With grinding teeth and sobbing tears my recent hopes, my greatest fears, came tumbling down into a mess. I hate these times I must confess. Cause when your world comes tumbling down there’s no-one there to ease that frown, and so you dwell upon each thing you cannot change…it sure does sting.
You can’t change what has happened and though a scar remains, that scar remains an emblem of life’s struggles and it’s pains. There is no silver lining. Your tears they’ll come to naught. Regardless of the matter nor how you feel distraught.
So come on there brave soldier, let’s once more bare the load. Take up your pack upon your back, trudge forward on the road. Just remember it’s a journey with blissful times and pain. So focus on the good stuff and stamp them in your brain.
The fish may not be biting but bored they’ll never be, cause they’re running on the boardwalk right there in front of me.
Are they fishing rods or horses cause they seem to gallop on, pounding the boardwalk with their playful cheery song.
Boys with cheeky grins, with rods extended out. They run the race, reach the end, and turn themselves about.
With slower pace these thoroughbreds wander back to fish. They bait their hooks, cast their lines. I know for what they wish!
I was walking along the boardwalk today. It was overcast but I was struck by the playfulness of a few boys that had come down with their dad to fish. Fishing with dad as a kid I know it can be ages before you get even a nibble. Great to see these boys were mixing up their day with this odd race along the boardwalk. It was hilarious!
I came across this little poem recently that I wrote in my early 20’s. Can’t believe how down I was about the world back then nor how lost I felt. Thanks Dad for giving me the wiggle room to see the world through a different lens.
My life was but a battlefield a war within my soul, of building mighty fortresses against a cold world. A tough and hard exterior, a hardened view of life, of living up to others’ opinions for my life.
But deep inside a child peered out amidst the mire. A gentle spirit, a gentle heart, the real me sat and cried. For loneliness and heartache had crushed this tender heart and all that was left within was but a little spark.
And I thank my loving father for fanning that spark to flame for showing me how to be myself and not have to be ashamed of who I am, or what I do, or how I see the world.