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Posts tagged ‘A Year of Poetry’

to catch ourselves, the fireflies

sometimes i want to
walk on the moon
let the weight of my worries
feel a little lighter on
my shoulders, gravity won’t
hold us down too much
sometimes i want to
walk on Mercury, feel closer to
the sharper, hotter touch
of fire from a dying star
we think of ourselves as temporary
and the universe everlasting
when all of us from humans
to ants to planets to jellyfish
to comets, are just glittering
dust settling into bottles and jars

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backdated post a day poem for November 4th, 2017

villains on all sides

some attempt to trespass light
most hold their breath in the night
of their hearts, a few keep
starlight within their sight,
none truly know wrong from right
when two wrongs tower above them,
urging to choose the lesser of
two evils, to enable this
villain or the other

the orchestra

music writes hearts
silence writes souls
somewhere in the grey area
art unfolds

caves, cages, nests

there’s a nest in my head
filled with sticks of trees which once
whistled, kicking up their legs, tossing their
arms, fighting in the breeze, holding on
to their leaves before they let them take leave
birds hang on wires and limbs
cats curl up against tires
bugs hike up flower stems
i’ll read my mind like a book
over time it hardened into a tiny,
sometimes overlooked gem
i’ll let my words catch fire
smoldering the page, when my
thoughts are hatched and brought up
in the nest of these things, they’ll shine
my mind can escape from the cage,
from the cave i’ll crawl, leaving it behind

swarming

frightened to the bone,
your blood wanted to run right
out of you, turning your skin
cold and head light
anxiety swarms your brain like bees
nervous that ghosts might unravel themselves
from the shadows of the night
and float like balloons in the wind,
bending their knuckles around
your eyes, you can feel them
climbing up your spine
wondering why you turned the light off
but it continues to shine
from the other room,
someone calls from the hall,
you turn around and see nothing,
not anyone, not even yourself at all

to let dreams run their course

childhood nostalgia
is not the turning back of the
clock in the heart, but the unlocking
of the treasure box in which
we poured our all, reminding us
we can still take flight, even when
we feel fragile and near falling

to lose the sun

choose to be the sunlight people use
as rags to mop up their cloudy soppy days
you might feel a bit used, but without realizing
it, you probably made someone feel a little
less miserable, and a little more warm
when they felt they were losing everything
even the sunlight on a sunny day

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backdated post a day poem for October 29th, 2017