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The Guy In The Glass
Glass Mystery 4 (Photo credit: cobalt123)
When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf,
And the world makes you “King For A Day”,”
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,
And see what that guy has to say.
For it isn’t your Father or Mother or Wife
Who judgment upon you must pass,
The feller whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the guy staring back from the glass.
He’s the feller to please, never mind the rest,
For he’s with you clear up to the end;
And you’ve passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the guy in the glass is your friend.
You may like Jack Horner and “chisel” a plum,
And think you’re a wonderful guy,
But the man in the glass says you’re only a bum
If you can’t look him straight in the eye.
You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years,
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heartache and tears,
If you’ve cheated the guy in the glass.
- Peter “Dale” Winbrow, Sr.
Related articles
The Man Who Looks Back In The Mirror(profarms.wordpress.com)
Random Poetry
Image via Wikipedia
Trampled grass
Squishy soil
Red earth on shoes.
The carpet absorbs it all.
I walk in, barefoot.
______________________________
Free fall
Winter nears
Fading leaves
Colors of dawn
The inviting dusk
beckoning into the dark night._________________________________
Cherry blossoms
Japanese spring
A click and a ring;
The chimes of tones
City life , gardens fusion!________________________________
Seasonal changes,
falling leaves.
autumn dawns, the chill bites.
Do you have winter clothes yet, dear?___________________________________
Crumbling walls,
sheer grit,
love, the binding force.___________________________
- Linus Fernandes
THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A STUPID QUESTION
Image via Wikipedia
THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A STUPID QUESTION
All the good questions have been asked.
Am I my brother’s keeper?
Are you my pork chop?
What’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?
I’ve been dreaming about my brother,
who lived on Crete. I dragged him out of the surf,
dead drunk, 150-pound carp, but hairier
& muttering every pariah’s secret,
"I’m a creep. I’m a creep."
Do dreams begin responsibilities?
Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques, dormez vous?
A squalid rented room,
the furniture shrouded in wax paper.
Who’s to blame? A stupid question.
Brother Jon, Jon, my brother, are you sleeping?
On Poetry
Poetry, indeed, cannot be translated; and, therefore, it is the poets that preserve the languages; for we would not be at the trouble to learn a language if we could have all that is written in it just as well in a translation. But as the beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that in which it was originally written, we learn the language. -Samuel Johnson, lexicographer (1709-1784)
Butterflies and bees
A little bit of this,
a little bit of that,
a little more of this, a little more of that,
you float like a butterfly
and steal like a bee!
A little bit of this,
a little bit of that,
a little more of this, a little more of that,
you bloat like a balloon,
and puncture like one too!
A little bit of this,
a little bit of that,
a little more of this, a little more of that,
you have no lines to add,
And I have none too!
- Linus Fernandes
_____________________________
Have a great day!
A Question Of Intrusion
And you barge back into my life
and tell me how to live my life
and do all the things that I should have done
and you say you’ve changed ,
the years have left its mark,
and you’re different now!
But don’t you think,
that I am too?
Don’t you think you’re intruding? Too!
- Linus Fernandes
Echoing…
Image by Will Lion via Flickr
A world run riot not with color but anger.
A yell dots the air and yet another intersects it
before the reverberations of it’s echo have died down.
And your world seems a different one, an unreal one,
a faraway one, a dream one.
I dare not comment, I will not comment.
For nothing is what it seems.
And though I lived there once, I feel a million realities weighing me down.
I cannot convey the infantilism that surrounds.
And it is not infallibility that is in doubt.
The sureness of hate has no time for doubt.
- Linus Fernandes
