The Lament

Lord, how cruel you've become.
With a deaf hear and a blind eye
You don't hear, nor see your son.

At times the despair blinds us. We are ready to blame the One that will ultimately rescue us.

The Storm

Dark clouds above, rolling
With the thunder of a day gone mad.
Darkness is around.
The dove is not flying high,
But roosting under the eaves.
Sincerity has exploded in fragments, and
Under the storm I weep,
As the rain seeps
Into the swollen Earth.

In the distance can be observed
The silver that lines the clouds,
Blown by the winds of changes.
A shaft of light escapes
Like a laser from above.
Sweeping the countryside,
Searching, not knowing what it will find.

I'm hiding and frightened!
The command performance draws applause from Thor.
In submission I bow my head,
As my tears mingle with the rain.

Defeated in my purpose,
By the common sense I did not have,
But acknowledged all along,
I did unmask my destiny
In the fury of the storm,
And I now know the future of my fate.

Like the rumbling rolling far away,
Traces of my life will persist
And be talked about.
The lining will take hold,
And sincerity will come together again,
Under the new Sun.

Emotions....what are emotions? I can't explain what emotions are, but I know what they feel like. We all experience emotions. There is love, hate, lust, envy and so on. Yes, these are all emotions that we carry. I must say the most rewarding and the most painful emotion of them all has to be the emotion of "Love". All the others will destroy you.

Alone

He sits there, alone, with his thoughts.
Once in a while,
As if in a lucid state, he smiles.
He does remember what he once had.
With passion, he looks at his side, embracing
And savoring the next gulp of forgetfulness
That comes to him in a bottle.
The hot sun, makes his life a little bearable.

Tonight he'll be warm,... for a change.

He sits there and smiles, for his passion came to mind.
The brown wrapper at his feet,
Reveals to him the glory
Of another lonely night.

He is alone
As he has been throughout,
Alone,..but not quite.

The Vision

Slowly they're falling
Swept away by the wind,
But the beauty remains.
Along the pathways, over the dying grass,
They pile up, where we once sat.
With each gust, many are falling
All around me like tears
And it's so lonely and it's so empty
For you are not near.

There!...
By that tall tree, two people I see.
One has my face.
The other listens so attentively.
A tear I do detect running down her cheek.
And is brushed by his hand
Ever so gently.

Then they both fade away with the wind.
Leaving just a memory.
Time does stand still, frozen in eternity.

Night Edition

He took his life in desperation;
There was no one there to cry.
Just a line in the newspaper,
Night edition of the Star.

He was once a family man.
Had a wife then came a son.
No one here knew of him then,
Nor cared to know just what went on.

Isolated from the world
With a bottle in between,
He kept mostly to himself
With perhaps a shattered dream.

The "Skid Row Bum", they often called him.
They could not see he didn't care
He just lingered with his bottle,
Take a sip and then would stare.

Then something gave out inside of him;
No one saw him for a while.
When they did it was all over.
He didn't even go with style.

He took his life in desperation
There was no one there to cry.
Just one line in the newspaper,
The night edition of the Star.

To my way of thinking, loneliness is the father of despair. Too many times we fail to see turmoil in other people, because we are too engrossed with our own self pity. Let's look around us, we may discover our own devils.
Peace

The little orchard still lives
In my mind.
I see the pear trees, up on the hill,
Tempting the palate
Of the young child.

The hot sun of summer teasing,
So that one would seek shelter
Under the welcome shade,
While nonchalantly
Without no one noticing
A fruit would be plucked.

I would spend hours under that tree,
Knowing full well that
All was right.
No more school tomorrow.
No homework to worry the mind.

Once in a while, the hot breeze
Would rustle the dry leaves
Up above.
I did not care.
I could only appreciate the peace
Without fully knowing,
Without understanding that someday
That same peace would be so hard to find.

Yes, long ago...peace came easy to a young mind.

The Old Timer

He now sits by the fire
Alone with his memories
His soul in turmoil,
Tears, his company.

Comfort does come,
Once in a while.
With her soothing vision
Bringing a faint smile.

Gazing in bewildered fashion
At something no one sees
He reaches out to touch her...
If only that could be.

And...she does...come to him.
Smiling with gentleness
Through the mist of time
Accepting his caress.

He sits there by the fire
Around him life goes on,
Ignoring the touching drama
That transpires within his soul.

The older one gets the lonelier one becomes. Memories become vivid and dreams more real...

All poems by Walter Pompeo

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