u/Ok-Swordfish-9480

Watching the crimson wave turn midnight blue,
To wake to sleepy sunrise next to her.
Finding myself once more with birthday due,
What surprises lie in store, as it were?

The years have been plenty, all surprised out,
Time spent with my loved ones meets all my needs.
Write a silly sonnet? I will, no doubt!
Pick up my paintbrush, see where it leads.

Yes, I’ll savor this past year, all that has passed,
With family and friends, a time most grand.
Smell every rose, it all went so fast,
Stronger for it all, and yet, here we stand.

We gratefully endure blood, sweat, and tears,
And remember, it’s not the years in your life, but the life in your years.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg

Hold on to me, for I falter
Unsteady in this vacuum
Whirling in a cyclone of flame
Spikes fly, amid tempest gusts

We dance amongst
the shrapnel
Razored shards of metal
Keep our feet moving

Your whispered words
like acid in my ear
Dissolving the pale blue
Innocence of faith
Mine, as tenuous as
A moth’s wing in the firelight

We will face God one day
I hope back to back
As if to duel
Bare faced, no trees
To protect us

Only truth

For there is no
“My truth”
That is a LIE!
A mirror taught to flatter,
A memory dressed for trial,
A private gospel written
To absolve its only saint

There is only
“The truth”
However painful, only one

Let God dispense justice
Your conscience
And the almighty
Are the only ones
That truly know

May I only know…
Peace

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg

Undo me if you can—
it is only another day.
My soul has already been broken
in every imaginable way.

When breath was new
and the sun still wore a halo,
I placed my trust in one true friend—
the only safe soul I believed I knew.

Before that, a mother, sick and twisted,
had fractured a child’s fragile faith.
Love came wearing violent hands,
and trust became a dangerous place.

Then you used your hands
in my best friend’s lap.
One obscene betrayal—
and childhood’s lesson came roaring back:

Hands cannot be trusted.

I listened to your pleas,
your explanations and cursed words,
until pity softened the edges of my pain.
But a false friend still had to pay;
violence was the currency then,
and I made certain he felt the exchange.

Years passed.
Alcohol claimed what little peace remained.

I gave until giving hollowed me out.
Eighty-hour weeks became my sin—
running exhausted through the door
to earn the life we were living in.

You took what I carried home
and cursed what little remained.
You attacked me in our bed,
called exhaustion failure,
and made my sacrifice a source of shame.

I gave you everything
until nothing remained to give.
You watched our life take water
and never lifted a hand—
you only cursed the drowning man.

Lesson learned.

I worked two jobs.
I rebuilt our life stone by stone,
until once again we lived in a castle
I had nearly killed myself to call home.

Today I stood and said:

My labor is mine.
My future is mine.
My hands will control what they have earned.
What was lost will be restored.

Before the final word left my mouth,
you spat contempt into my face—
attacked my manhood, mocked my ability,
and called humiliation love.

Then you wondered why desire had died.

It was not time that killed it,
nor age, nor the body’s inevitable change.
It was the rancor in your voice,
the cruelty of your words,
and the years you made affection taste like shame.

I am finished living inside this lie.

God, let the healing begin.

You showed me long ago who you were
when your hands betrayed me with my friend.
Like a tiger cannot shed its stripes,
you reveal yourself
again
and again.

But your hands no longer hold my future.

Perhaps it is not too late
to know a faithful lover—
someone true, someone honest,
someone whose touch does not conceal a knife.

I have lost too many years.

Now I will recover
the soul you could not destroy,
the heart I nearly gave away—

and these hands
will rebuild my life.

Undo me if you can—
it is only another day.
My soul has already been broken
in every imaginable way.

When breath was new
and the sun still wore a halo,
I placed my trust in one true friend—
the only safe soul I believed I knew.

Before that, a mother, sick and twisted,
had fractured a child’s fragile faith.
Love came wearing violent hands,
and trust became a dangerous place.

Then you used your hands
in my best friend’s lap.
One obscene betrayal—
and childhood’s lesson came roaring back:

Hands cannot be trusted.

I listened to your pleas,
your explanations and cursed words,
until pity softened the edges of my pain.
But a false friend still had to pay;
violence was the currency then,
and I made certain he felt the exchange.

Years passed.
Alcohol claimed what little peace remained.

