Truth's Arrow

Notch the arrow, let it fly
Straight and true into the sky
Fall to earth, no more to roam
Revealing truth when it hits home

Poetry - Empty Shell

If I become an empty shell
That is the end of me
No decisions I can make
No future as far as I can see

I must hold steadfast to myself
I can never turn a pawn
An empty, hardened shell of hate
One small crack, and all is gone

Poem - My Life

I'll live my life as I see fit
To none will I surrender it

My dreams are mine to love and do
They do not need support from you

My hopes belong to me alone
Within my heart they make their home

My heart is mine alone to give
You cannot tell me how to live

I'll live my life as I see best
Until I find eternal rest

Poetry - Hopeful Dreams

There's a dream that can't be spoken
There's a piece of life unbroken
There's a hope, a dream, a fear, a chance just waiting to be heard
There's a light beyond the sorrow
There's a chance beyond tomorrow
There's a reason in the future, you'll just have to take my word

Poetry - Downward Spiral

I cannot last much longer now,
Something's gonna break,
I see no chance, no change of stance,
My efforts now seem fake.

I'm caught up in a downward spiral,
Rushing to my doom,
I see no hope to help me cope,
I'm falling, falling...


...BOOM!

Poetry - Abrupt Absonance

Just when you think that Life is getting better,
The tears are drying up and Hope is on the rise,
Just when you think that your life is getting better,
Something else will happen, that dream of new hope dies.

Just when it seems that Life's riding on an updraft,
Things are getting better and you're rising to the top,
Just when it seems that Life's riding on an updraft,
The wind dies down quite suddenly, Life's rise comes to a stop.

Just when I know that there's Hope around the corner,
Happiness is here again, the future glitters brightly,
Just when I know that Hope is waiting 'round the corner,
The building falls on top of me, the Future turns unsightly.

Just when I think that now I have a chance,
My future looks so tempting and I know that I'll succeed,
Just when I realize that I now have a chance,
There comes another danger sign that I can't help but heed.

I cannot live like this much longer, something gonna give,
My sanity is fractured and I don't know how to live,
My life fallen in pieces and I don't know what to do,
I cannot live like this, and yet I cannot live without you.

Just when I think that things are getting better,
Just when it seems everything will be alright,
Just when I think everything is getting better,
That's when the Demons come again, to end our upward flight.

Poem - Mr. Nobody

I know a funny little man,
As quiet as a mouse.
He does the mischief that is done
In everybody's house.
Though no one ever sees his face,
Yet one and all agree
That every plate we break, was cracked
By Mr. Nobody.

'Tis he who always tears our books,
Who leaves the door ajar.
He picks the buttons from our shirts,
And scatters pins afar.
That squeaking door will always squeak -
For prithee, don't you see?
We leave the oiling to be done
By Mr. Nobody.

He puts damp wood upon the fire,
That kettles will not boil:
His are the feet that bring in mud
And all the carpets soil.
The papers that so oft are lost -
Who has them last but he?
There's no one tosses them about
But Mr. Nobody.

The fingermarks upon the door
By none of us were made.
We never leave the blinds unclosed
To let the curtains fade.
The ink we never spill! The boots
That lying round you see,
Are not our boots - they all belong
To Mr. Nobody.

~ Author Unknown

Poem - Barter

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitening on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.

~Sara Teasdale

Poem - I Am the Cat

In Egypt they worshiped me -
I am the Cat.
Because I bend not to the will of man
They call be a mystery.
When I catch and play with a mouse,
They call me cruel,
Yet they take animals to keep
In parks and zoos, that they may gape at them.
They think all animals are made for their pleasure,
To be their slaves.
And, while I kill only for my needs,
They kill for pleasure, power and gold,
And then pretend to a superiority!
Why should I love them?
I, the Cat, whose ancestors
Proudly trod the jungle,
Not one ever tamed by man.
Ah, do they know
That the same immortal hand
That gave them breath, gave breath to me?
But I alone am free -
I am THE CAT.

~ Leila Usher

Poetry - Wings of Despair

The wings of Despair will arise in the night,
To capture the weary and make them take flight.
Despair will hold captive all projects held dear,
If you let him alight on your soul while he's near.

My soul is my own but that will not stop him,
As he searches the world round, both sternly and grim,
He will capture the souls that he feels will fall prey,
To his hunger for hopelessness, feeding each day.

He will take you and break you and make you lose hope,
He will grind you to pieces 'til you cannot cope,
He will pity you not as he snaps up conviction,
Don't ask for his help, he gives no benediction.

Don't let evil win, do not give up the fight,
Argue with him over justice and right,
Stand firm to your faith, do not let him descend,
Despair is a leech, do not let him befriend.

Poetry - Hidden Flaws

Crack in the wall, mar of the plaster,
Gaping at me from the ceiling above,
Showing your flaws to all the people,
Holding nothing back.

Isn't it nice to be so alive,
Having no fear to let every flaw show?
My secrets in life remain on the inside,
Afraid to face the world.

Poem - The Fool's Prayer

The royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"

The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the monarch's silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin: but, Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.

"Our faults no tenderness should ask,
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders - oh, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!"

