Poems
Soul Wounds
Silent nights echo the heart’s haunting plea,
Where shadows clutch memories, longing to be free.
Every scar carved deep is a chapter unspoken,
A testament to battles that left us heartbroken.
From the abyss of despair, where light barely gleams,
We navigate through darkness, unravelling dreams.
Yet in the depths of anguish, a flicker ignites,
Healing whispers softly, awakening the night.
Beauty rises from ashes, forged in the fire,
In the crucible of suffering, we find our desire.
The potter’s hands sculpt us, moulding pain into art,
Transforming the shattered pieces that once tore apart.
The journey is serpentine, fraught with sharp bends,
Each step through the labyrinth, where the heart transcends.
In the silence of longing, resilience is born,
As faith weaves its thread through the fabric of scorn.
Each breath is a promise, a chance to embrace,
The shadows that linger, the grief we must face.
In the ocean of healing, we learn to forgive,
To release all the burdens, so we may truly live.
With courage as our compass and truth as our guide,
We venture into the light, where our spirits collide.
Healing is a journey, a pilgrimage profound,
Where wounds become wisdom, tho’ silence resounds.
As hands reach toward grace, we shatter the chains,
With hearts unguarded, embracing the rains.
For every scar tells a story of courage and fight,
A testament to the journey that leads us to light.
Through the valleys of sorrow, we emerge reborn,
With strength forged in struggle, like the promise of dawn.
Healing is not absence but the acceptance of scars,
A dance with the shadows, a communion with stars.
– Douglas Barnes
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On God and Man
The sun salutes unchartered lights
Mountains built with acquainted skies
For beneath its grandeur it has quaked before
Upon a millennia’s tempered core
Aa the verdor of Earth doth fade away
An ovation will rise in eternal daze
A nuanced rejoicing, a morselled essence
Thus spectra, Your infinity hence
Lord, even the fleeting wonder of days
passes upon memories to acknowledge your grace
But man is as fair
and no further beyond
the auspices of orchids
that delight so long
A lily’s repose, his mortal cess
a billionth of all
one consciousness
Within his whispered
fading breath
with oceans stilled
on mooned sunsets.
– Orrett Burke