Change – Choka – July 19, 2016

frosted lake

another passing
another moment of change
another heart-break
more tears to water my cheeks
and each moment feels
like my heart can stand no more
yet the road goes on
and the wheels keep turning ’round
another passing
another moment of change
but life continues
each morning the sun rises
the cocks crow loudly
the rain still falls – winds still blow
telling me all’s well
I miss you, my once good friend
there’s no passing here
you only gave in and up
I cry for the dead
they are forever gone now
they have no choice left
their fight is over
it’s for you that I despair
for you my heart breaks
this other kind of passing
this other moment of change

© Gsk ’16

B&P’s Shadorma & Beyond – July 16, 2016 – Write a Choka or Shadorma about “Change”

Awaken to Live – A to Z Challenge (Cleave Poem – NaPoWriMo) – April 1, 2016


Awaken now my love let hope into your heart
See, the sun is shining, no longer lament your sort
Feel the warmth of spring, winter’s time is passing
Hear the black-bird sing – forget the howling winds
No longer grope in slumber, for a new dawn is born
Awaken now to life – rejoice my love, rejoice!

© G.s.k. ‘16


In This Silent Moment – Sestet – December 28, 2015

Screen Door

In this silent moment look,
Cloy night seems to draw up close
And dark fills this sun-filled room,
A fell chill wind falls on me
And is joined with a stream of tears,
In this safe place I call home.

How to deal with this sadness
With neither name nor object?
Try as I might to connect
With my inner light and peace
They escape me in my need,
Years of discipline are just mist.

I’m my own a prisoner,
What sentence could be more cruel?
No, no yon fair ghost be gone…
There is a lark somewhere singing
So wiping my eyes, I’ll write
Not of dark but of love and life.

In this silent moment, look,
Cloy night recedes for a while
And as the sun sets there’s light,
Warmth fills my heart for I know
That tears are like a spring rain
In this safe place I call home.

Sadness and joy are close kin,
Like dark night and bright day,
They have no name nor object
They are one of the same truth
The reality of living.
The yin and yang of being.

I am not a prisoner,
No sentence has been passed,
For now yon ghost is my friend
And yes, a lark sings somewhere
When I wiped my eyes and wrote
Not of dark but of love and life.

© G.s.k. 15

Wordle 231

Wordle 231


Sadness – Free Verse – June 16, 2015


another birthday gone
and again I wasn’t present
they grow each day so tall
and I’ve missed their growing-up
how life’s twists and turns
leaving so much just unfinished
still even now I look
and see that life goes on

cry not for me my friend
I do that enough myself
my road took me this way
it was a conscious choice you know,
when I was just a kid
fallen from my bike
I laid upon the road
watched the clouds drifting by
and saw that life goes on.

no ties no bonds no chains
and no affection too
once you’ve chosen this lonely road
no on can comfort you
dependence has a price
that everyone must pay it
but the children soon grow-up
like clouds they drift away
and still live goes on.

© G.s.k. ‘15


Photo Challenge #65, Sadness, June 16, 2015

Dawn Thoughts – July 30, 2014

Blue Morning

Blue Morning

Another rainy morning …
How blue this summer’s been …
Wondering if I’ll see another,
Wondering if I care.
This summer’s been so tragic
More bombs, more deaths, more war
I think the Earth is crying
She’s seen so much, so farl
Rain like tear drops fall.

In this year of still more tragedy,
My sixty-second summer
My feelings seem reflected
In this constant rain that falls …
Of course I know that’s silly,
The Earth is a place of woe,
From the fight of micro organisms
Throughout nature there’s just war.

I guess I’m just so sad
To think that maybe we can
Go outside of human nature
And be more than what we are.
Melancholy feelings …
A passing moment still…
Wondering when I’ll move on,
To a happier attitude.


Siddhartha Gautama, when he was born, was visited by a great seer who told his parents that he was destined to be a great king or a great mystic prophet.   Of course his father wanted him to be a great king, like himself, so he secluded his son from the world and showed him only beauty, opulence and happiness, never allowing his son to leave the inner court of his palace.

One day though when he was of a certain age, and indeed already with a wife and son, he persuaded his father to let him ride through the village to see the kingdom, he would some day rule, outside the palace walls.  His father agreed but also secretly decreed that no old, sick or poor people were to be on the main street when his son passed through on horse back.

