"Poetic Reality of the Searching Mind", is a journey down the path of modern poetry, revealing life's twist and turns and the contemplation of real life situations from the real man's perspective. The poems are artistically written, profound in the consideration of the material and prose, yet simple to understand, so that everyone can read and be impacted deeply by what is written. The author connects the conscious mind and the hearts of the reader in each line and verse in the expression of his poetic art. This is a definite must read !
Poetic Reality Of The Searching Mind
By David P. FergusonAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 David P. Ferguson, MBA, BSc
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4678-3822-1Contents
Intro to Read..............................................1I Dream of Love............................................3Another Place and Another Time.............................7Lost in a Broken Heart.....................................11A Field of Dreams..........................................15The Wounded Heart..........................................17Loveless Journey of the Searching Mind.....................21A Father's Hurt............................................23The Relief.................................................27Sad Reality................................................31Tears of a God.............................................35The Dawn of Justice........................................37The Tragedies of Man.......................................41For the Want of Love.......................................47Silent Cry.................................................49The Strength of a Woman....................................53Love letter of my life.....................................57What is a Thank you?.......................................61Control....................................................65Lost chance for love.......................................71Why Must I Be Alone?.......................................75What is it about love?.....................................79A Hell of a Christmas......................................83Love is Blind..............................................87Finished...................................................89About the Author...........................................95
Chapter One
Intro to Read A Poem
Written By: David P. Ferguson, MBA, BSc.
Come walk all the way with the likes of me, true majesty,
with sublime scripts from God in my poetry.
Walk my road so that you can see, what it means to
want love and never be free.
Reveal to me, how this life came to be, filled with
despair and so much tragedy.
These dark days from the Pharaoh's heart, manifested
on paper in poetic art.
I give it all to the world, and like an ancient scroll; I lay
out my experiences and let it unfold.
I Dream of Love A Poem
Written By: David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
I dreams of love, does love dream of me, I hear its cry,
does it hear my plea.
I dream of love as time runs through my hands, the soft
caresses embraced by the touch of romance, I
see it passing as a stranger in the night, but to
approach and come forth, it escapes and takes
flight.
Forever out of reach, not meant to be held, by one such
as me, still under gloom's spell.
I dream of love as one might success, a needful desire
of a heart in distress.
That quiet storm which brings many to mourn, still the
feelings of contentment from which happiness
is born.
To have and to hold, to chase away this cold, which
princess of light dares to be so bold?
To take and to form this misshapen heart, from tattered
rubbish into splendid art.
I dream of love, for this feeling I aspire, but so much
fear and trepidation tangled with desire,
I dream of love for I want to be free, from the weight
of the world that will not release me. Free to
roam, free to soar, everyday as I progress, I
want this more and more.
I dream of love, love does not dream of me, I hear a
distant call so I hearken to see, I skip, I jump, I
prance, to see it fleeing in the distance as again
I miss my chance.
I dream of love, love does not dream of me, so should
a dreamer keep on dreaming, or give up this
dream and just let love be?
Another Place and Another
Time A Poem
Written By : David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
I wish to be in another place at another time, with another
song and another rhyme, another heart that was
not mine, searching for joys I know I could find.
Skipping through meadows enjoying the breeze, indulging
in pleasures that came with great ease,
But reality knocks, and the present walks in to remind
me of its harshness again and again.
No joy, no love, no peace, no source of laughter no
forms of release.
Harsh expressions from cold strangers, harsher words
from false friends, verbal wounds cut to the
heart, so deep there can be no mends.
When will the cycle end, when will the new begin,
when will the bad stop flourishing and the good
start to win.
Who will hear my cry, when I cry in the dark, who
senses the real grief when I make a remark,
No one will, since I'm lonely still, with coldness and
silence that threaten to kill.
I wake everyday to the drudgery of life, the pain, the
sorrow and yesterday's strife,
Eyes on the day, I think once again, more pain and
suffering and I see no end.
I wish to be in another place at another time, with
another song and another rhyme, with a new
beginning, new emotions, a new heart and a
new mind.
New benevolence and new love, new joys of every
kind. for these things, in this place, it seems, ...
I'll never find.
Lost in a Broken Heart A Poem
Written By: David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
Shattered screams that break the night, the terrified
face of the young wife takes flight, and behind
in pursuit, that fiendish brute that two years
before, was oh so cute.
Help me! Help me! No one will hear, for in matrimony
what happens is a man and his wife's affair, and
responsibility for blows, no one will share.
