A chronicle of my life and poetic meanderings of my personal journey, joys, lows, and intermittent strife.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Without Thinking
I get lost in my own movements; the ebb and flow of the swaying rhythm
Without thinking, I reel this way and then that way
I escape the doldrums and fill the metaphoric plenum
With new and exciting ways to dismiss the demons
And on good days entirely forget them
©2010 J. K. Bradford
Monday, September 20, 2010
Crop Circles
Your hope in me wears swift shoes on nimble feet
Springing Gazelle like through the tall and southward bent
Zoysa green blades of grass
I bend low to eye the high arched crop circles that you have
Left behind
In your sadly mistaken haste
And in your idealistic wake
My pastime is not to follow you
Nor is it to track your methodic moves
I live only to breathe in the remains of your vim
And the crushed life that slowly seeps chlorophyll
I envy you
Although I could never tell you
and
If you were ever inclined to trace your past steps
You would as sure as sunrise find me at lovelorn peace
Laid low by admiration
Content to trace the outline of your merciful imprint
Everywhere you have been
I have been and l have laid my body down
A carob tree shrine
A temple free of walls where I have prayed
and paid for my sins
While up ahead you run head first into my disappointing day
©2003 j.k bradford
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Clearing Our Throats
Do not want what we would not wish for today
This moment a diadem in the hemmed up trim of our mutual fringe
We start what we never could see to begin
and in the distance a hinge
that squeaks in the wind
Before the door falls off in disrepair in the end
Do we not both wince from the pain of personal growth
Our interpersonal joints aching as we communicate the opening of our wings
and other important and enlightening things
and then
We smile and nervously clear our throats
©2009 J. K. Bradford
Cannons & Bows
I don’t always do or say that which should be said
In fact, I rarely do
I may falter,
I may even fail
I sure as artic snow slip off the focused rail
I don’t always take the right steps or the proper path
Many will say it’s true
I may trip
I stumble off trail
I definitely know the hammer misses the nail
But I try
Sometimes when something comes about
Something that in itself may not be positive it can make you glad
Glad that you knew
Glad that your Father show’d you the truth
And enable you to
Cope with the pits and the arrows that life sometimes throws
Unforeseen circumstance
Shot from cannons and bows
Occurrences we all must endure
This side of the new world I am sure I will drop
My knees may be bloodied
But I will not be stopped
I will pray and persist with my God as my guide
When the weather pelts cruelly in his tower I will hide
I will not relent ever and I will not release
My hold on the life that awaits all he keeps
So though I am human
Imperfect
And Cracked
Faulty and bruised
There is nothing I lack
For Jehovah is my shepherd
And I his meek sheep
Whether I walk freely or I’m awaken from sleep
I wait for the day when the evil is abated
My Sovereign Lord Jehovah’s name vindicated
The time when all will know who is the ancient of Days
The worthy of the Honor
The Glory
The Praise
Buried with the Truth
I know all of the hard thoughts that crowd your pretty head
or at least I used to
I know there is a jar of pickled promises preserved for anyone to
peruse visually
I used to
But I guess I don't know you
Like I thought I did
I guess I don't know you now
or the person I was with
So many years ago
What was it 93?
When you said you embarked on this strange odyssey
Turned your lack of self respect into a sad fantasy
From which you cannot return
Will you ever learn?
I know hope is still somewhere around
Lying dormant in your dignity's lost and found
I say this though I know you hate the sound
of my voice
of my cries
of my choice to be
A simple man who could love God primarily
How you wish it could be like it was in our memory
But that was a lie
Wrapped in a lie
A fallacious waste of time
And with the truth, you in some way have buried me
or at least I used to
I know there is a jar of pickled promises preserved for anyone to
peruse visually
I used to
But I guess I don't know you
Like I thought I did
I guess I don't know you now
or the person I was with
So many years ago
What was it 93?
When you said you embarked on this strange odyssey
Turned your lack of self respect into a sad fantasy
From which you cannot return
Will you ever learn?
I know hope is still somewhere around
Lying dormant in your dignity's lost and found
I say this though I know you hate the sound
of my voice
of my cries
of my choice to be
A simple man who could love God primarily
How you wish it could be like it was in our memory
But that was a lie
Wrapped in a lie
A fallacious waste of time
And with the truth, you in some way have buried me
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