I gave until giving hollowed me out.
Eighty-hour weeks became my sin—
running exhausted through the door
to earn the life we were living in.

You took what I carried home
and cursed what little remained.
You attacked me in our bed,
called exhaustion failure,
and made my sacrifice a source of shame.

I gave you everything
until nothing remained to give.
You watched our life take water
and never lifted a hand—
you only cursed the drowning man.

Lesson learned.

I worked two jobs.
I rebuilt our life stone by stone,
until once again we lived in a castle
I had nearly killed myself to call home.

Today I stood and said:

My labor is mine.
My future is mine.
My hands will control what they have earned.
What was lost will be restored.

Before the final word left my mouth,
you spat contempt into my face—
attacked my manhood, mocked my ability,
and called humiliation love.

Then you wondered why desire had died.

It was not time that killed it,
nor age, nor the body’s inevitable change.
It was the rancor in your voice,
the cruelty of your words,
and the years you made affection taste like shame.

I am finished living inside this lie.

God, let the healing begin.

You showed me long ago who you were
when your hands betrayed me with my friend.
Like a tiger cannot shed its stripes,
you reveal yourself
again
and again.

But your hands no longer hold my future.

Perhaps it is not too late
to know a faithful lover—
someone true, someone honest,
someone whose touch does not conceal a knife.

I have lost too many years.

Now I will recover
the soul you could not destroy,
the heart I nearly gave away—

and these hands
will rebuild my life.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg

7/26/2026 Rev.

You were tiny
With curly golden fleece hair
A blue-wonder-eyed sparrow
In the way-back time

Cold frosty silver day
you on my lap
We’d dream out of the window
and daddy would promise,
One day
to get you
that house,
across the way

Many years stacked,
fine facades fading past

This morning,
I watched you rise,
my daughter…

Spread your large
gossamer wings,
and gold flaxen ponytail.
To enfold the sick in your care
and
Make them well.

You did not see me, but
tears entered my eyes.
I realized… I’m so graced,
to have had anything
to do with that.

[https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1\](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1)

[https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg\](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg)

7/26/2026 Rev.

You were tiny
With curly golden fleece hair
A blue-wonder-eyed sparrow
In the way-back time

Cold frosty silver day
you on my lap
We’d dream out of the window
and daddy would promise,
One day
to get you
that house,
across the way

Many years stacked,
fine facades fading past

This morning,
I watched you rise,
my daughter…

Spread your large
gossamer wings,
and gold flaxen ponytail.
To enfold the sick in your care
and
Make them well.

You did not see me, but
tears entered my eyes.
I realized… I’m so graced,
to have had anything
to do with that.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg

Bring me the cloudless, truthful day.
Bring the golden sphere, its comforting light.
I’ve sat curled in my own fetal embrace,
Seeking comfort and cover from the anxious night.

This fear grows old,
As gray as a stone.
Through sweet silver time,
Time has taught this wisdom I now own

I grow tired of you “Worry”…

I am become…

Weary.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg

This little experiment of ours,

To defy the face of tyranny,
To stand on our own two feet,
To stare into the dusk blue swirling skies,
Beneath a night of exploding firefly silver stars.
United and forged of the crimson blood of every battle field

We are a brotherhood and sisterhood of iron.
We have borne the wounds of indignity
Suffered the scars of ignorance and hatred
Yet lived to hear the bells chime of liberty and freedom
At the twilight of despair and, at the dawn of hope,

we stand—

together,
Hand-in-hand

This family human.
This experiment liberty.
This experience ours.

Long may freedom reign.

[https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1)

[https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg)

This little experiment of ours,

To defy the face of tyranny,
To stand on our own two feet,
To stare into azure skies,
Beneath a night of silver, saving stars.

United and forged of one red blood,
We are a brotherhood and sisterhood.
We have borne the wounds,
Suffered the scars,

Yet lived to hear the bells chime.
At twilight and at dawn, we stand

together—

This family.
This experiment.
This experience.

Long may she reign.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg

I’ve only known hate
Forsaken neglected child
You, my only light

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg

How do you hide the scars of violence?
The child you were, violated.
The thick scarlet walls of silence.

This mask I wear has fractured a thousand times,
Like a mirror shattered by a molten rage filled fist.
All the pieces beneath bleeding feet, I must gather.

