The Old Homeplace Revisited (Unmetered Rhyming Verse) by Mike Williams 04/28/2016 @ 11:22 A.M.

Down a street of shadows, 
I observe the dark night. 
Phantoms forgot fill my mind, 
The old homeplace distantly alight. 
I can't tame the ghosts, 
Which swim inside my head. 
They whirl in wild abandon, 
Of the dearly departed dead. 

I move among the past, 
In the present quite transfixed. 
Thoughts of yesterday linger on, 
As I am temporarily bewitched. 
I see a familiar face, 
But not saying a word. 
How strange this historical place, 
Within my mind has stirred. 

As I turn to go, 
Before the soon rising sun. 
I'm tear filled with sorrow, 
Seeing again where I'd begun. 
A haunted house of memory, 
I leave while looking back. 
Away from my childhood home, 
As the street lamps go black. 

Return To The Gated Path (Unmetered Rhyming Verse) by Mike Williams 04/26/2016 @ 8:50 A.M

I was wondering around a gated path, 
Meandering in some recessed part of my head. 
Where some old rooms were tucked away, 
And some forgotten memories lay now dead. 
There were also some delightful surprises, 
I couldn't recall that I ever once knew. 
Delicate flowers that lined the walkways, 
Short lived in shades of fugacious blue. 

Each room that I entered contained suitcases, 
Overflowing with yellowed vintage photographs. 
From a lifetime of hoarded images collected, 
And I realized that I knew not myself by half. 
I questioned why I'd even bothered to keep, 
These small trifles of my history ever at all. 
Then I climbed up to the rooftops peering down, 
And saw a great long stretching built up wall. 

The structures of the rooms were each nested, 
All along the walled edges of hope and pain. 
I had built the wall brick by brick since childhood, 
To protect myself from a world of mental strain. 
The pictures simply served as reminders of, 
Where I wanted to go and where I'd been. 
Lay waiting in their keeping until one day, 
I would discover the pathway gate again. 

Dinner of the Pauper King by Mike Williams 04/24/2016 @ 5:21 P.M.

I am the live long pauper king, 
Who dines on impossible dreams. 
Disillusioned by such small affairs, 
In a country seeming lost of all cares. 

Thus equal in haste should I leave, 
Reproach, ridiculle, or reprieve. 
I'd not give a fig or farthing, 
To keep among the mental starving. 

I prefer learning's much deeper way, 
Or difficult merits which long-term pay. 
To have a perfect moment's freedom, 
Aye! Wouldn't it be my kingdom! 

To tell you even turnips bleed, 
Oh! This place of vultures and thieves. 
I reach and strive a golden ring, 
The dinner of the pauper king. 

Immortality by Mike Williams 04/25/2016 @ 1:39 A.M.

I have drunk from the immortal cup, 
And quaffed the love that was given me. 
That all the gods have since fallen down, 
And none hold power except for thee. 

I've died within its soft embraces, 
And arose again from deathly bounds. 
Oh! But just to taste it one drop more, 
I'd tear the earth and rip the sky down. 

Of all the world's words ever spoken, 
Nothing else matters so much to me. 
That sweet elixir of devotion, 
Love's a taste of immortality. 

Beauty's Betrayal by Mike Williams 10/26/2016 @ 12:51 P.M.

I gave my heart so long ago, 
To a muse I did not know. 
A dalliance to dream a dreamer's dream, 
To peer past the veil of things unseen. 

And beauty filled my deep desire, 
Whose frame my heart did aspire. 
And through her ranks I arose and fell, 
Cursing that muse I knew not well. 

For beauty is ever and always fleeting, 
And fades away while the heart's still beating. 
Her promises are all indeed a lie, 
For thus men live and thus men die. 

She offers not a hope nor immortality, 
And cruely vexes truth in reality. 
At her back is a hoary head, 
Slack skin and brittle bone kept at bed. 

Her time is short and vision false, 
In late hours spoon-feeds a bitter sauce. 
For she comes and too quickly goes, 
Beauty's muse no one longly knows. 

Sun and Flower by Mike Williams 04/22/2016 @ 3:52 P.M.

Yesterday was full of rain, 
Today with flower and sun. 
Past a cruel mental reframe, 
The hours turned as it begun. 

In my trouble and vexing, 
A small gift unto me time. 
Tomorrow if I'm hexing, 
Pleasure again yet I find. 

Life holds dear uncertainty, 
The only constant is change. 
And I fervent perfectly, 
Among its beautifully strange. 

Fleeting oft are these moments, 
Aware am I their power. 
Yesterday came my poignance, 
Today come sun and flower. 

Willy Nilly White Knight by Mike Williams 10/22/2014 @ 1:57 A.M.

Willy Nilly white knight, 
atop his steardy steed. 
Had the honor of knighthood, 
but did not have the need. 

Aimless in all but battle, 
wondered about full of charm 
Maidens ever in chase, 
'til a noble girl took his arm. 

He sought not fame or glory, 
a man of goodly deed. 
Many a knight before him, 
hearkened to a maiden's plead. 

Untempted by fleshly beauty, 
Sir Nilly longed for more. 
Unwilling to pluck easy flowers, 
dalliances of withered amore. 

Over shire and court garden, 
he searched in every heart. 
'Til finding one like his own, 
never again wishing to part. 

Willy Nilly white knight, 
found his bride to be. 
A kindly virtuous maiden, 
to match his gallant bravery. 

The Day Feedom Died by Mike Williams 04/17/2016 @ 10:15 A.M.

When they ask "what happened to America?" 
The once great nation of the free. 
It died within a short while ago, 
But few knew when it happened apparently. 

