It

snows

every

.

d

a

y

.

in

LA . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

you

may

.

b

e

.

entertained

.

b

y

.

her

smooth

champagnes,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

costume

party

masquerades . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

y

–

–

–

her

sweet

.

a

n

d

.

charming

arrays

.

o

f

.

dessert

trays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

y

–

–

–

her

beautiful

smiles

.

s

o

.

nicely

arranged,

–

–

they

skip

.

a

n

d

.

dance

across

.

t

h

e

.

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

in

.

t

h

e

.

distance,

.

.

y

o

u

.

.

will

always

remain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

you

.

w

i

l

l

.

always

feel

.

a

.

little

strange . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

a

.

little

out

.

o

f

.

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

come

tomorrow,

.

.

a

n

y

.

.

tenderness

.

f

o

u

n

d

.

today,

.

.

m

a

y

.

.

vanish

without

.

a

.

trace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Come

tomorrow,

.

.

a

l

l

.

.

memory

.

o

f

.

your

name . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ your

face . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

may

fade

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

alleyways . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

.

.

.

if

you

.

a

r

e

.

fortunate

enough

.

t

o

.

discover

distant,

.

welcoming

rays

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

might

.

h

a

v

e

.

gone

astray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

warming

words

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

pass

.

y

o

u

r

.

way,

.

.

y

o

u

.

.

better

.

t

u

r

n

.

right

around,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

give

.

a

.

quick

embrace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

before

.

t

h

e

.

summer

escapes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ before

.

t

h

e

.

colors

bleed

.

t

o

.

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

.

i

t

.

snows

.

e

v

e

r

y

.

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

snows

.

e

v

e

r

y

.

day

.

i

n

.

LA.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in September of 2003 in observation of one of my first visits to Los Angeles. It got warmer and better over time, however.

Reflection: This was an inspirational/hope-themed poem that I wrote back in June of 2003 as a poem of hope, perspective, and inspiration to a wonderful friend of mine who had struggled with an addiction problem for years. So, he went to rehab for a couple of months to try to kick the habit and he was just getting released when I wrote this poem. It was a lengthy, heartbreaking struggle, but he eventually kicked the habit for good and has thrived in his life ever since. I am so happy about that.

Here’s the poem which comes from my book “Burning . . . Burning Blue:” https://brighterdayslifecoaching.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/The-Rest-of-Your-Life.pdf

I

saw

.

y

o

u

.

today,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

almost

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

haze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

saw

.

y

o

u

.

today,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

barely

.

g

o

t

.

off

.

t

h

e

.

plane . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

barely

.

g

o

t

.

off

.

t

h

e

.

plane . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

many

.

years

before

.

h

a

d

.

you

swept

.

m

e

.

away ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

many

.

years

before

.

d

i

d

.

we

bow

.

o

u

r

.

heads

.

i

n

.

shame ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

back

in

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

o

f

.

adventurous

play . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

back

in

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

w

h

e

n

.

you

.

w

e

r

e

.

straight,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

strayed

.

i

n

t

o

.

gay.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in September of 2002 in reflection of a brief, but powerful, wonderful romantic experience I had back then. I’ve had multiple experiences like this in my life – especially in my youth. The movie: “Big Eden” partially inspired the writing of this poem and the memory of what happened during that time of my life.

Images

.

a

n

d

.

glimpses,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

images

.

a

n

d

.

glimpses,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

images

.

a

n

d

.

glimpses,

.

.

o

f

.

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

candle

.

o

f

.

my

soul . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

candle

.

o

f

.

my

hope . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

burns

.

f

o

r

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

every

day,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

every

night . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ even

.

a

s

.

weeks

.

a

n

d

.

months

.

g

o

.

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

.

I

.

know

.

t

h

a

t

.

even

.

i

f

.

distance,

.

.

m

u

s

t

.

.

walk

.

t

h

e

.

miles,

–

–

you

.

w

i

l

l

.

someday

arrive

.

w

i

t

h

.

a

.

tender

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ with

.

a

.

tender

smile

.

t

h

a

t

.

erases

all

.

t

h

e

.

time

.

gone

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

the

.

t

i

m

e

.

gone

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

w

i

l

l

.

arrive

with

.

t

h

a

t

.

blissful

wine,

–

–

which

pours

.

i

t

s

.

joy

.

a

n

d

.

delight,

–

–

into

.

t

h

e

.

yearning

heart

.

o

f

.

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ into

.

t

h

e

.

yearning

heart

.

o

f

.

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

w

i

l

l

.

arrive,

.

.

w

i

t

h

.

.

those

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ with

.

t

h

o

e

.

eyes

.

t

h

a

t

.

charm

.

a

n

d

.

warm

me

.

a

l

l

.

the

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

.

t

h

e

.

while

.

t

h

a

t

.

you

.

a

r

e

.

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

.

t

h

e

.

while

.

t

h

a

t

.

you

.

a

r

e

.

