Innocence

The sweet, soft hum

Of a child’s song.

Calms the beast,

The day is

long.

Destination Unknown

Hot drink, and a

cool breeze.

Chills my skin,

I feel, with ease.

Birds sing, and

the leaves blow.

The day spreads out,

From here I go.

Grass is green, and

The sky is blue.

The view from here

Is vast

And true.

Dressed in Yellow

I saw a naked tree.

It stood there all alone.

Tall and thin,

But covered in,

Long, silken strands

Of yellow.

The Cure

Flying through the streets,

Running from myself.

I don’t have the cure,

But the pavement sure does help.

Cloudy, with a chance of poo

Swimming in a sea of poo.

That’s really all I ever do.

Life would smell so much better,

if I could learn to control the weather.

The Wind Chime

I hung a pretty wind chime
outside the kitchen window.

Now it tells me, every time
A little bit of wind blows.

I'm in that room so often,
I hear the chimes so soft.

High atop the Mountain,
The cool, proud silver swings aloft.

The chimes they ring,
I hear them sing.

Outside, the world spins upside down.
I'm here behind my window.

Waiting for a breeze.

Distractions

Brain, brain,
go away.

It hurts to think,
you're in the way.

Today, I ate them all.

I ate some M&M's today.
They're good to me,
I have to say.
They help to chase the pain away.

I saw them there,
they called my name.
my friends they are,
to them I came.

You need our help,
to me they said.
There once were lots
to share, instead,

I ate them all.
They're gone, forever,
there's not one left
to feed the hunger.

Feeding the Hungry

Slipping down I slowly go,
In to my jar of honey.

Inside my pot it’s cozy, warm.
But, who will feed the hungry?

Without the lights, I see the world.
It’s not the same without me.

I try so hard, but life’s not fair.
At least I know when I’m in here

I’m not the one who’s burdened with
The task to fill their tummies.

Molasses

Sleeping in molasses,
Losing all my teeth.

The stifling fog surrounds me,
It’s hard to move my feet.

If I could wake I’d run so fast,
These dreams I would defeat.

Sweet Morning Alive

Looking down,
the valley below.
I see the lights
flashing. Blue. And red.
And the twinkling of gold as the city awakes.
I feel alive.

Every sound intense. Magnified.
Surrounding stillness.
Shoes hit pavement, heavy breathing.
Leaves crunch, gravel skids across the path.
The earth,
it is alive.

Startled by movement.
A herd of deer approaches.
My companions in the dark.
Powerful stride,
graceful creatures.
Emanate life.

Their eyes blazing,
still and staring.
Curious gazing. Fear,
and wonder, draws them near.
Sweet as the morning,
comes to life.

They watch intently,
my every move.
The air is cold, my
thumbs are frozen,
lungs are burning,
heart is pounding.

I run.
They stare.

I Am
Alive.

Exposed

Feeling vulnerable,
in my world
of organization and order.
Tread carefully
on my fragile heart.
Embraced in a web,
woven
with threads of trust,
faith, and balance.
Strands are weakened
and thin.
The weary
spider rests.

A disturbance at the deli

I'm sorry.

I don't mean

to be rude, but

I won't be having

any of your salad.

Man behind the counter. I've seen

how you make it. I've seen

what you do. You are an explosion

of filth, and food. And

you stink,

of onion. And

feet. And sour milk.

Safe, as a Child

Bandaid.
Comfortable. Worn. Dirty.
     Stuck to his finger.

Sweatshirt.
Comfortable. Worn. Dirty.
     Want it to linger.

Burpy.
Comfortable. Worn. Dirty.
     Gone through the ringer.

Kitty.
Comfortable. Worn. Dirty.
     Willing and Eager. A best Friend.

Mother.
Comfortable. Worn. Dirty?

     These are the things he loves.

I am Mother

I am Mother.
I am a tissue, a handkerchief, and a dish towel.
Someone to cry at, to cry on, to yell at;
To laugh at, to laugh with, to push around.
I am a fixer, a hunter, and a finder of lost things;
A hammock, a tree to climb, a puzzle piece.
I am Mother.

I am a fairy, an ogre, and a princess.
A healer, a punisher, all knowing and clueless;
A story teller, a dictator, a preacher.
I am a detective, a problem solver, and a nose wiper;
A holder, a handle, a beanbag.
I am Mother.

I am a rock, a kite, and a hammer.
A watcher, a waiter, a doer;
A fighter, a protector, a worrier.
I am a feeder, a cleaner, and a teacher;
Frustrated, accomplished, content.
I am Mother.

