Sparkle and Shine

Dedication, wide eyes, idealism

to make the world a better place

early on it seems shoulders are so wide

and results are served on a platter

but years come and go, as patients come and go

and life responsibilities add to the burden

so slowly it doesn’t seem noticeable

until you find yourself looking at a wall

and wondering about your place in the world

if you are meant to be where you are

doing what you do so very well with

years of experience under your belt

it is merely that somewhere along the way

you forgot that you need that same

tender loving care as you give others

the respect and gratitude to maintain

your shine and sparkle that you carry

in your memory of days gone

Inspiration

inspiration comes from the least suspected ways

and often when you least expect it

“out of the mouths of babes” we hear it

in the middle of the street

where the gang-bangers run

and the bag ladies make their collections

you never know when that little bird

is due to chirp on your shoulder,

never know when help is on the way

you just need to know that you are

right where you are meant to be

at that perfect moment when

synchronicity calls you to speak,

to move in a certain direction,

to shine a light on the darkest corner

you will know that you have done your part

helps just one or in time helped many

and then you know you may not save the world

but you have made it better

Everyman

what is everyman but you and me

the worker whose back is sore from bending

the aged who cry as their abilities decay

the disabled who rage at not having a chance

to see their dreams come true

the healers and helpers who absorb

the failures of society day in and day out

the wealthy who can never be fulfilled

and the poor who don’t know how

not to question what life terrorizes them with next

we are all interchangeable

we are all on a merry-go-round

up and down as we make the circle

one day we have one role, the next another,

taking and giving, playing our parts,

not looking for thanks but wishes for it a little

the cycle of time and life and strength

and weakness, power and a soft moan

that few can recognize but in time

comes to everyman

Illusion

it may not be what you think it is

do your eyes deceive, is it slight of pen?

you carry the world in a tin cup

and sprinkle the stars from a garden hose

no one suspects, no one relates the mystery

in the stream of time when blue-collared birds

fly and float on the air, whirl and dive

can you dream? do you suspect?  close your eyes

and envision the magician stepping from the fog

his assistant smiles and steps to the side

but who pulls the puppet’s strings, really?

let it be your imagination, your desire to see

what the world cannot really give you

and, truth be told, it all fades to gray

when the clock strikes three and

the house of cards falls down, down, down

and the rhymes no longer sound in chimes

Answers

Perhaps I don’t know the answers

perhaps they are written in glyphs

but my point of view is the one I see from

an opinion like all the millions of others

so I still get through my day

just like you will get through yours

I speak my Truth and maybe, then,

the message is not for you, if you don’t understand,

like the old adage, “If the shoe fits, wear it,”

but if it doesn’t, move along.

I’m not judging, I’m just saying

in plain and simple language,

what I see, what I hope for, what I love.

And if I know the answers, maybe I’ll share it

in coy response, in tangled metaphors,

but why do you get ugly when I speak my mind?

Emerging

Amid the pattering of raindrops

I heard the pitter-patter of my heart

a light, hopeful beating that inspired

the coming of the sun back into life

and fight though I may, I had to endure

the lofty clouds that darkened the sky

a churning of the gray cotton as I lay

staring at the ceiling, at the wall,

awaiting a moment that I knew

would inevitably come to reawaken

my soul and invigorate my mind and body,

a lifting of the shadows, the terrible grinch

that had stolen my voice and my thought

but I knew the day would come

because I could smash the frightful thoughts

out of my mind and challenge the naysayers,

those who had long past given up on the me

who resurrects occasionally like a phoenix

out of the ashes and into a greater being

with a louder, more confident voice

Roses

lips curled in gentle smiles

painted in shades of crimson, yellow,

so wide-eyed one might think

they would fall from the thorny stalk

yet pride and lofty fragrance

keeps the blossoms overflowing there

where rows of bushes create a collage

of color, bright, renewed year after year,

a circle of promise, kissed with dew

like a morning sunrise carries hope,

offering up its face to enlighten the world

and bless each life with grace, respect,

a choice bud of beauty granting life

Dream Stories

dream stories tell us our truth

we believe, we doubt, it may not compute

it seems eerily odd, the high and the low,

so much to tell us, so much we can know

when the consciousness is resting

our eyes closed in quiet slumber

we go somewhere to meet ourselves inside

with pictures and stories not to be denied

for there are our greatest gifts to self

to know and understand our place, our shelf,

where we are going, where we can be seen

the whole thing lines up in the story of a dream