HIGHLIGHTS

AN EXPERIMENT FOR 52 WEEKS

I started this in January of 2017 as a challenge and experiment  to write a poem once a week for a year. The results were suprising and satisfying. The collection will be published in paperback in 2018.

SHE DANCED

There. In the rain. She danced. Not for the music, nor applause. Not for riches, or a cause. She danced for herself. When she stopped. Breathless. She smiled. Drenched to the bone. She was happy. She danced. There. © 2017 Gerald Ealy

DRAGON

I saw the dragon and the dragon saw me. We touched the edges of reality. Eye to eye, skin to scale, We lacked the keys to our jail. Hand to hand and nail to claw, We both stared into the maw. There we stood across the expanse, The only thing left was to take a chance. A leap of faith. A flight for life. A twist of fate. A twist of the knife. I saw the dragon and the dragon saw me. We began to sink in that moonless sea. There we slipped into the inky black. Then we started to claw our way back. A deep inhale, A chance. A hope. A moment in time to float. I turned on the light and what did I see, I was the dragon and the dragon was me. © 2017 Gerald Ealy

THE GHOSTS OF NO REDEMTION

They run between the tombstones, The ghosts of no redemption. They haunt the spaces of your homes, Unable to break the connection. Not good enough for Heaven, nor bad enough for Hell, The ghosts of no redemption cannot hear the bell. They dwell in places light and dark, And in places in between, In the alley, street and park, And yet remain unseen. They cannot hear that church bell, nor feel the heat of flames. The ghosts of no redemption are bound unto this plane. Their souls remain in balance, from all their earthly deeds. They wasted all their talents, Now buried beneath the weeds. The ghost of no redemption sometimes wail in pain, You may just barely hear them as a whisper in the rain. Some never leave the graveyard, Bound there by their fate. Their spirit lay stricken and scarred, For them it is too late . Overcome with sorrow the ghosts haunt their former lives Then wander in search of redemption in hope that day arrives. Heaven’s mercy leaves them there, With free will made their choices. They never took the time to care, They never used their voices. © 2017 Gerald Ealy

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