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February 05, 2009 |
| Shirl A. Steward -- Spiritually speaking |
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Poems about life and love |
| February 05 2009 01:04 |
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Master of Disguise
To my favorite actor and long time friend, T.G. Cody
Mystery man, who are you now, a jack of all the talents of the stage? Are you a clown pretending with a silly frown when smiles inside are nowhere to be found? Are you a mime in a derby hat fascinated by the slightest sound, intrigued by the network of your own illusion? Or are you the actor, confused between reality and all the characters you play? What man of nobility would you be today? Oh, master of disguise play no pretense with me. No mask can ever hide a man's true quality. Be what you will to the world but be yourself with me. I do not wish to be deceived.
Mystery man, who are you now, a jack of all the talents of the stage? Are you master of your fate or just a lonely fool who would be king tangling all upon a string?
By Shirl A. Steward
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| February 05 2009 00:39 |
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A New Heart
Fragmented glass upon my window sill so much like the pieces of my broken heart that leave me shattered in despair Jagged . . . sharp so painful to the touch Seemingly beyond all hope of slight repair.
But . . . Is there hope? Could I? Should I? leap upon the chance to rebuild . . . to color . . . to reshape this segmented heap of useless parts into a magnificent, intricate stained glass masterpiece? So unique, so set apart from all common works of art.
By Shirl A. Steward
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| February 05 2009 00:20 |
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Lost Dreams
Once a golden idol now a simple mound of clay, Once my heart's desire now devoid of life . . . faded all away, And all that I gave, now lost within our dark abandoned cave, Like an unfinished symphony never to be conceived.
By Shirl A. Steward
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| February 04 2009 23:36 |
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Last Call For The Carousel
Tiptoe softly, waiting pass a thousand tears, Recovery to come...one thinks, Shed no more for wasted yesterdays, gone Left is only fleeting space in time, Need not but blink an eye To see it pass into tomorrow.
One chance is all one asks, To catch a ring upon the carousel A new start, so oft times blue A dream of paradise bestowed, Luck to come, another day, another hour, Perhaps tomorrow one's wings will soar,
And rise above life's hum-drum core, To free the cancered soul Seemingly trapped forever in a maze...
By Shirl A. Steward
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| March 30 2006 03:14 |
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Master or Slave? Be thou master or slave to thy own destiny? Do you foolish await the mountain to come to you before you start the climb? How long will you search the clammy, cold, hard ground within thy darken cell for a key that is nowhere to be found?
Are you willing to believe you have the power to create within yourself? For the slave awaits to be told what to do. But it is the true master Who makes his fate unfold Entire of itself. By Shirl A. Steward Written Oct 13, 1987.
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