Writing

Medicinal Scribble

                                                       
   
A rhyme is deciphered in multiple ways,
            Perception is vital,
                           As is the length of one’s daze,
The spelling of words can hold meanings construed,
              Making some rhymes sound different
                             If heard, and not viewed.

Inflections on words can be easily read,
            Better yet, when expressed from the heart…
                                      …(not the head).

A title can mimic the gist of the rhyme,
            Or take one on a journey
                             Through eons of time.

One thing is for sure about all that you’ve read,
           When we touch with our heart,
                           And reveal in our head,
What we feel becomes worth something more when expressed,
            On a piece of plain paper,
                          In truth or in jest!

You see, when stagnant feelings are held in the chest,
            The results of this could be your worst or your best,

Transformed feelings have less chance to become,
            Heart attacks that would otherwise
                           End lives of some.

 

 

© 2002

Title change  2013

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Thoughts on paper...purges the toxins. Ahhhh...

The Great Becoming (Redux)

 

 

 

I’ve placed too much of myself
right here, along the cable
Too much remains erratic
or, better yet, unstable

 

 

 

 

You moved me like a puppet
yet I gave you the strings
the ones you used to pull me
bound on your broken wings

 

 

 

 

Now I tear from your orbit
Limbs bleeding, bruised, affrayed
I stare out to the future
to history yet unmade

 

 

 

 

Should I now speak in whispers
or what the slaves call "tongues"
to keep the lice from feasting
on kardia’s congealed crumbs?

 

 

 

 

Do I excise all feeling
drain out my tender side
lest I be snared by sirens
and dragged beneath the tides?

 

 

 

 

I need now a renaissance
A death of what once was
Rechristen myself Devil
to slay a thousand Gods

 

 

 

 

Burn out all trace of wretched
to starve the fear inside
Cremate the Superego
Sublime tyrannicide!

 

 

 

 

And rise renewed, infernal
A stronger strain of being
to scar this world constricted
where slavery is the mean

 

 

 

 

You thought you knew what made me
much more than I myself?
You knew only the miser
denying hidden wealth

 

 

 

 

Sing requiems for the dreamer
who choked on your sweet words
He lives now, reincarnate
beyond the reach of herds

 

 

 

 

~MRDA~

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reworking the path...

View mrda's Full Portfolio

Robins (Haiku)

Folder: 
Haikus

Listening to them
chirp after three days of rain
soothing to the soul.

Copyright © Cynthia Jones
May.11/2012

View cynthia's Full Portfolio

Grass (Haiku)

Folder: 
Haikus

Grass is lush and green
it truly enjoys the rain
can't wait for Summer.

Copyright Cynthia Jones
May.9/2012

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A Soldier's Grave

Folder: 
Sad Poems

'Neath a weeping willow
stands a soldier's grave,
friends and family visit him
and thank him for the life he gave.

Every year that goes by
he is always remembered,
a poppy and wreath are carefully placed
questions are left unanswered.

Young ones ask questions
"Mommy and daddy, why is he dead?"
they try to reply, without crying
"Because of the bravery he lead."

The clouds grow dark
the air turns bitterly cold,
families remember the lives of loved ones
grin about the days of old.

The day is over now
families and friends, leave their loved one behind,
hoping that one day soon
peace, they will be able to find.

Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Nov.11/2006

The Children Of 9/11/2001

Folder: 
9/11 Poems

Some of them were too young
to remember what went on,
two and three years old
they just started the parent, child bond.

Others would remember that day
as they sat back and cried,
not growing up with their parent
for ten long years, they were denied.

Remembering those lost today
children's hearts, still torn in two,
looking at names engraved in stone
for the entire world to view.

Copyright Cynthia Jones
Sept.11/2011

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written on the tenth anniversary.

Don't Cry, I Am Here

Folder: 
9/11 Poems

I know, within my heart and soul
that this has been a hard day,
friends and family, remembering those lost
just trying to find their way.

Millions of tears had been shed
throughout ten years too long,
but in your hearts, try to remember
your loved ones, with a happy song.

Many people had passed on this day
lest we forget them all,
I send my hugs, directly to you
I will be there to catch you, if you fall.

I will give you a shoulder to lean on
if you can't stand on your own two feet,
I am one of many in this world
with loving, open arms, I will greet.

God doesn't want you to cry
He holds your loved ones near,
keeping them safe, in the arms of His love
there is nothing, no longer to fear.

Copyright Cynthia Jones
Sept.11/2011

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Ten years to the day.

An Emotional Day

Folder: 
9/11 Poems

A woman cries, for her husband
one of many, carved in stone,
I can feel her heart breaking
she wants him to come home.

It fills my eyes with tears
looking at pictures of families,
listening to the names of the lost
many souls, that had been released.

It's been an emotional day
for those, left behind,
wishing they could take their place
solice in this world, they are trying to find.

Trying to go on with life
without their loved ones near,
they're trying not to forget them
'neath a blue sky, so clear.

My prayers are being said
for everyone that has cried,
remembering all of those Angels, in Heaven
forever sitting at God's side.

Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Sept.11/2011

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I will be posting more Sept.11th poems.

My Dearest Grandpa (Walked, Road, Heaven)

Do you remember when I was a child
how I had always looked up to you?
You were the only father figure in my life
every day, felt so brand new.

You used to tell me stories, grandpa
about how you used to work on the railroad,
you also worked at the fish plant
your stories had to be told.

"Tell me another story grandpa"
I would always used to say,
you talked about being the head gardener
at the Algonquin Hotel, every single day.

You worked extremely hard grandpa
with every day of your life,
even being the night watchman at the Hotel
where every evening, you would call your wife.

Remember how we had walked
uptown to the ice cream store,
we always had grandma with us
she enjoyed every minute of it, for sure.

Grandpa, I enjoyed every minute
we had spent together,
you found ways to cheer me up
when I was under the weather.

Going from hole to hole, on the golf course
being on the wharf, fishing with you,
walking along the beach, during the Summer
there was always something to do.

You taught me how to draw
skip rocks along the water,
I know you loved me dearly
you did everything with me, your granddaughter.

I enjoyed our times together, grandpa
listened, as you played on your accordion,
walking around outside in the yard
picking roses, every now and then.

I miss you every day, grandpa
not a day goes by, that I don't think of you,
yesterday, would have been your eighty-seventh birthday
grandma, misses you with her heart too.

I hope Heaven is treating you nicely
my sadness, continues to grow,
missing you dearly, every day
it's taken a long time to write something, you know.

You are now with your daughter, my Mom
you have had an interesting life,
down the road, you've walked your journey
missing you dearly, is my strife.

Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Dec.23/2011

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My grandfather passed away Jan.10/2011. I miss him dearly. He was the only father figure I had in my life and I looked up to him. It took me this long to finally sit down to write this. I still cry, every time I read this poem. I miss and love you grandpa (Bampa).