The theft in the night
More wrong than right
Some people walk
More to sin
In a distance
And next of kin
And we wait
While many fall
In the mirror
Or down the hall
And when we wake
From morning bliss
We went from then
To being this.
Author: PenAndPaperStoriesblog
I am an educated adult female with Bachelor and Master degrees in Business Management. I am married with four children. I enjoy writing and drawing for a hobby and brain vacations. My dream is to publish a novel someday, but I am building on my short story and poetry crafts now.
Tomorrow
Freedom, America takes for granted
So clear now that it’s yesterday-
Never before so fragile
Reality creating dismay.
And you are nothing
When life makes you a chore-
And what is called compassion
Is an attempt to control open doors.
So control it back
By the power within you…
For no virus can attack
A heart filled and true…
And it will be tomorrow
Once yesterday is done
And you’ll awaken different
When the battle is finally won!
Liberty is flexible
When other worlds control your play-
Adapt to the moment
To make tomorrow the better day.
Look UP!
So I come around
When you stop to look-
Sometimes in nature
Or note in a book.
I provide balance
When you fall off course-
I’m not without discipline…
Or nugget of remorse.
Restoring harmony
Is not without waves-
But its to modify the outcome
Or how you behave…
And on the other side
You’ll believe once more-
What you appreciate
And what to adore…
And though it will be hard
You must never quit-
Simply look up…
For the promise you’ll benefit!
Normal
Normal
Such a fragile state
No fortune or promise
But realizing what is too late…
For it’s not to be
While wasting away-
It’s not gaining tomorrow,
But losing today…
What will life do?
But sit back and watch…
For it’s no matter
When permanently lost. . .
And what is new?
Out of something old…
Only what’s left-
Minus what we are told.
Purpose
A similar purpose
While being different
Offers the biggest divide.
And so we watch
Whisper
And cowardly hide.
Humans evolve
And stay behind
A natural practice.
And here we are
Stunted
Reality simply to distract us.
The Game
I think love has purpose even if it’s pain.
After all what else gives you so much to lose- with unbidden right to complain?
Each year it’s recognized- a little more youth is lost
And you add up the experience – while grimacing at the cost
The bends of the mind only squeeze the heart…
And it’s the swollen eyes in mirror – who tell you are coming apart.
Better to have loved and lost – we already brace for little gain…
But in these matters it’s never been about the rules- but how you play the game.
All or Once
The path taken year after year
Changes as it should-
Lest steps seem only foreign
Forgotten is something good…
Sow a lavender bush perhaps
Bring calm back in place-
Until serenity falls in grievance
Drained by ache and waste…
Deaf ears lead blind eyes
Bounded by an induced agony-
Losing all or once
A consequence of your apathy.
For Sake or…
Void of regular emotion
Young become zombies to life
Isolation a given confinement
Self-torcher for insight.
No one knows the adversary
Or understands…
It’s different now
Because reality is what we pretend.
Ghosts walk the halls, movies and games
Solving the next mystery
And deciding who to blame. . .
Then causing new misery
In order to wake up or wise
Without maturity of consequence
Or the ability to reverse time.
So absent of future
And certainty of death-
Merely the sake of forgiveness
Only after true regret.
