Self

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“Loneliness is

the poverty of self;

solitude is

the richness of self.”

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~ May Sarton
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Elfje:            (Cinquain)    Classic: each word only one syllable.

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change
move on
do it twice
try to or else
switch

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Haiku:     (5-7-5, nature and seasons the topic)

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springs chilly drizzle
sky covered by low gray clouds 
first robin appears
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Poem:
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quarter of a century in recovery
every day a new day of discovery
learning to accept all of life’s changes
enjoying the chance to be outrageous

I pray every day to walk the walk
sad are those who just talk the talk
it is easy to accept when God is in control
body, mind and soul He makes us whole

sobriety promises us many things
a chance to unravel the heart strings
a new freedom from past regrets
friends who we can count as assets

an attitude that includes no fears
a desire to be of help to our peers
happy, happy, happy for others
a choice to be part of a band of brothers

knowledge of feelings that keeps expanding
finding a God of our understanding
a kindness we are glad to  repay
living this life no other way
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ME and the Boss

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https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

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https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

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It Might Have Been

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“For all sad words

of tongue and pen,

The saddest are these,

‘It might have been’.”

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~  John Greenleaf Whittier
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Elfje:         (Cinquain)    classic: each word only one syllable

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might

ought to

could be like

do the right thing

should

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Lune:    5 / 3 / 5

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the brilliant night light

a full moon

shadows in the dark

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Poem:    her·o·in: a highly addictive analgesic drug derived from morphine,
                                often used illicitly as a narcotic producing euphoria.

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selfish, self-centered, 
I want what I want and I want it now
remembered, surrendered
the substance was the sacred cow

there was no need to justify
They tried to hide it the best that they could
there was just that need to get high
a life in shambles, a piece of useless driftwood

I’m so cool, until I think that I will throw up
remembering withdrawals was never a problem
life was just a tempest in a teacup
a wilting plant doomed to never blossom

God to the addictive personality is his habit
even the ritual becomes an obsession
keeping them straight takes a backward jacket
doing the next right thing is out of the question

watching my using friends drop like flies
like a dying man watching my life go before my eyes
change, change, change, time to alter the ego
willing to sacrifice, need to develop a new credo

yes, there were and are things to live for
losing themselves and a whole lot more
addicts never think of the consequences
only a Higher Power could bring them to their senses

the addict must learn to think before the act
always to be looking for a positive fact
the road to recovery is difficult and treacherous
avoiding when possible the elusive tempestuous

prayers and a new God is required
learning what is normal is desired
praying that one day medicine will discover
a healthy and safe way to recover
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ME and the Boss

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https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

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https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

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