How
April 24, 2014 § Leave a comment
How do you break one moment into a million pieces,
disturb the unremitting trail of a speeding train,
and knock it forcefully from its track?
How do you break the monotony
that is daybreak and sunset
and cereal for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch?
How can one dive into a deep pool of passion
while sitting at a desk, gazing into the unforgiving eternity
that is an excel spreadsheet?
How do we become a version of ourselves,
the version that plagues us
quite literally yelling out inside our heads
that we must do more?
Perhaps, the answer is simplistic.
An understatement of grand proportions.
Or innocence? Naivety? Litotes?
Or perhaps it is the only answer that exists,
and we simply have yet to uncover
its true depth.
For the answer is to write a poem.
A Coexistence
April 23, 2014 § Leave a comment
Does it ever strike you
as a sort of strange
and wonderful miracle,
that the number of hours
our world falls to darkness
only lit by distant rocks,
and the number of hours
our bodies fall into slumber
only stirred by dawn’s first light,
are the same? As if the world
and we, are purposefully in sync
with one another,
as if the sun’s light propels
our beating hearts,
while the moon’s glow guides
our most profound dreams.
The Crane
April 22, 2014 § Leave a comment
Like a wind silently sweeping by
it travels often unseen, rushing past
normalcy, stirring the forest air beneath
its wings, a blur of cobalt, and then nothing
remains, but it is still very clear, an imprint
in my mind, and I often search the skies, hoping
its silvery crescent shape will glide over me
carrying serenity with it, I can remember the words
spoken the last day it was seen
when that majestic bird, looking out of place
where it perched, perfectly centered under an arch
of trees, but among conifers, plain and green,
it’s exotic beak just didn’t belong
we stared and warmed and felt it,
hope floating from a tree branch far above
the present calm settling on our shoulders
as it lifted a leg and turned its head, taking flight
“Cranes are good luck, you know.”
That was all we needed to hear.
life
April 16, 2014 § Leave a comment
if
life goes on
and on, and on
then why is it that
life is short
you would think that if
life is like a box of chocolates
then it would be easy to
choose a path since
every life choice
could end up good
like
life is good
and
life’s a beach
and sometimes also
life’s a bitch
and
life is hard
and if
life gives you lemons
then you must realize that
you only live once
and why don’t we all just
live laugh love
and
live for today
instead of making lemonade
if we could only just
live in the moment
and maybe
live like we’re dying
but not
live like there’s no tomorrow
because in life
tomorrow always comes
and that’s the thing about life
it’s yours
and it’s been proven
that no one gets out of it
alive
Where
March 22, 2014 § Leave a comment
Perhaps they ran from the home they knew
to a world outside beneath a sky big and blue
Perhaps they grew tired of such a predictable plot
a more passionate life, they urgently sought
Or maybe they felt abandoned, or perhaps even lost
so they fled the scene entirely, not considering cost
For adventure or relief, perhaps they truely searched
trying to find utopia, or a brand new place to perch
Maybe news of opportunity came by word-of-mouth
so they all caught a train and headed down south
Or they could have simply spilled out onto the floor
and scampered quickly toward the nearest open door
But I guess I’ll never find out the true cause of this event
It will forever be a mystery where all my bobby-pins went
My View
March 20, 2014 § Leave a comment
I can’t see very far,
in fact,
I’m almost blind.
But I try to see,
that is, the good.
Am I blind to the reality
of day-by-day-by-day….
Or blind to the bitter
taste of shallow phrase.
I think it’s for the best,
a certain lack of sight,
for the best and most
sparkling views
I see
when I take a sudden breath
awoken from sleep
to eyelids blocking light,
the brightest darkness in the world,
a view that signals life.
Pegasus Ring
March 20, 2014 § 3 Comments
silver and small,
the flying horse lived
as a token of seven years
upon the earth
upon my hand
it remained, a loyal friend
staying small as I grew
a shiny horse, still and frozen
always there until
it slipped away
perhaps tossing and turning
at night, or twirling at daybreak
or running at sunrise
it flew off of my pinky finger
the only one it fit, it must have
finally decided
to fly away
Who
March 5, 2014 § Leave a comment
a harsh frame of
suggested borders,
a gate to remain
within, in order
to be perceived
in ways in accordance
with the borders
and frames that
are placed on the edges
of our universe,
but by who?
for they do not, in fact,
exist.
Faith
March 2, 2014 § Leave a comment
If hope is a thing with feathers
like birds that flock together
then is faith a thing with wings
supporting those clinging dreams?
morning commute
February 28, 2014 § 1 Comment
a slow army
ants marching
along a path etched
by white lines, baring heads
downward and forward with eyes
lit, cutting through
the haze ahead
searching for destinations
yet blindly, numbly following
another, through polluted
smog, but still shining
with sun and dew, silently
inching closer
and closer, to wherever
the white lines
carry them
rosepoems 