Composure

COMPOSURE

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Searching for composure…

A calm and even keel,
Controlling what I feel,
Knowing when to conceal.
Thinking, before I speak,
Biding, before I seek.

Waiting out the weak,
 Learning how to deal


Gaining a better grip…

A handle on such things,
How my opinion rings,
That sarcasm stings.
A jab, from out of sight,
Catalyst, to a fight,
Bruising with its might.
The hurt that it brings


Restraining words that wound…

Ceased, before they’re said,
Bandaged, before they’re bled,
Repressing all the red.
More composed, with what I say,

More steady, with every day,
 Anger slowly drifting away.
Smooth sailing ahead


Finding my composure…

Speaking more to please,
Calming the stormy seas,
A consistent gentle breeze.
Words, clearly thought,
Words, carefully sought,
Words calmly wrought.
Shaped by their ease

Searching for, and gaining,
Finding, while restraining,
Retaining and maintaining,
my composure.
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Fleeting

           Fleeting

It comes more with age20150827_184053[1]
Becomes more of a reality
You examine your life
Struck by your mortality

With every death
With every wake
There is another punch
You have to take

It beats me down
One reminder at a time
One more reason
For every rhyme
Again and again
It tortures my heart
If I’m going to live
I’d better start

Responsibility and life
Work and play
Flying through the motions
Of another day

It’s Monday to Sunday
In the blink of an eye
Barely getting on
As time whips by


It’s all an illusionimagesM5E0G21W
It’s a ruse, a sham
All just an act
It’s not who I am

It wears me down
One day at a time
One more reason
For every rhyme
Again and again
It tortures my heart…

Fulfillment is fleeting
You must
maintain your drive
Keep your foot on the gas
Accelerate, to feel alive

Too much pain
Too many pills
So much coffee
So many hills

The climb up 20150827_184220[1]
The slide back
The self-regulation
Is what I lack

It brings me down
One vice at a time
One more reason
For every rhyme
Again and again
It tortures my heart…

They say that a mind
Is a terrible thing to waste
And that life is bland
Unless you dare to taste

That the key to success
Is hard to locate
When opportunity knocks
Rush to the gate

But what I want
What I actually need20150827_184348[1]
Is a little more time
Is a lot less speed

Control of the pace
A slowly opened door
Because more or less
Less is more

One good reason
For every rhyme
To ease me down

One moment at a time
Again and again
To soothe my heart
If I’m going to live
I’d better start

Gull

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Gull

I watched the determined seagull
holding its own against the wind
seeming to hover in place

A stalemate battle of wills
with the teeth of the harsh wind
opposed by the gull’s flying grace


No urgency of flapping wings

neither the blustery force of nature
nor the game gull to be outdone

A level exchange of to and fro
each showing a mutual respect
for the obvious strength of the other one


I was transfixed by this encounter

until the stiff breeze graciously subsided
as the sun filled the September sky

The seagull quickly turned to soar away
satisfied with its lofty endeavor
wind assisted in its effort to fly

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