Monthly Archives: November 2011

A Taxi to Nowhere (Picture it & write #5)


A sort of lame picture inspired poem, picture provided by Ermilia 🙂

image

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2011/11/27/__picture-it-write-11/

Oh taxi driver,

Take me away,

Take me to a better today,

Cart me off

To far from here,

To a land far off,

Far from what is so near.

Day to day,

Stresses bubble and boil,

Problems steadily wind,

More add to the coil,

Day to day, things change,

People leave.

Just like me

They strive to be

Away from here

In a crystal blue land

Far, far away.

So taxi driver,

Take me there today.

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Sunshine Girl


We used to walk for hours on end.

Never going anywhere.

Wish I could be back there again.

We used to talk about

Anything.

I used to listen to you sing…

But “I used to” doesn’t bring much joy.

My Sunshine Girl.

Where did you go.

My Sunshine Girl,

You lit up my world.

But now you’re gone,

Guess I was wrong,

The sun will always set…

But I haven’t forgotten that sunshine yet.

Now I lay awake all night….

Just waiting for the coming morning.

Whatever cold it offers up,

I’ll take it,

It’s all I’ve got.

Because I know I’ll never hear you sing again.

My Sunshine Girl!

Where did you go!

You left me here!

I’m all alone!

Upon a shore of

memories of long before

the morning came,

and shadows were long,

But once again,

you’ve come and gone.

Guess I was wrong….

The sun will always just move on.


Them and Us


They’re bashing in the walls.

Smashing windows, breaking doors down.

Tearing at me,

Pushing me deeper and deeper into myself.

And I recoil, contort myself into their graven image,

They put it upon me,

Consume me,

They rip my face away,

Take my words I’d say,

They push me deeper and deeper,

Into the depths of me,

Light deprived and begging for

Mercy I will never receive.

Because

There is nothing I can do to keep me away from me.


Keeping Time (Picture it & write #4)


Another Picture it and write inspired by blessed ermilia 🙂 and my first writing in a while! Here it goes:

image

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2011/11/20/__picture-it-write-10/

I played that song so, so many times.

Played rhythms, sang rhymes,

Worked so hard for a dime.

I would pound on the keys and play it all out,

Play for a dime from men sitting about.

And I never did worry,

Never did complain,

I never considered the constant sucking drain,

I never once thought of the restlessness about,

The lurking black hand that would practically shout

In my ear,

Shout words of truth,

Each tiny tick brought

A tightening noose.

A killer on the loose,

An ultimatum coming soon.

And now its too late.

Far, far too late.

The keys are all broken and chipped,

Yellowed and crooked with age like me.

The song stayed the same,

But now there’s a different melody.

What took small time fame and brought blood stained misery?

Time took it all away from me…

Through all the ages, a song changes not.

But keeping time is a skill often forgot.


The Path of Man


I wave hello.

Wave to the man walking down the road.

I wave to him and I head home.

It is unlikely that I’ll see him again,

I do not know him,

I know nothing of the path he walks,

Though he follows a path we all somehow know.

The Path of Man,

He strolls along the path written out

Through time’s flowing sand,

Through ticking clocks and shadows on land

Cast by strangers walking night and day,

Prints of boots endlessly lay

Down the endless Path of Man.

Searching, sifting through that sand,

Looking to settle down, to find a home.

Maybe have a family or two.

Waiting for peace, waiting for rest.

Waiting to detatch from the Path of Man.


Tie (Personal Narrative, Draft 1)


It was a crisp autumn day. I was sitting upon the leaf-ridden earth, under a shelter of dying foliage. light was collecting on the drooping leaves, pooling around the cracking edges. It spilled from the cracks, dripping onto my face. My surroundings were marked by a web of twisting shadows etched by the sun, through gaps between the leaves. I sat there, face twisted tightly, tending a broken ankle.

The day was of moderate temperature. The sun brought some warmth, but the wind caried an eery coldness, and dusted the land with it. A chill that put goosebumps on my skin. I was sure I could not stand.

John and I were playing tag. I was never as fast as him. But I had tried, all the same, to match his pace. This was my reward. The pain was shooting arrows from my ankle all the way up into my guts and chest, leaving me immobilized, nothing to do but to rest in crumpled, lifeless defeat.

I was sure this was the end.
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To A Beautiful Girl


Something lovey dovey:

You are beautiful.

You strike me with wonder, deluge my senses.

You take my words away.

Leave me with nothing to say short of

You are beautiful.

If I could I would not go a day without you,

Your hand brushing tears away.

My fears, my insecurities, inequities.

My stinging, broad impurities.

You knock them aside,

Leave nothing but you and I.

Us together in a place without season

You are beautiful.

You bless my eyes, a moment I want never to die,

Looking at you, I feel alive.

Your shine gives light to my life,

Impelling continuance.

Making life something possible.

Something wantable.

Something wonderful.

You are beautiful.


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