Man-child

By habit and repute and daring cunning

By never minding who or what was hurt,

By creeping, checking, doing worst and running,

Never caught though, always after, cursed.

By being stealth and venom in one moulding,

By wrapping it with subterfuge and sly,

By revelations, once perceived, revolting,

Never sought and always wond’ring why.

By hands that first turned fists to malice mischief,

By feet that rarely led but to astray,

By numbing all the sense he once was born with,

Never cared and always went own way.

Antithesis to good, I knew the boy then,

No one could get round or through or near,

Sixteen years have flown, I still recall him,

Man-child nurtured, natured in all fear.

 

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Transform

Slake, with gallons,

            from the lake

of deep tranquility,

 

find solutions,

            in the mind,

nurture serenity.

 

Cope with problems,

            amid hope,

despite complexity,

 

serve our causes,

            driven with verve,

remember levity.

 

Drink from life

            unto the brink,

too brief mortality,

 

cast futile fears

            or worries passed,

transform our destiny.

 

Plan for kindness

            when we can,

Karmic codicil,

 

not all choices

            need be fraught

nor made against our will.

Achilles

 Mother’s love devours all fine senses,

Seeks to serve each child with greatest hope,

Benign in love, she covers all the bases

Except the blindest spot; the hanging rope.

The weakness no self perceives, created

By the loving hand of nurture held too tight.

Submerged devotion cherished, now berated

When Achilles’ defect comes too soon to light.