A chronological account of human life through poetry. I wrote these poems over the last 15 years. I have lived a rather short but for filling life. I have selected a few of my poems to share with the world. I pray you do enjoy them.
A chronological account of human life through poetry. I wrote these poems over the last 15 years. I have lived a rather short but for filling life. I have selected a few of my poems to share with the world. I pray you do enjoy them.
Though I may be blessed,
Yes, truly I am.
I must question tonight.
How we've built such a sham?
What look?
Overlooked?
I'm raising my glass,
To the ones who walk by,
The only steadfast.
Though I may be privileged.
Decamped, as it is.
I must breathe these words,
What gives for Les Mis?
We walk through these ages.
Aggressively so,
We nit,
And we pick.
Progressively slow.
And what?
To what end?
We worry and woe.
We dive to these edges.
Yet forward we go?
My glass now filled half,
Or emptied some say.
I distrust my own motives.
In a quizzical way.
Do I truly care, why we sully so much?
Why we boil,
And blister,
And crust,
as we rust?
My grog now depleted.
I ask this again.
This time I'll go deep,
And gush from within.
Tonight, I have questioned how life is a scam.
If you squint and lean in.
You'll see how woefully right,
That I am.
Cassius Page loves words, but even more his fiancĆ©e whom, in the long tradition of poets, he introduces to readers through his debut collection, Food For Hurt.Ā Ā Page summons the an innocent's voice throughout the 21-piece collection. Readers who endure the occasional gaffs in spelling, diction and punctuation will gain insight into the youthful mind and heart as the author wrestles with many questions that haunt those yet uninitiated into lifeās circle. In short, The poems trace his trip find a better self inspired by the woman he loves. The poem, āIn Timeā, shows:
One day I may run out of words to describe you,
for how graceful, how blissful, amazing you are
but today
Well, today, surely isn't that day
and you are bewitching in every way.
Ā
That stanza and many others twice read prior to a review almost led me to dismiss the authorās ideas and skills as puerile. In a third read, I could see an insightful voice that needs an editor, but holds a strong message of hope important for teens and young adults.
A study ofĀ the Table of Contents charts Pageās trek toward a more mature perspective. His words in free verse and varied forms echo the complex anxieties that inhabit many youthsā minds. For example, āChildrenās Heart,ā a lament about loss at an early age:
Tons of tiny pieces fly, as death lets out its evil cry.
Tearing (sic) time, and children's eyes.
Bringing sadness by, and by,
as helpless children's parents die.
Hatred screams, and loving dies.
Replacing all of hope with lies,
Demeaning all their precious lives.
Ā
The passage stir readersā memories of their once-held hopes and dreams. Page cites the tears in āchildrenās eyesā, that slowly convert the innocent and lead some adults to where āloving diesā because of the ātons of tiny piecesā ripped their lives.
The openness, optimism and self-examination in Food For Hurt make the brief introduction to Pageās wordplay a pleasure. It might prove a good conversation starter. At the same time, honesty makes me hope the writer will hire a professional proofreader to āup his gameā. That will yield future collections with less editorial distractions for the reader.