A New Day Rising

Black clouds rise

In the distance,

Columns that stir

And forebode.

 

Rumbles of thunder,

Lightening and storm,

Omen of fury,

Havoc is born.

 

Wrath of the maelstrom

Comes crashing,

Winds screaming,

Chaos explodes.

 

Gods of the darkness

Rage onward,

Through night

Till light of the morn.

 

Breaking of dawn

Brings a rainbow,

A new day is risen

And born.

 

Mayhem melts

Into sunshine,

Peace returns to this

Mountain abode.

 

Copyright 2003 by Layne S. Porter

 



Birthday Candles

          See all the candles, the flickering flames,

Together they speak from the top of the cake.

          Each has a story it's needing to tell;

The years of a life, hidden and veiled.

 

It is not a secret trying to hide,

A mystery concealed in deception and lies.

It's all contradiction, simple and plain,

That illogical logic can not explain.

When it comes to the truth, no one cares to hear,

How to find joy, avoid heartache and fear.

 

Sternly resisting, at the peril of fame

They walk a lone path and endure a lone pain.

Now in the ebb of gray headed years,

Finally we listen, finally we hear.

Copyright 2002 by Layne S. Porter

A Familiar Stranger

Familiar, yet a stranger
          This face I once had known.
His countenance, though different,
          The voice was still his own.

Shoulders stooped in weariness,
          Head bowed in despair,
Consumed in his dejection,
          He did not see me there.

"Tis hard to see the boy I knew,
          Fraught with worldly shame,
Deserted by his self esteem,
          His honor and good name.

My memory saw a different boy
          From many year before
When innocence and passion
          Breathed, and wanted more!

The man who sat before me,
          An echo of the past,
An empty shell of youthful dreams
          Squandered on his path.

Strewn across an endless waste
          Of self-indulgent lies,
Where all could see his folly,
          Except his own blue eyes.

                                                Copyright 2001 by Layne S. Porter

The Committed Man

He's not content
          To be content.
He seeks for more
          With real intent.

He must be first.
          He can't be last.
He knows that time
          Moves much too fast.

He calculates
          Before each day
That not one minute
          He will waste.

He plans his work,
          Then works his plan,
To get things done
          The best he can.

He knows he's not
          Quite understood,
Doing things
          He knows he should.

Most folks believe
          He's rather quaint,
But, in his mind
          Life is not a game.

And so he bends
          His solemn will
To win the prize
          With ardent zeal.

While others mock
          "He seeks acclaim.
He seeks for riches,
          Power and fame."

He pays no mind.
          He gives no heed.
It matters not
          What blind men think!

                                             Copyright 2012 by Layne S. Porter