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

next

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Next

time,

.

.

I

.

.

w

i

l

l

.

waltz

with

.

t

h

e

.

drifting

tide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Next

time,

.

.

I

.

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

.

s

a

y

.

goodbye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

.

s

a

y

.

goodbye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

next

time.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in September of 2002 in reflection of a brief, but powerful romantic experience I had back then. I probably should have done more to try to keep it going – because even though you might believe the opportunity will come around again, many times it doesn’t. So, you have to make the most of it the first time it happens. I’ve had several experiences like this in my life as I’m sure many others have.

One

.

c

a

n

.

understand

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

understands . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

One

.

c

a

n

.

believe

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

believes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

One

.

c

a

n

.

share

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

shares . . .

–

–

–

.

.

One

.

c

a

n

.

dream

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

dreams . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ only

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

dreams . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

One

.

c

a

n

.

perceive

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

perceives . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

One

.

c

a

n

.

seek

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

seeks . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

One

.

c

a

n

.

hear

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

hears . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

One

.

c

a

n

.

feel

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

feels . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ only

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

feels . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

One

.

c

a

n

.

understand

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

understands . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.
 ~ perceive

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

perceives . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

One

.

c

a

n

.

understand

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

understands . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.
 ~ perceive

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

perceives . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

One

.

c

a

n

.

understand

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

understands . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.
 ~ perceive

all,

.

.

o

n

l

y

.

.

in

.

a

l

l

.

he

perceives . . .

–

–

–

–

–

–

.

.

.

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

–

–

–

.

.

.

.

.

.

that

.

i

s

.

all.

Reflection: This was an inspiration/hope-themed poem that I wrote back in September of 2002 to help inspire people to recognize how truly limited we are in terms of true perceptions, understanding, feelings, beliefs, and such. However, frequently we make judgements and form beliefs and opinions based on these limitations without even recognizing these. Much of this poem was inspired by the Bjork song: “I’ve seen it all.” I just love the contrast.

Admire the drive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Admire the drive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Admire the drive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

pity the sacrifice . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

could

.

e

a

r

n

.

a

promotion,

–

–

if

each

.

a

n

d

.

every

day

.

y

o

u

.

wear

.

t

h

e

.

proper

attire,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

a

smile

.

that’s

nice . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

could

.

e

a

r

n

.

a

promotion . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

could

.

e

a

r

n

.

a

promotion,

.

.

i

f

.

.

you

.

a

r

e

.

always

.

t

h

e

.

first

.

t

o

.

arrive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ if

.

y

o

u

.

volunteer

.

t

o

.

work

night,

–

–

after

night,

–

–

after

night . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

without

charging

overtime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

could

.

e

a

r

n

.

a

promotion . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

could

.

e

a

r

n

.

a

promotion,

.

.

i

f

.

.

you

make

.

y

o

u

r

.

job

.

a

.

large

part

.

o

f

.

your

life . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

for

weeks . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

for

months . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

for

years . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

t

.

.

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

don’t

.

y

o

u

.

know

someday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

someday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ maybe

.

years

before

.

y

o

u

.

retire . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

you

.

m

i

g

h

t

.

even

.

b

e

.

recognized

.

f

o

r

.

all

.

t

h

e

.

contributions . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

all

.

y

o

u

r

.

contributions,

–

–

which

made

.

y

o

u

r

.

organization

thrive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

it’s

likely

.

y

o

u

.

might

find . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

likely

.

y

o

u

.

might

find . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

y

o

u

–

–

–

only

have

.

t

o

.

wait

.

a

.

little

while,

–

–

before

.

t

h

e

.

next

.

opportunity

arrives . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you

only

have

.

t

o

.

wait

.

a

.

little

while,

.

.

t

o

.

.

realize

.

t

h

e

.

climb

.

y

o

u

.

desire . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

continue

working

.

y

o

u

r

.

way

.

t

o

.

the

front

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

it

could

.

b

e

.

well

worth

.

t

h

e

.

investment

.

o

f

.

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

could

.

b

e

.

well

worth

.

t

h

e

.

life

.

y

o

u

.

leave

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

you

could

.

e

a

r

n

.

a

.

promotion . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

could

.

e

a

r

n

.

a

.

promotion.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in August of 2002 in observation of those who routinely create an unhealthy balance between work and outside-of-work activities. A good, healthy way to look at work is making sure that, as a minimum, it provides the life you want outside of work.

When

hunger

.

i

s

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

torture . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

destruction . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

.

those

.

w

h

o

.

suffer,

.

.

w

i

l

l

.

.

never

.

b

e

.

heard . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

screaming

wounds

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

burn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ screaming

wounds

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

burn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

those

.

w

h

o

.

live,

–

–

safe

.

a

n

d

.

secure . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

those

.

w

h

o

.

rest

.

w

i

t

h

.

their

.

futures

assured . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

those

.

w

h

o

.

live,

–

–

among

.

t

h

e

.

common

herd,

.

