experience strength and hope

Acceptance

2009-02-22T16:49:00.003-05:00

"It is what it is" was a saying that a mentor of mine just couldn't wrap his arms around. Being a Russian philosopher he would always give me the saying about the glass being half empty or half filled. I was suppose to accept that way of looking at a "black or white, left or right, has been always will be" kind of way of thinking. I found that I don't have to accept my station in life as a hopeless,helpless pathetic drunk. I learned that I can look at things differently. I found a softer easier way of looking at my life. I came to accept a new way of looking at my reality.

Here is my poem:

Acceptance

Neither is the glass
have empty nor half filled.

The water is exactly
what I have always willed.

Twice as big as needed
the outside is for me

Not pessimist nor optimist
but pure reality.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Self Inflicted Wounds

2009-02-22T16:43:00.004-05:00

I had a horrible habit of doing the worst thing at the worst time. I was my own worst enemy and thought I was so unique it this insanity. I was so mistaken.

Here is my poem:

Self Inflicted Wounds

The dog circles his tail in sickness,
returns to eat the vomit it just spat out.

Resultant to partial assimilation of prior acts,
sort of a body language umlaut.

Smoke the stick of cancer,
knowing full well the slow death that it brings.

Eat the salt, fat and sugar cane
to satisfy the uncontrollable cravings.

Living a battered existence,
humiliation day after day.

Returning to find knuckles so hard
once burlap now merely chambray.

Force the beer down to stop the shakes,
not wanting but having to.

Bloodshot eyes, hands tremble with sweat,
skin having the grayish hue.

Self inflicted wounds
there are so many
ways to suffer and die.

But like the dog
returns to the pile,
never knowing really quite why.

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

Bartender, “Life” on the rocks, with a twist of fate.

2009-02-22T16:39:00.003-05:00

Life on life's terms is must easier said than done. I do not let myself sit in my pity but every now and then I give it 2 minutes then I have to let it go. It shouldn't take 2 minutes to read this.

Here is my poem:

Bartender, “Life” on the rocks, with a twist of fate.

Hurt has two paths to follow,
“In” or “Out” of you.
Depending on its origin,
the how, the when, the who.

Can’t always see it coming,
by mistake or from a sin.
“Blindsided” is a sucker punch
when landed on the chin.

After years of living
I say the worst of all,
is when it comes from family,
to my knees it makes me crawl.

How can they treat me this like this?
To say to go away.
Love has left my families hearts,
my presence brings dismay.

When was the last time
you watched a grown man cry?
Come stand before me now today,
my heart just wants to die.

Never in my wildest dreams
I thought life would be so cruel.
Alone I stand in pools of tears
forced fed a bowl of gruel.

Life has a way of saying,
“This is a great impasse”
Blind faith is all I trust in,
a belief “This to shall pass.”

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

You don't know Jack

2009-02-22T16:27:00.003-05:00

Back in my peaceful town of Sayville, I met a girl who thought she knew Jack. This is her story, Cheryl you don't know Jack.

Here is my poem:

You don’t know Jack

While strolling the hills of Scotland
with my old friend Johnnie Walker.
Was hard to get a word edge wise
cause Johnnie’s such a talker.

Someone arose mid conversation
I asked, “Do you know Jack”?
He shook his head and told me
to Canada I should go back.

The Canadian Club I did return
to find another caulker.
Though no relation to my friend Johnnie
his name was Hiram Walker.

Again I did address
explaining info I did lack.
“My friend Hiram, might you help me out?
Please tell me, do you know Jack “?

“Go east young man to New York,
a town called Sayville West.
There lives a girl who claims
that she knows Jack the best.

Girl’s name is Cheryl,
blonde and cute,
hung with him in her youth.

I heard it said
she tells the tales
though sometimes long in tooth.

Glory days, in bars round town
on stools or shooting pool.
The both of them were very close
she often played the fool.

Their paths did split,
to much of him,
she never did look back.

But I bet
you seek him out
you’ll find that one called Jack.”

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

Lover or Enemy

2009-02-22T16:24:00.002-05:00

I had a lover, or so I thought, that would stand by me till the end of time. Came to find out that the end of time couldn't come soon enough for this mistress of mine.

Here is my poem:

Lover or Enemy

Watch it make sweet love to you,
doing what it wants to do.
Your spirit's gone, there's no free will,
liquid, powder or a pill.

A lover once, but long ago,
it’s now on permanent furlough.
Your need becomes a large strumae,
no longer friend, but enemy.

Copyright © 2009 Ronald J. Edwards

I'll be waiting

2009-02-22T16:19:00.003-05:00

I have a built in forgetter. It's the part of my mind that says "All is good, all is fixed, I am cured".
For me I have to remember that just around the next corner, not far away at all, at an arms length, there it is waiting just for me.

Here is my poem:

I’ll be waiting

Why did you go?
Where have you gone?
We use to be so close.

Side by side,
we’d pass the days,
driving round the boroughs.

Inseparable,
that was us,
together at each event.

Is there a bad taste
left in your mouth?
Did you leave me just for lent?

Doesn’t matter,
have your way,
I can be assuasive.

No grudge to hold,
you'll return,
can't always be evasive.

The day will come,
you’ll want me back,
the thought not much to think.

Come to me
down on your knees,
you’ll beg to take a drink.

A party yes,
a homecoming,
no guests, just you and me.

A cheap motel,
out in the woods,
behind a store or alley.

But till then
enjoy your time,
the image that you’re feigning.

Lurking in your memories,
its there
that I’ll be waiting.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Needs and Wants

2009-02-22T16:17:00.003-05:00

I like many people spent huge amounts of time chasing my "wants". Today I have gratitude in receiving what I need.

Here is my poem:

Needs and Wants

Have to get the needs,
life continues without wants.

Getting all the wants,
doesn’t cover all the needs.

Wanting the needs,
not needing wants.

Eating what is wanted,
not needing what is eaten.

Wanting to speak
when listening is needed.

The want to argue
when the need is to reason.

Wanting to strike out
when the need should be to hold.

Wanting all
from everyone
doesn’t alleviate the greed.

But getting things
from just a few
will satisfy the need.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Just One

2009-02-22T16:09:00.003-05:00

I never ever not even once went out to have just one.
Enough said ...

Here is my poem:

Just one

The phone rings Friday afternoon
just round quitting time.

Pete says that Kipling’s serving
cold Corona’s with a lime.

At first I think
that I could go
and have only just one.

If I don’t go
I will miss out
on having all that fun.

“Common” he says
“we’ll have just one,
next day we have to work”.

I always went
and did ignore
a severe knee-jerk.

My elbow is so special
bending exactly
as I want.

To raise the glass
a thousand times
to this idiot savant.

Problem isn’t drinking,
this I sure can do.

My suicides in stopping,
the craving does ensue.

So I laugh each time I hear
“Lets go out and have just one”.

I’d have more luck
with a shot
that comes from my handgun.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Secrets

2009-02-22T16:03:00.004-05:00

I had to become entirely ready to be honest with myself and others if I was to continue on my journey of life. Secrets had to be shared and left behind. My forth and fifth step was a freeing of my inner most secrets, some I thought I would take to my grave. I try now to be an open book and turn pages moving on to new chapters of my life.

Here is my poem:

Secrets

Tell me a secret
that no one knows,
I’ll tell you one of mine.

Share a deed
that has been hid,
a crossing of the line.

Dig down deep
I’m sure there’s one,
filed in your private Hell.

I keep mine buried
in my soul,
till He toll’s the bell.

So you think you’re special
or quite unique,
nothing’s new under the sun.

Actions, words
look’s we hoped would kill,
or would have with a gun.

Do you remember when
out with your friends,
off came the wedding ring?

Or when in Vegas
you rolled the dice,
bud-da-boom then bud-da-bing.

Sharing my secrets
I must be ready,
entirely I now know.

When pain of holding onto them
exceeds my fear
of letting go.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

House of Cards

2009-02-22T15:59:00.003-05:00

Two years after my wife and I went our separate ways I had to come to terms with my part in the demise of my family and household. I sat and wrote "House of Cards" to myself. I had to see in black and white what I had done in order to understand and learn from it.

Here is my poem:

House of Cards

I built my house
and shuffled,
from the bottom of the deck.

It was not if,
more like when,
that it became a wreck.

I blamed everyone
but myself
for what was in my hand.

Nothing remained
when it came down,
my house was built on sand.

A mirror hanging
in front of me
was where I had to look.

I did not follow
“to thine own self be true”
integrity was forsook.

With pain the mirror
had to become
a window to see thru.

To free me
of my selfishness,
this I had to do.

The world outside
I stood and tried
to look but could not see.

That the world
outside my house
does not revolve ‘round me.

Foundations last much longer
not made
from sand and lime.

They must be built
on bedrock,
to stand the test of time.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

My Bridge

2009-02-22T15:53:00.003-05:00

As most people I came to a point in my life where I had to rely on blind faith in order to continue living. Faith, the assured expectation of things to come though not yet beheld. I have faith in my higher power who I choose to call God, to see me thru my day. Somedays that is all I have, faith.

Here is my poem:

My Bridge

Destinations have a start
a place called the beginning.
My journeys for strange reasons
are related to my sinning.

Running, walking, tripping
not always on a road.
No matter where I wished to go
I had a heavy load.

There was this time a cliff appeared,
a chasm deep and wide.
Without a plan for this abyss
to cross its great divide.

