Category: Writings

Hurts And All That, by MwsR

A seemingly nice morning,

Moving through mundane chores and so forth

You enter my mind

It is as if it all comes to a screeching holt.

I understand very little of what it is that perplexes my soul so.

Hurts and all that stuff that makes your day change.

Enjoying my favorite radio station,

Jamming with the artists and the tunes,

Feeling great and reminiscing about younger days

When those tunes were the first time played.

Then, it all changes

Because it takes me back to a torment of time

Hurts and all stuff like that.

Why must the best of days be chased away with the worries of tomorrow,

Have I not re-arranged my feeling so much, already?

I have gave up some of the best times

For the haunting presence of the worst of my life

For all those hurts and all that stuff that makes us or breaks us.

Poem by MwsR

As Real as It Seems
By MwsR

The day was unlike any other
It was new and uncomplicated
So far it seemed

The silence was so deadly though
It brought thoughts of panic or disarray
Not much to my liking in any way.

I am naïve and young and foolish at heart
It serves me well when on a new path, that I embark.
Never really stopping just to look around
And see if my inner yearning should be bound.

I’m typical in almost every way, as others
Both complicated and sweet, never would bother another.
But sometimes I wonder to myself
“Why is it the world wants us to be put up on a shelf?”
Sorted and managed and never our real selves.

Why can there not be beauty in complex things?
Beauty that roars, instead of just rings.
I want to have that, I often said of myself.
But I wasn’t a wizard, warlock, or elf.

What do you do when your passion, your drive
Takes a most unexpected, navigational dive?
What can make your load easier,
Does it not start with being a believer?

Can we ultimately change our own destiny?
Why is it we leave it to fate and to just anybody?
It is ours, all by ourselves…
Not any ones to claim or pre-sort on that shelf.

In time, I would take my own things and make them better
I would determine the now, the why, and the who mattered.
It would be unglamorous or highlighted, but still special
That is when I would make it mine, for real.

No, this day is not typical but I’ll have others
It is real and complicated
And always as real as it seemed.

Famous Poem

In valleys green and still

by A. E. Housman

An illustration for the story In valleys green and still by the author A. E. Housman
Forest Wander, West Virginia
    In valleys green and still
    Where lovers wander maying
    They hear from over hill
    A music playing.

    Behind the drum and fife,
    Past hawthornwood and hollow,
    Through earth and out of life
    The soldiers follow.

    The soldier's is the trade:
    In any wind or weather
    He steals the heart of maid
    And man together.

    The lover and his lass
    Beneath the hawthorn lying
    Have heard the soldiers pass,
    And both are sighing.

    And down the distance they
    With dying note and swelling
    Walk the resounding way
    To the still dwelling.

Poem

If by MwsR

If I’d known it would have soon been your end
My badge of pride I would have made bend.
If my heart knew it would lose a piece of itself
My notes and letters would have left that shelf.
If you ever knew that I cared…I wonder.
If I’d been more vocal ….ah but that was my blunder.
If life could have been kinder to us
Maybe we would have had less fuss.
If you hadn’t let guilt drag you away
My life would have turned out another way.
If people knew the struggle we both shared
The consequences and actions we both dared.
If the rejected soul of mine had found a home
It would have changed my inner need to roam.
If lost and hopeless was how you felt… as I had
And sleepless nights thinking of all the bad.
If anything, we shared that and had the same dreams.
Longing to change the impossible
If only that would have been possible!
If dreams had made wishes come true…
It would never be without you.

Alright by MwsR

Life is like a thief to our souls

It pretends to offer us a million chances, a million dreams

But it is never really that way, or so it seems.

Life is so complicated,

Not by choice but rather by right

Some have a whole year, some have only a night.

Who is to say who deserves this or deserves that,

Why must it be this array?

Has everyone not came into the world, the same way?

Life steals all that it can

It pretends to matter, it pretends it doesn’t demand.

Secretly it plots and delivers each blow

I bet you all have experienced this,

I bet you all know.

Life shows us beauty, that lasts for a little while

It displays smiles on the faces of babies

But after that we only have mere traces,

Of the thing that once brought us that smile.

Our minds are the worst pawns in this game

They often forget,

But always seem to remember a regret

A shame, a forbearance, a pain.

That is why we all are the pawns in this crooked game.

Sure we have good followed by fair,

Sometimes we have wishes, but only if we dare.

We may all succeed in what seems a personal challenge or contest

But are we ever truly able to rest?

Will our legacies be enough?

How about all of our stuff?

Maybe just ourselves, will be enough.

Will having the upper hand,

Make us a very content and happy man?

In our courage or fame,

Will we be offered more of the same.

Is all that we are, under our birth name,

Or is it how we survived all our pain.

How we dealt with it,

How we rose despite it

What we learnt from it.

I am not sure

Sometimes even writing is a chore.

Perhaps there are other things for which to write,

Alright!

Poem

It by MwsR (AGAIN, just a poem…)

Stillness makes you vulnerable
Quietness makes you scream
Inside things are changing, it’s a complicated thing.

Listening does not make you smarter
Just makes you a listener of things
It’s what you do for others, and what is doing it, it brings.

Foremost in your mind,
It will be for a while
Not letting you go, that’s not it’s style.

Torment is what you place on your own self
And there is so much of it to go around
It will hold you up and then knock you onto the ground.

There will be those that beg it to go away
Those that know nothing else but it
And those that will try to rise out from the bottomless pit.

Success depends on your thoughts
What you say to yourself when it is going on
What you believe of yourself when you’re all alone.

No one can make you happy and free, but you.
No one can give you the right advice
The words, the actions, and it is true.

Poem by MwsR

Broken by MwsR (just another poem)

May be hurt but that’s not broken

Maybe fell but that’s okay

First a fool, then a nothing

But still trying to be something.

Too many chances

Too much clutter to push thru.

If only it was another time

A wide-open space

But it is not.

Retracing too many questions left unanswered

Misunderstandings float around in the mind

It feels like death, not just being blind.

One word can replace so many more

Just by the tone or words used.

Taking upon your own

All the bitterness and wrong.

Losing not the many battles but the final war

Just because you feel

Because there is so much more

Left to have, to hold, to unfold

But alas it is too hard a task

Broken, that’s what will last.

MwsR Poem

Aware by MwsR (POEM IS AL IT IS, BASED ON LIFE REALLY)

I’m so tired of trying
So much like a gun that’s through firing.
I have the capabilities to do more,
It just isn’t worth all the allure.
Maybe it was a trial run, or a possible misfire
Maybe my emotions are a liar.
Need me, only in case of emergency
It can’t be me anymore, you see!
I’ve done all I desire to do
Remember it wasn’t me but you.
There is a shift in power now
I’m taking over, someway, somehow.
Better if you look for another opportunity
Because I’m putting you away for my sanity.
I won’t get played any more
See we already been here, in this predicament before.
It’s nothing that it is the way it is
Just one to just dismiss.
There I said it, now you know
Don’t come to me unless you can show
what it means to say you care.
It’s more than words, you should be made aware.