Posts tagged poetry

In the early hours

Of a fledgling day,

When the veil of

Fatigue and exhaustion

Overcomes my mental state,

My mind begins to travel

To far off places;

Imagining far off spaces.

When my eyelids droop,

I paint their backs

Like a blank canvas,

Gleaming fresh with

Bright paint and bold colors,

Mirroring the image

Of my mind’s eye. 

My inspiration come to life.

Creativity flows

In the dewy morning hours

When all motivation

To pursue said inspiration

Is fleeting with the shadows.

A cruel fate bestowed

Upon those newborn ideas:

To be created, then forgotten

Due to a hazy mental state.

The Inventor, myself, though

Loses out, as well.

That moment of brilliance lost, 

Leaving me with simple thoughts.

Leaving me ordinary.

Leaving me exhausted.

Leaving that brilliance lost.

Shining sun,

Blazing heat,

Wet grass

Beneath my feet.

Cold Popsicle,

Sticky fingers,

Stained shirt

From drops that dribbled.

Stylish glasses,

Sleek swimsuit,

Short haircut

Everything new.

Carelessness,

Freedom,

Lazy days

Friends and fun.

Summer is finally here…

At last!

It’s come!

Closer and closer you come

Almost touching my face, now.

I have an urge to turn and

press my cheek yours;

Press my lips to yours.

The attraction is strong,

I feel it between us,

But uncertainty of it being mutual

Forces me to restrain,

To contain and long and yearn…

Hanging onto the frayed edges

Of my sanity.

Hold my hand again, please!

I’m begging… silently….

Allow me to romance you

And hold you and love you

PLEASE… allow me the satisfaction

Of being dangerously near you.

Slowly I come closer and closer;

Slowly I change the degree of touch;

Slowly I allow myself to falter

And give in and unscrunch my heart.

Just venture closer and closer.

My arm on your shoulder,

Your hand in mine,

Walking side by side,

Slowly coming closer and closer…

A tricky piece of work it is:

A puzzle that constantly

Rearranges its pieces…

The mind not made up;

It’s sense not too sensible;

The time limit ever wavering,

Pulsating quickly with urges.

But that’s what makes it interesting,

A challenge, an adventure;

A worthwhile endeavor.

The pieces themselves

Are all little pictures,

They stand alone and defined.

But as a whole,

The picture, it changes

Into an image made up

Wholly within the mind…

But that’s just mentality…

The complexity of the puzzle

Lies within its singles,

Those tiny little moving pictures.

Each one hums its own rhythm,

Each one sings a separate song

Each one shows a different emotion

Each one eggs the other on…

Show this still,

Hum this beat,

Sing these lyrics.

Maybe they won’t notice…

But I can see that tiny gap.

That side is not the other’s brother.

They don’t fit,

They just make the image crack.

Rearrange and sing new lyrics,

Hum another beat,

See this likeness.

Maybe they won’t notice…

Still doesn’t fit.

I can spaces,

A tear in the image.

“NO REALLY!

I’M HAPPY!”

Just sing the same song,

Just show the whole image,

Just go with the same beat…

Allow it to finally be congruent.

Because I love that song.

That puzzle is my favorite.

Overwhelmed by

The urge to stare,

I can’t look away.

Frozen and awestruck

By the sight that sees me.

Those mystic eyes

Penetrate my being,

They catch my breath

Before I can breathe.

Soul-searching,

Attention-grabbing,

Experience-aged,

Mystic eyes.

All they see

Is my glossy cover,

My strong binding,

My pretty pictures…

That’s enough for some.

They never open my book;

They never read my story.

All the plot twists and

Characterization gone,

Hidden within the abyss.

My monologues have been forgotten,

Even though my stories are in

The bold black letters on

The starch white paper before them.

Too much effort,

Too much time,

Too little they care.

Heroic battles and fantastical dreams

Lost and gathering dust,

Yet it seems I still long

To be read and published;

My stories heard,

My morals learned…

My monologue turned battle cry

Not forgotten.

