The Constant Shadow

Ascending from the cave,
I spy a shadow of former self.
A marionette without a sound,
Of hope and peace bereft.
And thus begins the shadow’s rise,
Engulfing my firm-footed base.
“Do not look back”, my sullen heart cries,
“And be doomed a pillar of waste.”
And so I shut my eyes,
Letting memory thus replace,
And dare not to dwell upon the past,
That these encounters be met with haste.
But I did see one thing I cannot put away,
A chip upon my shoulder,
That I noticed still remains.
It seems beyond position,
Or stature socially,
I have always felt subject,
And hindered by frailty.
In youth, I feared authority
As authority, I was intense,
As employee, I feared the manager
As manager, I feared impotence.
And thus the cycle continues,
I am constantly afraid.
Over, under, forward, behind,
Unsettled and dismayed.
I must attempt to break,
And shatter this illusion,
That my circumstances decide,
My attitude, is a delusion.

Broken Jack

Broken Jack, an unknown man,
Sits at the tavern table.
A weathered sage of former tale,
With memory unstable.

The revelers who drink and play,
About the tavern’s locus,
Know not our seasoned broken Jack,
Quite undeterred in focus.

Broken Jack has no intention,
To make a friend or foe.
His mind is caught in recollection,
Of an unforgivable woe.

He cannot recall his father’s name,
Nor the dwelling of his youth.
He remembers not the catechisms,
Or how many he once knew.

And yet one thing permeates,
And recycles o’er again.
‘Tis a choice he made with Clara Belle,
His love, his life, his friend.

It occurred too many years before,
No way to be exact,
Moot details by comparison,
With how he chose to act.

It came down to him or her,
Built on bricks of good intent.
His ambition, her attention,
Two forces incongruent.

He lost her to malady,
Faint heart succumbed to fever.
Yet in his heart he knew it.
T’was a broken spirit that killed her.

In her last breath it was later told him,
She spoke his name intently.
Upon report he buckled and fell,
Ne’er to recover sanity.

Thus now he stammers from place to place,
Heart toiling in bitter strife,
Recalling the fateful precipice,
Of choice that took her life.

Christ in Christmas (Poem)

Christmas makes us feel emotional,
It may inspire thoughts devotional,
But only if it’s viewed with love.
It’s not just for Santa, presents, brothers,
Eggnog, dads, or even mothers,
The focus needs to be above.
 
Ho Ho Ho, how I love the snow!
But the joy it brings,
Comes from the King of Kings.
We’ve gotta look past,
Those earthly things.
It’s time for all of us,
To put Christ back in Christmas
 
You know Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen.
Who’s that One that I’ve been missing?
I guarantee He’s not a reindeer.
I’ve looked to Bing and Danny Kaye,
To brighten up my holiday,
But White Christmases don’t bring the most cheer.
 
Ho Ho Ho, how I love the snow!
But the joy it brings,
Comes from the King of Kings.
We’ve gotta look past,
Those earthly things.
It’s time for all of us,
To put Christ back in Christmas.