I rack my soul for inner prayer
to set me apart and mend my heart
to take me from this world of sin
where Heaven starts where this world ends
I love my life but even more
I love my Lord Jesus Christ
so tears flow down across my cheeks
like rains of sin I lay and weep
I have Parkinson’s- it’s bad today
and it will still grow worse
I will get by- some how I’ll thrive
God will see that I survive
by my own choice I’d rather die
without my Father I’d fold inside
I’d make no effort I would not try
then I have my love my darling wife
she is my candle she lights my life
a beautiful woman with eyes so bright
she knows my God she knows my Christ
I rack my soul for inner prayer
God knows and cares
prayer is focus it makes me aware
and I know I am in my wife’s prayers
God and my wife they know they care
©Brian’s Prose 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
The Garden of Graves
We buried my friend today
then walked by my niece's grave
there are many tears still near
sorrow abounds here
in this garden of graves
and there is grace
I watched my daughter cry
why do children die
I watched his widow cry
it was his time to die
sad but alright
to cancer he lost his fight
his life was over and done
hers had only begun
©Brian’s Prose 2008
then walked by my niece's grave
there are many tears still near
sorrow abounds here
in this garden of graves
and there is grace
I watched my daughter cry
why do children die
I watched his widow cry
it was his time to die
sad but alright
to cancer he lost his fight
his life was over and done
hers had only begun
©Brian’s Prose 2008
With or Without Me
if I cried a bit
if I lingered with Parkinson’s
and felt sorry for myself
I’d be human after all
is this payment for insight
or a cosmic roll of dice
or is it God’s own design
or some figment in my mind
while on earth I spend time
in life my hands shake
my arms and legs ache
sometimes it’s hard to breathe
as I cough choke and wheeze
but living goes on
with or without me
with our without me
©2008 Brian’s Prose
if I lingered with Parkinson’s
and felt sorry for myself
I’d be human after all
is this payment for insight
or a cosmic roll of dice
or is it God’s own design
or some figment in my mind
while on earth I spend time
in life my hands shake
my arms and legs ache
sometimes it’s hard to breathe
as I cough choke and wheeze
but living goes on
with or without me
with our without me
©2008 Brian’s Prose
She is that Passion We Know as Love
I ever expect some miracle
that heals my ills away
then that was how I prayed
now I ask to live God’s will and way
I shed a tear then walk far off
I’d like to hide away
then thoughts of ending enter me
by my choice and deed
but I see a vision of my son
and it would give him pain
it would cause a rift that would not end
which is not my legacy to him
And there is my wife- she has my love
all I have to give
love is our gift from God above
she is my light and stability
my heart my soul my friend
she is that passion we know as love
she is so beautiful to view
then to touch and love her as I do
she keeps my feet on earth….
I hope and pray for God to cure
my Parkinson’s disease
my arms and hands they need to work
to not just shake and jerk
I know God hears my words
in little ways He answers me
to wait another day or so
there is more I need to grow
I am a vessel full of sin
I need to be cleaned out
to be washed by blood
which Jesus shed….
I dream of things I should not set
once death did enter me
long ago I lost the blood inside of me
©2008 Brian’s Prose
that heals my ills away
then that was how I prayed
now I ask to live God’s will and way
I shed a tear then walk far off
I’d like to hide away
then thoughts of ending enter me
by my choice and deed
but I see a vision of my son
and it would give him pain
it would cause a rift that would not end
which is not my legacy to him
And there is my wife- she has my love
all I have to give
love is our gift from God above
she is my light and stability
my heart my soul my friend
she is that passion we know as love
she is so beautiful to view
then to touch and love her as I do
she keeps my feet on earth….
I hope and pray for God to cure
my Parkinson’s disease
my arms and hands they need to work
to not just shake and jerk
I know God hears my words
in little ways He answers me
to wait another day or so
there is more I need to grow
I am a vessel full of sin
I need to be cleaned out
to be washed by blood
which Jesus shed….
I dream of things I should not set
once death did enter me
long ago I lost the blood inside of me
©2008 Brian’s Prose
Haunted
a word
a whisper
spoken
and never heard
a prayer
past tearful cheeks
as blood from torn wrists
to the floor drips
Help she asks
and no one hears
she cut her wrists
with shards of broken glass
I see this scene in dreams
this memory too long lasts
tangential to my past
I wish I heard
her soft sweet words
I wish I held my child
now both are gone
and I live on
haunted by a memory
© 2008 Brian's Prose
a whisper
spoken
and never heard
a prayer
past tearful cheeks
as blood from torn wrists
to the floor drips
Help she asks
and no one hears
she cut her wrists
with shards of broken glass
I see this scene in dreams
this memory too long lasts
tangential to my past
I wish I heard
her soft sweet words
I wish I held my child
now both are gone
and I live on
haunted by a memory
© 2008 Brian's Prose
Childhood Friends
gone are my childhood friends
lost in time they will not be again
gone are my absolutes
except God’s truth
and no one speaks of Milton
of art or about photons
no science nor philosophy
gone is my ocean
I have wandered inland
into our heartlands
in to the rustbelt and farmlands
I miss the sea’s tranquility
the calm and pacific it left in me
I miss my old societies
but time has passed and things changed
I am alone in thought and circumstance
no one reads my poetry
what is this force that drives in me
to write these words which no one sees
while ghosts and memories haunt at me
ties that bind- won’t set me free
I wish to find conclusion
conclusion and resolution
but that my light denied
stands far away in time
© 2008 Brian's Prose
lost in time they will not be again
gone are my absolutes
except God’s truth
and no one speaks of Milton
of art or about photons
no science nor philosophy
gone is my ocean
I have wandered inland
into our heartlands
in to the rustbelt and farmlands
I miss the sea’s tranquility
the calm and pacific it left in me
I miss my old societies
but time has passed and things changed
I am alone in thought and circumstance
no one reads my poetry
what is this force that drives in me
to write these words which no one sees
while ghosts and memories haunt at me
ties that bind- won’t set me free
I wish to find conclusion
conclusion and resolution
but that my light denied
stands far away in time
© 2008 Brian's Prose
One more note...
When Brian writes, he uses no punctuation nor does he have titles for his works. I have humbly added titles for the main reason of identification of his work. Please enjoy...and comment...
Friday, December 12, 2008
What this is...
My friend, Brian, asked me to help him. He has a collection of poems that he has written that he would like to let the world see. I will start to post these poems in the next day or so and will add several each week.
His work is very raw - you can feel the pain, and the anguish. Because of both the disease and the medications that he is taking, sleep often is elusive to him, so he writes. As this blog progresses it is my hope that others will share their thoughts about Parkinson's, life, religion, family, and even death.
His work is very raw - you can feel the pain, and the anguish. Because of both the disease and the medications that he is taking, sleep often is elusive to him, so he writes. As this blog progresses it is my hope that others will share their thoughts about Parkinson's, life, religion, family, and even death.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Posts