Imagine yourself.

What do you see?

Do you see the freckles,

Or the blue eyes,

Or the hair style that’s current?

Look at yourself.

What do you see?

Do you see the small nose,

Or the plump lips,

Or the quirky smile showing?

Picture yourself.

What do you see?

Do you see the happy,

Or the teary-eyed,

Or the angry feelings burning?

Envision yourself.

What do you see?

Do you see the manners,

Or the upbringing,

Or the childhood memories horrid?

Visualize yourself.

What do you see?

Do you see as a young woman,

Or as a child,

Or as a person seeing a person?

Really see yourself.

What do you see?

You see the person who you think is ugly,

But that is not the person that I see.

You see yourself from the inside out,

While I see you from the outside looking back.

I do not see your heart,

I see your whole,

And I assure you,

You are beautiful.

The Unjudging ear

Listens to darkest secrets told.

The Unjudging ear

Remembers stories

Speaking not of lies

Or vicious rumors bold,

But of trying times

And aches of the heart,

And rebellions of sanity.

The Unjudging ear

Listens to the weeping person

And red runny nose.

My Unjudging ear is

A friend to a foe.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Looking at that clock of thine,

I realized how time did not fly.

I sit, I wait for ringing sound

Of tick and tock and ring and howl.

My classmates wait so eager to leave,

Ready to sprint at that loud Ring! Ring!

But still we sit, we wait for now.

The ticks, the tocks the only sound.

With every grain of sand that drops

From the top to the bottom half,

A piece of my soul trickles down

And falls into a bottomless glass.

I fear that what I lose this time,

I will never yet gain again.

Unless, dear friends, I dive straight in

And take what is rightfully mine to have.

Patience, the virtue,

Seems so easy in words.

Sit still, wait time,

Though things beckon

You to stir.

Silence is aware of time,

Though, it does not really care.

Have patience now,

For it will pass,

And leave in loud,

Boasting bursts.

Though silence may be

Tough at times,

You simply must

Know the trick.

Train your mind

To think and repent,

And perhaps to even forget.

Patience is a treasure chest

And contemplation is the key.

So, if you learn the trick

And master your mind,

You will be as rich

As the rich should be.

The Man in the Moon

Is a face so familiar;

A frown at first,

A smile later.

But if watched

For many moments passed,

His eyes slightly shift,

His mouth stirs slow.

He speaks a forgotten language

Of wisdom filled words.

“Hear me!” he cries.

In a loud bellow he yells,

“You will have many loves,

And dream many dreams,

But keep in perspective

The true meaning of things.”

And with his departing words

Full in the air,

His face becomes a sliver

And then, poof!

Not there.

Sitting alone, isolated,

Reliving the game before.

Hearing voices

Screaming sharp, static words.

“Do better.

Be better.

Get. Better.”

They ring again and again,

Echoing, penetrating, breaking.

“Yes, Coach.

Thank you, Coach.

I’m working on it, Coach.”

My mistakes are the creators

Of the words that I despise:

“Do better.

Be better.

Get. Better.”

“Yes, Coach.

Thank you, Coach.

I’m working on it, Coach.”

The mumbled words

Are clear and definite to my ear.

I see the disappointment

Crawl along the brow.

Every “COME ON!”

Or distinguished harsh growl;

All the time it’s “Unacceptable!”

Soon followed by the always constant

“Do better.

Be better.

Get. Better.”

“Yes, Coach.

Thank you, Coach.

I’m working on it, Coach.”

Every time, pushed deeper,

Echoing louder,

Seeming clearer.

I soon think that “Better” is unattainable.

I think if I try and try

And still need to try harder,

I can never do better, be better, or get better.

Then I remember that I stepped up

In the time of need.

I could have just as easily

Hung my head and walk away.

I do my absolute best.

I become better each game.

I am getting better all the time.

I’ve come this far…

My legacy will not be forgotten!