By Lavelle Leahey

Listen, life is lean, reality is disappointing.

So, consume your hope like body fat, draw in.

Fill chasms of despair with nonessentials.

Be ashamed of hunger, and, denying need.

Learn to counterfeit satisfaction.

Put your trust in shades of gray.

Bank on security–be sensible.

Ignore the quintessential

Substance of your soul.

Having made your deal with life, it’s certain

Then when evening comes,

Having lived your life in twilight,

You’ll be content to sleep,”

Gabriel L. Rico (1983)

Reference

1983. Rico, Gabriele L. Writing the Natural Way

Ever since I got sick, I couldn’t write love poems like I used to, which I found more depressing. I also barely listened to music, even if I knew it’s relieving. I really miss the good side of my old self. Although folks, I have no explanation other than my condition; but of course, I’m hurt to think I can no longer scribble romantically. Because, poetry is my only outlet in my harsh reality along side with going to the gym.

In addition, in this crazy world, wherein most are eager to showcase intelligence and talents, all I have is this heart to offer you. It’s tiny, but I strive everyday to grow in compassion and humility that I humble myself to you, who excel the demands of blogging and/or posting, which are painstaking. Hence, kudos to your dedication and tenacity!

Going back to love poems, it means a lot to me; Coz I rather write happy thoughts. I rather sound romantic than be bitter in life. Truly, in this rough existence, I rather write and pledge my love than be desperate.

In this regard, I thank God: I just finished scribbling a love poem! It may not be the best, but at least I get my creativity going.

Also, I am thankful for your appreciation and camaraderie.Again, my heartfelt gratitude for all your support and encouragement. And I’m very sorry for the late returns.

To Him be all the glory! May He bless your blogs and families. Have a blessed Sunday y’all!

Sincerely

Our bodies face north:

They speak purpose.

Our eyes look ahead:

They see something not around.

Our hearts and lungs work hand-in-hand:

They collaborate for our greatest sustenance.

Our feet are grounded:

They bring us to places, to stand and balance.

Our heads are above all else:

They set tone to tell our tales.

We dare to be alone;

If past is the only choice for companion.

We move forward–For faith and hope say–

They get us covered.

So we pause.

So we rest.

Then we hope;

Then we thrive

Doing our best.

“. . . without question or pause–

To be willing to march into hell–

For a heavenly cause–” what a valor, right?

Those are some of the lyrics of Impossible Dream, which is a 1965 song composed by Mitch Leigh and written by Joe Darion; and is perhaps the most compelling reflection of finding peace in war. (Wikipedia) But is it truly worth it?

Hence, I watched hundreds of war movies (World War I and II, in the 20th and this 21st Century); and up to now, I find all wars senseless. Because, I highly value life. You can call me “naive;” but I don’t find justice in any kind of killing.

For example, suffering from a post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), I have read a lot of real life cases of American veterans, who came from Iraq and Afghanistan back to their families in broken minds and spirits. And their mere consolation, they are just so lucky to come home alive.

On World War II, specifically, the genocides of Jews, although fatalities were not limited to the European Jewish people, they suffered largely– as they were targeted in a war against being seen as minority race of many physical deformities.

The horrors of wars are not just mind blowing. They’re the greatest threats to all our achievements as human beings.

Again, for “what peace is there in killing? What democracy lies in bombing,” when war undermines liberty.

Furthermore, war undermines our abilities to communicate effectively. War belittles our being champs of civility. With war, we treat ourselves us kids craving, fighting, killing (my goodness!) for lollipops and candies–we don’t even know how and what we want exactly.

Lastly, to dream the impossible of achieving peace in war is lunacy. We do not have to create hell among ourselves, only to convince there’s heaven.

Guns undermine humanity.

Weaponry destructs the goodness in people.

What peace is there in killing?

What democracy lies in bombing?

In this Twenty-First-Century,

We are not limited

To chairs and tables

To settle our differences.

Talk is a virtue

When it achieves a common good.

We are geared by technology and knowledge

To advance civility.

We are better

Than our pride and fears

Can turn us into–

For humanity is the very vessel of compassion

and humility.

Any war makes peace

A fantasy.

(An exercise in Poet’s Companion: Write a poem about your room.)









These walls have pores:

They wear tears here,

Cracks there,

Pokes everywhere–

They’re so worn!






These walls have pores:

Cobwebs cover them in the corners,

But in the vast stretch during summer;

Ants march like obedient prisoners–

Those patriots of holes!






These walls have pores:

That if my room gets rate

Based on smoothness–

This is starless!

Perhaps zero is the score.






But though the pores in these walls

Are more than beehives or acnes can show,

My room is still a room

And it doesn’t need Aveeno nor Oxy–

That I’m sure!






Coz I’m here

Scribbling.

Notwithstanding the pores

In the walls,

I’m still writing my very all.