some days i feel so strong

some days i feel so strong. and then i don’t.
like a virgin rose I greet the ruddy dawn
with glory, but to wilt and fade upon
the parched and crusted land as scarcely gaunt.

i rise in joy to find the strength within
awaiting me like a gaucho’s trusty steed
tramping rich to gallop in flowing speed
harnessing power, forsaken to the wind.

i soar on wings like knives upon the breeze
like blinding light i cut across the sky
to carve the way that is mine alone to ply
in raptor’s dive, with talons borne to seize.

but then it’s as some spirit robbing shade
steals the life, and leaves the tab unpaid.

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

the stream

each day your life blood flows from start to end
upon the crusted brow your shadow flows.
from dawn to dusk your urgent power sends
all precious gifts upon your step bestowed.

you bring new life to they who pause and rest
upon your banks to cool and touch your soul.
of life, they drink of you, upon their breast
while dining free on deadly feasts untold.

vile curse of killing fields take life for life
and feast in sight of all your glory staid.
who tastes the blood of every victim’s strife
but they who lie in rest beside your shade?

pour forth healing waters upon my face
and rid me of this deadly fall from grace.

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

what you make of it

life is what you make of it
so the story goes
maybe more or less of it
maybe so…who knows?

we breathe in and we breathe out
no one seems to know
the truth of life…what it’s about
in and out it flows

sages say it’s in our heads
in our hearts to hold
maybe just...can it be said?
the truth can't be told

wise men, priests and godly souls
seek the face of it
out there hidden in the knolls
lurking 'round a bit

we all want to know the thing
that sets us all free
grasping for the cosmic string
to garnish life with glee

meaning seekers high and low
abandon all at last
on their deathly beds they show
mortal shadows cast

standing on our violent shore
pause and seek new life
spring in paradise adorned
burdened seeds of strife

life is what you make of it
leave not a stone unturned
grasp it all, take all of it
as lessons thankfully learned.

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

life

a child's eternity abates to an elders breath
the ticking clock adjourns it's labor for no rest
the grand journey begets a growing past
a future littered with foreshadowed death

waste not the precious passing time's reign
garnish the moments plate with attentive mirth
embrace each passage as opportunities birth
leave not a morsel vanquished or unclaimed

the journey's end slinks nearer by the hour
bereaving youth of her tenuous pretense
shirking the desires of eternity's recompense
finality grasps mortality to devour

leave not a stone unturned in sorrow
rejoice in each gift bequeathed by the day
persist in strength with each clarion ray
accept consequence without wanting for the morrow

© 2006 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

Wisdom

a dandelion grows in the sidewalk
suckling the deposits of life
knowing not the crushing step
of the boot that passes by

from deaths sudden press
it scatters its seed
plying for fertile loam
it refuses to die replete

cast off truth is truth no less
though cursed by ignorance
misguided youth on her own way
yet only truth frees

© 2006 BY W. GARY FORRESTER