Poetry

Teeter me tower Settle down annoying clatter Find me the fire Between your clamorous banter There is silence to be had If only it could be found Drop the dice Only to loose the die Pitter patter little rain drop Who knew you could Make such a ruckus Who knew the dove Would best the crow That the dog would never Have his day Clitter clatter of the tatters Left behind by the shreds Of all that never was But will always be Find the answer Without the question Seek a sunset during sunrise And what will you find? A frame without a photo And a world without meaning Filled to the brim Of a glass not quite full But never empty Jump to reach the sun When the stars stand in the way Find me reason Without rhyme Find the end of this poem In the next line

These are the things which belong to me: A spider suspended in a cobweb That lies in the corner of my room Waiting each day to greet me When I come home with a silent hello. A fake flower in a waterless vase With a single counterfeit dew drop Balancing on the end of a synthetic leaf Like a tear drop that will never fall. A painting of a woman half finished Hanging over my bed at night My guardian angel watching over my dreams The dream like visage of who I might be. ...

You stand on one side of a bridge The other cannot be seen Hidden behind a veil of fog Stretching on indefinitely As you place your hand on the railing You feel the pull of ghosts at your shirttails The whispers in your ears The fog’s fingers gently wrapping around you Caressing your face pulling you step by step Onto the bridge that will take you away You feel consumed by the fog As it wraps you in its loving arms Like a mother and her child You feel safe, you feel the calm That you never felt before As you are pulled step by step Away from the world you once knew You welcome it, accept it As your new home ...

Even flowers cry sometimes What do they have to cry about? They are so pretty But they won’t stay pretty for long And it isn’t about being pretty It is about loosing life Where did they loose it? I laughed softly Resting my hand on her shoulder I don’t know Maybe they left it under their bed And forgot it was there I did that once She said with a sad sigh I know I said smiling Maybe they lost it In the playground Hidden under a sandy Everest I think I get it The flowers have lost their petals And that is why they are sad Exactly and they cry for each others loss Then why doesn’t it make me sad? Different things make different people sad I say with a frown Watching the poppy’s tears Roll down its face You will understand when you are older But I want to understand now! I know, I say with a smile I know as I guide her away To happier things To flowers with open faces Smiling at the sun But she will never forget The crying flower Knowing that every flower she sees Will cry someday For what it lost in the sandbox Or under the bed We all loose something in the end

A woman stands on the side of the road Not on the side walk but not quite in the street Standing on the gutter’s front step She is motionless as cars streak past in a blur They do not stop for her, they don’t even see her As she stands on the edge of their awareness But very much in the middle of her own mind She watches the cars as they past You can see her lips move but they make no noise Maybe she is asking them to slow down Maybe she is asking them to speed up Or maybe she is asking for a prayer To save her soul for what she is about to do ...

A snowy egret flies On paper thin wings Like a paper airplane Gliding through the air Keeping airborne For as long as it can Until its fragile wings Bow under the weight Of heavy air Into the ground Where no paper airplanes soar Here the snow Belongs to the land Not the bird in the sky No longer fragile and beautiful But the paper-thin feel Of cold seeping Into your hollow bones The delicate dance Of frostbite on the fingertips Of ballerina dancers The slow decay of the biting snow And the old heaviness weighing down The lightest breeze The wings of an egret Laden with the burden Of the world without sky Chained to the ground Waist deep in snow Where a creature with wings Does not belong Yet cannot escape from The paper wings beat To leave behind this place Heavy With the absence of all Freedom lies in the air Where the snow belongs To a graceful bird Not the world lying below Where frostbite is left behind In the warm sun’s glow

I don’t think I like it but it is an interesting example of short poetry, which I don’t do plus a picture. Sorry not a lot to post tonight, can you tell 🙂 Shadows retreat As dawn creeps closer. The sun claws its way from darkness Like a dead man from his grave Chasing away the shadows Leaving this lighted day. No more living in darkness The last thing the dead men say.

They say you found me At a crossroads unmarked But a split all the same The child born for a civilized world And the daughter raised by wolves They say I was savage I did not know I had hands Only teeth to get my way I fought for all I wanted Even if it meant fighting you They say I had hair like tendrils A mass of wild tree branches Tangled in my curls Untamed by mans hands But still gentle under yours ...

Can you see me between the lines of this poem Peaking out behind the imposing columns Of the words that I have created Yet which are slowly uncreating me. Can you find me in the contours of every word Molding my body to shape of the letters That makes up my very essence, my very soul They are my children that have one by one left me. Can you search for me when I am lost in this forest of words When they consume me and leave me for dead Will you be there waiting to help pick up the ruin of who I have become Or will I be left alone with the whispers of the words begging to be born. ...

I am tired now let me sleep The little girl says in a voice scarred By winters claws in her throat Not yet, not quite yet Our feet drag in the snow Her little hand held loosely in my own If I can not feel my own hand How am I supposed to keep track of hers I feel her hands slipping frequently From within my grasp To hang limp by her sides They drag her down She is so little So fragile I have to take care of her But even as I think this I feel my eyelids dragging too We are dying And I know this I wonder if she knows too ...