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Ed Coet
http://edcoet.purpledream.com
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Teacher
12/12/06 |
I journey in to your mind unknown,
 in to your heart of secrets untold.
Where the stitches of your future are sewn,
in to your dreams, where your destiny will unfold.
I look deeper and more I can see,
the full extent of your disillusion.
But by your side is where I'll be,
helping to end your confusion.
For I am your teacher,
a giver of all that I can.
An educator and a nurturer,
committed to helping you, again and again.
You can completely trust me,
this truth I solemnly say.
For I don't do this for the money,
a heartfelt love of teaching is why I stay.
Teaching is a gift,
for both the recipient and the giver.
Learning is your precious gift,
and mine is being your teacher.
Understand, self-worth isn't about money,
it's about how you live and give.
I sincerely hope there will come a day,
when you'll appreciate the teaching that I did.
And on that very last day,
when I'm called to my final rest;
I'll be comforted in hearing our Lord say,
"well done teacher, you gave your very best."
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Soldier
01/01/07 |
I saw a burial with a bugler playing taps;
I turned to my father, “what happened?” I asked.
He clutched my hand and with a quiver in his voice,
he began to explain and his eyes became moist.
“My son,” he said, “this is rather difficult for me;
for an old veteran like myself this is tough to see.
In that coffin lies a genuine patriotic warrior,
an honest-to-God hero, an American soldier.
I appreciate that soldier and the service he gave,
and I honor his sacrifice as he's laid in his grave.
He was honorable, selfless, courageous, and bold;
please remember him son, as you grow old.
The value of his service, I must explain,
if not remembered, will be lost in vain.
As a nation we're nothing without soldiers like him;
and failing to remember would be a terrible sin.”
I listened in awe as my father spoke,
it seemed as if his heart were broke.
I suddenly remembered when he went to war,
and when he returned I thought nothing more.
I never asked why he walked with a limp,
and I didn't care about why he was sick.
I was to busy enjoying the life that I had,
to realize that I had it because of dad.
I finally understood what my dad was about,
and it hurt so bad I cried out loud.
He sacrificed so much so I could be free,
and his battle scares were suffered for me.
It was my father's spirit that spoke to me that day;
thank God I finally understood what he had to say.
I saluted his coffin as they laid him to rest,
and I thought about the medals pinned on his chest.
That I didn't honor him sooner, I will always regret;
and I pledged that day to never again forget.
I'm proud that my dad was a patriotic warrior;
I'm honored to be the son of an American soldier.
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Anger
01/15/07 |
A poignant sense of regret,
keenly felt to the core of my being.
Eliciting archaic emotions,
evoking a corrupt heart.
Summoning the latent potential
of all that is evil within.
Tempting rage,
my vehement desire to lash out.
Feelings of hostility,
my displeasing vexation.
Delicate, even fragile sensitivities,
accompanied by shattered sensibilities.
An inability to appreciate.
Unable to respond to aesthetic influences.
Grudging spite,
with offending annoyance.
An intensive force,
influencing my restricted control.
Giving cause for regret,
for guilt filled remorse.
Oh yes,
I know anger.
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Addict
06/08/07 |
Petty and ephemeral is the addict
lost in inner space and
devoid of rationality.
A cognitive aberration with listless core;
A captive to lifeless substance.
A begging petitioner of undeserved pity;
wholly blameful for a schism with
all who matter.
A renegade from normality; woefully
Ignominious - a trite revulsion.
A perpetual thief to even kin is this
slug of slight substance.
A ruinous parasite to all, including self.
Such is the essence, the very soul of the addict
lest he rejuvenate and change.
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Keltoi, Celtic Warrior
07/08/07 |
Charge! He yelled in Goideli as he led in tribal tribal kilt.
The Celtic warrior advanced with determined fighting spirit.
Boldly challenging his fears,
facing the valiant Saxon struggle,
he prepared for resistance.
He compelled his coercive compulsion
to fight for honor and to become valid.
Mortally wounded in fierce fighting
he accepted his fate, his eminent death.
From the depth of his pain and suffering
he summoned his strength and courage.
With one final breath he screamed, in Gaelic,
“God bless the Irish.”
“dea dhuit clanada eireinnan!”
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08/03/07
Ed Coet |
Enigmatic to the senses,
eliciting a titillating response.
Erotically arousing,
yet passionately reticent.
Romantically sensual
with deep rapturous warmth.
Shivering with joy felt
to the core of your being,
to the point of weeping.
Spiritual in depth, nearing adoration,
so magnificent is the "touch of love."
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Moment
12/20/07 |
The moment I saw you,
the instinct I captured that first
glimpse of breathtaking beauty it
shook me to the depth of my soul,
to the core of my being,
and I thought I would explode in ecstasy.
The moment I caught a glimpse
of your glimmering smile,
and felt the penetrating warmth
of your essence, purity and goodness,
your kindness and charity,
I was captivated body and soul.
That was the moment I was drawn in.
I was over come by an imaginary truth
that I could not explain and
could only feel and experience.
It explained that one emotion
that everyone seeks. It explained love
That moment could not be denied me.
It could never be diminished or dismissed.
It was wholly mine to cling to
for however long I wanted.
It was complete perfection.
It was the moment I dreamt you.
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Stressed
01/20/08 |
The despair brought about
by mental confusion
more then upsets,
it is emotionally disruptive.
It is like fighting for control of
your mental faculties
as you attempt to target
the source of your anguish
before it takes its final toll.
Your heart pounds;
it races like a speeding
locomotive without breaks.
Your blood pressure
explodes like an internal
volcanic eruption.
Your muscles tighten as
if wrapped in a straight jacket
or encased in a soaked glove.
You feel irritable, perplexed
and increasingly depressed
as anxiety challenges for
control of your mind.
You grasp your head
in fearful confusion;
you grow distraught
and desperate for relief.
You deplore this distress,
this foreboding and
solicitous anxiousness
that robs you of your
contentment and comfort.
You can't control the vexation,
the perplexing awful angst
that makes you stressed.
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