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“It must surely pass” Are the few worn words That I scrape together each morn, For the onslaught of living
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I will breathe again When I’ve lost every one of my enemies When I’m free of revenge And build, is all, that’s required of me I will breathe again in the moment of truth When I see only kin In their various shades and sizes But secretly, I‘ll despair For if only I had seen…
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Time Time And time Is all that we have Then it rages away When we starve for it most Constantly awash Like tea barrels cast into a harbor Surging, ocean-bound and never returned Time, will strand us where it may Taunting and flowing As we crawl and scream and plead For just, “one moment longer”
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I can recall A clear and pristine day When the world was fearless, fair and wide When I lingered, at a wise old porch Before a sea of tall grass And a warm and serpentine lake There was the lone white boat Of an estranged acquaintance Distant, but somehow vital to me Just before the…
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The songbirds have all surrendered The riptides of spring have all ground To a sorrowful hush Now I must forage the mind For truth-wielding words Words, meant to stir And awaken the weary I must pry them out From the cold dead night As my ego, so eagerly demands So they might be beloved By…
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Originally posted on Raja's Insight: Introducing Don Beukes Mr. Don Beukes is a retired teacher of English and Geography. Originally from Cape Town in South Africa, he grew up in the shadow of Table Mountain, always aspiring to achieve the best in life, despite living in a racially divided country. He lives by his favorite…
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When I have lost my wrath When apathy weighs upon me When I haven’t the heart, nor the strength to revenge, I’ll have no more affection To spare for this life
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Originally posted on Raja's Insight: ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Stranded ? Clinging for dear life, Barely grasping the weeds, It’s handles reach like fingertips in the wind, “One gusty blow!” The plastic bag screams, “And I’m sailing.” ? ? © Elizabeth Daniel Response to our Inspiration Call on February 24,…
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I’ve fallen for the sound of my voice Spilling high and mighty words Meant to nurture All the endless, breadlines of scholars In truth, I can only be adored By the haze of my treasured delusions By the statuesque anthems That I thoughtlessly carve And christen: Eternity My days are but short-lived peaks Then tearful…
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Atop a pyre of incense I am passive and drowsing away Willingly, scorched and devoid Of my limbs On a late afternoon Engulfed, by a nurturing blaze Till the ills of a dull day are ghosts Until I’m afloat Down a strange array of rivers Flowing, into parts unknown As I pulse With a life…
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