Poetry on the rocks

@ Thomas Ryan
Volume 5 2024
I'm the spare without being the heir.

Once upon a time, in the grandeur of a sprawling estate, lived a young man named Adrian.
He was born into a prestigious family, the Harrington's, known for their wealth, influence,
and a centuries-old tradition of passing down the family fortune to the eldest son. However,
Adrian was not the eldest; he was the spare, the second son.

From a young age, Adrian felt the weight of expectations on his shoulders. His elder brother,
Alexander, was groomed to inherit the family business and carry on the Harrington legacy.
Adrian, although equally capable and ambitious, was relegated to the role of the spare heir,
forever in the shadow of his older sibling.

As Adrian grew older, he realized that not only was he the spare heir in matters of
inheritance, but also in matters of the heart. Adrian was gay, a fact he knew he had to keep
hidden from his conservative family. The weight of living a double life, always presenting a
façade to the world, added to his burden.

Adrian excelled in his studies, hoping to prove that he was just as deserving of the family
legacy as Alexander. Yet, despite his achievements, he couldn't escape the feeling of
isolation. The grand estate that should have been his haven felt like a gilded cage, trapping
him in a life he hadn't chosen.

One day, as Adrian strolled through the lush gardens of the Harrington estate, he met
someone who would change his life. Ethan, a kind and understanding soul, entered Adrian's
world like a breath of fresh air. They developed a deep connection, and for the first time,
Adrian felt the warmth of acceptance and love.

However, their love had to be kept hidden, for fear of the repercussions within the
conservative walls of the Harrington mansion. The secrecy of their relationship only
intensified Adrian's internal struggle. He longed to break free from the constraints of societal
expectations and familial traditions.

As the years passed, tensions within the Harrington family grew. Alexander, burdened by the
weight of the family legacy, faced challenges that led to internal conflicts. Adrian, witnessing
the struggles of his older brother, began to question the very traditions that had bound their
family for generations.

In a twist of fate, a family crisis forced the Harrington's to confront their differences and
reevaluate their priorities. Adrian found himself at a crossroads, torn between loyalty to his
family and the pursuit of his own happiness. It was then that he discovered a hidden truth
about his family's past, a revelation that would reshape the destiny of the Harringtons.

In the end, Adrian chose to embrace his own path, defying the expectations placed upon him.
With the support of those who loved him, he broke free from the shackles of tradition and
forged a new legacy—one built on acceptance, love, and the courage to be true to oneself.

As the spare who should have been the heir, Adrian became the architect of his own destiny,
creating a story that defied societal norms and celebrated the power of love.
Shadows Deep.

In Sean Ross Abbey's shadows deep,

A tale unfolds, a secret to keep.
Church and state, entwined in shame,
A painful past, a haunting name.

The echoes of suffering, silent cries,

In the hallowed halls where truth denies.
A state apology, mere words in air,
Cannot erase the burden they bear.

Pain endured, a heavy toll,

As stories unfold, dark chapters unroll.
The proud moment, a twisted gain,
In the heart of sorrow, echoes of disdain.

Church and state, a somber dance,

Leaving wounds that long entrance.
Yet, let voices rise, break the chain,
For healing starts with acknowledging pain.

The Rose on my wall.

Upon my wall, a solitary rose,

In hues of scarlet, its story glows.
A tale of love, both deep and true,
Petals adorned with morning dew.

Cradled in a frame, the bloom stands tall,

A testament to memories that enthral.
In quiet corners of my heart it resides,
A silent witness to love's tender strides.

Through seasons changing, it holds its pose,

The timeless beauty that the frame encloses.
Each petal speaks of passion's fire,
A symphony of emotions, never to tire.

Yet thorns lie hidden, a guarded secret,

Within the beauty, a touch discreet.
For love's journey is not always smooth,
The rose on my wall, a testament to truth.

In moonlit nights and sunlit days,

It weaves a tale in myriad ways.
With every glance, a whispered vow,
A silent promise that endures somehow.
The fragrant whispers of a distant land,
Where love and longing go hand in hand.
The rose on my wall, a timeless art,
Painted by the echoes of a beating heart.

As time unfolds its relentless scroll,

The rose remains, a beacon for the soul.
A symbol of love, both fierce and kind,
In the gallery of memories, forever enshrined.

So, on my wall, the rose stands tall,

A testament to love, it will never fall.
In its petals, a story unfolds,
The rose on my wall, a saga to be told.

My reflection to finding a meaning.