Hark! Hark! ... Another shrill scream tears through
the still night air, for now she is trapped and all
that is left is fear.
The years before in matrimonial bliss, who ever could
have thought things would end like this, for in
those times, love was the word spoken so free,
but like anything else, this too has it's fee.
From the twisted hearts of human's inability sprang
forth the words, "what you don't know will
never hurt thee".
From the thrones and castles of imperial majesties, to
the barns and shacks of ancient peasantry, came
to this time the present philosophy of modern
day society, but like everything else, this too
has it's fee.
Now in the blackness of the night, like the blackness
in his heart that beat rapid, hot and tortured
within. What is it he could have done to make
her want to do this to him?
Now again the tortured surge of conflict, for what he
had vowed to love, cherish and protect, it was
now his angered intent to mutilate and dissect.
As his hand was raised to strike on her another painful
blow, the force of memories caused his fist to
move slow, the conflict eased and wisdom rose
and out of wisdom, the forgotten knowledge he
would always know, this didn't make sense, he
would just let her go, and move again alone
down life's hurtful pathways and hope in
earnest, for better, brighter and more happy
days to come and for joy to again, evermore
flow.
A Field of Dreams A Poem
Written By: David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
A field of dreams becomes dying streams, endless and
pointless without ways and means, a storyboard
on the road of life, filled with hardship and
filled with strife.
So often dreams are started but never completed,
one starting out with what is wanted, but not
equipped with what is needed. Much advice is
given, most not often heeded.
Ambitions always high, expectations dare to fly, many
worn out clichés, go for it, try ... you can reach
the sky.
But how many have dared without being scared, the
question never asked are you really prepared.
Sadly all dreams without ways and means will be seen
by those that are keen, ultimately the same as
with jack and his beans, a wonderful story but
impossible to happen, to those with open ears,
a word to the wise and to this meager advise,
do humbly hearken.
Yes dare to dream, dare to reach for the sky, on ones
own strength you must always rely, but without
preparation your dreams will be for nigh,
without the help of others, your dreams will
always die.
The Wounded Heart A Poem
Written By: David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
In anger words are said, many of which are meant, in
irate frustration ... many hours of love, in lies
were spent.
What is true from what is false I can no longer tell,
once again through trust, you have brought me
to this lonely part of hell.
Emotions were spewed, in lies all are still false, I searched
my heart for love, but find now only walls.
The truth can no longer touch the heart of thee, a heart
that a time ago was so close to me.
I am a man, yet I must cry, for a part of my soul was
shot down in the dust, whimpering, crying for
help, you kicked it and watched it die.
Yet things must go on for in my being I am strong, and
nothing of pain alone has the strength to last
long.
Yes I cry but who has lost, for in the end it is you, not
I, who has paid the greater cost.
Loveless Journey of the
Searching Mind A Poem
Written By: David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
With doubt and uncertainty I face the future, with shaky
feet I take my first steps, bruised and battered,
war torn and haggard, never appreciated, never
mattered.
I drag along the streets as a weary man, trying to forge
ahead as best I can.
Looking back in the past, I tried my all, no matter the
degree still destined to fall, to smile, to laugh
to feel the warm rays of the sun, to this weary
traveler that day may never come.
The rock I have been for so many in the past, but no rock
was there for me, when I had given my last.
Lonely teardrops hit the sand, what does the world see
when it sees this man? Hard and care free, light
as a breeze? Commanding presence that comes
with great ease, but is that me or is it an illusion,
something made up to create confusion?
Is this what it's supposed to be? Searching me
frantically, I wonder often, trudging through
life walking toward a coffin.
No answers cometh, hope has plummet, desperation and
despair has reached the summit, no indication
from above, no hope, no joy, no love, ... no
love.
A Father's Hurt A Poem
By: David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
Sadness, unlike sensation remains with him, years of
pain and hurt still trapped within.
Is it really possible to shed another tear, to drip from
the eyes into pools of despair?
Anguish is absolute in the blinding truth, blotting out
an entire world, for a mind that's recoiled, into
the private recess where from the outside, there
is no access.
And how does one mourn and try to move on, when
all that has mattered in your world is gone. My
precious diamond, my pearl my only begotten,
my life, my heart, ... my little girl.
Snatched away taken in spite, sneaked off to nowhere
in the middle of the night. There is no justice,
no one to hear my plight, no one to correct
wrongs and make them right.
