WithoutaName

The struggle swallows me. Still, I endeavor the grips of trying. The lost solitudes of denying; it saddens me, depresses me, wears me down, tears me apart. I am denied the things provided others whom create; the resources, the connections, the pathways to recognition-the success.

Without such elements from where comes acknowledgement. I love my craft, the things that I do; true, it pays me nothing. The joy of creation embraces me, fills me, feeds the hunger inside my penniless pockets. Perhaps, joy is not enough. In the world of a name, I have none; I am poor, an unknown, a nobody. Still, I try. (I try.) But without a moniker, a beacon to cast an alluring light upon my skills who am I, and what would I be? What could I become?

Without acknowledgement creativity is difficult. Could the diamond exist without coal and years of extreme pressure; the winds without angelic inspiration; the world without a place to put it?

At times and no matter my love of writing, expressing, thinking, even the love is lost. The breath that I breathe suffers to live inside me. How lives the craft inside such emptiness? Without, (without) someone to tell me, to feel me, to hold me inside his, or, her thinking, how then does my thinking, my feelings inspire me?

I linger: the teetering rock pressing the void; a void of endless waiting, wondering, never knowing the time of its end. I am the dangling participle, incompleted in thought and deed; the feather aimlessly floating without a place to settle. I drift upon wistful winds, the flight is endlessly wasteful.

I love writing: it provides me a vehicle of expression, happiness; offers me a voice within a maze of tunnels and labyrinths, skyrocketing downward (“downward”) into a world of words; mysteries that could never surface without identities.

Without a name and regardless of my love of the craft, how then do I identify it; and what (“what?”) do I call it?

Copyright (c) 2015 Delbert H. Rhodes

I Love You (So Much More)

sadness

The marriage has suffered years of hurt pain and sorrow. A couple has lost its smiles laughter and hope. Sometimes hope is the burden of a dream…

“…Every time I see myself
Walking out the door

I look back and then return
I love you so much more

Who decides what is right
Alas, forever wrong

Emotional waves pounding rocks
Our currents much too strong

Your eyes speciously impose
Deeply, I love you dear
A twisted maze of terrible lies

Still, I am standing here

Many times I gave you love
Somehow, it failed to reach you

Summon I would an ancient Scribe

For only he could teach you

This heart pierced by thorns
My pains you never feel

A pretentious cross we bear

This lie we live is real

For you I give my life
Could you ever ask

Your eyes open slowly

You close your eyes too fast

Within the misty nights
Sullen stars stream by

A mesh of tearful tapestry
Inside it shadows cry….”

Copyright © 2014 Delbert H. Rhodes