The Writer’s Lament

I am a writer, I cannot deny.
It is no matter how hard I try.
I put away the pen and the will,
but with every piece I see,
it captures me still.
I find fascination in correcting my text,
full anticipation seeking the next.
oodles of ideas spring into my head,
I know that it will not quit ’till I’m dead.
So onward I go to replace what is lost,
no matter how difficult and the cost.
I must keep plying those keys in my mind,
to never reach an end, I won’t find.

Barbara Blackcinder

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One of Many

Oh so sad, when you cannot be
All that you wish, you wish to see
You haven’t control of what you need
You are merely the path of a wanton seed
A start that had no necessary end
Life goes on, something which you must tend
A path unknown and not to be seen
A trail so often hopeless, sad and mean
But away from it you cannot turn
A life like no other, this shouldn’t burn
For lack of a clear path, you must always be tending
It must for others, be carried to its ending

Barbara Blackcinder

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The Prairie Has Long Grass

We talk, converse, sometimes chat in verse
But like all things good it does pass
Like the sun moving over our heads
With times, in hours, it’ll pass

And so, we leave, go separate ways
Leaving but a patch of flattened grass
Where we talked, heard what was said
While looking up from the grass

Long gone now, we fade from sight
As the sun drops, sunlight fails at last
Darkness under trees grows now instead
Our memories also fail to last

Two disappear in the distances wide
Each moment, each year that has past
A step, a distance, each moving in dread
Always knowing the visit wouldn’t last

So the cycle continues to go on and on
Long ago the players have been cast
Life offered no alternates instead
The road of events has split long in the past

Barbara Blackcinder

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Differences Not Acceptable

Stabs of frustration, threads of sorrow
Avoidance of these make up tomorrow
When will it end? The death of us all?
Until then life is a merciless pall

Oh why must I endure such ill treatment?
Just for something not usually seen
Resulting in hardship and resentment
Eroding life in its shortened extreme

Things I have done matter little at all
Just events, behind curtains they fall
Seldom is it discussed the causes that bring
Happiness or sadness, a song that we sing

Instead we hide behind a forest of murk
Avoiding dark corners with demons that lurk
Clinging to common, the light of the day
Never intending for oddity in darkness to stay

I want what I know to free my soul
But isn’t that the result of every goal
To free one’s self for enjoyment and mirth
But there is so little past one’s birth

Conformity reigns as minds are expressed
It’s difficult to fight it and remain at rest
To convert your mind to belong is a feat
Always seeking to live with so many defeats

But then when it is brought to our awareness at last
We struggle to separate or forget of our past
We see the challenge ahead that we face
Do we crumble and fall right back into place

Or do we determine to exist as a separate soul
Eking out our singular efforts and goals
Forsaking those who would judge our advance
Condemning and criticizing with a populous lance

Seeking to drive us once more to the ground
Hoping to settle our differences around
But steadfast we journey with ideals our own
Truths that drive us from deep in our bone

And then we are headed our way on the path
Enlightenment shedding all of that wrath
So happily freed, but not without grief or pain
Which returns with consistency over again

Barbara Blackcinder

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Secrets Held

Oh dear friend, should I reveal to you
The frailties of my life
Should I give you truth without delay
Of some causes of my strife

You are the one who forever listens
To my pains, sorrows, and fears
Yet I still hesitate greatly
To speak more into your ears

We are not so close as it would seem
I think kindred spirits would suit
To describe our valued friendship
So I hesitate not to be mute

As much as I want to share with you
It may also distance you somehow
I’m always looking for the best time
Should I reveal my fear even now?

There isn’t a single reason to speak
Nothing binding nor separating I think
The news is inconsequential to me
Yet causes my spirit to further sink

It is a pain that only I know
It is a heartbreak to show without
But chilling and damning also
While perceiving it I could shout

But then it isn’t going to change a thing
If I stay quiet and withdraw again
Our friendship will not suffer
Though it threatens to drive me insane

A little secret that I don’t deny
A bit of news for only willing ears
But wrought with danger too
Cresting on mountains of fear

So I will contain myself further
Hold this thing within my soul
Friendship is something to cherish
The singular objective goal.

Barbara Blackcinder

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It’s Just Stuff

I have things to lean upon
Things to help me by
Stuff that gathers endlessly
Yet doesn’t pile high

It’s stuff that I use to justify
A life I have to separate
Things that show me why
I live to have a fate

I don’t gather to impress
To have or just to hold
I have things to show me that
Life just goes on to old

I mirror my life with things
Past and present as well
Recollections in solid form
Mostly stuff they sell

I don’t care to make a stack
In the end it falls away
And must be passed along
When I have met my day

But while its here, and I am too
It has a role I see
It brings me some happiness
It’s more or less just me

Barbara Blackcinder

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Tears In My Coffee

Tears in my coffee, sobs with my tea
I don’t understand what life’s given me
I sit in my corner, passing the time
Without you it’s life without a real rhyme

Oh give me direction, give me a clue
What am I to do without you
Enrapture my mornings, highlight my days
Give me ample reason to change my ways

Will I find another, to take your place
Is it endless emptiness I have to face
Could it be that, there will be no one
May I never again stare into a sun

Oh I don’t ask much, just the tiniest sight
To help my through my darkest of nights
I’m sure in the morning, after a glowing dawn
Another will appear after a blinding yawn

Yet never will I forget, what you were to me
In the recesses of my memory
It’s you’ll I’ll always see.

Barbara Blackcinder

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