Dusk the winters fading light
Reflects the dying of the era
Pentenial passing gone with a whimper
It passed in silence
With it, the memories disapate
As those who experienced it fell away
On the blade of temporal expediency
Gone the father, Mother lost to time
As the grains of sand mark the truth
Nothing is forever
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
A Lifetime In Moments
A Lifetime in Moments
You see, life doesn’t happen in years or decades or centuries. We live in moments…
We don’t live on an arrow of time from the past to the present to the future. The past is gone, and the future hasn’t occurred.
We simply live in the NOW. Our lives are nothing but a series of moments.
This is why the moments we have together are so precious, so unique, because it’s all we have together a series of moments in the NOW.
Each moment is our only chance to experience each other, love each other… and when they pass.. we can never get them back again.
They are forever gone.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
In The Image Of An Angel
Each day, a gulf between us
A chasm of unimaginable emptiness
As I shamble along this mortal coil
An eternity of moments slowly marches forward
Silence, utter silence, my torturer
As I wait, for a moment of solace, an instant of respite
A word of peace
In darkness, waiting, needing you to free my cold bitter heart
With the brilliance of your caring
I am buoyed by the sure knowledge
Your presence uplifts my continence
Saves my soul
Time, the vile mistress
Tick, tick, tick
Punishes me for my arrogance
To dare love such a being of light
The intimate need consumes my fevered consciousness
Your thoughts uplift my dark awareness
Your image heals my battered ego
Your smile resuscitates my soul
Each moment apart is an eternity
A singular hell , lost in pain
Only to experience the nirvana of heaven
Each time we reunite
Each word, each feeling,
Each time we meet again
Brings me to…
Life
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
Dying Of The Light: Rage Against The Enemy Of Discontent
Made hard by life, by lack
Left alone to endure the cold places
Empty times when I trekked the storm blown plains
Plains of my own lost journey
When I was banished from my own existence
My own life
My own family
I, a stranger in familiarity
Known as the villain in my own saga
Challenged fate cursed the moment
Raised my fist to the sky
In the darkest of days , fear an enemy yet one the I dominated
As I stared down the hated gaze of my detractors
Shouted (Never!) To those wanton haters
That demanded submission, compliance
If I took a knee , it was in prayer
A prayer of strength
Of victory over the conquistadors of my belligerent adversaries
I will not go quietly
Surrendering to those who seek to author my fate, design my demise
I move forward against the bitter deluge
The violent winds
The angry sky
The storm is coming, the die is cast
War against the anarchist of my discontent inevitable
I stare into the tempest
My gaze locked on the future
As others falter in the progression of their moral intent
With my head up… my motivation, a righteous certainty
Endurance a surety
Embolden by my conviction
I Rise
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
Solitary Trek: Life Lost In Translation
Life the solitary trek
Alone in the cacophony of things, people
Searching for solace, for reason
For purpose in the meanless cavalcade of experience
An abstract journey to empty dreams
Hopeless revelry with lost expectation
Questioning rational logic as the cycle continues
The pain becomes reason
As bitter souls pursue feeling… some feeling
Amour , enmity any feeling and failing
Indifference inundates the jaded heart
Withers the optimistic perspective
Leaving husks of people that aren’t living
Aren’t savoring moments of memory
That in youth beheld wonder in each encounter, in each breath
Now , the barren mindscape a monotonous repetitive grind
As one day replays
Again and
Again and
Again.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
Lagrange Point of the Lost
Imagine a moment
Touched by thoughts
Coalesced in a manifest destiny
Of possible fates
In endless succession
Of mindless repetition
Redundant , mundane
A predictable instant
A daily propensity for
Empty actions
Meaninglessness in motion
A life in relief
Held frozen in a temporal state of
Now
Such is the monotony
Of the average
Man
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
Echos Of Eden: In The Spaces In-between
Echos of eden
In the garden of discontent
Lost innocence in the electronic spaces
Alone in the spaces between electrons and life
As the transients of the new age suffer unrequited love
Wandering aimlessly, the web of uncertainty
Seeking, searching their golden moments
Instants of connection, moments of solace
Connections of mental communion
Or physical ardor
Alone in the crowd, a soul among many
Wanting, needing …. something
A patriarchal reminisce
A matriarchal memory
Healing that empty cold experience
Or to forget the treasonous moment
And the fact they were abandoned by life
Separated by distances by languages by blood
Realizations become evidence
Evidence becomes clearity
The world is simply a grand illusion
The actual truth is it isn’t really here
At all.
An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe
My Dark Fate: Each Moment Alone
Silence , louder than a gunshot
The pulse of emptiness, my constant companion
It’s the lonely heart that is maddening
As darkness becomes life
In contemplation of broken expectation
Repetitious moments of nothingness
As time stretches
Surety becomes insolence
Indifference a witness
Of events, yet material
The truth is a bitter pill
As promises become monotonous rout
In the face of steel cold expectation
Yet , never made real
Assurances ring hollow
As each grain of sand descends
Tick, tick, tick
Ringing like a gong in my brain
Though, in truth, passes in silence
A dream though held dear, yet in vain?
Once more, I’m left wanting… needing…
Believing in the shining contemplation
The image of the fortunate
Drunk on the wine of the amorous soul
Yet, betrayed by my foolish fate
Adrift on the questioning tide
Of Indifference
Each day I wake , pursuing a future
That exists in a flux on ambiguity
Like mists at dawn, fleeting
Ethereal
Unreal
Such is my witness
Each experience, flavorless
Unsubstantiated
Unrequited
Never reciprocated
I exist, survive the onslaught
Of inner demons
As they celebrate my misery
Cheer my pain
As the beauty I pursue seems oblivious
Of my tortured existence
My doubtful gaze
I suffer in silence
With baited breath
And hope against hope
My emotional wounds are self-inflicted
Rather than a Damocles blade
To strike my already broken and battered soul
Shattering a future yet written
A fate left undreamed.
An Original Poem By H.R. Beebe
