Monthly Archives: April 2015

Sometimes Gender Bends…

Some people can’t leave well enough alone,

And accept the fact that, to each his own.

What do they care about others choices?

The varying opinions of different voices.

A gender that bends in the opposite direction,

will reflect the truth in its mirrored reflection.

Sometimes he becomes she, and she becomes he.

Who is anyone to say that it shouldn’t be?

The negative influence of unkind words,

of those that are ignorant and rudely absurd.

Because in the end, what will be will be,

Even though some refuse what is plain to see.

The truth that is staring them right in the face,

that would be called, the human race.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

To Know Me is To Love Me

To know me is to love me,

or at least that’s what I’ve heard.

I hesitate to agree with this,

at the risk of sounding absurd.

To know me is to love me,

at least I’d like to believe.

I dare to utter these words out loud,

to those unwilling to receive?

To know me is to love me,

a work in progress indeed.

Please don’t judge the humanness,

from which my faults do feed.

To know me is to love me,

for I’m growing every day.

Like a rare and unusual flower,

that blossoms in its own special way.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

I Won’t Give Up

I won’t give up, I simply can’t,

it’s not the way I was made.

Within me lies the will to live,

best made plans have been laid.

What am I to do when hope runs out?

No silver lining in sight.

The only thing that makes any sense,

is to face the fire and fight.

So, I’ll fight as though my life depends,

and often, it usually does.

Looking back will surely bring regret,

for all that is and was.

So, I won’t give up, I simply can’t,

it’s not the way I was made.

The fight in me will never die,

nor will I be afraid.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

Scars

Though scars may fade and even heal,

their presence still remain.

While not allowing us to forget,

our fleshy wounds and pain.

The visible reminders of many journeys,

tough travels over time,

Consistently failing to forgive,

a self-defeating crime.

If only we would realize,

that forgiveness is the truth.

The visible scars may still remain,

 our healing is the the proof.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall