Online poetry community, poetry writing contest - Shirl A. Steward -- Spiritually speaking

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

February 05 2009 00:39

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

February 05 2009 00:20

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

February 04 2009 23:36

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

March 30 2006 03:14

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.