The Illusion of knowing

The illusion of living,
Is that we can have any knowledge
Of how it turns out.
Life is improvised-
Ride the wave of changing circumstance-
Till you think you know what’s what,
Then get ready to fall!

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The Winter Wind

The winter-wind bobbed the pine’s crown to and fro,
As if it were affixed to the star above it;
Right then I might as well have been a child;
Unsteady on his feet, unsure of his future –
The feeling so divine –
That I bid the wind blow me back and forth forever,
Like the pine feeling all at once: what was and will be.
I knew then that I’d be a writer:
The draw of that midnight dash
For a world not yet conquered
Too strong;
The destination of no import-
Victory or defeat both the same;
To the mind that dreams
Of a winter wind

Today

Live for today,
For tomorrow’s another man’s day

Trying

Try and succeed or try and fail,
Then try again another way…
If it is my fate to fail in all I love,
Then let me fail gloriously
So it should not matter where I end:
But only the places I have been;
Those I’ve loved and been loved in turn;
Along my uncompromising way

Winter

Wind in the branches,
Laden with the coming snow,
A single lark’s call.

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you Thursday Poets Rally for the Perfect Poem Award.

I nominate Becky for the next award

News

It’s no mystery why my mood,
Is inversely proportional to how much News I read.
Understanding their train wreck world
Doesn’t make for a happy day.
Time to create a bubble:
Build a world I love ;
Make it real with thoughts and actions;
Make it strong with a stable core;
And then see where I…
Prefer to live!

Uneconomical

In my experience if a task is uneconomical,
It is most definitely worth doing

Wealth

When all we want is beauty, health and permanence,
Why can no one afford to make it?

Inner Space

In this inner space our fires rage
but do not consume a thing –
Save the self that feeds a mind
never weaned from envy, hatred or fear,
insecurities fed by an imagination twisted and raw.
Could this fire not burn another fuel?
One made of hope,
Dug up from dreams long buried in the earth
Childhood memories all but forgotten,
what we always wanted:
to do,
to learn,
to be?

Self-Growth

Fulfillment through work-
is it such a crazy idea?
To create something worthwhile,
for the benefit of others
and the growth of yourself?

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014
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