Poems about Reality
Tears Of Destiny
I feel life was meant as a quest for me;
its deeper purpose, etched in stone;
I was born to become tears of destiny;
living many of my years all alone.
When I was young, I sensed a purpose,
for bearing great sadness, inside;
a future destiny,
Purveyors Of Lies
Stop to consider: “What’s in a name?”
the answer is plenty; it seems;
when attempting to confer false blame,
nightmares are made, out of dreams.
Truth is often, not a consideration;
fiction makes its own story;
few accept truth as their obligation;
when lies can lead
Into Oblivion
Many are greatly concerned over security;
fearing what future they may live in;
even more, tend to fear a future obscurity;
as loved ones dissolve into oblivion.
The great question of generations and ages:
“What happens when we die?”
endlessly debated by seers and sages;
causing young children
Justification
When I was a child, I made up excuses,
whenever I knew I was wrong;
feelings of guilt; my peace, reduces;
my conscience wouldn’t go along.
Truth required, that I must accept blame;
for, my guilt was ever before me;
justice always comes, in the Master’s name;
Not Born A Rose
A chrysanthemum wasn’t born a rose;
a meadow or stream; not meant a sea;
fingers, not designed to be your toes;
these are things, as were planned to be.
A man’s not a bird; capable of flight;
nor, can he remain submerged too long;
Where Will I Be ?
Where will I be; ten years hence;
will I still live in this place;
or will my matter simply condense;
disapear without even a trace?
What are we each, but an energy bubble;
surrounding some matter we created;
will each of us become reduced to rubble;
What Others See
As I gaze out at a beautiful creation,
contemplating what reality may be;
I temporarily give my eyes a vacation;
and I imagine what others may see.
I look in the mirror; and it looks back;
giving me a fearful, vacant stare;
it can almost bring on
Love Unspoken
Many rooms, are in the house of the mind;
some of them allow for visitation;
others, for privacy, carefully designed;
and a few, for simply vacation.
Many open rooms are very revealing;
some are too open; in fact;
discretion might suggest concealing;
words are often, hard to take
