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Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

Courtesy of bg-bg.facebook.com

 
 
 
Last night a dream entered my peace.
It was you sobbing.
Crying for what could have been 
but it was not.
 
Outside of your world everything seemed perfect.
To others your world was without want.
It was not.
 
A part of your soul was seeking
but not finding
some special part of understanding.
 
The part that was compassion
of tenderness
that was not in your moment of being.
 
Was there hope to bind this wound
a wound so deep?
My arms reached for you.
 
Held you tight with lips to your ear.
Whispered I love you
I care
I know your pain.
 
I will always be here for you.
You slowly smiled.
Sunshine filled the room.  

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Courtesy of fineart.com

 
 
I closed my eyes:
 
The after-image of her was printed on the backside of my mind
the look of her neck bent backward
eyes closed.
 
That beautiful curve from her neck
to the tip of her breast.
There was a hint of sunrise
upon the horizon of her smile.
As a spirit I loved her
unaware of my own physical feelings.
 
It seemed I could not satisfy my need
to give her my love.
The flow seemed forever.
 
From moment to moment I explored her
no part untouched
or savored.
 
There was no shame in loving her.
We were eternal spirits
reunited in the flesh of our eternity.
 
I opened my eyes:
 
I am haunted by her
for the image remains.

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“One of Seven Poems of “The Master’s Series of Poetry.”

On this day
the Master revealed
His greatest gift to mankind.
 
This gift was rendered on a mountain of stone
reflected on a setting sun
to a multitude of many
in one of the many lessons
given to multitudes in those years. 
 
The question
that came toward the end of that day
was, “ Master, what is the greatest gift
that God gives to all of us?”  asked the young
man in the multitude of that day.
 
The Master replied,
“The greatest gift that my Father gives to all
is the secret of Forgiveness.
 
In rendering forgiveness to ones self
and also forgiveness of others
does a sinner reveal
the keys to heaven
and the eternal Love of our Father.
 
Forgiveness assures the eternal love of the Father
and being in the arms of His Love forever.”
So said the Master of my life
on this day.

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“Parked in Doctor’s Slot at Cancer Treatment Center”

She is a two-time breast cancer survivor.
This dreaded disease lingers over her life each day.
Now in her senior years
she faces the lost of dear friends each day.
 
Each death of a friend by cancer brings back the fear to her.
Each similar pain suffered by cancer 
when shared by those who passed on
brings the horror that this may be a return
of the dark horror.
 
Her anger with the medical profession increases each day.
Billions of dollars have been spent in research over the years
yet the treatments are as backward as cave times.
 
Parked in the Doctors Slot of the cancer treatment center
is a Rolls Silver Cloud Convertible.
Its shiny green color
speaks of the monies that were drained from her body
as the fluid of death was put into her veins.
 
Cannot this horror of death
be destroyed
that takes us from our loved ones?

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Cover of first published poetry book "Roses Amidst Thorns" 2005 by John J. Rigo

Cover of first published poetry book “Roses Amidst Thorns” 2005 by John J. Rigo

The realization brought a choking to my throat.

My eyes swelled in tears.

The realization came to me fully

that I will never be loved like that again.

 

The youthful memory of having a woman look at me like that again.

The reflection of a hero in her eyes.

Reflected also in the shining armor of a knight.

 

Ah sweet memories

if only the taste of those kisses

could return again,

would I know again

the joy of love.

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"We need each other on a human level of communication." comment by John J. Rigo, Texas' Commentator

“We need each other on a human level of communication.” comment by John J. Rigo, Texas’ Commentator

My mind still does not accept they are gone from this world.
I find myself many a time reaching for a phone
to call them.
 
It is a select group
these souls that were a part of my life.
Some are friends
that cannot ever be replaced
in the deep meaning of their unselfish love of me.
 
Others were my parents
who I never really knew as people.
There was the apple of my eye,
my step-daughter of many years.
Truly the only daughter
I ever knew in my life.
 
There were others
that I would have liked to have known better
they are now gone
without any notice from my life.
 
At times I find them in my thoughts
mind speaking with them about different things
reaching and seeking unresponsive council  from now
an unfamilar place in my heart.
 
I know they are not really gone
they are just in a different place than me
a place that beckons me as my own death comes closer each day.
 
You see I never have gotten comfortable with Death.
So my dear friends
my dearest of loved ones
make a place for me.
 
A place where again
we can laugh and love
and talk about
all that is around us
each day of the eternity before us.
 

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Courtesy of asmp.org

Embrace your Youth.
The ticks of time move more quickly
than observed or counted. 
 
Embrace the Love of your Youth.
The embers lose their warm and glow
more quickly than our memories will capture.
 
Embrace the Wisdom 
that is bestowed upon you.
It will carry you
through the dark days
before you.  
 
