Poems about Reality
I’m Sorry
Have I brought harm to sisters and brothers;
has my life been a colossal mistake?
Have my words been as poison to others;
can I somehow, those words, remake?
What kind of message have I given to others;
some reactions have me amazed;
simple words I’ve
Scrambled
My mind is scrambled; thoughts, rearranged;
my life, has started all over, again;
the universe, around me, is changed;
a result of my sorrows and pain.
I’ve lost so much, I’ve loved and treasured;
tho much of life’s background remains;
I’ve reassessed how life should
Righteous Anger
How can righteous and anger go together;
It just doesn’t seem like they fit;
much like wearing short pants with a sweater;
or trying to stand while you sit.
It seems as if those, most likely to forgive;
simply love to embrace their anger;
its almost as
Restricted View
I can only see beauty, through my eyes;
such limits will never do;
the mind has been hiding its own surprise;
our sight has a restricted view.
While the eyes can be pointed here and there;
there are limits to what eyes can do;
a world of thought
Renaissance Of Evil
There’ve been past periods of renaissance;
where society peeled back the dark ages;
God’s love, established a new ambiance;
but, division is, now, occuring, in stages.
Renaissance is a sweeping change, or rebirth;
encompassing the landscape of reality;
a renaissance of evil has overlapped the
Present Is Past
All of the present is really the past;
time is just an innocent bystander;
nothing said or done will last;
history is only a book; a pretender.
We think it all will last a long while;
that ogre called time knows otherwise;
he watches a sunset, with
Plausible Deniability
Throughout history we’re taught honesty;
only the dishonorable and weak tell lies;
it’s a topic of many a sermon or homily;
and those skirting truth, are despised.
Truth used to be easy enough to determine;
but, more and more, people live by lies;
those who outright
The Mind Reading Bee
He buzzed as he quickly circled the hive;
I nervously watched; fear held my hand;
almost as though he were trying to decide;
whether to sting me, or land.
My friend stood perched on his ladder;
propped to the eaves, he was cleaning;
swatting the bee
