I hate my pride,
And the way I’m never satisfied.
I love my drive to work and make,
Even if it’s just for motion’s sake.
I hate my reluctance to make a stand,
Even when the embers of my anger are fanned.
I respect my lack of complaints,
Though it doesn’t put me with the saints.
There are many sides to me,
Some I love, others a don’t want to see.
I have good traits and bad,
Some are happy, some are sad.
I try to maintain self respect,
Though I know I’ll never be perfect.
I see things.
I’ve seen children of means doing demeaning things.
And sons of poverty who spread their wings.
I’ve seen grown men beg for life,
And children throw it away to avoid a little strife.
I’ve seen grandiose homes with filth and grime,
And homeless camps that pristinely shine.
I have seen some men tell the truth.
I’ve seen more lie despite the proof.
I’ve seen sorrow and courage,
Calm and rage.
I’ve seen precious little contentment and plenty of resentment.
I’ve heard women scream as I stand at their door,
Because I’ve come to tell them they aren’t mothers anymore.
I’ve seen bad men get their due,
And self righteous ones who have no clue.
I’ve seen lots of things as a police man.
Some things others never can.
Now has come the time of day,
When the good little boys go out to play.
And by play I mean work and toil and strain,
To make a living and create gain.
With tired eyes he rises early,
To face the world so bleak and surly.
And goes out to face the day.
He hopes to improve the way,
His family lives.
And so he gives,
His sweat, blood and tears.
He faces many fears,
But never backs down to a single one.
Not till his day is done,
And he can finally return to the sweet embrace,
Of his loving wife and her tender grace.
In one week it will be my birthday.
People keep asking me what I want to do.
What I really want I’m afraid to say,
Because I want to try something new.
I want to be alone.
For the twenty-four hours of twenty-four.
But I know many will not condone,
This request and what is more,
It will cause my family hurt.
They just want to show me love,
And will see this as me being curt,
And pushing them away with a good hard shove.
It’s not that I don’t love them.
They make up my world.
But I want a day to think and separate the serious from the whim.
Because this year the rest of my life becomes unfurled.
I’m out of college.
I’m trying to start a career.
And though I have some knowledge.
The plan is not altogether clear.
So I want a day all my own,
In which I relax and ponder,
And hopefully I will be shown,
How I should move forward as I wonder.
I would just like some time to think about life.
I wish my friends and family could see,
That with plans and people come strife.
So while I love them dearly, on my birthday I want them to let me be.
From leaving the womb,
Till entering doom,
There’s no excuse to live in gloom.
You’re the weaver at life’s loom.
There’s fun to be had,
So don’t waste time mad,
Never act as though you’re sad,
And most of all, don’t be bad.
Loneliness is like a carried weight.
The further you go without a mate,
It drags you down and saps your strength,
Till your muscles shake under relentless strain,
And your heart pounds with unbearable pain.
Still you’ll carry this burden an untold length.
Unknowing when or if there will be relief,
Straining ever to maintain belief,
That by pressing on you will soon arrive.
At the place of your relaxation,
And that you will find beyond contestation,
The one from whom you will derive.
The rest that is so badly needed.
And that sense of a love being seeded,
That will forever your strength revive.
There will be a new poem every week for the foreseeable future. Check back on Wednesdays if you are interested in reading more.