Silent Night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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