Each month, write a new collection.
I am a morning person, The 6am car radio converses on arrivalIts hard to turn off world news and park the car.Afterwards,I open the door and turn on lightsWondering how lives weaveTogether.I love the early time with patients No pre-thinking each detail Redo familiar habitsIn mundane morning meditationAfterwards,Daily trepidations confrontBolstered by accomplishments steady,Of groomed, well fed and ready.Popcorn between patientsPack weekly notes inDuring free timeThe day speeds by in a fast jogAfterwardsThere’s still an hour which is mineBrainstorm fun for another care planChat with co-worker, on life.Time to order desk, pigeon hole post itsHide coveted pencil to its placeGrab lunch pail and stand at timeclockPunch out the exact second required.AfterwardsI’m in the school parking lot waitingSearching for my familiar lovesOur dog peers through the window as we climb our home steps.Afterwards, We slump into couchesRustle our dogAnd share the day’s adventures.
I love the peace of this poem. Really beautiful!
Put It In The LightTo be jaded and faded against the oddsTo be aware and not care of the lossMinds turn to destruction without the kind introductionto kiss and show a lovewe insist is better than the endeavorto break it all apartLet's keep it togetherWhenever there is darkPut it in the lightlet it shine throughLet the love break abovethe destructive moodMy mind turns to a time whenthe revenge was sweetand the destruction was on the lips and the end was completeBut nothing can be accomplishedthrough annihilation when we are of onebody and the entire nation is one world as humanity are the soldiersto face the word of love and to rise abovethe destruction of the raceLet's look at it from thethe perspective from outer spaceTo doubt mistakes and is what it takes to look at from a better viewWe are all human and to destroyis to just discontinueand will subdue the wholeWhen we can be told it is wrongLet's continue to hold and let's be strong and make the mostout of feeling great what a powerful initiative is believing with faithto love and not to hateto forgive and not retaliateto hold and not separatebut involve and notinvalidatewe can do this project and putthis light on the subjectwe can enlighten and infect the lovewith the secretTo do what is in the heartDo what we know can starthumanity to live and surviveby giving the surprisewithout the demisewithout the doubtswithout the liesand to quiet the criesand hush the harsh wordsthat crush the hearts that are pure
Rhythm and rhyme. Sincere, gentle and bold. Nice piece of art Daryl!
Thank-you. I wanted the perspective from space to be the onewhich was concocted to be withheld from us until the lunar landing.Now that we see the earth from space we can get the oneness of it.
I love the poem too man. Great!
Dear diary,Just clocked out. Today totally sucked, but, the first of the month weekend always does. If I had to point out where the bathroom was one more time today! Damn people! Can't you pee before you leave the house? And what the hell is with these people who ask if you work here? No stupid, I got up this morning and decided to wear khaki pants, a blue shirt, a Wal-Mart name tag AND a smock with a giant happy face on it, because I'm a frikkin trend setter! Uuuugh!!!!! And what day is complete without a pre-teen throwing a temper tantrum because mommy won't buy them a hotwheel? I'm just gonna sit here in car for a few minutes and enjoy the silence... try not to think about having to come back tomorrow.
Great! And I'm glad I don't work there! You've painted quite the picture here!
Bluelinebrush graphiteeraser scumfrom the vellumpull the tape fromthe corners, stickthem to the tape balllay the vellum onthe yellow paperturn on the machinethe light blinks onlisten to the hummof the motorslip the sheets intothe roller, pull thevellum of the blue sheetthe stench of ammoniaassaults your nosea new blueline
Great poem man! Wonderfully done. I remember those!
AfterAfterWardI keepThese thingsTo myselfUsually.After visits to the ward.My mind and brain has a repair.Adjusting,To the repairMakes me feel safe.Scary secrets like thisAre ScaryMe and others,To others and myself.Stupid crayon pictures for geniuses or handicaps.Remembering the sickRhythm of thoughts likeAm i just above, Or belowOr in between.If I'm in the middle,Why am I here?Does everyone feelHospital bedtimesIn various waysAnd for various reasons,To vacate real lifeFor a secondIn order to gather oneself?Afterwards,I question myselfBut resolve to agree that im just eccentric and a little wild.
That's a really good one. Simple and direct, exactly what a poem should be. Very honest too.