Curse not your regrets.
They are but markers along the road. 
Regrets render the opportunity
to seek forgiveness.
 
Embrace your Lord
with Love and Worship.
He will Bless you along the road
and to the final place
of His Love for you. 

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"The results of not practicing Tough Love"

“The results of not practicing Tough Love”

Earlier in my life in a previous marriage I became a step-father to three children.  When I married their Mother, the youngest boy was age six named _ _ _ _.   _ _ _ _ was both a druggie, thief and mentally unbalanced.  I suspect the mental problems came from his Father at his own birth since his real Father died of a drug overdose

The boy for fourteen years of that marriage brought me nothing but pain and grief each day of that marriage.  When it came to choosing between me or him by now my ex-wife of more than thirty years ago, she choose him.  He destroyed her life both from a mental point of view beside a financial one. 

Today my ex lives in the same now broken down home because of this boy who today in his late forties has been in and out of prison and more than likely is living with her.  His life and her life are a great example of what “Tough Love” and its lack of on her part, is all about.  The following poem is on the first page of my first published poetry book.

 

The house was saddened.
Though occupied it appeared not.
The uncut hedge nearest the street
rose to a height of many feet.
 
The brushes around the house
had not been trimmed in close to a year.
Amidst peeling paint
and wild dandelions in the yard
was a yearning for love
which the house received
year’s past.
 
Inside the home pale and yellowed walls reflected
the internal sickness that destroyed the love
of its adult inhabitants.
 
A sickness born of a young mind
bounded by the disciplines of evil in his youth.
Torn wallpaper marked the first surrender
of this youth’s mother
to a childish whim in year’s past.
 
Pride departed
now shown in the dishes and pots
piled on the kitchen sink
with crusted leftovers
from last week.
  
The curtains were partly open
from a previous night
not for the sun of day
but a beacon to unwelcomed intruders
of night by the youth of the house.
 
The smell of evil engulfed the house.
A pungent sickly odor exhaled by the youth
of the house which brought the gaze
of forgetfulness to the point of nowhere.
 
He sat proudly overseeing his domain.
His position secure to sleep
to play to reach new highs
in his world of bright lights
and swirling thoughts.
 
He had won.
He now had his mother
his protector and provider
all to himself.
 
The man of the house
which became no one
departed with his things.
 
The youth laughed
and laughed
in sheer joy
at his victory.  
 

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Courtesy of film.com

 
 
There are many things I remember about my past.
Each memory
stones that built
who I am today.
 
The memories that have stayed with me the strongest
are those that recall when my life was rendered
a touch of kindness.
 
I remember the days well
in vivid detail.
The words spoken.
The smile given.
The touch of a hand upon my shoulder.
 
So in this day
if it is within your power
pass that touch of kindness
to another.
 
In so doing
you will be giving
a memory of strength to another
in their darkest times. 

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Image courtesy of Google Image Search.  Poem by award winning poet John J. Rigo of East Texas.

Image courtesy of Google Image Search. Poem by award winning poet John J. Rigo of East Texas.

Poem "Waking Knight" by John J. Rigo.  Image courtesy of Google Image search.

Poem “Waking Knight” by John J. Rigo. Image courtesy of Google Image search.

 
 
Commentary:  It is my belief that all creative writers look for markers along their writing journey that represent improvement in their craft.  This recent written poem is no exception in my almost thirty years of poetry writing.  Within the poem I see my belief in an afterlife,  I see myself as a warrior in defense against Evil representing my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  What a beautiful image to die and awake in such a place in one’s after life.  Thank you Lord for this life and all lives that will be ahead in eternity. 
 
 
 
I awoke
as from a sleep
of death.
 
Long gentle fingers
were rubbing my forehead
the side of my face
touching my lips.
 
As my eyes opened
I knew I was no longer
on my prior world of earth.
 
Before me I beheld
a beautiful maiden
of golden hair
skin of cream and light
eyes of blue/grey and gold.
 
There was no fear within me.
I was at a place where I was meant to be.
I was home in a castle of my Lord‘s place for me.
 
My eyes gazed upon my body.
Upon me where plates of armour.
Gold-Silver and various jewels
incrusted upon them.
 
As the maiden raised my head
I observed the symbols upon my breast-plate.
In the middle in Gold was a Lion.
 
On each side of it were Dragons
standing with their feet gently
touching the Lion.
 
Above the Lion
flew a Golden Eagle
with wings of silver.
 
My armour gleamed
from head to toe
in this beautiful creation.
 
What battle has my Lord
prepared for me in this place?
Who was this maiden
who touches me with a loving touch?
 
The maiden spoke,
“My Lord, Evil awaits for battle.
Prepare thyself.”
 
 
 
 

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