Frozen within solitude
my thoughts often misguide.
They said to stay just where I stood
“What’s on the other side”?

Carrying baggage so heavy
my hands about to break,
straining hard without release
the pain was hard to take.

“Free your self, just let go
of this heavy load.
If you want to travel on
a bridge will be your road”.

Whence came this voice that spoke to me,
was without place or being.
A bridge appeared across this span
doubting what I was seeing.

Who or what would care so much
to make this bridge for me?
The distance far, the fall so deep
“Is this my destiny”?

I stood alone that point in time
not knowing if I should go.
Was then I noticed from behind
a wind began to blow.

The force increased against my back,
a gentle nudge at first.
Within this wind new thoughts blew in
“This bridge should be traversed”!

Letting go the handles
that cut into my hands.
My baggage fell away from me,
resolve became my stance.

Fear no longer had me
in its grip so tight.
I listened to the words I heard
to cross that bridge was right.

This is what blind faith is,
my bridge is a belief.
That my care and keeping
will come for my relief.

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

They took the wrong finger

2009-02-22T15:45:00.003-05:00

Being sober is a life or death situation for men like me. Time and time again I read about the passing of those who thru their use and abuse of alcohol die from disease. Some meet their end while driving or at the hands of another drunk driver. This poem is about the loss of life by his own hands.Nine fingers Gary found that life was just not worth living and while under the influence ended it all.
May you rest in peace Gary.

Here is my poem:

They took the wrong finger

Early that morning
with the sound of the waves
he sat in his car all alone.

The black hole returned,
swallowed him whol,e
turning his future to stone.

Nine fingers he had,
they all worked just fine,
that night he needed just one.

If only the doctor
knew what was to happen
he’d of cut off the one used for a gun.

Gary found that place
deep in his head
the reality all of us dread.

Darkness and pain
are lord of this realm
those who enter all end up dead.

Rest in peace my friend
may God forgive
what you’ve done on Valentines Day.

I hope and I pray
that I never take
that same path to end up that way…

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

My Symbiotic Creation

2009-02-22T15:44:00.004-05:00

I wrote this next poem after a discussion with a friend about "Harbor of Resentment". it describes what a resentment actually is, at least to me.

Here is my poem:

My Symbiotic Creation

Spawned from most anything,
only I can feed its growth.

Always by my side
Day after day being my constant companion.

When I retire it invades my dreams
robbing me of sleep.

Solely waiting for me when I wake up.
Freeloading on every vacation.

I pay heavily for its existence
while affecting my outlook on life.

It makes me eat less and drink more.
It makes me do things I don’t want to do.
It destroys my happiness and serenity.

All I have to do is learn to forgive and it dies.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Characters

2009-02-22T12:56:00.003-05:00

My home town is Sayville Long Island New York. It's a small seashore town that I have lived in for the last 20+ years. I have come to know many a character here. Thus poem is about the few I call frieinds.

Here is the poem:

Characters

Over in the corner
always waiting to converse,
Big Mike plays Captain America,
King of the Universe.

There’s Robbie the Hat,
Joey Fingers,
and Friday Evening Bob,

Sean,Tamara, Donna,
Allan, Mike and Rob.

My good friend
Lenny the Weasel,
who always has something good to say.

Then there’s the guy
on bicycle
who lives down by the bay.

Milt, Peter, Norman
Billy,Pam and Roseann,
Cheryl, Chris and Jimmy
make up this merry band.

Last names are never spoken,
a dollar and a dream.

It’s just few words
that are used
to be among this team.

Characters each and everyone
we talk and sometimes groan,
of times we can relate to
and know were not alone.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

That One Thing

2009-02-22T12:45:00.003-05:00

Now here is an interesting little story that turned into a poem. In my previous posting "Characters" I speak of a man called "Big Mike". Let me tell you the name fits him to a tee, the guy is huge. Well he shared with me and my good friend Lenny some of the most important information that I will ever need to hear. This episode was the making of " That One Thing".

Here is the poem:

That One Thing

While sitting as I always do
an evening spent at best,
reading from the big book
up here at Sayville West.

One by one we took a turn
talking from the heart,
sharing times and where we’ve been
and how it all did start.

In came a man that we all knew,
Big Mike he’s kindly called.
He nodes and smiles when he talks
and shares how he was mauled.

Well it was like most other evenings
till he turned around,
whispering to Lenny,
I heard not but a sound.

What was said to Lenny
made him turn to me.
For what Mike said was “that one thing”
and it would set me free.

He said there only was one thing
that would keep me from a drink.
He asked me do I know that thing?
I had to stop and think.

“One thing” I thought
what could it be?
My mind did draw a blank.

There were so many
times in my life
that I just sat a drank.

I looked at him and shook my head
and said I did not know.
That one thing did elude me,
my curiosity did grow.

Big Mike smiled a smile
that made me glad
that he was not a foe.

So I listened closely
to what he said,
standing toe to toe.

He said “ Ron, there is one thing
to keep you from a drink”.
That one thing then he shared with me
that made me stop and think.

It was very simple,
that one thing for us all.
His answer to this riddle,
that one things “alcohol”.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Last Chance Hotel

2009-02-22T12:38:00.004-05:00

In a cold winter January I found myself at my lowest bottom. I was helpless,hopeless and homeless sleeping in the back of my truck spiritually and physically bankrupt. If not for Lenny I would still be there if not and most likely dead. I wrote this poem shortly afterward to make sure I never forget where I can end up again.

Here is my life saving poem:

Last Chance Hotel

Sleeping in my car
temperatures so cold.
No money in my pockets,
everything was sold.

Nowhere left to rest my head,
doors once open now are shut.
Under a bridge, out in the woods
or make a cardboard hut.

The cold cruel world
is all that’s left,
averted eyes don’t look at me.

They just walk by
turning their heads,
pretending not to see.

Street life is unforgiving,
hard gutters will demean.
Memories don’t help here,
or places where I've been.

Thank God for those two fellows,
Bill W. and Doctor Bob.
Cause it was in their actions,
that I no longer have to sob.

The rooms where soon provided
for people living in this hell.
The price to enter everything,
at the last chance hotel.

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

Pieces of the Puzzle

2009-02-22T12:27:00.005-05:00

I found this picture on the internet and could relate to it immediately. It is an album cover to a band in Scotland called Biffy Cylro and I thank them for letting me use it here.

I started writing a new book after completing "Experience,Strength and Hope" and needed a title for it. I new this was it "Pieces of the Puzzle". I'll let the poem speak for itself

Here is my poem:

Pieces of the Puzzle

When young an innocent
the feeling is quite known.
The wholeness being one
is absent though I’ve grown.

Carved and jig sawed internally
not present from outside.
When looking in the mirror
I want to run and hide.

It’s like vitaligo
of the spirit and the soul.
There’s times that I lose patches,
painting on them to look whole.

Pieces of the puzzle,
don’t always fit
where they came from.

That’s when I’m dragged
along the ground,
forced in place until I’m numb.

But over time these pieces,
somehow begin to fit.
I always have that one piece,
that falls out when I sit.

That one piece is the main piece,
most important in my life.
I hope it stays and does remain
to help me end my strife.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Alcoholism

2008-11-22T13:22:00.004-05:00

I heard this phrased in the rooms as the definition of alcoholism and related to it.I added a visual effect to help the message along.

Here is my poem:

Alcoholism

built

tall walls

around......me,

the............world

I.................would

not................tout.

Only......................to

realize...............That

................. I ...............

could.......................not

get...........................out.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Silent Night

2008-11-22T13:20:00.001-05:00

This is a very terrible piece of my life that I am still ashamed of to this day. I did this many many years ago on Xmas eve as my family watched in horror, me drunk and out of control. I actually threw the Xmas tree out the back door of my house, lights, bulbs, everything ... My wife at the time took the kids and left me. It truly was a "silent night"

Here is my poem:

Silent Night

No chestnuts roasting or carol’s sung,
eggs shells all around.
There I sat, my kids walk by
trying not to make a sound.

Another night like all the rest,
alone with family.
My children hoping Santa Claus
would show up just to spite me.

Xmas was another day
no difference, all the same.
More I wished it all would end
the meaner I became.

Staring hard now at the tree
standing in its glory.
Shiny balls with blinking lights
began this horror story.

I was on my fourth or fifth,
lost count some time ago.
My inner rage was focused now
on a angel with a halo.

Sliding doors swung open,
I threw Xmas from my house.
Chaos had returned again,
to it I did espouse.

The look in all my families eye’s
as tears began to fall.
I did not care what I had done,
my spirit went awol.

When I came too I was alone,
a note pinned to my shirt.
In not so many words it told
my likeness to the dirt.

I’ve kept that note and read it
to set my sober mind aright.
On Xmas eve no longer,
do I spend a “silent night”.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Steps

2008-11-01T08:39:00.010-04:00

This is my interpretation of the 12 Steps and is no way shape or forms the same feelings of AA.

Here is my poem:

To climb the stairway to heaven
it’s one step at a time.
My faith I do hold onto,
a handrail thru subtle and sublime.

My entry was in question,
cause I was most inept.
I thought all was together,
uncontrollably I wept.
“ We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.”

Looking within I did believe
I was lord and master.
There had to be a greater one
if sanity would replace disaster.
“Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”

My inner force found new direction,
the One I came to know.
Discarding baggage I did not need,
now easier to go.
“Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him."

There came a need to concede
all my errand ways,
and to allow so to proceed
without them in my days.
“Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.”

“ Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”

Yet there remained a scantly few
spots on the blank oaktage.
Again a request to please remove
this slightly soiled rag.
“Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.”

“Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.”

My errors caused hurt feelings,
a long record I did make.
Sorry was not good enough,
this I could not fake.
“Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.”

In traveling up the stairs of life
if abreast one came to be,
I had to be ready of what to say
without hurting them or me.
“Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.”

I did not know I had big feet
and stepped on many toes.
I had to look down and realize
the blame was on my boughs.
“Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.”

To improve my progress
it came time for me to ponder.
With out fully knowing Him
I would get lost and wander.
“Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.”

My consecration does depend
following this intel.
I must return to help all that are
coming up this stairwell.
“Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.”

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

In Living Colure

2008-10-31T12:32:00.004-04:00

This is one of my shortest poems but it is the most important in its message. I used the word"colure" as a play on words. The word "colure" is either of two great cirles of the celestial sphere intersecting each other at the poles, one passing through both equinoxes and the other through both solstices. In my life I have found that I have repeatedly done and acted the same way over and over expecting different result as if to follow a cirlce and expect to arrive at a different destination. This insanity comes with the first drink, thinking "this time" things will end up differently. Yes this "subtle insanity of circling" has been the most important thing I have had to learn.

Here is my poem:

Painting with colure's
of yesterday
a new picture it does not bring.

The subtle insanity
of circling
and expecting a different thing.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Bewilderment

2008-10-30T23:34:00.003-04:00

Sometimes the answers to my problems meant me just stopping and becoming more aware of my surroundings. Simplicity is often the hiding place to my most complicated issues.

Here is my poem:

Bewilderment

Seek
for answers,
discover
more questions.

What is found
to be truth,
was hiding
out in the open.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

A Hole Inside My Soul

2008-10-22T21:23:00.003-04:00

I sat one day behind my computer just thinking of my life ,wondering if I could pin point the time period when my life turned. I realized I always felt different from others even as a child.
So as I began to write " A Hole in my Soul" what appeared before me was my entire life starting as child "who sat alone" up until now an adult who " lives inside his skin". The poem had a flow to it and I read and re-read it until it sounded more like a song. I added chorus lines and hope to put it to a melody one day.

Here is my poem:

A Hole Inside My Soul

While in school when I was young
I always sat alone.
There was that feel of being strange,
marched to a different tone.

My body was like all the rest
like those of friends and kin.
But way back then there was that rub,
no comfort in my skin.

No matter how much I’d yell
how loud that I would shout,
a hole inside my soul
let my spirit all leak out.

As I grew inside me felt
like chaos had run wild.
Emotions took me left then right
and never calm or mild.

Soon I found an emptiness
that grew and over took,
whatever tried to fill that void,
serene was soon forsook.

No matter how much I’d yell
how loud that I would shout,
a hole inside my soul
let my spirit all leak out.

As a man I heard it said
“a hole was in my soul”.
Just like the villain in a play
it had the leading role.

I tried and tried, day in and out,
to fill this void in me.
Discovering in liquid form
booze solved this trickery.

No matter how much I’d yell
how loud that I would shout,
a hole inside my soul
let my spirit all leak out.

It worked awhile, way back when
and soon I did realize,
it fueled the emptiness inside,
became anesthetized.

Spirit gone, I was bankrupt,
my mind was so unclear.
A spiritual awakening,
a cure to fix my fear.

No matter how much I’d yell
how loud that I would shout,
a hole inside my soul
let my spirit all leak out.

Today I try to fill that void
it’s one day at a time.
Using things like faith and hope,
support from my Divine.

My soul is now a place
for things kept close to me.
Acceptance and a willingness,
these things will set me free.

No longer in captivity
or just thinking why,
a child sitting by myself
assuming I was shy.

No matter how much I’d yell
how loud that I would shout,
a hole inside my soul
let my spirit all leak out.

I now know I’m not alone
not strange or most unique.
There are so many just like me
that have the same physique.

Baby steps, just twelve of them
I’ve done all in a row,
they filled that hole once in my soul
allowing me to grow.

No longer, I don’t have to yell,
no more a big whirlwind.
I’ve filled that hole found in my soul
I live inside my skin.

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

Harbor of Resentment

2008-10-21T21:26:00.003-04:00

In my life I have found that resentment is one of, if not the biggest, enemy of mine. I heard it said to be as if I were to drink posion and then wish for you to die. Resentment festers and eats away at my soul, destroying my peace of mind and eroding my spirtuality. In order to live a good life I have found I must forgive and move on.

Here is my poem:

Harbor of Resentment

From passing storm with trying times,
my vessel worn from smeared begrimes
I moored the boat far from my crimes
in the Harbor of Resentment

As Captain solely the choice I make,
poor judgments left in trailing wake.
This docking was a bad mistake
Soon lost was my contentment.

