Tag Archives: NaPoWriMo

Nature’s Alarm…

The sweet music of nature sings to me,

each morning when I rise.

The melodious sound, is the first thing I hear,

a welcome morning surprise.

The birds are chirping with great excitement,

even though they have not a clue.

Somehow they know they have a purpose,

there’s something they need to do.

So each morning in a purposeful way,

they sing a familiar tune.

What a lovely way to wake each morning,

how beautiful the songs they croon.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

Images:  Free Google Images

 

Quantam…

Consciousness consists of frequencies of quantum energy,

hidden to the naked eye, yet bouncing off every tangible surface.

Obscure in all of its power, stored up, pent up, built up.

Yearning to be freed from the invisible restraints that hold it hostage.

On the verge of breaking through to the thin, protective layers,

that separate its intangible existence, from its illusive reality.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

Pieces of Me…

I never knew how important you were,

until I had to say goodbye.

Even though some time has passed since then,

I can’t stop wondering why.

To suffer the loss of such vital parts,

that I never thought I would.

I’ve learned to take one day at a time,

by embracing the bad and the good.

The hazy self-image in my mirrored reflection,

is a reminder to me every day.

I certainly would not be the person I now am,

had things not worked out this way.

I had to lose these pieces of me,

to find my true self worth.

I’m a better person, in spite of the loss.

I have found my purpose on earth.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

To Whom Much is Given…

To whom much is given, much is required.

God supplies all of our needs, our deepest desires.

Through the roughest terrain,

the hottest of fires,

God always brings us through,

revealing the devil as a liar.

Every time we praise and give thanks to our Lord,

we rebuke the devil, the power of one accord.

So instead of wondering, why me?

Maybe the question should be why not?

Especially, when so much is required,

and we’ve indeed been given a lot!

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

When Paper Meets the Pen…

Until the paper meets the pen,

private thoughts remain unknown.

The deepest, darkest secrets lie,

in the marrow of our bones.

Therapeutic is the art of words,

hidden safely behind the lips.

A silent dance, they do perform,

while the beat of our hearts skip.

The transparency that our sharing brings,

does open up the soul.

Forcing us back into our shells,

to reclaim our original roles.

So, until the paper meets the pen,

the world will never know.

The direction of our inner thoughts,

and which way they will go.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

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