Lies (Haiku)

Lies consume the soul

Like moths making holes in wool;

Eat moral fiber.

The Final Stalker

Death is my stalker,

sitting outside my window,waiting;

coming to claim what is his;

commencing a final countdown

to my reality,

forever 

Paranoia

I wonder about paranoia sometimes;
that it's not paranoia if someone
is really out to get you;
if the suspicion is true.

It can be quite difficult to tell these days;
technology being so efficient,
people can spy upon you
and there may well be no clue.

You may be crazy, then again maybe not.
Or maybe both are at the same time true.
Paranoia could be there
as well as a real snare.

The solution to this issue is like this:
You should take the problem seriously
and act so as to stay sound;
better that then suffer wounds.

©2012 C. Boeneman

Volaric Limerick (republished)

There once was a Tea Bagger named Volaric

whose positions seemed quite barbaric

his congressional run

was really no fun

And his politics seemed quite generic.

© Cherie R. Boeneman 2012

*If you use this limerick please give me credit

Fire and Water

Fire and water don't blend
except when in my nightmare,
where fires ravage forests
while lake waters ascend.

Outside homes, fires are fought; 
water and extinguishers,
flames lapping like the water
in cottages nearby caught.

How these things coincide
I have not one conscious clue.
Total opposites they seem
yet together they abide.

Nightmares are such strange creatures;
they turn in weird directions
What meanings they have for us
Lie in these very features...

©2012  C. Boeneman

Every Breath

They told me I'd never again see you,
be near you or to touch you.
I cannot possibly live like that.
It is too much to comprehend.
I am overwhelmed with sadness, 
with grief beyond measure that
steals my breath and tears my heart.
I don't want to breathe again or
my heart to take it's next beat. 
I would rather have it all stop 
than to never see you or be near.
You are everything to me and
you do not even know that
my every breath is for you.
I would give my life for yours
without a second thought.
And I would rather die 
here and now, on the spot
than to never even say "good-bye".


©2012 C. Boeneman

* I needed to write this. It is, at last, the heart of my emotion and truth.

Heroes Are Rare.

I don't have heroes anymore
They are only people
and they eventually disappoint
if you set them to the fore.

Authentic heroes are quite rare
they are almost extinct.
To do something wholly selfless and brave
takes courage and love to spare.

It takes both qualities, not one.
One of them is fine, good
but doesn't make or equal a hero
just that something good is done.

To be a hero takes heart
and maybe some art too;
it's said, "courage is fear that said its prayers"
faith is what love imparts.


Love alone might make a saint,
courage marks a soldier.
But both together is very distinct;
it takes a fine brush to paint.