Through the Window

I am away and through the window,
Feel the sun upon my face,
Feel the way the whispering winds blow,
In this quiet, gentle place.

Pass away the days that follow,
Pass away the days that stay,
Know the way the waters will flow,
Be forever, comes what may.

Mark the pathways with your spirit,
Paint the walls you're safe inside,
Light your way with love, don't fear it,
Embrace your heart, don't let it hide.

Waste away the listless mornings,
Treasure every afternoon,
Listen when your heart tells warnings,
Happiness is coming soon.

I am away and through tomorrow,
I am away and past today,
I'll follow where the whispering winds blow,
Forever there my heart will stay.

-Brad Crozier 2023

The Long Night

When we are lost in the darkness of the night,

Alone with our footsteps, a world out of sight,

When nothing worth wanting remains in our heart,

Rewarded by love, that would tear you apart. 
                                                                                                    

Not happiness, or purpose, nor loves lasting gleam, 

without hesitation, upon sights unseen, 

May be purchased, invested or frivolously bought, 

When the outcomes so seldom that which was sought. 
 

Don't remain ever waking, or lost in ones dream, 

For nothing forsaken remains as it seems.

Relentlessly forward, we remember the past,

As we question why brighter days so infrequently last.


So why then do the winds change, when what's sought has been found?

Why does what was sturdy find tomorrow unsound?

When so much uncertainty exacts such a toll,

The toiling and turmoil will tear at ones soul.


Steadfast to the glimmer of mornings first light,

The halo of warmth as the world comes to sight.

Do not falter now, but with patience move on,

As the darker the night grows, draws you closer to dawn.


-Brad Crozier 2023

ALL THAT YOU CAN BE

You’ll never know what you could be,
Until you take a chance and see,
Find a way and make it yours,
Open up tomorrows doors.

Find a way to take a chance,
Find the time to find romance,
Find the strength to build a home,
Treasure all you come to own.

Life will lead you many ways,
The darkest nights and brightest days,
Pathways wander all around,
Backwards, forwards, up and down.

And every action so they say,
That falls on us along our way,
Prepares us for the choice we cast,
Each moment building on the last.

So find the time to find your way,
Treasure every passing day,
And every chance that you should take,
And every action that you make,
Don’t be scared of moving on,
Sometimes we must move along,
The changes coming you will see,
Will make you all that you can be.

Inconsequential

It was one year ago today that I started A Plight Of Poetry, and in recognition of that I would like to share with you this poem that I first wrote as an entry in last years CBC Canada Writes Poetry contest,  in which I did not place.

Where do you want to go in life?

What do you want to be?

How trying it is to decide,

The future hard to see.

–

These questions hence are put on us,

From our most early years,

At some point must be faced,

We grow to set aside our fears.

–

But how do we decide,

Which route we really want to take?

How do we decide upon,

Which choice that we should make?

–

I could be a baker a bartender or a chef,

I could be a hockey player or a coach or ref.

I could be a teacher or a doctor or a nurse,

A funeral director or the guy that drives the hearse.

–

I could be a pilot or a captain of the seas,

Or a scientist that works to save the world and cure disease.

I could be a politician or a wealthy CEO,

Or an undercover journalist that’s always on the go.

–

To be an archaeologist I think would be quite fun,

To look for treasures underneath the hot Egyptian sun.

Perhaps I’ll be an architect and build something quite grand,

Or maybe take up farming learning how to work the land.

–

I could be a carpenter construction’s in my blood,

Or I could be a sculptor making beauty out of mud.

To be a horticulturist I think would be quite fine,

I’d  like to be a writer if only I could find the time.

–

Graphic design is something I could always fall back on,

But I don’t know if I could stand to do it all day long.

Computer programming I think would also be quite plain,

And staring at a screen all day would make me go insane.

–

I would be a lawyer but I have too big a heart,

I’d be a quantum physicist but I’m not quite that smart.

I’d   love to be a movie star and move to Hollywood,

I’d like to think that I can act but don’t know if I could.

–

I could take a simple job just like the one I’ve got,

Is that the life I want to lead? The answer is it’s not.

So what is there to do but up and choose to take a chance,

Take a leap of faith don’t give regret a second glance.

–

So many choices we must make and will make some mistakes,

But we’re not bound forever by the jobs we choose to take.

Remember life is full of chance and possibility,

Be true to who you really are, and who you want to be.

The Computer: A Modern Tragedy

 

 

Oh computer how I treasure thee,

And all that you can do,

All the joy you bring to me,

For that I must thank you.

　

Two years ago when you were new,

You ran so fast and with such ease,

But alas you move much slower now,

And sometimes even freeze.