I bury this shame in stony earth
With an ever-worn pick and shovel.
It’s never deep enough. The ground is frozen and hard.
I paint the false smile with red clown paint, courage in yellow.

I sew the pieces of this monster together
From the corpse that should have been me.
The blue-gray of the rotting skin mocks me.
I’m sure the attempts at normalcy look ridiculous.

These dragon-red caskets
Where I bury the sins committed against the child I was,
Carried there on rivers of silver crystal tears…
A torrent of unbearable sadness that crushed my mind.

I promise to keep these monsters hidden
From your ocean-blue eyes.
My show and my mask are gray steel.
The stage is a castle of lies.
You will not see the hurt. It is raw.

It is my fate to carry these scars.
Crimson razor slices. Bloody smiles.

I’ll put this mask on because I’m needed.
I’ll put this mask on because you depend on me.

This mask is my hell.

And no one applauds when the curtain falls.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg

How do you do it? How can one hide the horror, the shame?
The mask I wear has splintered a thousand ways, my psyche the same

I need to hide this hurt and shame, bury it so damn deep
For those who need me, a false smile and confidence I keep

I will hold all of these pieces together, all shards bloody and still bleed
I lock inside of the green and purple blossom room, where no one can see

Encased in a dragon-red casket where they first began
Carried there on rivers of silver crystal tears that heavily ran

I promise to keep them hidden silently from your almond blue diamond eyes
My show and my play of grey steel iron wrapped around a castle of lies

It is my fate to carry these crimson scars, beneath this Kevlar shell
I’ll put the mask on because I’m needed; it’s strength I have to sell

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg

For my dad and, i guess, all dads today…

In my child’s mind, he was a legend to me
Cool as Elvis, made James Dean look weak
He could beat Muhammad Ali if he stepped in the ring
Whoop Andre the Giant, then take us for ice cream

He could swim any river, climb any tree
Because to his son, he was everything to me
I’d look up at him when the Knicks lost in those days
Certain if he played guard, the Sixers would need four more Dr. J’s

Truth is… I lost him when I was ten
Life had crushed his soul, broke something in him
He had his problems, but was getting stronger near the end
Then suddenly he was gone before I could know him again

I needed his guidance more than he knew
Needed a father when life finally came into view
I don’t think about him nearly enough anymore
But I miss him sometimes in a way that still hurts

I wish he were here

I think he might’ve been proud

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg

In Honor of today’s parade!!!

The Knicks
By William D. Raffloer
6/14/2026

This city breathes, it lives, it has a heartbeat.
It’s dark, it’s Gotham, it’s anonymous streets.

Broadway burns bright, restaurants, master chefs, five stars.
Wall Street trades billions, Maseratis, a broker’s cars.

Here in the Bowery, Bed-Stuy, and Jackson Heights, Queens,
We wash dishes, clean offices, survive by any means.

We live in the shadows, gray to most, lost in this city’s maze.
But today a boy in dirty face and sneakers, runs down Broadway,
Wearing orange and blue, lungs burning for air.
Today we’re New Yorkers, we have a face and a hand to share.

These Knicks, neon heroes with blue and orange capes in the sky.
Today we are one, New Yorkers alive, together we cry:

Go New York! Go New York! Go!

The boy slumps his shoulders, slows his pace to a walk down the street
Back to his run-down apartment of red brick and gray concrete.

He closes the metal door and looks at her with a devilish grin
He smiles, and so does she in a way…

The Knicks were really something today.

Because Father’s Day is around the corner, I am reposting this one… happy Father’s Day

In my child’s mind, he was a legend to me
Cool as Elvis, made James Dean look weak
He could beat Muhammad Ali if he stepped in the ring
Whoop Andre the Giant, then take us for ice cream

He could swim any river, climb any tree
Because to his son, he was everything to me
I’d look up at him when the Mets lost that day
Certain if he played second, the Cubs wouldn’t get away

Truth is… I lost him when I was ten
My mother cheated on him openly, broke something in him
He had his problems, but was getting stronger near the end
Then suddenly he was gone before I could know him again

I needed his guidance more than he knew
Needed a father when life finally came into view
I don’t think about him nearly enough anymore
But I miss him sometimes in a way that still hurts

I wish he were here

I think he might’ve been proud

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0GnWBbsKu1

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/s42TtYHdpg