I walked my bridge to look about
Alone I stood without a scout
Void of echo when I did shout
No souls to hear my statement.

Slowly I turned around to see
a silhouette rising from the sea.
No longer was I to be free
in the Harbor of Resentment.

This phantom drifted ever near,
upon my deck it did appear.
It had black eyes with constant leer
Umbrage was its vestment.

No matter where I tried to hide
It over took like full moons tide
Fearing my boat to be shanghaied
The coming of my judgment.

I threw myself far overboard,
my very life was my reward
washed up on a distant shore
from the Harbor of Resentment.

Each and ever night that pass,
thinking of the ghouls trespass
ending deep in swamps morass
disgusted at my treatment

Should I return, try to retrieve
of what I lost on that cursed eve
forgetting of my souls reprieve
escaping without bailment

This travesty I must forgive
if happily I want to live.
So I move on and not captive
to the Harbor of Resentment.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Three Lock Box

2008-10-21T21:25:00.003-04:00

There are always those secrets, those past actions, those events that are stored away, out of sight but not out of mind that haunt and linger. If not addressed they will not allow ones soul to rest even if they are carried to the grave. I have shared those secrets with another human being and my higher power. What a freeing of guilt. I am able to walk down the street with my head held high and able to look all those that cross my path straight in the eye.

Here is my poem:

Three Lock Box

Secrets you have hid,
of things that you once did,
beneath the heavy lid,
of your three lock box.

Deep within your mind,
always for you to find,
actions that were unkind,
all in your three lock box.

At night do they return,
causing your soul to churn,
from memories that burn,
stored in your three lock box.

No keys for they’re all broken,
like lies that you have spoken,
buried within your coffin,
inside your three lock box.

Copyright © 2008 Ronald J. Edwards

Barb Melloh Owner of Law of Attraction writes:

2008-02-23T18:05:00.004-05:00

" What a wonderful collection of poetry which lets us see and feel your journey through life and the discoveries you have made. I could feel the emotions and remember those kinds of thoughts as I too have traveled down that road and seen a better way. It was a reminder how grateful I am for what I have today"

http://www.law-of-attraction-info.com

Dr. Jane Cherrington of New Zealand writes:

2008-02-05T07:56:00.000-05:00

"You have obviously enjoyed harnessing the poetic to articulate your experiences. Reading through your work felt like being given intimate window to your life. Your poems describe a journey and the labor of personal review, in terms that are clearly deeply felt and, one imagines hopefully, cathartic."

Poem Review: My Intention

2008-01-31T11:04:00.002-05:00

I finished reading “ The Power of Intention: Learn to Co-Create Your World Your Way” by Dr. Wayne Dyer and it made such a profound impact on my life that it inspired me to write this poem.

“everything’s in motion
though still, they seem to be
it is the intention
of a grand soliloquy”

The concept that everything has intention no matter what it is :

“pebbles , fish, beast and man
related purposefully
intention has but one goal
to bound us soulfully”

... has made sense to me and reconfirmed my beliefs that there is a “higher power” that has supreme design intent for everything and nothing just came into being by accident. It is also my beliefs that everything is not controlled as to the outcome and that my life, day in day out, every step of the way, is not planned. I do believe though, that there is an overall intention that I can either be apart of or follow my own road with my final destination becoming a product of my reality.

“intention was and always is
a spiritual enamantion
of energy and particles
marching in procession”

Lately it is my involvement as a Hospice Volunteer and in association with a very special person Kathy van Steen Director of Volunteers @Brookhaven Hospice that my faith and gratitude has been strengthened. She has shown me that we must have faith that things ultimately will work out for the best and to have gratitude for what we have today right here and now. I see myself happy and content, praying for serenity without having to know how it all will happen.

“it is my intention
to lose all my constraints
of where and how I will end up
with sinners or with saints”

I can honestly say that since using this philosophy of the Power of Intention my life has opened up to “life beyond my wildest dreams”.

Here is my poem:

My Intention

Everything’s in motion,
though still they seem to be.
It is the intention
of a grand soliloquy.

Oneness is self-serving,
to the stubborn and obstinate.
Like turkeys head bent in the rain,
they drown a ignorant.

It is my intention
to lose all my constraints,
of where and how I will end up,
with sinners or with saints.

Intention was and always is
a spiritual emanation.
Energy and particles
marching in procession.

Pebbles , fish, beast and man
related purposefully.
Intention has but one goal
to bound us soulfully.

So my intention is to be
in this celestial scheme,
letting go my ego.
put’s me beyond my wildest dream.

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

Within You is the Power to Change Your Life

2008-01-30T16:23:00.000-05:00

I am pleased to be able to post this endorsement: Jim Donovan-Author-'HANDBOOK TO A HAPPIER LIFE'
http://www.jimdonovan.com

" In his debut collection, Edwards takes us along on his life's journey of self discovery in a charming, light hearted and easy read"

Poem Review: Turmoil

2008-01-30T15:45:00.002-05:00

There were a handful of times in my life when chaos ran rampant and turmoil was all around me. These are days I am not soon to forget. The consequences of my actions have become a very strong deterrent in continuing on down certain roads. It seems that the longer I was in the chaos of irresponsible actions and self-centered attitudes the more intense the turmoil became:

“silence has crept up close to me
its claws deep in my thought
impending doom is all around
depression it has wrought”

I have a close friend whom I have had the pleasure to be able to talk with, use as a sounding board and most of learn from his sharing of his life’s experiences,Bobby C. He has shared on many occasions of a state of mind called “the gray zone":

“the gray zone
is my new abode
i’m bout to hit new lows”

You don’t live life in the gray zone you merely exist in it. Consciousness and being aware are just barely at a level that you are awake and moving about in the day but without any real purpose or conviction. This is a by-product from my consumption of the poison of my choice.

“see en h two en
plus ten h
is poison in my veins”

I was asked what the meaning of “see en h two en plus ten h” and it simply is the formula/equation to aliphatic alcohol CnH2n+10H. This type of alcohol is toxic and found in very low-grade sometimes-homemade drinking alcohols. It is indeed poison and will kill if drank over periods of time.

“a cauldron boils
this deadly brew
deliquescing my brains”

I do not relish or miss those periods of my life and would not wish them on anyone. Turmoil has no prejudice and welcomes all who seek it. It will invite you to mix company and turns no one away.

“if what you seek is logical
please walk away from me
turmoil has power over all
just wait, and watch, you’ll see”

Here is my poem:

Turmoil
Bobby C. thanks for sharing

Silence has crept up close to me
its claws deep in my thought.
Impending doom is all around
depression it has wrought.

Desires, hopes and dreams are dead
carnage has joined the lot.
They’re buried in despair and doubt
expelled into a grot.

Strange bedfellows these horrors are,
insanity runs unabated.
As smoke from hell seethes in my soul
my life has been serrated.

Love turns to hate,
dreams to nightmares,
all friends become my foes.

The gray zone
is my new abode,
I’m bout to hit new lows.

See-en-h-two-en
plus ten-h
is poison in my veins.

A cauldron boils
this deadly brew
deliquescing my brains.

If what you seek is logical
please walk away from me.
Turmoil has power over all,
just wait, and watch, you’ll see.

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

Christians in Recovery®

2008-01-27T18:55:00.000-05:00

I am pleased to be able to post this wonderful endorsement:

" Experience, Strength and Hope: Poems of Life's Lessons by Ronald J. Edwards is a tremendous contribution to the recovery community. Mr. Edwards has filled the poetry gap in publications geared toward those in recovery. Profound truths are simply stated. Your heart and soul will be deeply touched by this excellent work. "

Susan Brennan

Executive Director

Christians in Recovery

Poem Review: Rented Space

2008-01-17T10:07:00.002-05:00

Immediately following the writing of “the monkey wrench” I found myself pondering why things had happen in my life, why they were still happening and how long they would continue to go on. Day in, day out my mind was occupied with these thoughts. I started to obsess over them to the point that my daily actions and feelings were being severely impacted and affected.

“these unwelcome guests who have arrived
turning my life upside down”

Soon came the resentments that just would not go away. I realized that these thoughts, feelings and especially resentments had “ rented space ” in my head.

“they move in uninvited
when will they go away”

I had to address these issues if I was to find serenity and peace.I was told that having a resentment was like drinking poison and hoping for the other person to die. Thru acceptance and willingness I was able to come to terms, make an amends of sorts, discard these resentments and then move on with my life. The expression is:

‘keeping my side of the street clean”

Here is my poem:

Rented Space

They move in uninvited,
when will they go away?

Change the locks, shut off the power,
it seems their here to stay.

Taking up space, making noise is all they seem to do.
Bothering daily, morning, noon and night, anger reactions just won’t subdue.

These unwelcome guests who have arrived
turning my life upside down.

Wasted energy, pondering constantly
to move them out of town.

Trying to ignore this infestation
is like a redundant hymn.

They are a weed and must be cut
at the base of the stem.

Rented space by the wrong guests
always causes trouble.

I think I’ll call a wrecking crew
and turn the place to rubble.

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

Poem Review: The Monkey Wrench

2008-01-15T11:52:00.002-05:00

Most families have sibling and domestic disputes that start when brothers and sisters are young. Most families, with the help from parental intervention, have these differences settled by the time all are grown. Some families this process stalls, festers and carry’s over into adult life. Introduce individuality, dissimilarities in life’s philosophies and overall character traits that are as different as black and white, and you will find “rubs” that run deep and last a lifetime.