I am a sail boat, an anchor, and a train.
A creator, a thinker, a learner;
In control, out of control, under control.
I am a wanderer, a wonderer, and a dreamer;
Too little, too much, just enough.
I am Mother.

I am elated, I am afraid, I am tired.
I am joy, I am trust, I am hated.
I am peace, I am order, I am chaos.
I am trouble, I am hope, I am nothing.
I am in, I am out. I am lost, I am found.
I am safe, I am soft,
                         I am loved.

I am first,
I am last.
I am Mother.

Alone.

Sometimes. Often

I like to be alone. Inside my head.

Just me.

And the words that swim there.

Unwanted Visitor

The jagged night was torn away.
We awoke, and there was rain.
Calm the storm, forgotten pain.
The night was long, but it did end.

Child of mine, with innocence spoke,
     “last night it rained”. And this I knew.
Discerned reply, to him I breathed,
“Yes, you are right. It did rain (in the night).

     And when it rains it pours”.
The truth be told,
     And when it rains, it pours.
And then came more.

     And my thoughts were of rain.
Thunder and floods.
Drowning.
     And Gratitude,

     I’ve been here before.
I’ve weathered the storm.
     I’m not afraid, just tired and worn.
     The path adorned, with flower and thorn.

Why, Unwanted, must you come?
Why do you plague with affliction and tears?
Where are my children you stole in the night?
     Who are these beasts of torment and fright?

The smell of retch, of vile, of sick.
Stench of your wake follows your step.
Your wretched filth, not welcome here.
You hate, you’re cruel. Why don’t you care?

I cannot fight. I cannot win.
My tears don’t scathe, the fight won’t end.
That you exist, I despise.
I have no sway, I realize.

I’ve had enough, you cannot stay.
Despair, it drowns,
     But not today.
You cannot stay another day.

Take your rain, and go away!
Take the pain, the stink, the foul. Take it all, and go away
     Far away, you hear me say
     do not come another day.

Sitting by a Lake

Another, written during my high school days. Published in Miracles of Nature, by the International Library of Poetry, 2002.

Sitting by a Lake

     Sitting by a lake, I know it well.
The sun slowly sinks into the hills.
A slight chill is in the air and mosquitoes dance.
Spring flowers have gone to sleep for the evening,
     and the fresh smell of pine trees and new life fills the evening air.
A little girl and boy play on a distant beach.
In swimsuits and thongs,
     dragging sand-filled towels,
they happily splash about.
Soft grass beneath me. The breeze is refreshing.
There is a tinkle from the lake
     as a nearby fish leaps at its prey.
My brother calls to me, but I ignore him.
I’d rather let my feet explore the cold water.
Something, perhaps a crab, is disturbed
     and swims away to a great depth, for security.
I feel peaceful and calm.
It is joyous and free this evening.
A soaring bird is free.

The Wanderer

I recently stumbled upon this poem that I had written way back when I was in highschool.

The Wanderer

Trapped beneath a pillared sky,
Ran the river raging wild.
Weeping willows’ bent confusion,
In the mist she softly cried.

Damp and cold, a dreary burden.
As the lasting painful night,
Creeps upon the destined future,
Then again was heard a sigh.

Through the woods a lonely cabin,
All secluded and forgotten.
Hidden well, a mellowed shelter.
Time abandoned, left for nigh.

From the dust there came a wanderer
Meek and weary, he was hungry.
Destination had no purpose
For the cabin claimed no life.

Deep within the cabins entrance
Grew a single, lonely flower.
Weary wanderer grasped the flower,
Held it to his weary cheek.

This is life, he then remembered
Here within the cabin hidden.
Fragile flower, soon a symbol
Of his love so long forgotten.

Withered slowly, dried, now lifeless.
High a starless sky of night.
What remained were fragile petals
Of a love so long forgotten.

Hidden deep within a cabin
Lost and lonely in the woods.

Giving up--the end is near.

        I just don't care.
Tired and worn.

Long are the days,
          sleep is a fog.

Aching for change, that I
          can't control.

The cold winter nights
     have taken their toll.

Good. I am Nice.

That was not good.

I am not nice.

But nobody knows. All is well.

Everything's good.

They think I’m nice.

On the Way

Waiting.
 Minutes now, any.
                     Likely to be many.
     Waiting.
Inconsistent, is consistent.
          (Waiting.)
Sun and Sand. My sanity.
         Sane.
                  And waiting.