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Category Archives: Poetry; Solitude
Od’s Story part 1
John Flanagan’s story of Od captivates your heart! Please direct your likes and comments to his site: johnpoetflanagan@wordpress.com. The story is worth your reading time!
the Heart
“so fill your heart with what’s important and be done with all the rest…” It is so easy to fall into the mind blaming…what should I have done…what could s/he could have done…why did this happen to me...if only game. It is easy for us to wallow in our own grief and forget that there is hope for us…there is life out there…our heart needs to be filled with desire and love.
We can choose to stay in the dung heap, or get up out of it, and find a new direction and a new way of being. Each day truly offers a new opportunity. Each day offers new people to meet and new friends to make! We are made to spread love in this world…and, foremost, to be gentle with ourselves and give love to ourselves. When things become too much, when people have left you for another, when you are just fed-up with all that is going wrong–GOOD! This observation is a SIGN to you to MOVE FORWARD! That is the time to throw all that grief out of your life and BEGIN again! Life is a series of beginning and endings…but if something is ending…something new is about to begin! Keep your life going…weep a little for yourself, be gentle with you, and then leave it behind…and go forward with your heart…”filling your heart with what is important!”
Heart outtake (Photo credit: @Doug88888)
Life and Art and Life
so much truth in this writing!
it was just a flower garden
she got up early
and toiled in the soil on the hillside
hoping to pull the weeds
before the hot sun struck her back…
it was just a flower garden
a simple flower garden
into which she tried
–to find meaning
–to give meaning
–to be meaningful
finally she had to leave and rest
and found herself seated on the front doorstep
and all of her life passed her by–
the tears fell one by one–
pounding the cement
with each memory
morning entrance
Perennial
Looking out over the backyard,
my eye takes in a delicious view…
the dew is gentle on the perennials —
whose guest appearance is more abundant this year with the copious amount of rainfall–
in the distance, I can see the fog lift up the grass..
the fields stretch for miles
bordered by a silhouette of forest…
the birds have already begun their morning dialogue
the birch tree is stretching to grow…
and the majestic sun-fire is entering to light our day–
Morning to you all!
an oblique glance
an oblique glance
came my way
as tears
washed through the inside of me
how humanity
finds sorrow difficult to face head on
we sandwich our funerals in between our tasks
we excuse ourselves if we are asked
we run
we hide
we fear
we do not want to be its pawn
yet into every life
grief enters
perhaps if we entered its song
we could right ourselves from the wrong?
Overwhelmed
chaos
building in my mind
squeezing the orange
one more time!
pain floating
in and out
how the inner voices
leap and shout
Toni Zenz, “Der Hörende”
(“The Listener,” bronze, 1957,
Pax-Christi Kirche, Essen, Germany)
why?…why not?
judge…do not judge
smoke-filled
brain fog smudge
BE …OPEN up MIND
leap on that being
turn it into becoming
let out the primordial scream
LISTEN
Whisper Quick
In Loving Memory of my brother,
Airman Roger J. Johann
July 24, 1935-May, 4, 1955
Life is a whisper quick–
as he balanced the cigarette on his lip
I was just three, sitting on his knee
the kitchen chair, him and me
then he passed the cigarette my way
naïve I was what can I say
when a puff of smoke I did inhale
and I felt ever so pale
big brothers have their ways
and we did bond deeply in that stay.
It was Christmas Eve and I was four
I was waiting for him who I adored
Snuggled in his bed asleep
He picked me up and down the stairs we did creep
There underneath the lit Christmas tree
Colored chalk and blackboard waiting for me!
Off to England and Iceland next
There he was the Air Force guest
Then the day became the night
His life was lost on that flight
Only nineteen, it was not fair
So young and so much to give for freedom’s dare
The North Atlantic took him to the Lord
And his eight friends who were aboard
Now the years have come and gone
Still I remember his gentle song
My Mom sat with me
Beneath the window breeze
Pointing to the sky
To the military formation for me to fly
There were the planes one by one
Except for yours, they flew their song
How deep her sorrow for you she wept
In her heart, the love she kept
How many young people have given their life
For freedom, that day, became your wife
illusion
“It is more shameful to distrust our friends than to be deceived by them.”
― Confucius
“Opening”
the hurt of betrayal
shakes a person to the core
the hurt of betrayal
closes love’s door
disbelief and shock
become companions of the day
sleeplessness and tears
become the unspoken way
doubts of self arise within
becoming despair and lost hope
dragging in the mud
contemplating how to cope
as illusions continue to flood
the pain is real and deep
trust is in a tailspin
still love prevails as I weep
somehow forgiveness
must enter once more
somehow goodness
must surface to the floor
compassion for the other
cannot be ignored
compassion for oneself
as hope opens the door
Footprints of Thoughts 
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