“ the instructions given from dawn to dusk
when young and innocent
cut grooves that scare the very soul
and set a precedent”

When I wrote “the monkey wrench” I found myself having to turn the microscope on my actions, past and present, to see what was my involvement. I was raised with the upbringing that there is always a root cause to problems and blame finds the right lap to fall into. As I have grown older I no longer buy into that trend of thought. Shit happens and many times no one is to blame.

“the search goes on for who’s to blame
a quest to pin the reason
its funny that someone is held on trial
the verdict found high treason”

I have found that oil and water just don’t mix no matter how hard I try to shake and mix them together. So when the day is done and oil and water have separated who’s to blame but the one who poured them together expecting different results. None the less, when it came down to it all, I felt I had become a root cause to my families problems and in actuality became
“the monkey wrench”.

Here is my poem:

The Monkey Wrench

Each family has its up and downs
siblings have their rubs.
For many “that’s OK” is enough,
some have their tires ripped from the hubs.

The search goes on for who’s to blame
a quest to pin the reason.
It's funny that someone is held on trial
the verdict found of high treason.

The instructions given from dawn to dusk
when young and innocent,
cut grooves that scare the very soul
and set a precedent.

Time has a way of healing most
it forgives or often exposes,
actions and words said in blurred eyesight,
assumptions and supposes.

Life times pass with hurt feelings
bad blood has but one stench.
Am I the one who drew his sword,
am I the monkey wrench?

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

Poem Review: My Path

2008-01-14T16:41:00.002-05:00

When I wrote this poem I had discovered that there was an easier and softer way than how I existed in life up until that point in time. For many, many years I could not understand why I was struggling in life and why I did what I did, day in day out. To have a fever knowing you have a cold is acceptable. But when you have a fever for no reason at all, well it becomes frustrating and quite annoying. I felt very much the same way with my choices and consequences that immediately followed. My frustration was severe about the repeated insane actions and expecting a different outcome. I made mention in my poem that there were times when life was good;

“i must admit there were times
that brought me to high places
accepting plaques name spelled in gold
many having smiles on their faces”

This only made matters worse if you could believe that. My professional career was providing me with patents and notoriety from high ranking officials in the military and CEO’s from civilian companies I had worked for. Denial that a change was needed with these kind of far and few between results prevented me from accepting that:

“a choice desperately had to be made”

Divine intervention saved my life and turned my path I was on into another direction. It was then I realized that life was a journey not a destination. I also had to take responsibility for my actions and follow suggestions to allow better choices to be made. I try to do this in my life “one day at a time” and found happiness and fulfillment from the least and unlikely people places and things.

Here is my poem ...

My Path

I was told from the start a foot in front of the other,
not a clue how much I’d need to recover.

I walked every mile stumbling most of the way,
crawling when had to day after day.

The high road, the right exit, the warning signs, all easily missed.
To ask for directions things I just wouldn’t do,
cause when traveling suggestions were left off the list.

My path took me to places never I dreamed I would be,
places foreign and distant to me.

Back alleys and hallways, on my basement floor,
left bumped and bruised all over I could not get out the door.

These places that I hated were getting so old.
My wondering over whelmed me it started to unfold.

I must admit there were times
that brought me to high places.

Accepting plaques name spelled in gold,
many having smiles on their faces.

My path did not keep on the right track
for these things to happen that often.

Instead in my bedroom with a loaded shotgun
so close to visiting my coffin.

I came to a fork in the road I was on,
a choice desperately had to be made.

Continuing on down this road of self pity and shame
my soul was beginning to fade.

Twas then a light flickered it showed a new way
for me to change my intention.

It wasn’t from street lights or cars passing by,
it surely was divine intervention.

So I took a step slowly one in front of the other
as I did from the very start,

towards a flickering light brilliance now increasing,
this direction made sense in my heart.

I follow this path a course to where I don’t know
but I do so with all my conviction.

It's a journey this path that I travel today
I care not of its destination.

But I do now so care that at the end of this lane
I arrive happy, sober and sane.

Copyright © 2007 Ronald J. Edwards

Silkworth.Net

2008-01-09T14:03:00.000-05:00

I have had the pleasure to meet another fellow, named Jim Myers who has created a enlightening site which I am sure you will all enjoy. The site is called Silkworth.net
Take some time, visit his site and you will be glad you did.

http://www.silkworth.net/lyrics_from_the_heart/001poems.html#astonelife

Top 100 Sober Blogs

2008-01-08T14:32:00.000-05:00

http://soberblogs.gotop100.com/

New book by Ronald J. Edwards

2008-01-08T08:55:00.002-05:00

Experience, Strength and Hope: Poems of Life’s Lessons is the debut release from Trinity Ink author Ronald J. Edwards, Senior Design Engineer and Poet.

PRE-ORDER on Amazon today!