One old man hid near the corner of the main street, because he wanted to see the young prince and the guards failed to see him.  When Siddhartha passed he saw him and asked his friend: “What is that strange creature?” pointing out the old man.

His friend laughed and said: “That isn’t a strange creature, that’s only a very old man.  We will all become like that, unless of course we die young.”

Siddhartha was confused, he’d never seen such a decrepit human being … and what did his friend mean, die.

“What is it to die?” asked Siddhartha.  And his friend told him about death: “And you can die from accident, or sickness.  Death is always with us!” his friend told him.

Siddhartha wanted to see the truth, so he pulled his horse out off the main street and went into the village.  He saw poverty, misery, violence and he saw the very sick and very old and he saw those who had died being cremated.

Siddhartha’s heart was heavy.  He who had everything knew that someday he, like everyone would lose everything.  So during the night, he loved his wife for the last time, kissed his son and gave his favorite horse to his best friend, then leaving the palace, exchanged his rich clothing with the first poor man he saw on the street and went into the world to discover how to defeat death.

Billy meets Death

Billy stood in the middle of the country road. Illinois, 1955, not many cars then.
The squirrel chattered and threw nuts at him.
“Stupid squirrel!”
He threw nuts back.
A shot rang out, the squirrel fell from the tree.
“Good eating tonight!”
It was his first encounter with death.
A tear rolled down his cheek.

Written for Jezri’s Nightmare…55 Word Challenge.

Photos were furnished with the prompt!

Rain Drops – Sonnet

Each raindrop was but a tear to me,
As I walked along the lonely wooded path.
My day was sad, and I couldn’t see
Anything, but your senseless wrath.

You’re life is empty, you have no goals!
You’ve begun to cling to me like a vine.
You’ve placed me in such awful roles.
Put yourself first, inside your shrine.

And what then can be this thing called love?
It’s a death-throe, strangling me, it’s my last breath,
No peaceful ecstasy, no sweet white dove.
You’ll hound me man, unto my death!

Each raindrop is but one more tear dear friend,
Quaff I this bitter drink, wondering when it will end.

Father and Son (Friday Fictioneers)

Copyright -Claire Fuller

Copyright -Claire Fuller

Side by side they worked
Under the warm West Virginian sky
A father and his son,
Building a model biplane:
They felt like the brothers Wright.

Pipe dreams
Filled the workshop,
Thoughts of their fine future
Flying together through life’s sky
For all eternity.

The boy grew into a man.
He differed from his dad.
Their harmony moved into conflict,
They never stopped reflected nor wondered.
They didn’t look back once.

Time passed as time always does,
What was done was done.
Those men no longer talked,
Each walked his separate pathway.
Only the ghosts of pipe dreams still remained.

Word count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers: January 31, 2014

Go here for the links to other Friday Fictioneers!

Shards of Glass

Battles lost and won,
Through the reflections
Of the shards of broken glass.
Their spider-web
Of pain,
After each battle, grew
Another painful splinter
Embedded in their hearts,
Rapidly killing the light
Of the dimming candle dream,
That was their new love.
It languished,
By the early stress
Of their fragile insecurities…
Creating a deadly tug of war
Which left nothing
for them to share,
Outside of each other’s arms.
Now, the memory,
Of that early dawn,
The wonderful promise they sought,
Speaking their names with joy,
Is gone,
There lies their love,
Over before it began…
A glimmering memory
Of a promise
In another somber
Dark suicidal dream.
On the tombstone’s written:
“Here lies the broken fragments
Of our weary hearts.”

For Carlo, A Dear Friend

The first time I saw your eyes,
After her funeral
There was the void she’d left,
That dark cloud of grief,
Which we all said would pass
For we felt that,
All time heals sadness.

But, she was your sun,
Alas now set.
Months have  passed,
And you’ve become spent
No sun rises for you,
There is no light at dawn.

And your smile…
Which brightened our days
Is now darkend,
Like an unlit moon…
Your sun has gone,
Has risen no more.
Your smile has no light to give.

Now when we meet,
Each time you say sadly,
“My bride is dead.”
and then you repeat:
“They say the pain passes,
But it never goes away.”

My heart grows heavy,
For we rarely meet,
You are a ghost now,
Someone I cannot touch.
You my dearest friend,
Have entered the tomb,
With your dead bride’s corpse.

This was inspired of course by Carlo, but the first writing was for Trifextra yesterday.  I wrote this yesterday as well, but for the Poet’s Corner….