Tag Archives: truth

what it is…

the hazing starts when we are girls, 
sheltered from the outside world
where monsters claim the unsuspecting
we fledge our natal nests expecting
limitless opportunity…
too soon smacked by reality
that most of us will just make do
while fate rewards a chosen few
we learn to make the best of it
find happiness in simple shit
work our fingers to the bone
and if we’re lucky build a home
find love, companionship, have kids
for most of us, that’s all there is
and it’s enough, we tell ourselves
our dreams collecting dust long-shelved
our parents didn’t mean to lie
they hoped we’d crack the ceilinged sky
but we were set up from the start
ensuring disappointed hearts
only to learn life’s bittersweet
where happiness and sorrow meet
and if we live to see old age
our minds intact, our bodies razed
as memories flash in our mind’s eye
at least we can admit we tried,
gave it all we had and then some
fought to glimpse another sun
though life is messy, it is all
hard to let go when the sickle falls


Love and Hate – a Cleave Poem

(A cleave poem is three poems in one often with two contrasting views expressed. Read the left side / top to bottom, then the / right side and finally read the entire / line across top to bottom.)

our intention is love though / hate sells
it is hard / fear is a motivator
to love / lies, repeated, doubled down
in times like this / over and over
when so much is at stake / become the truth
we don’t have the luxury / because people are fools
to rest on the sidelines / easily falling
wallowing in despair / for alternative facts
remember this / forget the truth
we are not victims / its a brilliant plan
we are over-comers / victory is a lie away
lovers of justice / power is everything
followers of peace / weaklings are losers
freedom is not free / you have to fight
so let your intention be / survival of the fittest
love and only love / is our motto
for only love will / be afraid, be very afraid
save us from ourselves / let us save you


September Poem #27

a truth’s
regarded through subjective
lenses is easily dismissed
as smoke with no fire


why so shocked – 42 Day 30

why so shocked

it’s not like we didn’t know

such fools…we deserve this mess
and more, for our willful indifference

this monstrosity is our own doing,
every unearthed revelation, every vulgar tweet,
ironic, how greatness has become our undoing


For Jane Dougherty’s Daily Poem Challenge 42.

My political commentary for the day. Nothing should shock us anymore, and yet, we still find ourselves dumbfounded, mouth agape, staring blankly at our screens, every time a new “truth” comes to light and the talking heads jabber away with feigned outrage (secretly happy for the increased ratings to be had for their latest expose’).

One thing I have noticed has changed, however. We are no longer afraid of the “L” word. We no longer tiptoe around it as was the practice only a few short years ago. It is not uncommon to hear it proclaimed without even a blip of hesitation. “The president LIED.” “Well that is just a lie.” No more, “maybe it’s alternative facts”, “maybe he really believes it”, no more, “to say something is a lie, we must know the intent of the liar, and of course it is impossible to know intent…” Apparently, we are past giving a pass to this liar in chief who cannot tell the truth…ever. And that I believe is a good thing. Oh there are still the die-hards who believe every cockamamie thing that comes from his orange face; who believe every word he tweets with his tiny fingers. Nothing will ever convince them otherwise. But I am encouraged that the truth seems to be making a slow, steady comeback by default. Truth is still a bit elusive, but the fact that we can acknowledge a lie when it is a lie, is a good start.


Saturday Magnets

The muse is being philosophical today…😉

light is not quiet
we’d know this
if we were listening

they will whisper
do it anyway
live like no one
is watching

i love knowing
that somewhere
in the world flowers
are blooming and
day is night…when
we look up we see
the same sky

go for brilliance
or not at all
there is no almost
to breathing


Magnetic Poetry

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