cycle we forget about,
Atoms and electrons just hanging out.
As molecules begin to sprout,
A blueprint to lay out.
Carrying out its plans,
Revolving around demands,
Evolving as it expands.
A faint whispering in my ear,
Little nudges I do hear,
Tired eyes begin to tear,
Messages coming in clear,
Transmissions of cheer,
"We are near,
"You are here,
"Get in gear,
"Be Sincere,
"And have no fear.
"Don't interfere,
"Volunteer."
I veer towards the right,
Steering into the Light.
Disappearing from sight,
As I peer into the night,
I witness the blight,
Gaining the might,
Fighting for our sphere,
I take flight and reappear,
The damage is severe.
I'll burn so bright,
All they see is white,
A flame here to ignite,
Your spark,
Illuminating the dark,
"They're coming to make their mark,
So here is where I'll park."
Says a whisper in my ear.
When life trips you, knocking you to the ground,
There’s plenty of envy, and bitterness to be found.
But true life, if you look, is revealed all around,
True life – a place where good desires abound.
True life is the fight, the struggle to survive,
To climb the highest peak, to feel yourself alive.
True life means pouring all your strength into striving,
Then reaching new heights, where dreams arrive!
Life should be warm, like love that's near,
Rushed, longed for, cherished, hard to steer.
It should be hurt, like scars that reappear,
With pain, with cracks, with every tear.
Sweat pours down your brow, bitter as a lake,
On the road to true life, no choice but to take.
It's not in others' hands, for goodness' sake –
True life’s only in your grasp to make.
Don't heed the small, unworthy things,
Let the noble heart soar, with joy it sings.
Change with honor, though the world may sting,
This is the true man, through everything!
When you are old the world is not unknown
and you can count the layers in your soul
each one laid down by the life you control
wrinkled scars from time, only you own
These memories can often disappear
never to be remembered anymore
they are hidden in the mind forevermore
buried layers through time that reappear
stories of your life you have never told
a silent layered memory to last
gives reason your thoughts linger in the past
as memories come and go when you're old
Waiting for your other half, as she visits the loo
It’s usually the shopping mall, where she joins in the queue,
You stand with the guys, in equal appreciation
Of the predicament we find ourselves, in this situation.
Nobody makes eye contact but if we do it’s just a nod,
How long do we need to wait? We each pray to god.
Please let our partner be the first to fully reappear
Then we can get out of this place and silently disappear.
The waiting is tense, the brow begins to sweat
How long can this be, as we’ve lots of stuff to get?
Then a woman appears but alas it’s none of ours,
At this rate we could be here, for many, many hours.
A look at your watch, then a look at your shoes
Another woman appears but the question is, whose?
With a sigh and a smile, one of us is relieved,
A gesture to the other guys, confirms his reprieve.
Another look at the watch and a look up to the sky
A blow of the cheeks, then a very heavy sigh.
She finally appears, it’s a face we recognise
A nod to the other guys, a relief we can’t disguise.
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