Poetry Of Tnava-le

  So tempting to spill, that life she endures Wanting so badly to vent, maybe ranting can cure   Very few she MIGHT trust, too many big mouths Rarities among those who often shout   She looks among the people in every direction Who can she choose for their undivided attention   I won’t say a word, they’ll say with no smile Lying words if their silence can’t last awhile   Thinking about what she’s going through No time for anyone who leaks her bad news   She knows that even those who are close, can betray How quickly they can voice before the end of the day   She’s finally settled on the ear for her anxious voice Hoping that this time, she’s made the right choice

  Their day has ended, so it’s time to analyze What have they done, we think to ourselves The followers of the famous, is who they are But what about their life, is there progress to be seen   The famous ones are the established, followed by eyes and ears The public's success is non-existent, struggles at a high level Social media lemmings, no time set aside to get better The ones with the silver and gold, are the literal Pied Pipers   It’s the obsession, from the magazines to the television news Around the clock grabbing, what did they say or do THIS time Gossip seemingly necessary, while the priorities are ignored The entertainers get more famous with each pair of new eyes on them   At the end of the day, for the followers there’s sadly no regrets No thoughts given that this was wasted time They’re in the same position as 24 hours ago That’s income, and the other standings in their lives

  Rare is this moment that I get to experience Navigating the beautiful sand under my feet Perhaps a seashell or two I’ll notice during my sand walk I’ll pick it up, its size allowing me to hold it with one finger   The sand I’ll seem to think of as clean dirt, given the color that it is Other than it getting inside the clothes and shoes one wears Rarely is there a bad word about the dirt that aligns the blue water Its softness doesn’t ruin the feet, blanket or towel on top of it   I embrace these moments as much as I can As Mother Nature determines the when and how long I’ll hope to be back to have the experience once again And think that the beach will look forward to my visit once more

  What’s going on in the mind of the troubled people We share ample space with them in the outdoors They’re wayward mentally, though it’s not always obvious Very few of them will have an intentionally hidden state of mind   Some are born with these troublesome brains Not their fault that they entered earth in this fashion Drugs in their system, or an inheritance of some sort Nothing they could do, they never asked to be developed   For others, however, different stories apply to them A life over time caused this basket case that is now Frustrations in life, drugs or times of misery with people It was a slow build over a short or long period of time   Not enough help for the many who have these conditions Not my problem, the money isn’t there, exclaim the ones with power But they have to start somewhere, they have no choice As with the days, the basket cases are increasing in number

His face wears the cloak of a hundred winters Who knows how many snowflakes his eyes have blinked away His body has felt the cuts of many razors of the windchills  The many layers he's worn have only repelled so much  Who knows what his life was like many years ago  Much better or the same; only he can answer this  No one dreams of having a desire of this life he has  No one envisions having the sky as their roof year round  At some point for many, the shelter ended up as their home No real home to go to, one that has a door in which to stick one's key This home they share with many a stranger  A family they never thought or even cared to have  For this veteran of the elements, however, no desire for the shelter  The streets are his home of comfort  It's safer, he says, in spite of having the concrete as a mattress He desires the daylight of nature as his giant lamp A little corner of the frigid city he'll pick as his bedroom for the eve...

The jackhammers carry a tune that's painful to my drums The nails march along and in the structures, remaining still afterwards The grey river of concrete has  barriers to prevent several stomps The men and women of steal, shout amidst the clouds and grime I can't wait to walk past, as it seems like a journey across the Mojave  I want to see something that was grown with the gentle appendages  Not as much noise as it took for the hard build that rises beside me So many more, can grow these than those  As I get closer to what I want to embrace and savor Its scent seems to come out more, as it becomes aware of my closeness  We've never met on a formal basis, I with the voice and it without one No hand shaking required, just a mental greeting from us both Without speaking, it can sense my joy of it being around  Its peacefulness, it realizes is needed by me Too much loudness, I can't quiet it with a bullhorn or firm whisper  The flowers have never caused ...

How has this year been for you  A question that no one is ever asked How's your day is the most frequent  The caring of others seems to be in increments  A quiet reflection, as the year comes to a close  What went right, what went wrong  Hundreds of days to right the ship, so to speak  Yet the effort wasn't good enough  There was pain, and not just from the physical  The words from others could cut like any machete can Lashing out at them, seemed to be in vain As they simply heard, and not listened The finances were issues as well  It's funny how mere paper can depress them so much So much they wanted to fix or obtain  The list of these never seemed to shrink  Once December 31st arrives, there's plans for a better next year  The chants start with optimism New Year's resolutions have started  But this year will never forgotten by them