I've had a lifetime of experiences with bad luck, but at the time I wrote this poem, it was worse than ever. My actual nightmares were all coming true. Since then, things have finally looked up, but I believe many of you can relate well to these sentiments.774Please respect copyright.PENANATLrFB6AlnK
774Please respect copyright.PENANAFPtMgJKImc
Chance774Please respect copyright.PENANAAnHG4H6SGW
I was the last served from the dish of good luck774Please respect copyright.PENANASKyxSjlLMZ
Where I sat at the table of life774Please respect copyright.PENANAC59k2IHlYf
The man before scraped the residual muck774Please respect copyright.PENANAfruQXOE5qu
From the plate with the edge of his knife774Please respect copyright.PENANAyETx5BLQFc
But the last shall be first, and so I was served774Please respect copyright.PENANA0aOwlqqPkQ
The primary course of mishap774Please respect copyright.PENANAHyQF7ct0uN
I could not comprehend how I had deserved774Please respect copyright.PENANA2wFy2WFU0n
Such a rich and luxurious scrap774Please respect copyright.PENANA5UujbV41cW
How can one poor person consume such a feast774Please respect copyright.PENANATF9XT5vpYW
Of mischance as allotted to me774Please respect copyright.PENANANSExG4wFKF
Others would sink in despair, at least774Please respect copyright.PENANAlmxnHw3ks7
To see fate their forsworn enemy
774Please respect copyright.PENANAGXyVOoI2co
774Please respect copyright.PENANAhgooDei8fw
Hearts are like great shards of crystalline quartz. While solid, their glimmer and beauty is unparalleled. They shine brightly with a light of their own, pure and white. But when broken, the light inside leaks out, and the heart goes dark with depression. But then a miracle occurs. Whenever the white light of another heart falls upon the shattered gem, the cracks running through form a prism, splintering the worldview into thousands of colorful pictures. This metaphor is my way of explaining why the most beautiful works of art and literature were are made by those people suffering from a broken heart. If your heart has been broken, don't let depression rule you. It's only Guilt in disguise. "Might," it whispers. "should". "Didn't," it cackles, "could've". Don't listen. don't let it own you. The world needs more prisms like you, and there are many who will be happy to lend you their lights.
774Please respect copyright.PENANAsNuiUd5INu
Guilt774Please respect copyright.PENANAUnUnZLh5n8
Our broken hearts split the world’s black and white Into myriad colors composing the light With the brushes of heartache Paint wings, and take flight774Please respect copyright.PENANAUyolmzyF9F
Clipping our pinions with things we had ‘ought’ We slide to the earth and abandon the shot With guilt crushing our shoulders Turn from what we sought
Leaning to whisper the evil word ‘might’ The cloud of depression consumes our sight Succumbed to dark murmurs We give up the fight
The deepest minds build the highest of thoughts The dark heart astounds with the light it has wrought Their Muses are phantoms Of past demons fought
The torture of life May take a deep toll The torches of strife May shatter the soul But the man who has ‘made it’ Has nothing inside The woman ‘escaped’ it Had already died It’s only those ‘ate it’ Who came back- Alive
774Please respect copyright.PENANAVeAFrWHBZJ
I actually don't have much to say on this one. It speaks for itself. Allow me, though, to recommend empty beaches as a place for meditation. Anything you wish to think about more clearly or concentrate on, take to the sea. If you don't have a sea, rivers will do, but they need rapids. If you have none, take this video of waves.774Please respect copyright.PENANAPeDHd4mepn
774Please respect copyright.PENANA6daq3UqNPU
A Drink for the Mind
As they drive to the shore The stalwart waves form An empty space in my mind The riptide at last Drags my thoughts from the past And nothing is left behind
As the salt fills my eyes My feelings and I Are lost in the purpling green Like the sun’s evening glare Or the stars in the air That are drowned in the cool water’s sheen
The multiple blues And the sand’s shifting hues Resemble forgotten sleep For there as I dream The lines of crests seem The endless steeds of the Deep
As the tides ebb and flow All desire’s let go To return to reality With God in control I water my soul In the thing I love most - the Sea774Please respect copyright.PENANAQdFB3q0emG