Our House

I wrote Our House @Y!360 earlier this year while I was all alone in depressed mode.
It seems the old song by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young - Our House is a very very very fine house, with 2cats in the yard ....... is being reminisced here in my short poem!


Well, and so to say The House is a HOME.
But the HOME is NOT a HOUSE
then how is it to live on the LIFE we are to lead??

The House is the only place you know,
This only place is your HOME,
When you know that it's no longer there,
Blindly into the air you stare.
Surely you know it's somewhere out there,
But where?
Surely you would hunt,
But then it's NOT that fun.
You need to seek high and low,
To look for the forsaken LOVE,
That when you managed to find it,
Is it there forever for us to keep?

Summer's Ending

My very nice lady friend Cheyanne @ Y360 composed this very touching poem
to eNjOy the passing summer with utmost jOy
and I've made my request to post it here for all to share the view:-

The leaves are still green,
Vividly so,
The tree bark is A lively blackish brown.
All is so alive,
Yet summer is Drawing to an end.
Leaves soon will begin to Fade and lose their green.
Next they will change into Warm autumnal colors Of rust,
yellow and orange Followed by the Drying of the leaves.
Though summer just began,
It is drawing to an end.

In appreciation to Shirea Mills
in mid July 2008

P.S. - probably another Mid Summer Night's Dream, perhaps?

I Don't Understand

I've come across a regular @Yahoo! 360° whom has been my regular visited space

& find this poem very interesting to collect.

So, as usual I'm sharing it with you.
eNjOy!!

"I don't understand what happened to us
Or why you have turned away.
Of course you are free to do as you like,
But first I have something to say.
To me it had seemed we could go on forever,
So close were our hearts, and at ease,
So much did we share, yet the words never faltered,
So I thought as time did as it pleased.
Whatever I did that has made you unhappy,
Or am that is not to your taste,
Or would be were I to return to your graces,
Or won't be if I am replaced:
I want you to know that your friendship is something
I treasure, and would not now end.
If you would be willing to turn to embrace me,
You'd find in me still a good friend."

Pearls of Wisdom

I have re-Posted this poem from Jacqui BB from YAHOO 360 friends space

thru Cheyanne and in it he wrote:-

So I am hosting Poetry Wednesday this week in Sue's absence.

Sort of seems appropriate that I offer up a poem of my own.

And I have been rather rattling these off on demand of late but I don't think that is going to work today so I went leafing through those journals I have mentioned before.

I didn't even find a date on this until the next to last page I filled

(only about a third but every page a poem).

It is 1976. In the last year I believe of my relationship with a man named Bruce.

The one with the Masters in English and all but thesis on Doctorate.

He hated that I learned I could write.

I was not with him for 19 years so I haven't a clue of just what specific incident I am referring to in this poem. Likely a fight with my brother.

Far too many to be specific.

But not knowing I do not think lessens the truth in this poem.

Observe if you will

No tell tale frown

Nothing up my sleeve

Just behind my mind

Where quietly I air the linen

Review my past like a color guard

Passing in Review just out of yours

So I can pass judgmentI now pull it out for you.

Notice, if you will, the tiny facets

The minute changes of light

As I turn this prism of personality

First one way then the next

You'd never guess

The festered sore this tiny gem has created.

But a tiny grain of sand like so many, you say?

A mere chip off the rock of sand

And well have I hidden itEven from myself

Stored under gauzy tissue of laughter and flippancy

Smoothed and polished and coated and re-coated

To be a pearl of wisdom.

But the wisdom, my friends,

is in observing it

Pulling back the tender tissue

And wiping clean the gem

Then with a hammer smashing it

To reveal the original stone

The tiniest nugget of golden truthA trifle you say?

Well, perhaps

Perhaps once and maybe soonB

ut for now I give you the one, the only(Don't we wish?)

THE Pea which kept a Princess awake

Under not one, not two, not even three

But nineteen, count them.

Nineteen years!

Yes, Sir, Folks.

A more expensive trifle you've never seen.

It has cost us dearly.

(c) J.Binford-Bell 1976

Many thanks to Jacqui BB & in appreciation to Cheyanne.

Living LIFE in Chapters

One of my spaces friends @Yahoo! 360° wrote :-
"I'm reminded of Rudyard Kiplings supportive poem in times such as these.
Wise words that I'm sure will help.

And I'm sharing it with you here & hope you'll like it too. eNjOy!

If you can keep your head when all about you,
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster,
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken,
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings,
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew,
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you,
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute,
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!"

In appreciation to our utmost friendly WebMarty.

What Love Means

Known as Juz Me, my spaces friend from
A Little Space of Me @WinLive spaces wrote "Everyone like to ask what is love? Love makes us feel so sweet yet so painful... Here is a song i would to share with everyone about love. Here she sang and explain what is love. I personally think it is so true. Do you think as what i am thinking?"

They say it's a river,
that circles the earth.
A beam of light shining,
to the edge of the universe.

It conquers all,
it changes everything.
They say it's a blessing,
they say it's a gift,
they say it's a miracle,
and I believe that it is.

It conquers all,
but it's a mystery,
Love breaks your heart,
love takes no less than everything.

Love makes it hard,
and it fades away so easily.
In this world we've created,
in this place that we live in.

