Tag Archives: joy

What’s No Longer My Own: Rhyming Lament

My sacred home
is no longer my own.
I have no
control.
I can’t even roam
without the silt
of guilt
covering my actions.
There’s no attraction
in what I used to
look forward to.
It’s not sin,
but I can’t rejoice in
anything.
Joy doesn’t ring.
Birds still sing,
but not for me.
The sun still shines,
but, blind,
not for me.

What brings me so low?
I think I know.
I’ve felt it before.
It’s mine to repair
or ignore,
or own

Hurt, Not Joy Or Hope: Haiku Lament

It should be a time
of great joy* and excitement,
but instead I hurt.
 OR: *hope
UPDATE (Next Day)
As one of my family members famously said (Decades ago) : “There’s always hope.”
So hoffen wir.
Meanwhile, thank you all for your thoughts and prayers.
As the possible/
result nears, we recall her:
“There is always hope.”

Upon Thinking On A Deep Funk: Revolutionary Email Free Verse Lament

Her creativity,
this evening’s music muse,
wafts like a late autumn breeze
out her door,
down the hallway,
to my ears.
Peace.

My oldest creation,
son,
and his creation,
my granddaughter,
gaze,
smiling,
from my screensaver.
Joy.

Yet I,
creative meistro
sitting on a hickory’d hill,
fall’s colored leaves
glowing in the sunset;
bright moon and stars
gleaming in the dark
rural’d night,
haven’t written
for daze.
Weeks.
Blank.

Work,
government linguistics,
leaky doors,
amityville horror phermone’d bugs,
busted lights,
stalled furnaces,
all beyond the grasp
of my repair.
Guilt.

Gardens unharvested;
tall fall grasses
in the front yard
unburned,
failed wildflower experiments
where there once was so much
promise.
Melancholy.

All around me,
there is paper
and hundreds of shades
of different hues,
muse,
notes,
thousands of words
i could use.
Yet none come.
Funk.

What to do.
What to do?
Do.
Perhaps
creativity
will drop
like dew
when I do.
And I’ll rinse my face
and cleanse my soul
and refresh my heart
and free my mind.

It’s worth a try.