.

w

i

l

l

.

.

never

.

b

e

.

able

.

t

o

.

discern . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

what

.

t

h

e

i

r

.

peace,

–

–

love,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

freedom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

s

–

–

–

worth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

they

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

.

b

e

.

able

.

t

o

.

discern . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

color . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

depth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

the

texture . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

the

hurt . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Despair . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Terror . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Oppression . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Death . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

a

.

word.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in August of 2002 in reflection of various negative happenings in the world and the associated news stories and commentaries by those too far removed to relate or judge – but do so anyway to the detriment of the victims who could use a little help. So many cannot even begin to fathom the pain and suffering of others from a distance or without experiencing it on their own.

The

taunting

echoes

–

–

still

haunt

me

.

.

d

o

w

n

.

.

those

reminiscent

halls . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

don’t

.

y

o

u

.

know

.

I

.

wish

sometimes,

.

.

I

.

.

could

make

.

t

h

o

s

e

.

memories

small . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ don’t

.

y

o

u

.

know

.

I

.

wish

sometimes,

.

.

I

.

.

could

forgive

.

a

n

d

.

forget

.

i

t

.

all . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

.

.

.

I

.

know

.

w

e

.

were

.

m

u

c

h

.

younger

within

.

t

h

o

s

e

.

walls . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

that

.

w

e

.

walked

.

b

a

c

k

.

then,

.

.

s

o

.

.

awkward

.

i

n

.

our

flaws . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

walked

.

s

o

.

awkward

.

i

n

.

our

flaws . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

as

.

I

.

stroll

past

.

t

h

o

s

e

.

memories,

.

.

t

h

e

.

.

wounds

.

t

o

o

.

deep

.

t

o

.

heal,

–

–

begin

.

t

o

.

burn

.

a

n

d

.

bleed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

burn

.

a

n

d

.

bleed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

burn

.

a

n

d

.

bleed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

burn

.

a

n

d

.

bleed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

make

.

m

e

.

feel

.

t

o

o

.

strange

.

t

o

.

engage . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

too

strange

.

t

o

.

offer

even

.

a

.

cool

embrace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

feel

.

t

o

o

.

strange

.

t

o

.

engage . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

too

strange

.

t

o

.

embrace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

.

.

.

I

pretend

.

n

o

t

.

to

recall:

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

faces . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

names . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

aches . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

yesterday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

.

.

.

I

turn

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

turn

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

the

pain

.

t

h

a

t

.

still

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

search

.

f

o

r

.

a

.

more

brotherly,

–

–

sisterly

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

where

.

I

.

won’t

.

f

e

e

l

.

this

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ where

.

I

.

won’t

.

f

e

e

l

.

this

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

today.

Reflection: This was a forgotten but powerful personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in August of 2002 where the affected party is haunted by and cannot escape the ugly hurt and shame experienced in the past. This poem was based on personal experiences from my childhood days. I wish I could just forgive and forget but have come to realize that is not always possible – because at times we continue feeling hurt and awkward around certain people in our lives.

Can

.

y

o

u

.

perceive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Can

.

y

o

u

.

even

perceive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

e

–

–

–

pain

upon

.

t

h

e

.

page,

.

.

a

s

.

.

you

begin

.

t

o

.

read . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ as

.

y

o

u

.

begin

.

t

o

.

read . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

about

.

w

h

a

t

.

happened

.

t

o

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

all

of

.

t

h

e

.

dying

hopes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

dared

.

t

o

.

dream . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

of

.

t

h

e

.

dying

hopes,

.

.

I

dared

.

t

o

.

dream.

Reflection: This was a simple, reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in July of 2002 when pondering how much of what I write actually gets translated into feelings, meanings, and inspirations which are closely aligned with the original experience, observation, or intent.

I

care . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

genuinely

care . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

how

.

d

o

.

I

.

hold

on ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

.

d

o

.

I

.

hold

on,

.

.

t

o

.

.

all

.

o

f

.

those

.

w

h

o

.

add

color

.

t

o

.

my

life ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

.

d

o

.

I ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

.

d

o

.

I

.

hold

on,

.

.

t

o

.

.

their

guiding

lights

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

shine ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

.

d

o

.

I ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

How

.

d

o

.

I

.

hold

on

.

t

o

.

their

warming

smiles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

s

.

.

.

I

journey

.

f

r

o

m

.

mile

.

t

o

.

mile ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

.

d

o

.

I ?

Reflection: This was an inspirational/hope-themed poem that I wrote back in July of 2002 in honor of all of those special, wonderful people who have greatly contributed to my life and/or served to deeply inspire me. They added such warmth, color, beauty, and music to my life and to the living collage that is me – and today I am the result of all of those contributing parts and pieces (and more). And I cherish and appreciate each and every one of them.