‘When You Have Reached the Bottom’ and Other Poetry by Bruce Dale Wise The Society November 15, 2015 Beauty, Humor, Poetry 1 Comment When You Have Reached the Bottom By R. Lee Ubicwedas When you have hit rock bottom, you have nothing left to lose. You gain experience and wisdom that you now can use. You have a choice how to react when you have fallen down. Forced to confront the hard things, you can get up off the ground. You’ll learn such things you never thought existed in your life, and you’ll appreciate the goodness coming with the strife. It’s true the best things found in life are free from money’s debt. When you have reached the bottom, it’s a chance to reconnect. Remember it’s okay to be uneasy, or abrupt; but when you’re at the bottom, know the only way is up. Quatrain By Ercules Edibwa You are heading in for very bad weather, a real storm. There will certainly be strife. Fasten your seat belts, for you are in for the ride of your life. It’s what they call life. On Shakespeare By Wilude Scabere He built a livelong monument without a solid tomb, Soul of his Age, his easy numbers roamed time’s spatial room. The flowing utterance upon his leaves, a growing tree, revealed subtle flowers in his prose and poetry. Through weightless words, he wrought a beautiful complexity, and simultaneously, pure, refined simplicity. Remarkable effects occur so frequently, it seems, his language has the magic power only found in dreams. He left a fortune to us that, long after he has gone, continues giving pleasure, as unmeasurable as dawn. Tanka By “Wired Clues” Abe White sparkling stars in evening’s twinkling waters at Kamakura Beach; five men drag a jet boat from the shallow, blue, foamy waves. The Man Behind a Leafy Camo Screen By War di Belecuse I sat upon a long and mossy log. My lips closed tight. I thought I heard a man in boots come by. I stood still—quite— and quiet as the grassy hills where I was hiding at. I also heard another man shoot rat-a-tat-tat-tat. I tried to keep a low profile on my hands and knees. I hid behind a bush. I sought a leafy camo screen. I sucked my stomach in and breathed through nostrils silently. I did not want to end up badly, battered vi’lently. But though they came so close to me, they did not hear me gasp. I clasped the moment perfectly. I wanted it to last. Bruce Dale Wise is a poet living in Washington State who often writes under anagrammatic pseudonyms. Featured Image: “Sunset in the Yosemite Valley, 1869” by Albert Bierstadt. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Related One Response Beau Ecs Wilder November 23, 2015 The Sun Sets in Yosemite 1869 by Albert Bierstadt The Sun sets in Yosemite. It looks like one is on the threshold of eternity, some cataclysmic dawn. The golden light gleams brilliantly, like steel at God’s forge; steep slopes rise sheer along the contours of the winding gorge. The stark, rough, stone cliffs hang like curtains on the massive stage of Nature as it is revealed in an antique Age. All brown and dark the coming Eve topped by a puff of clouds; the whole, theatrical and grand, a sweeping cape of shrouds. One looks in vain for anybody in that empty scene, in which the footlights on the shiny stream are lined in green. 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.