Even though I don't feel welcome, returning to prayer and the church implies a strong
spiritual connection. Numerous people go on this intimate and significant adventure. Here are
a few explanations and ideas for handling this tricky circumstance:

Spiritual longing: A sincere need for a relationship with something bigger than yourself may
be the reason behind your return to prayer and the church. It's possible that this internal urge
is dominating any outward sentiments of being un-welcome.

Sense of Belonging: It is important to have a sense of belonging when I am in a church. The

feelings of acceptance and connection that can be fostered by this sense of community,
shared faith, and group worship may exceed any unfavourable feelings related to not feeling
welcomed.

Personal development: During periods of introspection, crisis, or personal growth, people

frequently resort to prayer and religious communities. These spiritual activities may provide
me with comfort, direction, and support, which may enhance my feeling of community.

Reconciliation: I have a strong sense of spiritual connection; I could be prepared to face the
difficulties of feeling alienated in order to make peace with my convictions and re-establish
my spiritual path.

Honest and transparent communication: I might want to discuss my feelings with spiritual
leaders or other members of the church community. It's possible to find understanding and a
solution by talking about my worries and thoughts.

Introspection: Consider my personal experiences, values, and beliefs. Knowing why I feel
accepted in the church even when I feel unwelcome might help me deal with my emotions
and get insight into my own spiritual journey.
Seek guidance: If I am having emotional difficulties, I might want to talk to a spiritual
mentor, counsellor, or leader in the church. They could provide you with viewpoints, support,
and direction to help me deal with your feelings.
Recall that spirituality is a personal journey and that what provides me with serenity,
fulfilment, and a feeling of purpose is ultimately what matters when you return to prayer and
the church. If I have a deep spiritual connection, it's critical to respect that connection and
investigate ways to create a welcoming environment that fits with my personal convictions.

Never to Find Love

In shadows deep, where echoes sigh,

A lonely heart, beneath the sky.
Lost in realms of endless time,
A soul adrift, in love's decline.

Whispers woven through the night,

Fading dreams, a silent plight.
In the search for warmth, yet cold,
A tale unfolds, untold, untold.

Yearning echoes, haunting air,

Love's elusive, a fleeting affair.
A dance with hope, forever missed,
In the realm where love persists.

Through the echoes of the past,

A love that couldn't seem to last.
Yet in the ache, a strength to borrow,
To face tomorrow, without love to follow.

For in the void, resilience grows,

A heart that bears what sorrow knows.
Never to find, yet still to cope,
A silent journey, in search of hope

My Last Drop Goodbye.

In twilight's grasp, I bid adieu,

My last drop whispers, soft and true.
With every tear shed, a tale untold,
In the depths of sorrow, my heart grows cold.

Farewell to dreams that once did soar,

To hopes that danced on distant shores.
The sands of time slip through my hands,
As I journey to unknown lands.

But in this parting, let it be known,

I carry memories, though I've outgrown.
Each goodbye a stitch in life's grand design,
My last drop falls, a bittersweet sign.

So let the winds carry my essence away,

As I embrace the dawn of a brand-new day.
For in every ending, a new chapter begins,
My last drop goodbye, the echo of sins.

A Mother’s Day Poem for You Mam.

In moments quiet, memories trace,

Your love, a beacon, in time's embrace.
Though miles apart, yet heart to heart,
Your essence lingers, never to depart.

With every bloom that paints the day,

I feel your warmth, in every way.
Your gentle touch, your soothing voice,
In every whisper, I rejoice.

Each Mother's Day, a bittersweet song,

Reminds me where my heart belongs.
Though parted by life's winding road,
Your love, a constant, brightly glowed.

So, on this day, my thoughts take flight,

To where you dwell in realms of light.
Mam, I love you, forevermore,
Your guiding spirit only I adore.

The Golden City Of God

In the realm where dreams take flight,

Lies the Golden City of God's pure light.
Its streets of gold gleam with heavenly grace,
A sanctuary where souls find their embrace.

Within its walls, time holds no sway,

Eternal bliss adorns each passing day.
Angelic choirs sing songs of praise,
As mortals wander in awe-filled daze.

The skyline adorned with celestial towers,

Reflects the glory of divine powers.
A haven of peace, where love's reign is true,
In the Golden City, all dreams come anew.

No sorrow or strife can breach its gate,

Only joy and hope for those who wait.
For in this city, all burdens are shed,
And every tear is gently wiped and bled.

So let us aspire to reach its shore,

The Golden City where dreams soar.
In the heart of God's eternal embrace,
We'll find our home, our resting place.

The Hospital Curtain

In the hush of sterile halls, where whispers fade,

There stands a curtain, silent sentinel, unsawed.
Its fabric a shield, a veil of privacy,
In realms where souls seek solace, quietly.

