Thursday, December 25, 2014

March On

I stood at the edge,
hardly daring to look,
or breathe.

Falling backwards into fear itself
was not an impossible fate,
yet I was spared from plummeting
into dark's welcoming embrace.

A step forward took me away
from certain failure.

One foot in front
of the other.

All my efforts
to not fail...

I've tried so hard
to make you proud.

I will march on,
through these valleys which
surround me,
until finally I will reach
a place where there are
no cliffs.

Saturday, December 6, 2014


Dear reader

Today's post is authored by a new friend and fellow poet Rose Luiten. Her writing strikes me because it's content is so heartfelt, and so poignant. I have never had a guest author on my site before, and I am proud and happy that Rose has agreed to share her work with you all. Please enjoy her poem, and show some love. This piece is simply brilliant. Thank you for sharing, Rose. And yes, I just got the last word in.

Rod E. Kok
December 6, 2014

My limbs are leaden.
No longer leading me forward
I’m weighed down by their weight,
waiting for this feeling to pass,
feeling helplessly lost,
losing scraps of sanity
as insane thoughts flit through my mind
reminding me I’m not okay,
not today.
But I will be. My will will be reinforced
I’ll find that handhold, that foothold
and that hand to hold
to lead me out,
tie balloons to my leaden limbs
and lead me up and out.

-Rose Luiten

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Melancholic Colors

I don't live in
a black and white world,
but there are days in which
my pallette is screwed up.

Love and passion
are no longer red,
but hues of grey
fill my soul.

Blues are no longer
but are muted versions
of angry self-loathing.

Nature is not reflected
in pastels,
but my mirror is broken,
for no light exists
in the shadow it creates.

If I truly cared to believe
that the grass is greener,
I could learn to look past
all the melancholic colors.