Razors-Edge• Show poetry

"Sometimes it is not the experienced moment,  as it is...the lasting thoughts that remain of the experience."  Ann Francis

I know a profound soul who knows another.  I have a vision a young man of great intelligence.  He has slipped on a pebble.  I shall catch his fall.  I whisper gently "Take care to step away from the pebble,  in the steps that may find you in the same place."     ~Ann Francis

"Sometimes it is just a monument moment of truth,   we reach a heightened awareness,  success is definitely not measured through cruel intentions.  Tongues reaching belligerent momentum stands alone."  ~Ann Francis



"I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone. I choose a mortal life."
Arwen to Aragorn

Too much sanity may be madness and the maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be.
Miguel de Cervantes



"We do not have to visit a madhouse to find disordered minds; our planet is the mental institution of the universe."
-Johann von Goethe


"Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music."
-- Angela Monèt

"We always have had a choice in where our life will take us. That's not the question. Whether fate decides to give us what our heart desires or not is what it truely comes down to."
~Ghost




I am a free thinker. I tend to write in stream of consciousness style. I love the sound and feel of words. They touch my lips as they pass to the pen or keyboard. Words have power and grace in their simplicity and complexity. I write for no one in particular. I write to open the doors to my sheltered heart and to take a brick from the wall so I can see inside. I have never really shared my poetry in this way. I have actually never even kept my poetry. I have always written it down then discarded it to be reclaimed by time.

There are times the muse truly speaks through me. I do not know where the words come from. Yet, they arrive and fall from my lips and onto the keyboard. I trace their pattern as they cascade across my fingertips. Life is to be felt, to be shared, and to be treasured. It is a gift that cannot easily be recognized as the miracle it really is. I write because I have to. To have anyone share my words is just a bonus! I proudly declare that I am a misfit, a round peg in a square hole, an enigma wrapped in a riddle, to be understood by only those who hear the music!
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THE MISFITS
The misfits.
The rebels.
The troublemakers.
The round pegs in the square holes.
The ones who see things differently.
They're not fond of rules.
And they have no respect for the status quo.
You can praise them, disagree with them, quote them,
disbelieve them, glorify or vilify them.
About the only thing you can't do is ignore them.
Because they change things.
They invent.  They imagine.  They heal.
They explore.  They create.  They inspire.
They push the human race forward.
Maybe they have to be crazy.
How else can you stare at an empty canvas & see a work of art?
Or, sit in silence & hear a song that's never been written?
Or, gaze at a red planet & see a laboratory on wheels?
We make tools for these kinds of people.
While some see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.
"Because the people who are crazy enough to think they
can change the world, are the ones who do."


Anthem for Doomed Youth
by Wifred Owen

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
-Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,-
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.


What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Never give all the Heart
W.B. Yeats
Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.