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These are poems that I wrote a long time ago.
Tomorrow is the day, the day I will call her, the day I will see
him.
Tomorrow has become today and passed - so have they.
They are gone and tomorrow is yesterday.
Tomorrow is the day, the day I will tell him of my love and show
her how very much she means.
Tomorrow has become today and passed - so have they.
They are gone and tomorrow is yesterday.
Let tomorrow be the day, the day you speak, the day you cry.
Tomorrow will become today and then pass - and so will they.
They will be gone and tomorrow will be yesterday.
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The
longing, the aching,
is more
than I can bear.
How
can I miss someone
I’ve
never met?
But
as much as I wish to forget,
I still
care;
Still
think of stirrings,
little
feet, and lullabies.
Sometimes
I can smell
that
sweet scent.
In my
dreams I see
his
tiny smiles
as I
cry.
Impossible
to explain,
missing
someone
I’ve
never met.
Again, Oh Lord,
I did it again.
Is that 10
times today
or 100?
Why is it so
hard?
I need to know
why.
Just when I
find
the first mend
I see more
black loose
threads.
Again, Lord,
I did it again.
My angry voice,
scraping a
pit to China.
I want to give
up,
to scream and
cry.
I long for
the rage
of a childish
fit.
Self wages
war
on my soul.
Again, Lord,
again.
One slip of
the tongue
And another
lost battle.
Another and
another –
Oh, stop me!
I try to forget
that
this war will
never end,
like a mechanical
bull
with me in
the saddle.
Again, again,
again!
Self jabs,
bites,
laughs, torments.
My soul shrinks
and cowers,
forgetting
its massive reserves
closely bending,
waiting for
a message,
a whisper sent.
Again! Again!
Again!
Wait! Finally,
the candle
shines through.
The whisper
resounds
through the
towers.
Aching, crumpled,
warm hope soothes.
My soul will
push forward
‘til
the next time.
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