Tag: Rebirth

Ruins

Each human

Is a decaying civilization

Forgetting things they once knew

Knowledge displaced, replaced

Or misplaced

Lessons once held tight

Considered learned

Now faded

Absorbed into the organic ruins

 

The civilizations

Grandest city

In crumbles

Moss covered

Flickering in the air

Much like dust

There is a once great plaza

That is now only visited

By pigeons and those who haven’t

Forgotten

The once shining marble

Fountains of fresh water

And vibrant bustle

 

With little to hold back

The ravages of

Time

Inertia

Hubris

And whatever else

It is best to enjoy the sun

Birds singing

Smells of the season

Cherishing the brightest memories

Past summers have provided

Greed never

Served your cities well

It is endless

And in the end

Does not complete the circle

Mindfulness and presence

Were always your cultures

Finest elements

Those that could persevere

Until something is built

On the newly discovered ruins

Gene McLaughlin 2014

Love Is What We Say It Is

Money is what we say it is

Paper or power or both

Life’s meaning is what we say it is

Winter’s stagnation or spring’s green growth

God is what we say it is

The center or nature or the all

The season is what we say it is

The heat of summer or cool colors of fall

Love is what we say it is

Passion or desire or hope that binds

Struggle is what we way it is

Something to overcome or accept in our minds

Rebirth is what we say it is

A continuation or the world born anew

The new year is what we say it is

May it ruminate quietly or speak in volumes through you

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

Two Thousand Thirteen

Two thousand thirteen

Passed like a fever dream

This year containing

Love loss joy and rage

View time as a guideline

Not a cage

Gene G. Mclaughlin 2013

Spring 2005

The rain the sun

The bud the pollen

The flower the leaf

The fruit the seed

Spring undeniable

Again in its glory

Winter’s toll taken

The fallen both recalled

And unremembered

Now is the time of

Unencumbered

And new responsibility

Awakening comes slow

Then sudden

Like the flood of the

Mountain stream

White and cold with

Anger and breakneck

Speed, ice no longer

Controlling and slowing

Its pace, What did I

Believe yesterday?

It seems so distant

I am who I was, but

There is the reckoning

That maybe I was wrong

Believing the cycle broken

And the world to be colder

Than it once was

Winter is nothing if not

A capable illusionist

Claiming things broken and

The cycle stopped

Yet it comes again

The rain

The sun

The bud

The pollen

The flower

The leaf

The fruit

The seed

Unbroken

Just in time

Gene G. McLaughlin 2005