‘Looking for Your Keys’ and Other Poetry by Christopher W. Boyden The Society March 9, 2013 Poetry 1 Comment Looking for Your Keys While trapped between your life and soul. You look for keys to fit the hole, You struggle through your daily pace; In what we call “The Human Race.” How much rain must you endure; Before you know the rules for sure? And how much trouble must you pass; Until you find your peace at last? Your deepest questions flank this plane; They’re borne of consequence and pain. But yet, each day you start anew, With hope there’s something you can do To elevate your nightly dreams; To show you life’s more than it seems; To bring you toward a higher light; So you can comprehend what’s right. There are those you used to know; Who understand the ebb and flow, But they can’t speak beyond death’s door, To tell you what your life is for. If you beseech them every day, And pray their answers, come your way, They may just tell you, loud and clear, “Just hang on for another year!” How much rain can you endure; Before you know the rhyme for sure; And how much trouble will you pass; Until you find your peace at last! What’s Happened to People? Daily frustration and exacerbations, Of pettiness, guile and deceit, All of them worldly and not machinations; It’s life from the top to the street. What happened to caring and wishing one well? Or stopping to just lend a hand? And aren’t’ we the makers of each selfish hell, Which has multiplied over the land? And even the land isn’t safe anymore, From our chemicals, oil and debris. How can we ever bolt shut the door, When the hinges just swing loose and free? Maybe we need a hard sign from above, Or the Earth shaking under our feet; Before we can see that our purpose is love; And it’s found in each person we meet. Whippoorwills The night belongs to whippoorwills, And splintered moonlight on the hills; The haunting echo of their calls, From heaven’s gate to one and all, Reminds me that I’m only small But feel the wonder of it all! Alone, at night, in darkened air; The whippoorwill, without a care; In threaded flight, past rocks and trees Becomes the essence of the breeze! The night belongs to whippoorwills, And moonlight in our skies! Is destiny by chance or will, The sparkle in our eyes? Beyond the canyon’s hidden ledge, Within a feather of the edge; The whippoorwill, achieves its goal; A four point turn and barrel roll! You never hear that one went down, They don’t much care for life in town, They slice the air with feathered flight, In nighttime’s cold and shadowed light, With perfect speed, just out of sight, The whippoorwill becomes the night! The night belongs to whippoorwills, With moonlight in the skies! While destiny’s the cup we fill With sparkles from our eyes! One Small Corner of the Rain Forest Two orchids, came in bloom, tonight; Just after six; which bloomed; last night! It seems a confluence of time, Has awakened such good friends of mine! What is the message, in the wind, Which we hear, between the thoughts we tend? Is it something, far or rare; Like fingers, swimming through your hair? Or is it deeper, than us all; A place where everyone feels small; A chance to question; what we knew, A brighter dream; for me and you? When orchid’s blossom, in your sight; Who knows what’s wrong? and what is right? For now; I’ll likely carry on; Until tomorrow’s heart-felt yawn! Wide-Eyed Tears Life is hard when you’re so small, I try to understand it all, When Mom and Dad begin to fight; Just after I get kissed good-night. How can they both be nice to make, Then scream and yell ‘til almost 3? I wish, just once, that I could know; Will Mom or Dad be first to go? And what will happen after that? And what will happen to my cat? And can I keep my favorite toy? Life’s hard when you’re a little boy. I love my Mom; I love my Dad; The saddest night I’ll every have Keeps getting closer everyday; Can someone help me find a way To make my parents understand, The rings they wear are wedding bands; And I’m their son, their only one. What happened to the love and fun? Life is hard when you’re so small, So hard to understand at all…..! Dedicated to All Children of Divorce Mr. Boyden is a lawyer and accomplished poet living in Florida. He first began writing poetry in 1971, as part of a personally cathartic and philosophical methodology in his ongoing attempt to fully comprehend and appreciate the true meaning of his life on this planet, and, also, with the sincere hope that his poetic meanderings might offer some encouragement, insight or benefit to his fellow earth-bound travelers. Related Post ‘Saint Agnes’ by Bruce Wren This evening of your festive day I pray _Oh Agnes, little model of the pure, _Oh girl with smiling eyes, and faith so sure: They won for ... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail One Response James Ph. Kotsybar March 10, 2013 I don’t see the lawyer, but I recognize the accomplished poet. Very enjoyable work! Thank you! Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.