Behind its folds, tales untold, unfold,

Of pain and healing, mysteries yet untold.
It dances with the breeze, a gentle sway,
As lives intersect, in the hospital's array.

Within its embrace, fears find release,

And moments of vulnerability, inner peace.
It holds the weight of hopes and dreams,
As patients dwell in its comforting streams.

The hospital curtain, a humble divider,

Yet within its realm, hearts grow wider.
For in the space, it creates, connections bloom,
In the tender dance of healing's gentle plume.

So let us honour this humble curtain's grace,

As it stands sentinel in life's challenging race.
A symbol of compassion, in times of trial,
In the hospital's embrace, it lends a gentle smile.

My Pond By The Sea.

In the quiet shade by the sea's soft roar,

Lies my lovely pond, serene and pure.
Its waters ripple with a gentle grace,
Reflecting the sky in a tranquil embrace.

Lilies dance upon its shimmering face,

Their petals kissed by the sun's warm embrace.
Dragonflies dart in a whimsical flight,
Painting the air with colors bright.
Beneath the surface, life teems and thrives,
A hidden world where secrets abide.
Fish dart and swirl in a silent ballet,
Amongst reeds and rocks, they find their way.

I sit by the pond, lost in its spell,

In this sanctuary where all is well.
With each passing hour, my spirit's renewed,
By the beauty of nature, so pure and true.

My lovely pond by the sea's gentle shore,

Forever in my heart, I'll adore.
For in its depths, I find peace and grace,
A haven of solace, a sacred space.

Over the Skies Love Will Fly.

Over the skies, love will fly,

On wings of hope, it reaches high.
A journey boundless, bound to soar,
Through clouds of dreams, forevermore.

In whispers soft, it finds its way,

Through galaxies where stars hold sway.
With gentle touch, it paints the night,
In hues of passion, pure and bright.

Across the expanse, where dreams take flight,

Love dances freely, in the moon's soft light.
Through constellations, it weaves its tale,
In cosmic embrace, where hearts prevail.

Through shooting stars and meteor showers,

Love's magic reigns, in timeless hours.
It knows no bounds, no earthly ties,
As it traverses the infinite skies.

With every twinkle, every gleam,

Love whispers secrets, yet unseen.
In celestial realms, where angels sigh,
Over the skies, love will forever fly.

To Walk A Line and Never Find Love

To walk a line and never find love,

In shadows cast by stars above,
A solitary path I tread,
With longing heart and weary head.
Through fields of thorns and tangled vine,
I search for love, elusive, divine.
But every step, it seems in vain,
As echoes fade in silent pain.

I seek the warmth of tender embrace,

Yet solitude is my only grace.
Each fleeting touch slips through my hand,
Like grains of sand in time's demand.

The moonlight weaves its silver thread,

As I wander on, with words unsaid.
A solitary figure in the night,
Lost in the depths of endless plight.

But still, I walk, though tears may flow,

With hope that love will one day show.
For even in the darkest hour,
There lies within a budding flower.

So let me walk this line of mine,

With faith that love will someday shine.
And though the journey may be tough,
I'll keep on walking, never enough.

Even in My Favourite Place I Feel Alone

In the solace of my favourite place, I dwell,

Where whispers of memories softly swell.
Yet amidst the comfort, a void resides,
Where loneliness in silent echoes hides.

The rustle of leaves, the gentle breeze,

They dance around but fail to appease.
For in the sanctuary of my cherished space,
Alone, I stand, in this familiar embrace.

The sun may shine, painting hues so bright,

But shadows linger, casting doubt in the light.
Each corner holds a fragment of the past,
Yet loneliness lingers, a shadow steadfast.

Though surrounded by beauty, I'm haunted by the ache,

A yearning for connection, a heart's silent quake.
Even here, in this sanctuary I call my own,
I'm ensnared by solitude, in this favourite zone.

So I wander within, seeking solace in me,

Finding solace in the silence, in the vast sea.
For even in my favourite place, where memories are sown,
I find solace in solitude, yet still, I feel alone.

Her Little Rose Died.

In the garden of her heart, a rose once bloomed,

With petals soft, in colours richly hued.
She tended to it with love, day, and night,
Her little rose, a source of pure delight.

But as time passed, a shadow crept near,

And the rose began to wither, it became clear.
Despite her efforts, it slowly faded away,
Leaving her heart heavy, in sorrow's sway.

Gentle tears fell like dew upon the ground,

As she mourned the loss of beauty once found.
Yet amidst the pain, a glimmer of hope arose,
For in her memories, her little rose still glows.

Though it may have died, its essence remains,

In the love she shared, in the joy it sustains.
And so, she carries on, with a bittersweet sigh,
Knowing her little rose will never truly die.