Calling Your Name

Show me the heart that is hurting

And bring to me all those in pain

For there is a promise assuring

That life need not always remain

In cycles of sin and despairing

In tears at the depth of your shame

But rather there’s hope for the morning,

In Grace that is falling like rain.

Tell me the sorrows you’re keeping

The deeds that you’ve hidden away

Give me your burdens unsparing

It matters not how much they weigh

For my arms will comfort your weeping

I’ll stand in the breach with my strength

I’ll lend you an ear when you’re speaking

And hold you when fear calls your name.

So show me the heart that is hurting

And bring to me all those in pain

For my love’s a fire still burning

And my love is calling your name.



In streams flowing from broken hearts

Bridging worlds once set apart

Of heartfelt minds to nature’s rain

Thoughts on life seeking escape.

They scarce are bidden yet still come

Present as the morning sun

Or dew upon the watered fields

When morning, night, at last reveals.

And in subsequent disdain

They are discarded away

But not before the pain that caused

Them to appear has turned and tossed

Through sleepless nights and weary days

Increased as light ‘neath eyes gives way

To stains from hurts that darken still-

Painfully burns and breaks the will.

Separated soul and flesh

What’s inside is all that’s left.

For teardrops never give but take

While hurt is all ever remains.

Sands of Time

If only time could once reveal

The secret means of hurt to heal

Then life would not lose its appeal

And hearts would hold to truths revealed.

For once forgotten love is lost

And those downtrodden pay the cost

When bitterness within their souls

Swells and breaks feeble strongholds

Built upon the sands of time

Guarding secrets none can find.

A Tragic Tale

She cried for her brother
as he journeyed beyond
the peaks of the mountains
in search of a song

She asked of her mother
if it would be long
before the night tempest
turned into the dawn

She begged of her father
“Oh, let me I pray
venture out searching
I’ll find my own way.”

She called for her lover
“Come take me away
for I’ve lost the reasons
that force me to stay.”

She fled to the city
such exciting sights
no thoughts of the future
she lived for the night

Until came a moment
when dark pleasures bite
demanded a payment
in exchange for a life.

She turned to a bottle
so no one would hear
the sounds of her crying
her shedding of tears

She thought of the Preacher
after many years
and hope of procuring
a peace from her fears.

But instead she took potions
and pills of a kind
that take away notions
and thoughts about time.

And wasted and ravished
frightened and alone
she fell to sins cycle
hopeless and unknown.

Wisdoms Requiem

Across this wounded, dying land
cries of fear and hurt at hand.
I fear I cannot venture hence-
Time is gone for repentance.

Let me stay here out of sight
if not always- then tonight.
Tell me not that I must leave
lest I pull back into the deep
and vast forgotten depths unknown
residing there until we’ve grown
cold and gray with hope all gone
ravaged till we are undone.

No, tell me not to leave I pray
for you cannot, will not persuade
me to forsake my destiny
which with my soul I have decreed
to stay and hold my place until
the last of human blood’s been spilled
and when the silenced cries of man
no longer spoils all the land
perhaps then I will venture forth
to see what has been left before
the clouds of darkness gather still
and bend before them every will.

Call me heartless, cold, and cruel
“For if you went then maybe fools
would heed the signs that wisdom gave
and repent them before the grave.”
But no I’ve seen it all before
they cannot see beyond the door
of what resides within their eyes
pleasure is their only prize.

So here I’ll lay me down in peace
I fear I’ve lost all heart to grieve.
I cannot change what they’ve become-
Hear this my final requiem.

After the Fall

The Cursed Height

Once again I feel compelled to offer a bit of an introduction to my next poem. Often I relish the opportunity of leaving my work for others to wonder at the meaning behind. Irregardless of its reality. (Whether that be a blessing or a curse I cannot say.) However the post today is one I believe many (if not most) of my readers can relate to. Therefore I have concluded that explaining its meaning may allow a greater general appreciation of it. Included here is a caveat though- If you would like to try and discern the meaning prior to my explanation stop reading this introduction until you have finished the poem and come to your own conclusion. Then return here to either validate, or negate your position. Also if you find that the mindset this work evokes is one far different than what I have put forth in my explanation sound off in the comments so I can see what you’ve discovered!

As you can see above I was not fully convinced in my own mind when titling this work. I feel that After the Fall in a grander fashion sums up the ideology behind its conception, but then The Cursed Height focuses more upon the object of our characters trial. Regardless of this triviality, however, I’m hoping this poem will bring to mind the embodiment of the idea I was trying to capture.
It’s that moment right before success. You are just a few steps shy of your goal when everything falls to pieces, and you find yourself at the bottom looking up again on the same mountainous climb you just traversed. A few seconds to the finish line and you fall… You have to begin all over in what oftentimes seem like a vicious repetitive cycle. Much like our character here who finds himself (again) on the bottom.

Its cold, harsh, discouraging, and demoralizing. To come so close only to be sent back down that same slope with no other option but attempting the climb again.
Nevertheless it is a reality far too many of us encounter on a daily basis. Take heart. Get up and climb! We’ve all been there. We all ARE there.

With that said please enjoy:

~ After the Fall ~

He picks himself up off the ground
then lifts his eyes and looks around.
Once again below the rim
Once again all hope has dimmed.

Then stepping out he moves towards
that treacherous slope, that deadly form
before his knees both buckle down
beneath the weight but not a sound
escapes into the sultry air
no curse erupts- he hardly cares.

For of that fire he once bore
to vanquish foes and win all wars
resides naught but a sputtering flame
a shadow of its former blaze.

Barely finding strength to stand
he looks up reaching out his hand
to shield his eyes and shade his sight
to view the towering, cursed height.

Then a fury in him swells
as he gazes upon the fells
and rushing with a vengeful stride
he clambers and begins to climb!
The devil will not hold him back
he’ll conquer this demon at last!

So furious is his upward flight
that quickly he forgets his plight
of that abyss now far below
and all the horrors he has known.

But alas no sooner than that flame
of hope within begins to blaze
when naught but some odd feet remain
of this cursed beast he yearns to slay
the rocks that hold him up give way
and tumbling down the slope he lays.

And for a moment all is still.
Is there yet a spark of will?
Then slowly rising from the ground
he lifts his eyes and looks around.