This Broken Pen

A broken man with a pen
Is a dangerous adversary
Nothing to lose
And nothing to gain

Nothing to win
And nothing to prove
Writing to survive
To rise above the pain

Words that soothe
That light the spark
Line by line
Verse and refrain

Stoic Poetry

Priceless

Every word is priceless
A jewel in life’s crown
So easily given and taken
Too quickly thrown around

Words can move mountains
Or bury in the deep
When silence can be spoken
Or given for others to keep

Stoic Poetry

A Better Way

There has to be a better way
Than going back and forth
Doing right, doing wrong
Because of how we were taught
Taught by them, who we are

No matter the bumps and bruises
No matter the scars or the pain
Can we simply believe in truth?
Born flawless we can never forget
What you say we are cannot be us

Stoic Poetry

Strangers

Passing people in the street
I wonder what are their words
Locked deep inside of them
Thoughts never to be heard

Stories they often tell themselves
Poems others will never hear
Phrases and lines and stanzas
Held quietly, silence out of fear

How many poets will never speak
Poetry the world will never read
In a time when judgement is rife
Is a beauty that we most need

Stoic Poetry

Broken

I remember standing on a broken field
With crippled wings beating the sky
Facing dogs of war with their nature revealed
And our chances passing and failing

If I could let these memories heal
I would remember you with me on that field
When I thought that I fought this war alone
When I thought that I fought without a cause

Turn the page, I need to see something new
For now my fragile innocence is torn
I will not linger on this stunted view
Like so many rabid dogs of war

Stoic Poetry

Blooms

Full of bloom and colour, sun full overhead
Face turned skyward embrace nature’s gift
Long days of bounty, endless joy of which we read
Heedless, careless, forgetful of the cold dark rift

No thought of seasons extending beyond the sun
Prepare not, time has no bearing, no dominion here
No one to tell us of things that must be done
Too late we realize, the shadow season, so near

Stoic Poetry

Always Here

Release the dogs of war!
Literary beasts, teeth rending,
the fabric of personal realities,
digested too long, spew forth.

Primal vicissitudes evolve,
transformed by perception and time,
unleashed, set forth to feed,
ravenous souls bereft of direction.

Purpose guide my pens blade,
slash life upon the virgin page,
blood stained truth covering,
lies and banality of evil.

Stoic Poetry

Writing

So, so many words
Pages pile upon the desk
A book in the making
Never would have guessed

Nearly finished, now
Breathing characters
In my waking hours
Some I rather prefer

The story is a long one
But I will win the quest
Years of writing
Every line is my best

Stoic Poetry

Words That Bind

Between the lines, words are owned
Not by the writer, we are forced to atone

Bound by rules we are forced to obey
Unseen chains bind us every day

Hidden words are kept deep inside
Hidden from a world too quick to deride

Hidden journals and books under the bed
Secrets kept of whispers unsaid

Stoic Poetry

Lay Me Down

Lay me down within the waves
Let the tide wash me away
Upon distant and rocky shores
So I may write all the long day

Roil the ocean upon this shell
Crash upon this fragile mind
To open the deep locked places
The perfect words I may find

Stoic Poetry