　

Perhaps you are just tired,

Maybe you just need to rest,

You’re too young to retire,

Though these days are not your best.

　

Blacking out the other day,

You gave me quite a fright,

And I did not know what to say,

When you reset the other night.

　

The cell phone’s always acted weird,

But it’s sill working great.

The T.V.‘s older and still fine,

The camera’s almost eight!

　

So why computer does it seem,

You age so very fast?

You cost a lot and are brand name,

You should be built to last!

　

But so it seems the way things are,

That computers die so young,

Treasured memories remembered,

The good times, and the fun.

The Way Of The World

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shining in the west a brilliant future would begin,

But ravaged by adversity, corrupted from within.

To forge the modern age and bring a freedom to the Earth,

But how soon was forgotten how much it had all been worth.

Once more a crooked system would divide society,

Into the lowly peasants and the aristocracy.

Again a mighty empire would rise to rule us all,

Not bound by any borders or by anything at all.

Ruled by banks and businesses, enslaved to product lines,

Styles and trends and fads constantly changing with the times.

Born and bred consumers, led by glowing T.V. Screens,

Ignoring our own ignorance again so it would seem.

We think our way is best, that it’s the way that things should be….

But thinking that is nothing more that pure, insanity!

What’s Under The Maple Tree?

I want to develop this into a childrens book, Please let me know what you think of it!

There was a little Bush-Baby, who lived under a maple tree.

He made his bed of leaves and fur, And ate a paste called Bush-Butter.

　

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He scurried through the woods at will, hoping he could catch a thrill.

A treasure he could call his own, and hide it back inside his home.

　

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes shiny things he took, other times he’d only look,

For something of a certain shape, or colour that he’d want to take.

　

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His treasures that he stashed away, were saved until a rainy day,

When from his warehouse he would take, whatever he would use to make.

Things like clothes and tools and belts, shoes and rope and everything else!

　

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So when walking through the woods, something you loose along the way,

Chances are a Bush-Baby has stolen it away.

Good Morning & Good Night

So many dualities,

Resemble dark and light:

Good and evil, happy sad,

Good morning and good night.

　

I nearly lost a friend today,

Only myself to blame.

But now I think that friends we’ll stay,

And spare our souls the pain.

　

It’s such a cruel trick of fate,

To feel so very strong.

To save us hope I’m not too late,

I’ve dragged this on so long.

　

Know that I’m so sorry,

Know I’d give the world to you.

Know that I’m so sorry for,

The stupid things I do.

　

I wish I didn’t act this way,

I wish I felt things less.

I fight this battle everyday,

I’m manically depressed.

　

When I am up I’m oh so high,

But when I’m down I’m down.

Either flying through the sky,

Or buried under ground.

　

It’s not just feeling bad you see,

Or down, or blue or low.

It’s something very dark and sad,

I hope you never know.

　

But when the darkness turns to light,

The bad things melt away.

You somehow start to feel so right,

And there you want to stay.

　

Eager heart and burning mind,

And muse of creativity,

The things that make me who I am,

The things that make me, me.

　

There are drugs they say can help,

To take away the highs and blues.

But the manic side you see,

I never want to loose.

　

Is this a blessing or a curse?

Is it my foe or friend?

Will it bring me happiness?

Or lead me to my end?

　

　

Broken Thoughts

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll admit this isn’t one of my usual poems. I’m not quite sure if it works, but wanted to try something a little different for a change. Feel free to let me know what you like, or don’t like about it!

Paths cross,

Instantly the internal mechanisms begin to fire,

Love is for hire.

The journey begins.

Sparks ignite,

A glimmer of light in the dark of the night.

The glimmer glowing,

Feelings flowing,

Knowing we’ll both be dead in a hundred years.

Making haste with no time to waste,

Fears faced,

Time remains linier in the hearts of man,

Lost in the essence of his presence,

Unknown and alone.

Life unfolds,

Stories untold,

Fate unrolls itself in a tapestry of tragedy,

Of trials and distraction,

Cause and reaction.

Forward momentum failing I regress,

Depress and repress the distress.

How beautifully she moves in the dance of flirtation,

Despite degradation of my broken heart.

Pain and shame only remain,

In the dark as we drift apart.

Little Spindles That I Find….

Little spindles that I find,

Collect each one and make them mine.

Find and make them mine in time.

And see if I won’t!

　

Little bundles that I pick,

Tying each one to a stick,

Pick and stick and give a kick,

Don’t mind if I don’t!

　

Little spundles that I catch,

Find a pair and make them match,

Catch a match to make a batch,

Won’t mind if I won’t!

　

Little bindles that I buy,

Why I do I know not why.

Why I’ll buy more when I’m high,

And see if I don’t!