When big government sold out the people, 
And big business gave way to corruption. 
When we the people stood by idle, 
And allowed its steady pace toward destruction. 

When the politicians turned a blind eye, 
Self obsessed with their own personal greed. 
When the news media ignored the news, 
And education gave in to ignorance's seed. 

When the courts sold out to injustice, 
And the police became a Gestapo horde. 
When the lawyers stuffed their deep pockets, 
And the innocent became so long ignored. 

When those in power abused their station,
And removed control from the common civilian. 
Civil liberties are denied and the constitution, 
The political and legal systems turned chameleon. 

When all swearing to protect and serve, 
Turned deaf ears to the people's plea. 
That was the day that freedom died, 
It happen right in front of me. 

The forefathers that established our early nation, 
Would be ashamed of us and more. 
Now lady liberty has since been redressed, 
As if she were a common whore. 

Freedom did indeed die upon your watch, 
Now you understand the causes much clearer!
When they ask "what happened to America?" 
Look at your face within the mirror!

Silver Linings by Mike Williams 04/16/2016 @ 8:11 P.M.

Every cloud has a silver lining, 
Though I haven't found mine yet. 
And though it seems like whining, 
I reflect upon my life's regret. 

For through the pain and sorrow, 
Beneath spring floods and winter snow. 
I keep holding out for tomorrow, 
While the world ignores me so. 

Bleak it all seems right now, 
Alone I carry on in my strife. 
The earth keeps on turning somehow, 
Despite the unhappiness of my life. 

Whatever the future may still hold, 
Perhaps this reason I remain yet endowed. 
Searching silver linings within the fold, 
Of every dark and dreary cloud. 

The Me That Never Was by Mike Williams 04/11/2016 @ 9:01 A.M.

The mirror has two faces, 
But neither one is me. 
One I can not relate to, 
The other I wish to be. 

I stare at this stranger, 
And wonder what I surmise. 
Solemn looks he gives me, 
Behind hollows in his eyes. 

Life has treated him unkind, 
Still he clings to hope. 
Wishing for things to come, 
As he tries to cope. 

As two images are reflected, 
I now understand their cause. 
They're different sides of me, 
The me that never was. 

Plain Old Pie by Mike Williams 04/09/2016 @ 11:48 P.M.

Oh! Such a plain tart cherry pie, 
It needs no garnish should I try. 
Far too rich is the ala mode, 
And I too simple to be so bold. 

This mundane slice of life given me, 
I've dressed it up gilding the lily. 
So displeased with what I had before, 
I made it garish and disliked it more. 

I have no taste for life's finery, 
Though I've attempted it really isn't me. 
I'm simple no matter how hard I try, 
I'll always be just plain old pie. 

Light and Air by Mike Williams 04/07/2016 @ 6:18 A.M.

I sailed on light and air, 
With the tenderness of your kiss. 
Floating in a world of bliss, 
With you as my only care. 

I caressed your head and hair, 
My dreams were made of this. 
Moments apart from you I'd miss, 
Longing to be with you there. 

I was overjoyed those days fair, 
Departing from inner shadows and mists. 
Stearing to harbor toward your lips, 
I sailed on light and air. 

The Land of Not by Mike Williams 04/05/2016 @ 11:41 P.M.

Across the distant sea and a place forgot,
There once was a beautiful land called Not. 
A strange vast island of many unusual things, 
Where time stood still as well as dreams. 

The people there were mild, friendly, and fair; 
Knowing nothing of greed having plenty to share. 
There were no rich and nobody was poor, 
With plenty to eat and an open door. 

The soil was tended well and every plot, 
For nothing so fine as nature's given lot. 
Trees were grown of every fruit and flower, 
And life was deeply respected every golden hour. 

There was no King, Queen, or corrupt government; 
No lawyers and special interest groups of torment. 
Commerce was never permitted to kill the fields, 
And abundantly the seasons plentiful wealth did yield 

The birds and the bees and the butterfly, 
Upon the careless breezes wafted and idled by. 
Protected all the clear streams and animals too, 
As every good Notonian was taught to do.

From season to season in splendor and toil, 
Worth more than the world's gold or oil. 
How happy were the people long since forgot, 
In that dreamy far away land called Not. 

The Thorn Rose by Mike Williams 04/04/2016 @ 8:52 A.M.

My love grew like a wild rose, 
And its fragrance was gentle and free. 
Like all things it changes as it grows, 
Until thorns took over and became of me. 

At first the blooms were soft and delightful, 
Then the petals were plucked until gone. 
The rambling bush turned empty and spiteful, 
But the prickly nature thus lived on. 

The blossoms so lovely above other flowers fair, 
Refused to bud again in the morning dew.
Wherefore the host had lost every single care, 
And only the thorns remained to scratch at you. 

What You Leave Behind by Mike Williams 04/02/2016 @ 10:30 A.M.

What will you leave behind, 
Do you ever truly consider? 
What others of you find, 
From a lifetime of litter. 

Did you gift the earth, 
Or take of its treasure? 
In your wake leave mirth, 
Or thoughtlessness in every measure? 

If your life is reviewed, 
What will the world find? 
How will you be remembered, 
By what you leave behind? 

Blind Spots by Mike Williams 04/02/2016 @ 9:18 A.M.

With spots before my eyes, 
My vision started to dim. 
I stopped looking only outward, 
And began to look within. 

My ears began to listen, 
I felt so much more. 
Perceiving around me very differently, 
Than I ever saw before. 

I sensed the world clearly, 
Much to my own surprise. 
Learning another point of view, 
From spots before my eyes.