"Brownie"
The gentle, heavenly cloud
creeps up the stairs to my alcove,
tickling my nose, teasing my tongue,
and beckoning for me to travel to the kitchen.
The scent carries me down like an elevator,
dragging me on like a puppy on a walk
some sunny summer Sunday.
I am soon that happy pup,
digging into the soft, lucious layers of
brownies.
"Courage of a Friend"
Writing, always writing.
Hiding, always hiding.
Wishing, always wishing.
Grief from a personal past,
gliding through the heart,
a guilletine.
Writing is an escape,
a fire exit
a life boat,
a string of strength
tying back to the grounds of sanity.
A vacation,
a break,
the eye of quiet
in the midst of the hurricane of life.
Quick, keep it hidden!
"Were someone to know the grief,
I could never belong!"
So you think.
Normalcy must remain!
Keep the status quo!
"I must remain!"
Do you know your strength?
Do you know your smarts?
Do you know your friends?
They admire you,
love you,
wish you the best of life,
everything of what you deserve.
You are strong.
You will make it.
You will survive.
You are smart.
You will make it.
You will survive.
You are corageous.
You will make it.
You will survive.
You have friends.
You will make it.
They will help you survive.
"Tree in SC"
I sit upon the lowest branch
of a thick, old oak.
My back leans against the rough bark.
My skin delights in the pleasantly warm air.
I smell the nearby pines and black berry bushes;
their perfect perfume calls,
reminding me of the approaching Christmas
and past summer.
A gentle breeze sways the top branches of the woods,
gently whispering secret messages
from one part of nature to another.
Yards away, dogs bark, kids play.
It is an autumn afternoon.
"Mein Bett"
I breathe deep,
allowing a cloud of comfort
to lift my spirit.
Fresh sheets are always nice.
I close my eyes,
allowing a blanket of peace
to engulf my being.
I do not care to see.
I snuggle deeper,
allowing an igloo of warmth
to relax my muscles.
This is called contentment.
I try not to listen,
allowing no barking
to disturb my mood.
Dogs can be such a pain.
Do not think;
it will not help.
Anxiety belongs elsewhere.
Falling asleep agai--
There goes the clock.
Time to get up.
The day calls.
Groan.
"Your Brain on English Class"
Sitting in a regimented room,
stifling hot in the cold school,
stiff.
Creativity bleeding away,
seeping out of my mind
like blood from a dying warrior's wounds.
Clawing at the noose
closing tight around my neck.
Criticism
Always.
"You're not working in my way,
by my rules."
Self-centered.
I won't do htings your way.
Not today.
Other days I might,
had I the energy
to invest effort in those things
with practicality that defys logic.
You're here to teach, not rule,
so they have told me;
I'm here to learn, not submit,
so I have deduced.
These things are counterproductive,
born to make your life easy
and mine hard.
I do think.
I do learn.
This is not thinking.
This is not learning.
Total submission.
(like reviews, comments are always welcome!)
No comments:
Post a Comment