New Lyrics

Call it destiny, call it fate somehow

But I finally know my purpose now

Is it my calling? No way of knowing

Test faith by falling, scars are still showing


You'll never know until you try

You have to try before you die


Everyone gets a chance to shine

For a small moment in life

Some are left waiting a lifetime

I was only thirty nine


I'm two decades in, but nowhere near out

My back to the wind, and I'm thinking how

This is my calling, finally showing 

Not scared of falling, I just keep growing


You'll never know until you try

You've got to try before you die


Everyone gets a chance to shine

For a small moment in life

Some are left waiting a lifetime

I was only thirty nine



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Maybe some will see this as an inspiration type lyric. Let me know in the comments.

our p.o.t.e.ntial

our p.o.t.e.ntial




we feel the same/differently

alone or isolated

invisible or overly scrutinized

confident or hesitant

we each strive to learn/share 

to transform

to act

to become made new

to be free/emancipated/liberated 

held back by their/our





externalized fear/internalized self-hatred  

that shameful indoctrination/miseducation





our imaginings

our vision narrowed by 

hard-learned lessons 

obsolete ideologies

backward-looking assumptions


unjustified scorn

the shackles of the centuries-long near past obscuring both what we knew and what we will come to know

we seek healing 

but old wounds are reopened or new ones inflicted 

we seek belonging 

but receive intolerant impersonality fueling suspicion which must be quelled 

and then we came together 

inspired by a vision 

inspired by a voice 

sadie oglesby 

she spoke through 

called us together to obey the guardian’s desire 

all the rainbow shades of human

blacker than black 

who came to the faith to make a change 

in ourselves 

in our homes 

in our communities 

in our world 

we came together 

blacker than black 

learning loving agreeing questioning moving always moving 

we heard what others are doing 

we shared what we are trying 

we received with gladness with tears with inspiration 

there's something for everyone that inspires us 

to leave behind limits 

to reframe limitation as liberation 

to see the guidance as lifting rather than too lofty 

we stand we walk we soar 

we strive we work we serve 

& through this action we become our p.o.t.e.ntial 

the conduit of light 

through the window to the soul 

the passageway for transformation for everyone 

for all for the world 

for love of Bahá'u'lláh


blacker than black

pupil of the eye 


geri lynn peak

created 6/23/2020

revised 9/28/2020


published on FB and at postpoems.org 9/29/2020

Author's Notes/Comments: 

in response to ARISE:Pupil of the Eye conference 2, Juneteenth 2020


Inspired by quotatios from 'Abdu'l-Baha:

"Thou art like unto the pupil of the eye which is dark in colour, yet it is the fount of light and the revealer of the contingent world."


O thou who hast an illumined heart! Thou art even as the pupil of the eye, the very wellspring of the light, for God’s love hath cast its rays upon thine inmost being and thou hast turned thy face toward the Kingdom of thy Lord.
Intense is the hatred, in America, between black and white, but my hope is that the power of the Kingdom will bind these two in friendship, and serve them as a healing balm.
Let them look not upon a man’s colour but upon his heart. If the heart be filled with light, that man is nigh unto the threshold of his Lord; but if not, that man is careless of his Lord, be he white or be he black.

Unknowing Escapists








Unknowing Escapists 




Death, ..not proud—So sleep!

...dreaming of thy softer skin


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited on 06.10.2020:  I have noticed an incorrectly input hashtag term "correlative objective" which was actually "objective correlative" (this was what I have really meant & the two words comprising the term/phrase possibly got switched over for some unknown reason while reediting it during the last).  I've also committed some other huge errors, recently discovered, in regards to re-editing in one instance where a huge part of the Author's Notes/Comments got deleted, with just the remainder of it showing when discovered as of late (also for an unknown reason, but possibly for hitting some buttons mistakenly within the interface with such a small screen that which I am using).  Second of all, I re-edited the text sizes in this section to make the paragraphs or & the whole content in this Author's Notes/Comments uniformly presented.  Thank you for reading on.

Reupdated on 12.23.2019:  I simply have added unto the hashtags the following words/phrases/terms:  correlative objective, mimesis and diegesis, mimesis, diegesis.



Reedited on 07.19.2019, 07.18.2019, 07.17.2019 (On clarifications, disambiguation, misspelled/mistyped words, grammatical/semantical errors):  Upon reviewing my notes/comments, I could not help but notice something that I had to revise.  I have edited that something in my Author's Notes/Comments, for some time, yet I had not been able to update and indicate those in the former reedition (I may have forgotten it).  Some of my previous grammatical/semantical errors were corrected/edited; but that had also lent itself to being still erroneous after I had found out about the others/another, consequently.  Those were the scruples which I had, i.e., in noticing/not noticing/ignoring an unedited/missed part, i.e., of a sentence (that was erroneous & that which was consequently omitted.)


The idea behind this practice poem is certainly not an allusion to John Donne's famous line or to his poem, although it sounded like it—in fact, it was sort of in my head before this was done (I do not know about his poetics until later on, after doing this).  But the usage might easily denote such notions or concepts which you might have in mind already (a correlative or a relation/association to this).  The phrase first came to mind while I was in my first few steps of composing something (which I wanted to pull off in the creation process alone & not necessarily done while visualizing my supposed ends).  That might/could be dangerous if it was Magic.  I did not know what had prompted me.  It does not necessarily end up as I supposed to have wanted it to come off (in that it was not my endpoint, to think about it).  My orientation is/was not in that specified way, as for most poetic styles &/or semblances with each poems that are rather perceptual (aside from being already conceptual).  Generally.  It is a moot point to take note of the circularity of such philosophical arguments (e.g., especially at this time) which I could have done with the rest of my haiku adaptations during the last.  I kept on feeling awkward at using haikus in the first place, or for taking on the minimalistic Japanese approaches/styles (& the use of blank spaces), just to go about such particular pieces of "literary work".  I especially connote my written English aside from my own thoughts about the subjects (&/or objects) that comprise the 'denotata'/'designata' at the moment.  Besides, if you might want to really know about my objectives, you may outright realize that these would be my test pieces or guides for mapping out my whole understanding of Language.  I just hope that this note's real message (real intention) comes across and becomes well received in conjuction with the poem's explanation/history/reason/etc. as in the other author's notes/comments that went before this.

Silvery Appearing On Dark








Silvery Appearing On Dark




Why like this—are we

While you're lying on the ground

Bedstead hovering

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is reedited on 07.12.2019.


A replacement/substitution of a specific phrase "bed base" to the word "bedstead" was made unto the last line to properly denote what I had in mind earlier on.  I wanted to achieve something that I formerly thought would better represent those ideas (the intended imagery which was originally imprinted in my mind/thoughts during my initial creative process).  The specific word was not known to myself yet, or I also have no exact vocabulary word for that specific thought.  Neither do I know really how to call it, up until this point, because of the many specified ways to call something that resembles a type of a bed. This poem, therefore, might be tentative for that reason (due to the limited vocabulary words that I possess & for yet clarifying such undetermined objects in my mind).  Thank you for reading on.

Ordinary Or Not Ordinary

January 2019

She goes to ultimate lengths to reach her  dreams because she was born to spread her wings and fly. Nothing could ever stop her now since she's found a new way to live because over the past year; the possibilities have become limitless, for the sky is her limit. She looks like an ordinary girl, to those around her, they would say she did ordinary every day things, talked to ordinary people, but in her heart a fire burned bright, she's achieved so much in this new life, miracles can be seen and are working within her, and through her, continusly and developing in her life for the better, she's always been one step ahead of those around her wheather anyone notices or not she has accomplished so much, but to ordinary people it may seem just like an ordinary thing that she accomplished, but to her it is a mile stone reached, her dreams are possible no matter what people say or think, she has changed her life for the better. The twinkle in her eyes, is a sign to others that she is different, happy, she's been blessed with a second chance, because she does it one day at a time.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Please critique, and give opinions

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Sundown Eyes


And the sky took with light

Reflected in my eyes; beaming

Feeling lighter and bright

Submerging my soul; dreaming


I’ve fallen into the crescent

A tight woven bond

Enriching the present

A long road too fond


A candle in the distance

Awakens the depths inside

A higher purpose of existence

From you, I cannot hide


I have fallen in to your grace

No sense of time; still

A torch for my darkened place

Adventures in twilight; surreal

*Wasted Time*

Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins

I ask thee above 
What is my purpose Down Below 
Why do you keep sending a different love 
Why this pain you bestow

Wasted time 
Is all it seems That i have 
What is the purpose for my talent to rhyme 
Please tell me what to do for my be half 
I ask of you to just let me be able to laugh

If it weren't for my little one God 
Id be up there with you 
Making a difference in heaven 
But I'm so confused i don't know what to do

Why must i be down here 
Everyone doesn't like me 
And no one shows that they care 
The ones that show true feelings are taken not free

Still i cant fight the temptation 
I've made a sin 
I cant stop the love making 
No matter what way i look at my situation 
I can never win

So there goes wasted time 
On those days that i have nothing planned 
As i sit here time has passed by 
Thinking where am i going to stand 
Thinking were ill end up

Where am i going to go 
Sometimes at night i just sit here and cry 
Asking God my purpose on earth 
Why wont you let me know 
Other times i wish i were with you 
I wished just to die

I have no understanding on things 
On the way of the direction 
Or what God brings 
Even on how to really show affection

Wasted time 
My life is such a mess 
And its probably not worth a dime 
What God has in store for me 
I'll just sit here and guess 
And all this wasted time from it ill never be


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Postpoem Friends

Just a thought!

When I joined this site, my words were allright

I didn't see the purpose of a friend.

It's been 9 years now, without one "allow,"

so I dicided to invite one in.

The very first line, was be careful of rhyme

Her writings  didn't include such a thing.

I thought... you write the way you write,

and I'll write the way I write cause,

I have a lot more to bring.

She professed to publish writing, but

I had no sighting like, Browning or

Longfellow or Poe...But... All the good ones read,

are long since dead...I guess, in a few years,

I'll know!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just a little "Poetic Humor"

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my distillery-a poem about my BP journey

I was a distillery once

Extracting aesthetics and experiences

Some who tasted thought the distillates were sweet

So distinct

And some thought it was too inflammable

But for me it grew toxic

And I abandoned my spirits for another place

Where am I now

What do I do

I am no longer a distillery

The grounds were sold to a different owner

And he tore down my distillery

Pays me in cartridges every month

Besides those I am on a raw diet

I love the wholesome taste of fibrous thoughts

They take their time to pass through

And leach out some of my heat

Someday I will find an engine to plug in to

That produces for people besides me

Till then I must decide


How will I remember my distillery

Author's Notes/Comments: 

the person I mentioned in this poem is not one in particular-I have no hard feelings about being 'bought out.' this poem is to help me move on, and I hope it can help someone else in the ongoing struggle with BP disorder

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