Mystical Visions: Compilation 11/20/2022

With all intent and purposes I crack the curtains quick
I try to get a glimpse of who might loom and play a trick.
I grip the curtain with my hand, creeped out by a large stain
I wonder if it’s part of the man’s now exploded brain.
I hear a noise and whirl around, more of a clumsy spin
To see through light left by the moon and then I leaned right in.
I saw my Lord in my garden of colored tulip blooms
He is my favorite man of law, mixed in like smokey fumes
I backed right up and curled my fingers ’round the slack fabric
And tried to think of why I’m here, I’d figure something quick
My mind erased the memories of seeing him that day
But every night when I lay down, to him I like to pray
I pray that he comes back around to see me at my best
And go to sleep with joyous vibes inclined to take a rest.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

A Silly Mistake: Compilation 11/06/2022

At the end of the hall of the building I owned

Was a big open window and a playground disowned.

In spite of it all, I was stunned by the site

Of a newly grown willow leaning ‘way from the light

I sucked in a breath as I guarded my eyes

Fearing bites of an insect or the no-see-um flies

For a moment I thought it was a hallucination

Or maybe a high from my pot solution

I focused real hard and decided to go

Down the kind of tall stairway, I’d have to trust my ego

I let down my guard and descended the stairs

Like driving downhill where nobody cares

When I got to the tree I saw you and sighed

You said “Forgive yourself now” but I wanted to hide

Now I felt so embarrassed the tree’s lit by a lamp

And I laughed at my mistake till my cheeks were all damp.

Only Happiness: Compilation 10/23/2022

‘As ancestors go, mine are pretty unique
From the depths of the oceans to tall mountain peaks
The grief from their passing is replaced with a smile
The sadness is lifted, depths of loss reconcile
Pretty bright blooms rise right out of the ice
Rain melts the snow, it is really quite nice
Mud seems to grovel in crevices bare
While salt from the ocean’s like crystals of air
The bruises of sorrow on the skin of the soul
Replace what the heart wants and what it still knows
From the edge of a field to the top of a peak
No words heard murmuring, no sounds here to seek
Keep moving on ’til your cup runneth dry
And remember the happiness each time you cry.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry