Choices

How do I explain

the workings

of a fragile mind?

How can I make you

understand?

I do not choose

to be weak.

Of all my words,

which ones will you

believe?

Of all my words,

which ones

are believable?

I do not choose

to be dark.

I did not want

to hurt you;

I did not want

to burden you

with my frailty.

Thankfully you heard me,

you held me,

you did not judge me.

You understood

my nonsensical ramblings,

the admittance of guilt,

my fear of

giving in.

I did not choose

this bipolar life,

yet it is what I live.

I do not want

to fall.

But when I do,

I choose to go

to you.

The Man

I heard the man,

whispering in my ear.

His soothing voice

drew me in,

his choice of words

convinced me.

I saw the man

in a mirror;

he was perched

on my shoulder,

his talons held me

in their fierce grip.

I felt the man

touch my soul;

a dirty black spot followed

his every caress.

Pain coursed through

my very core.

I fought the man;

every blow

caused him to laugh.

He fended off

my weakening attack.

I followed the man,

submissively I obeyed.

He led me astray,

every fork in that road

was the wrong one.

I cursed the man,

but he shoved me along;

he forced me to go

where I was too weak

to resist.

My words

had no effect.

I heard the man

whisper.

He spoke of things

too dark to mention.

Yet he made it all seem…

right.

I allowed the man

to keep me alive,

to get me lost,

to give me pain.

It seemed I had

no choice,

no choice but to give him

my soul.

I want it back,

for I hate

the man.

In Memoriam

Hello dear reader,

This poem was written a week after tragedy struck. My great-nephew was killed in a farm accident, at the age of 2 1/2 years. I wrote this for his parents Deb and Dan. 

Rod E. Kok

October 13, 2015

It seems our skies

were darkened that day;

a day which started

like every other.

It seems that brightest lights

do not reach that hole

left inside us all;

sunlight's warming rays

feel cold and distant.

It seems that gentle streams

will never soothe our thoughts,

their rippling waters

are not caressing our ears

with nature's lullaby.

Clouds last

but a little while;

soon we will see beyond

their silver lining.

Words of light

will illumine our path;

soon we will not stumble

over our tears of sorrow.

Songs of praise

will fill our hearts,

we will sing with joy

of the comfort we have.

Our skies were darkened

on a day which started

like any other.

Yet we will always have

our greatest memories

of a boy who was loaned

for just a little while.

We know that boy

is in the arms

of Jesus;

those very arms

which hold us up.

Hold fast, be steady.

His arms are enough

for you

and your son.

Stairs

Good day and happy weekend, dear reader. Welcome to day 3 of OctPoWriMo. Today we are prompted to write shape poetry. We are to write about something that drains us, something that depletes our energy. My words today do not talk about this out right, but I hope you can see what my experiences are as a bipolar person. I hope you can feel my tiredness in verse 1, along with the opposite in verse 2. It is subtle, but it is in there. Along with that, I hope you see the stairs. 
Please enjoy.

Rod E. Kok
October 3, 2015

I

am

going

down these

stairs, my mind

plays tricks on me

as I descend into the

dark recess of depression.

I find the cold floor; I am curled

up in a ball, trying to stay warm as

I wait for help to come and rescue me.

I

       am

   going

          up these

      stairs. Your

         strong arm is my

 guide, your love takes

         me out of darkness; You

 wrap me in your warmth, your

   breath fills me with hope. My prayer

is to never go down these stairs again.

     

Magic

Hello again, dear reader. Today’s prompt is to write ‘cinematically’. I am sort of going my own direction with this, as I am not so much describing the scene(s) of a movie, but rather I am describing the feelings that a movie puts into me. One of my favorite shows is ‘The Illusionist’, and thus my poem is inspired by this story of magic and love. Please enjoy.

Rod E. Kok

October 2, 2015

The Illusionist (Trailer)

Pure magic exists
in a world
where true love
is hindered.

What is this illusion
of grandeur,
this feeling of
self importance?

One cannot force

another
to love.

There is magic
in a kiss,
a tender caress
is conjured from
the heart.

Enchanted music

fills one’s soul
when skin touches skin.

An alluring glance
from warm eyes
casts a spell
on my very being.

But when forces contrive
to keep us apart,
all we need
is magic.