Lessons
By Bob W Christian
Stop, be still, hear
The wind; then you
Shall know which
Direction to take.
Connect your feet
To Mother Nature.
Only then will you
Find true balance.
Watch the candles’
Flickering flames.
Then you’ll learn
How to dance again.
Place your hands
In a running stream.
This teaches us how
To go with the flow.
Mother Earth can teach us so many lessons, if we’d just stop and listen.
(C)BobChristianpoetry
By Bob W Christian
What are you supposed to do?
When blood becomes thinner,
Than water; emotions boiling
Over – evaporating into nothing.
When this tree, rooted for
Generations; Its branches
Bending, breaking, unable to
Weather the fiercest storm.
When those you thought had
Your back, now turn their backs.
Your relationship declared DOA
The only thing that you can do is
Walk away, without looking
Back. You’re not going that way.
It just reminds you of where
Your journey began.
(C)BobChristianpoetry
By Bob W Christian
Thank you, Dad. My stepfather.
You showed me unconditional love,
Even ‘though I was someone else’s child.
There’s not a day goes by that I don’t
Remember the lessons you taught me.
You became my North Star in the wilderness
That my life seemed. Your guiding hand
Taught me so much more than what’s right.
You taught me how to be a good man.
You took the time to stand with me,
Believing in me, while stepping up to be
The father you didn’t have to be.
Loving me as if I was your own son.
One day, when you’re gone, I will look up;
See that star, shining, illuminating my path;
While remembering those lessons. Teaching
My grandchildren; you will live on in them.
(c) BobChristianpoetry
By Bob W Christian
You said
it was me who
Hammered the final
Nail into this coffin.
Our relationship had
Finally been declared
Dead and buried.
I’m six feet under; laid
To rest; turned to ash.
Just like our friendship.
Scattered on the winds
Of change. You said I’m
Dead to you now.
It’s too late for you
To do the right thing,
Tell everyone the truth.
That it was, in fact, you
Who said these things,
All the while blaming me.
(c)BobChristianpoetry
By Bob W Christian
While walking in the forest
Surrounded by nature,
I gazed upon your face.
Those eyes, so green
Like the plants dancing.
Yours is the unseen
Breath, swaying leaves are
Fields of rippling skin.
Your golden sunshine
Warming. Creating life,
Bringing such brightest
Blessings to each and
Every season in this,
Our most hallowed place.
(c)BobChristianpoetry
Last night I sat down with Dog and he asked me to share his thoughts with you…
Dear Hoomum.
Thank you for my house,
Taking time to throw my
Mouse.
For taking me on your
Walks, all our little daily
Talks.
All those snuggles, naps
We share, sorry about all the
Hair.
Thank you for the food you
Bring, thank you mum for
Everything.
(C)BobChristianpoetry
(C)SheldonTiberius
By Bob Christian
Mother
My mother has something about her.
By day, a sense of dedication
She worked hard to provide a happy home.
By night, she desperately tried to keep a vicious
Monster hidden from her children’s tender eyes.
She would always tell us not to worry.
Working two jobs to provide for us,
When our father wouldn’t. This was the woman
Who loved me, even when I couldn’t love myself.
She carried my burdens for me.
Now I’m fully grown, and I know how hard
It is to parent two children well, I’m even more
In awe of her. She sometimes talks so much,
I wonder how she can breathe.
But I’m just grateful I can still hear her.
(C) BobChristianpoetry2021
The greatest trick this devil ever pulled
wasn’t smoke, wasn’t mirrors—
it was the algorithm.
It was teaching you to doubt your own pulse.
Convincing you the fire alarm is just
background noise.
Convincing you the cage is a corner office
with a flattering filter.
Perception becomes policy.
Policy becomes posture.
Posture becomes prayer.
And suddenly
up is a rumor,
down is a conspiracy,
and truth is a freelance contractor
waiting on late payment.
We scroll past the smoke.
We double-tap the collapse.
We outsource our outrage
to a headline written in disappearing ink.
No one stops to ask
why the air tastes metallic.
No one wants to inventory
an unpleasant existence—
it’s easier to binge another distraction,
another blue-lit anesthesia
dripping from the ceiling of the feed.
Facts grow thinner.
So thin they’re transparent.
So transparent they pass through bone
without resistance.
You blink—
and the blink is curated.
You blink—
and the world has been gently rearranged
like furniture in a house you swear you know.
They call it perspective.
They call it balance.
They call it both sides.
But it feels like standing in a funhouse
where every mirror insists
you are the distortion.
And somewhere, softly—
almost kindly—
a voice says:
Don’t think too hard.
Don’t look too long.
This is normal.
This is fine.
This is freedom.
We repeat it
because repetition feels like stability.
We repeat it
until the echo sounds like evidence.
So tell me—
When the ground shifts
and the headlines applaud,
when the lie wears a flag
and the truth wears fatigue,
is it all fake news—
or did we just forget
how to see?
(c)BobChristianpoetry
By Bob W Christian
Please don’t worry, this isn’t written about me, it’s about a close family member.
My morning coffee.
Unlike me, is strong.
I say morning, actually
It’s when I come round.
After another of those,
Unforgettable nights.
I just can’t remember.
Strength, something
I lost years ago. Now
A way of measuring.
How much solution,
Is poured out. While
Revisiting the regrets.
In this endless story.
I’ve told anyone who’d
Listen. While continually
Poisoning myself, slowly,
Desperately. Fighting the
Inevitable. One last shot,
To stop my life, becoming
A sad statistic of addiction.
(c)BobChristianpoetry
by Bob W Christian
So many memories left here.
Photos – a snapshot of you.
Pieces of paper, scattered.
Your essence lingering on,
Haunting this old house.
Reading your scribbled words:
Always thought this moment
Would come without warning.
Waiting for the right time could
Take forever, you see.
We both know it’s been coming
For a while now. It’s not you, it’s
Me. It’s kept me awake trying to
Tell you. I’ve been scared for a
Long, long time now.
I can’t understand how we can
Forgive each other, for words not
Spoken until it’s too late, while trying
To move forward with our lives.
What would Social Media say?
How can someone be around one
Minute, then disappear? How do I
Cope with the disappointment of all
The things I didn’t accomplish?
It‘s best I go. All my love always.
The end, then? Or a beginning?
A whole new chapter in your life?
Left, wondering. Searching for
Clues. Will I ever know
The end of your story?
(c)BobChristianpoetry
The Ramblings of Bob Christian 