| Poetry |
The Awakening The cold foreboding darkness, envelopes my soul the hand of reason has taken it's toll my life is now shattered my lies outward tumble and my knees now quiver as I am made humble do not feel pity do not feel scorn for today I begin as a child reborn Lisa |
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| First to the Last Breath |
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now......Please bear with us!
now......Please bear with us!
The Trip for those who are sane, without remorse those who have never, faltered from course those who have mastered, life’s pain free side those who are perfect, with fail proof pride gaze upon the darkness of daytime’s surrender focus thine eyes upon the descender allow the lure, of the lurid attraction anticipate, your deepest reactions within its realm, lies constant deceit a nagging feeling, of no retreat a constant fear of what can’t be seen a feeling of that, which is considered unclean a world where vision, knows no eyes it’s the images of thought, which begin to arise here is where the soul speaks, without due rest here is where man, meets ultimate tests darkness surrounds, yet you feel what’s there the presence of hatred and total despair a room with no walls, yet confining the same the air is poisoned and fills you with pain reaching for help, you gasp and cry as you body has crumpled, waiting to die you curse the air, the darkness too you beg for guidance, oh what to do to conquer the darkness, one can only relent acknowledge the ogre, from whence it was sent armed with disgust, and the acceptance of truth see how it’s grown from its despicable youth nurtured you did, from multiple acts and now here in darkness, lies irrefutable facts the lies the pain and the poison are real of your own making, they came with a deal your sunlight for darkness, your pride for shame your refusal to admit, it was all but a game another bad deed, no problem you said until this trip inside of your head. Lisa Willhite |
Every year at this time the leaves begin to fall i sit in amazement at the wonder of it all why must i ponder sitting in wait why must i wonder to each one's fate my eyes open anew because this time i stew ignore them! rake them ! they haven't a clue ! but as i before said my eyes now see and relay to my head what they may just be reflections they are! of my year past memories to hold onto to make them last! the reds, are fire passion and desire a family headstrong whom never seem to tire my daddy is here tending his flowers i can see him nursing them hour after hour my sons are active as the winds blow them about they are struggling to gain a life with some clout i don't like the browns they crumple and crack i fight them hard to get those memories back what memories do they hold what could they possibly be? why these are the conclusions these are what we now "see"! This year we learned we grew with strength we measured with love never contemplated length I am now thankful this year and every day of my life as a daughter, a mother an aunt and a wife. fly away leaves let us rest this next season for springtime will bring us a new crop to reason Lisa Willhite |
| The Fallen Leaves |
The Mask Existing in the realm, of its own true hell the pacing of the parasite begins to swell it suffers in silence yet demands to be heard it will never survive without its bevy of words as an infant it fed, on what it desired and the need to grow was quickly retired it donned a mask it had soon acquired and eventually dressed in regal attire I am! I am! it said aloud while hiding behind a glistening shroud to none it wavered to none it bowed worthy am I! it heartily vowed as a thief of hearts, it sought our souls and refused to acknowledge the unspeakable tolls it relished our pain our faults and our woes acted as friend yet lived as foe for the lower we were, the higher it’s rise sometimes nestled on pillows, feathered with lies soaring as an eagle, through bright blue skies impeding the light, from watchful eyes it changed lies to belief and that belief to admiration it became its own form, of revered celebration though to those who saw, through the garish decoration it was nothing more than sheer abomination these were few, who could actually see how sad and sickened, this thing could be they lost their battles, to make it flee as it wiggled in joy and laughed with glee and a new found strength, was gained from the seers they found it flaunting, in front of its peers for this mask was now learn-ed, and it shed false tears and a victim was born, its path, though not cleared for as day turns to night, conflicts persist the heart can grow cold, but the soul still resists new defenders of truths will continue to enlist and the spirit of God will always assist yes a fight ensued, though the beast stood tall and flashed it’s lies, fooling most all it cried poor me, and with such great gall It is I who has suffered!, was it’s deceptive call the truths presented, the stern manipulations the deeds that were done, with such stipulation the lies that served, as mere stimulations and these they hoped, were condemning revelations but the mask took form, and revealed a child the innocence of eyes that appeared softly wild no sign of the pride, no sign of the vile how dare the “truths” accuse him of guile hearts blood flowed, as non seers cried and the villagers witnessed a man so tried a man who was beaten, and his humanity denied a man who was not evil, but sanctified! The steel once hot, now cooled to strength it enveloped his soul and his body at length the blood of hearts, flowing in sync protected him now from morality’s links alas truth lost, but so did the beast for a cancer did grow, and on lies it did feast from within his throat, it locked in its feet and his mask is now meeting a deadly defeat Existing in the realm, of its own true hell the pacing of the parasite begins to swell it suffers in silence yet demands to be heard it will never survive without its bevy of words Lisa Willhite |
| The Seeding Blackened clouds hide their silver at length but passions of their thunder, ink my quill winds of dragons test my optimist strength bidding the lightening to strike at its will I pray my ears not hear, nor my eyes see but rather sense the song of pending rain translating the words, and setting it free by revealing its wisdom with refrain note upon note falls readily into place as dark heavy clouds disperse their loads my eyes now open to witness a trace of silver lining, as sunshine explodes |
| Seed of Truth A river flows, through life of men and cradles the seed sown within partaking of life, it too feeds the where and how of all great seeds for growth demands that it depends from day one, its journey begins passing rapids and singing wrens for over rocks as well as reeds, a river flows fear not drought, as weak seeds contend that life is fated, end to end they’ve set their roots, where flow recedes murk dams their light, so they can’t see that beyond the leaf cluttered bend, A river flows Lisa willhite |
| A passion of existence I was born with a passion to exist a desire to grow and to be loved and soon grew a passion to co-exist when I questioned the spirits high above now born again, my passion to exist but with a desire to grow and to love I’ve now a new passion to co-exist with the heavenly beings, that rest above Lisa Willhite |
| A Handing Over I stand before a vision so dreadful knees weakened and shoulders, oh so weighted re-living life, becoming regretful for I questioned what God had since fated I fight the desire to “fall to knees” a strong mother of sons never gives in till his lips mouth “I’m fine” again to me letting him go will be my greatest sin have you love that can test as strong as mine I ask you lord, for, I am his mother will you kiss his cheeks, and hug hugs like mine and be sure he sleeps, beneath the covers? Deaf ears I fear, that are not of my own till I hear as I fall, momma I’m home |
| An Angel Attests He rode from the heart, with a dying soul shivering in darkness, he sought the sun for his warrior ways had taken toll and his battles lost, were his battles won he nurtured his heart with all of life’s soil and so his soul was left with naught to grow a moonlit night found it too weak to toil and on his life’s bed, it began to show weakened with panic, he recognized death it lay before him, where he once found rest again a battle, but he without breath! Surrender he did! A true victors test! The soul rest not, in desire’s quatrains but heart is enveloped on soul’s true lane Lisa |