Through The Cracked Window (Revisited)
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I read a simple poem today
A short and lovely thing
It stayed through the morning
As it colored everything
The smile it put upon my face
Every time I recalled the words
Blossoms full of a voiceless joy
With words I have never heard
Such a little thing; easily missed
At a glance as the morning began
Embedded in my mind it stayed
It somehow changed who I am
Stoic Poetry
The words are our own
Some we may share
Others are for us alone
If one person reads them
We are truly blessed
Never relinquish the pen
Words with no other goal
Than the love of sharing
Soothing a scarred soul
Stoic Poetry
Do they really matter?
Falling onto the page
The thoughts of only one
May to others enrage
But I am just a poet
And words are my trade
Nothing was ever meant
By what I may have said
Language is a funny thing
Interpretation even more
But behind my trusty pen
Still mightier than a sword
Stoic Poetry ☺️
When the stories are written
And the chapters are all done
I just never know where it ends
Or if the words are the right ones
This side of me has finally gone
So then why do I still strive
What am I so tightly holding on to
It’s killing me inside, keeping me alive
Stoic Poetry
Morning starts to weigh in
The list assembled is long
Imagined things I need to do
Tasks before the day is gone
I never thought there was a choice
Never thought of it any other way
I have never been one to be lazy
But I will scrap that list today
Wind was meant to be sat in
Steps can be stopped for a while
This book seems a better choice
Before I walk another mile
Stoic Poetry
In brazen words a challenge given
To a world faded and mundane
So few will try to understand
Brushed away as being insane
Beyond a rainbow full of gray
Colors sometimes bleed
Never seen by jaded eyes
Time and place will recede
Very few read anymore
Bored of the black and white
Even less try to understand
The rainbow beyond their sight
Stoic Poetry
Something is different
Something has changed
Realization; the quiet
No thought or rabble
A clarity so perfect
Nothing to be rearranged
Once it is noticed
It seems to fade away
Nothing to be held
Nothing to be sought
A background to all
No one to see anyway
Stoic Poetry
There is beauty in the darkness
A lack of sound; nothing to see
No guidance of poetic thought
Only the purest form of clarity
Words form on pageless pages
Awaiting to see if they are born
Searching for the light of day
And not just fade in the morn
Stoic Poetry
The past was never that
Living in whispered echoes
Sleeping dogs awakened
Clouding our present story
Still we visit for a while
Coloring all of our days
The past is just that
Fabrications of glory
Stoic Poetry
Is there a right way for how this goes?
You have your friends, along with foes
Wanting a piece of what you’ve sought
Forgetting your name like they forgot
Some want to see you crash and burn
And they criticize every word you sing
I’m trying to keep from going insane
Isn’t that the way of this whole damn thing
Nobody will hold your hand to guide you through
It has always been up to you to remain true
Nobody can ever truly feel another’s pain
Too often just something else to feign
Today, you should say all you have to say
Is there a right way for being strong?
Still, most are just here barely holding on
Feeling like they’re doing things all wrong
Confess my heart and forgive my wrongs
If not you then who’s left when it has gone?
When all is done, and it’s time to fade away
Don’t point the blame when you can’t find a way
Look at yourself and you might find something
It’s time that we finally get this sorted out
So listen very closely to the sound of your soul
And forget all of the things we complain about
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 