In a blink of an eye,
the darkness slips in.
Love lights the world,
unites the lovers for eternity.

Love breaks the chains,
love aches for everyone of us.
Love takes the tears and the pain,
and it turns it into the beauty that remains.

Look at this place tha was paradise,
but now it's dying.
I'll pray for love,
I'll take my chances.

That it's not too late,
love breaks your heart.
Love takes no less than everything,
love makes it hard and fades away so easily.

Oh! Oh! Oh !

Love breaks the chains,
love aches for everyone of us.
Love takes the tears and the pain,
and it turns it into the beauty that remains!

Love is performed by Vanessa Williams

In our bLoGosphere

A puzzled poem posted @one of my Yahoo360 friend's space. 
No title and no pix. Enjoy!

We sit and we type,
and we stare at our screens.
We all have to wonder,
what this possibly means.

With our mouse we roam,
through the rooms in a maze.
Looking for something or someone,
as we sit in a daze.

We chat with each other,
we type all our woes.
small groups we do form,
and gang up on our foes.

We wait for somebody,
to type out our name.
We want recognition,
but it is always the same.

We give kisses and hugs,
and sometimes flirt.
In ICQ we chat deeply,
and reveal why we hurt.

We do form friendships,
but why we don't know.
But some of these friendships,
will flourish and grow.

Why is it on screen,
we can be so bold.
Telling our secrets,
that have never been told.

Why is it we share,
the thoughts in our mind.
With those we can't see,
as though we were blind.

The answer is simple,
it is as clear as a bell.
We all have our problems,
and need someone to tell.

We can't tell "real" people,
but tell someone we must.
So we turn to the puter,
and to those we can trust.

Even though it is crazy,
the truth still remains.
They are Friends without Faces,
and odd little names.

The less that we may not know

There is no more other sickness to know,
more than the less we know.

And what more less that we should know,
is not less of the following you ought to know....

restless,
mindless,
thoughtless,
meaningless,
useless,
baseless,
pointless,
speechless,
heartless,
loveless,
lifeless,
selfless,
endless.....

and on & on & on ....

If Only

A "cutie" love engulfed story found by my Yahoo 360 friend, Keke & 
she said this, "I found this piece out there somewhere in cyberland ........ 
I just liked it and wanted to share it with you!"
I have put in a litle effort rephrased it in poetic gesture 
and I'm sharing it here with you, enjoy ....

They lie across the bed,
side by side facing each other,
their bodies only a breath apart one another.

They both carry secrets in their eyes,
and have hidden in visible scars,
they have both grown old into a place,
where they're tired of having too little,
and being afraid of giving too much.

"I'm not sure I know how to do this,"
he whispers tentatively,
as he brushes a few strands of hair,
from her face with his fingertips.

"Neither do I," she assures him.
All this is new to me and I'm scared.
Everyday I want to turn and run the other way.
"Me too," he whispers,
pulling his body closer to her own,
resting her face on his weathered skin,
feeling so tired of never showing up,
and loving only a little.
I don't want to be afraid of being loved,
or worse of being seen.
I'm too old for games and lies and holding back.
I'm too old not to take this risk,
not to stand here with nothing between us.

I'm too old to only give you parts of myself
instead of my whole self.
I'm too old to keep hiding,
to keep tucking pieces of myself away.
If I keep holding on to them I'll never fall apart
and if I don't fall apart I'll never find myself.

I choose you,
I choose you to push against,
to scream at,
to make love with,
to discover myself with,
and I want to be brave enough,
and to give you all my humanness.

I want to be brave enough to accept all of yours.
What if I can't sit in so much love?
What if I can't accept so much humanness?
What if I can't look you in the eyes
or let you look in mine?
What if I can't let myself be loved?

As he asks, his head bowed and his fingers laced,
between hers as if in prayer.
We could start with a few promises,
we could promise if we want to run,
we'll tell the other.
We could promise if it gets too much,
we'll say when we're ready for more.

We could promise to look each other in the face.
We could promise not to lie to ourselves any longer.
We could promise we're in this together.
He wants to make promises,
just as she wants to make promises.
He wants to know who he really is.
She wants to discover all her secrets.
He wants to fall in and never look back.
She wants to open her arms,
and take it all in.
He closes his eyes,
bites his lower lip,
falls into her body,
and whispers his answer in her ear.
She breathes in the scent of his skin,
kissing him lightly on his greying temple,
then lets herself slip into the dark corner,
at the heaving of his moving chest.

And that's what could have happened,
and that's what could have been,
if only one of them had rolled over,
if only one of them had given in,
if only one of them had found ,
the courage to clear their throats,
and stop staring at the wall.

In the Shelter of My Eyes

When your life is in a mess and you are thoughtless,
And when your rest ain't becoming easy,
Your mind will get homeless ..........

Shadow of black under my eyes,
Are signs of many a sleepless nights,
Life's miseries are mighty high,
Complications one cannot deny.

Rest eludes me, going astray.
Wandering deeply, far far away.
Unfulfilled dreams, without destiny.
Crumpled hopes, fear of reality.

Anxiety ends up in more worry,
Such heavy burden to carry,
Fearful to live in this agony,
And not too easy in forgetting.