The room was hushed, in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool.
And walked apart, and murmered low,
"Be merciful to me, a fool!"

~Edward Rowland Sill

Poem - The Blind Men and the Elephant

It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the elephant
(Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation
Might Satisfy his mind.

The First approached the elephant,
And, happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! but the elephant
Is nothing but a wall!"

The Second, feeling at the tusk,
Cried: "Ho! what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me 'tis mighty clear
This wonder of an elephant
Is very like a spear!"

The Third approached the animal,
And, happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up and spake:
"Is see," quoth he, "the elephant
Is very like a snake!"

The Fourth reached out his eager hand,
And felt about the knee:
"What most this wonderous beast is like
Is mighty plain," quoth he;
"'Tis clear enough the elephant
Is very like a tree."

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an elephant
Is very like a fan!"

The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the elephant
Is very like a rope!"

And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right.
And all were in the wrong!

So, oft in theologic wars
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean.
And prate about an elephant
Not one of them has seen!

~John Godfrey Saxe

Poem - The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore -
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door:
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain.
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door:
That it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul gres stronger: hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door;-
That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more!

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmered back the word "Lenore!"
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window-lattice;
Let me see then what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind, and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mein of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, though," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the nightly shore!
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!"

Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore!"

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarecely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore!"

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore -
'Till the dirges of his Hope one melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never - nevermore.'"

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust, and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore -
Meant in croaking "Nevermore!"

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er
But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah! nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer,
Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from the memories of Lenore!
Quaff, Oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horrors haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By the heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore,
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore -
Clasp a fair and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or field!" I shrieked, upstarting -
"Get thee back into the tempest and the night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie they soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a deamon that is dreaming,
Adnd the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

~Edgar Allan Poe

Poem - A Psalm of Life

What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real - life is earnest -
And the grave is not its goal:
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destin'd end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Art if long, and time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

And the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, however pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act - act in the glorious Present!
Heart within, and God o'er head!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footsteps on the sands of time.

Footsteps, that, perhaps another
Sailing o'er life's solemn main
A forlorn and shipwreck'd brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Poem - Winter Snow

Winter snow falls gently,
Slowly,
Softly gliding to the ground.
Muffled voices gently,
Quiet,
Softly leaving not a sound.

Poetry - Empty Dream

All my life I've wondered, is this just an empty dream?
Are all the things I've done with life become inconsequential?
Is this a dream, this chance of life, and nothing more than shadow?
Or is there meaning hidden here, to those who seek to find?

All my life I've wondered, is this just an empty dream?
Is there some hope of victory, some chance to make a change?
And if that change is made then will it stand against the ages?
Or do changes made both here and now just fade away to dust?

All my life I've wondered, is this just an empty dream?
Is there purpose hidden deep within, or is it all a lie?
Is what we see here what exists or merely our mind's shadow?
And do things seen here just disappear when dreaming minds are gone?

All my life I've wondered, is this just an empty dream?
Are my efforts here for nothing, are they only here for me?
Or do others perceive what I see, this universal Universe?
Are all my dreams reflected in the sight of others here?

All my life I've wondered, is this just an empty dream?
Will the things I see here disappear as soon as I am gone?
Is this merely shape now given to the thoughts inside my head?
Or is this Universe outside my thoughts, a physical expanse?

All my life I've wondered, is this just an empty dream?
Is there meaning in the heavens and a life outside my own?
Or am I merely dreaming of this broad expanse before me?
Do these wonderous opportunities reside only in my head?

Please answer me my question, is this just an empty dream?
Can anyone else hear me, is my voice alone or heard?
Please answer me my question, is my life here for a purpose?
Do my efforts really help or is this just an empty dream?

Poetry - Questions

"Who am I now?"
I start to cry
My life displayed before my eye

"What has gone wrong?"
I'm left to moan
The failures of my past lie, shown

"Where do I go?"
I wander blind
In circles running through my mind

"When have I failed?"
I stumble, fall
No pride for me, no standing tall

"How have I lost?"
My chances lost
My past survived, but what a cost!

"Why am I here?"
No purpose now
But I will make it back, somehow...

Poetry - Dark Rain

The rain outside reflects my mood
In tear-filled puddles on the ground
Within this void that some call life
I stop and cry without a sound

The angry sky looks down in spite
The sky is dark, the clouds are deep
With plodding step and heavy heart
I find myself longing for sleep

But all things end, as end they must
The sun comes out and stops the rain
Again she smiles, nature once more
Leaves me alone within my pain

Poetry - The Enemy

I stare ahead,
Then I glance down;
My future lies ahead, I know.

But who am I?
What is my goal?
Where do I stand, where should I go?

No answers here,
No course is sure,
No path displayed for me to tread,

All hope seems lost,
My past a wreck,
My thinking now has turned to dread.

I want to stay,
I want to rest,
I want to stay safe and secure,

No need of paths,
No need of hope,
No victory I'm fighting for.

The future lies,
Awaits my step,
And yet I pause to look behind.

My greatest fear,
My strongest foe,
My greatest weakness - my own mind.