He dreams of reunion these thoughts are not soothing, for
all happiness is stopped and nothing is moving,
too peppered with hate at what the mother has
caused in his daughter's dark fate. too much
time has passed he can never get back, to many
experiences lost, who can ever fix that?
He dreams of thoughts as memories confound him, he
shed these thoughts like a serpent's dead skin,
he dreams and sees vapors curling around him
searching for all hope to remove from within.
Lost, no direction home, walking slowing ahead in to
this utter gloom. He slips and stumbles falling
to the earth, overtaken and overwhelmed, by
this father's hurt.
The Relief A Poem
Written By: David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
The cool summer rain and autumn breeze, no chill of
winter with its artic freeze.
The blue sparkle of the water, the gentle rustle
of the leaves, whispers to the heart of the
wandering ... in this hunted man's reprieve.
Beautiful creatures of flight, explore the bright, flying
free and easy, cheerfully playing on the winds
oblivious to all, with no must, no fuss, no
fights.
Blue Safire skies, with clouds of white, floating lazing
in the heavens drifting light.
Drifting away like the pressures of life, from the
troubled man, who has won, or put down the
fight.
Here the lonely sit wondering in the heart of the woods,
with all the may haves, I could have, maybes,
and I shoulds.
So many thoughts floating on the wind aimlessly,
endlessly, finally finding their escape from the
heart of thee, and ... splendidly, the cooling
breeze of peace returns to me.
Yes, I have fought the battles, the battles have fought
me, and now, I'm at peace with a world, that
will still not let me be.
Happily I realize, looking with new eyes, I see, I can be
at peace with a world that is still at war me.
Poetic Reality of the Searching Mind-David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
The victory is not won, for this war is not done, many
battles not yet finished, but the dismal dark
days, of despondent despair, alas, I herald are
diminished.
I walk through the park and listen to life, the happy
cheers of children, the playful taunts and even
their fights.
Suddenly the joys of life once again appeals to me,
new purpose new hope and new destiny. New
chances of other joys in life still finding me.
I proceed to teach, and endeavor to reach the wondering
souls of the haunted, that burdened with despair,
is now, as I used to be.
The survivor will shine the light of hope, that brings the
rays of peace, shattering misery and destroying
the grief.
Sad Reality A Poem
Written By: David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
The night is quiet and all is fast asleep, but the troubled
are roaming in this sweltering heat.
The mind is churning, so many thoughts at one time,
release me from this body, take me to another
time.
If this were that easy many would be gone, many
problems solved and many would not be born.
My mind is like a clock ticking deep into the night,
solving problems of the day and preparing the
next day to fight.
Oh yes fight, for one must stay alive, and only through
this path do I hope to survive.
No longer is this world easy, man must battle for his
own way, for the day when this is not true, I
will continue to pray.
In allegiance to God I will bow my head, but my heart
is not in it and I pray to be dead.
Oh yes dead, dead to the things that go on around me,
to the pain and to the suffering everyday which
I must see.
So much strife my eyes cannot ignore, so I watch and
cry till my heart grows sore.
The problems is in our nature going deep into our core,
but being felt by the many who are dying, those
which are poor.
My God! My God! Why have thou forsaken me,
leaving me in this world of sad reality.
Forgive them for they know not what they do, the
master did say, and I know his feelings for now
I feel the same way.
I will join with many others and do my little part and
help to bring reality out of this progressing
dark.
I will try everyday to help one, two, or maybe even
three, so when I fall in need someone may also
help me.
Tears of a God A Poem
Written By: David P. Ferguson MBA, BSc.
Pitter patter, pitter patter, water falls from the sky,
anguished tear drops on a world that makes a
god cry, so much hurt and devastation no one
can deny, the father shakes his head in pity as
he wonders why.
The droplets of rain, fall on the window pane, a heart
wrenching sounds that echoes of pain.
Though millennia's have passed things remain the same,
all started with a thought in the days of cane.
As I contemplate our fate, the decision to destroy not
yet made, he'll not give up, ever forgiving, ever
hopeful, he'll wait.
Who will stop or have pause, to champion the cause of
opening closed doors, to help save this world,
or must all be lost when we return to the soil.
I will save it for five, lord how about four. Hoping he
could find them but thought there was more.
As the lightening strikes and the thunders roar, God
turns his eyes away, with a heart now sore.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Poetic Reality Of The Searching Mindby David P. Ferguson Copyright © 2011 by David P. Ferguson, MBA, BSc. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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