Free Twigs Full of Hope

Wind rustles through the leaves of the tree I am able to hold in the palm of my hand.
The roots curl through the fingers of my clenched fists,
clenched around the life blooming at my fingertips.
each twig on the end of every dancing branch stretches toward the sky
like they will never lose hope in reaching those pearly light clouds and sea reflecting sky,
even though they are attached to the branches, molded to the trunk, wrapped and squeezing around my clenching hands, swirled around my body which is held to the depriving dirt.
So much hope for these twigs, although they are so minuscule and seeming so insignificant.
but they keep reaching as if they could defeat gravities hard grasp on all of us and bring us to the sun.
In dreams they float up, up in that sky and swing back down toward the earth in a lovely quick stepped freedom dance.
These dreams don't crush them under despair of never reaching them.
These dreams build their confidence up and they know that although maybe they cant, they can still dream.
They can still see the bright side in everything.
Even the birds beaks pecking, because they just watch the sinking sun and know that some day they will wither from their place but drop in a peaceful harmony, then rest in quiet solitude.
They know no more than us, none of what will happen next. but they are happy, simply to be free, even in dreams.

Sing, Pause, Skip a step

Distance makes time  so must this passing time create more distance?
What if I were to just stay isolated.
Could it pause my time?
too mind I think yes but all around me it would make no difference.
You could still go day by day, happily singing, talking, skipping through the hours
without me by your side.
I could trip, I could fall,
and just stay immobile on the ground.
It's so hard to add more effort.
Even this minuscule added effort to pull myself up.
So I should just keep moving then.... right?

Living the Circus Spirals

Memories pass us by, the days fly away. We are getting older every second, every minute.
The past is like a dream which somewhere in your over experienced mind is known as an old reality. The future is coming at you cold and quick like the fast sidewalk; your feet hitting the ground as you bring up the speed. And your going so fast that you almost fall face first but you just can't slow. No slow, just fast so the cement flashes before your eyes and your head rushes toward the ground every once in a while, beginning to trip. Bringing yourself back up. The wind rushing in your ears makes it hard to hear the guiding voices near by and you are so lost. Every house and building looks the same all so dull and grey. The all too familiar sound of feet slapping the unforgiving ground echos through your ears. It's like a spiral, is this spiral bringing you downward? Hopefully higher? Or is it outward, and neither up nor down. Life has turned to a circus, crazed by your mindless pleasures and heightened through the slight slips and hops sometimes found with explainable reasons. This mad, sad, joyful, crazy, strange, overbrought, now its just me. This new crazy circus.

I fell forward to try and grasp it but realized a second to late that it is already gone.

Falling Leaps

I took ten leaps forward
but you chose to take only two. So you pull me back,
grabbing my hair and yanking hard.
Just when I thought I could leap to freedom.
Now my head is bent on the ground toward your deceiving figure.
You who tricked me, you who hurt me,
you who somehow still controls me.

Nightmares

A forever lone creep or a crawl,
a squeak made at the end of the hall,
a shuffle behind the shelf,
the radio is dead please help.
Every living thing dies and all the dead live on.
Each moment carries the scream of this new dawn
and the light has gone out but it's blindingly bright.
Lets all just disappear for now or as a second choice
lets put up a fight.
The battleground is dark and the air is so heavy like
lead in your lungs holding you to the concrete.
So now fight your way up.
We won't lose our fight.

Speak through the Silence

Your words echo in my ears but it's only a past, left, and now missed
with it's misjudged look and cold quick feel.
This new silence is louder than my heart throbbing in my ears
but you look straight ahead, too proud and presuming to say anything.
Someone, just go ahead and say it.

My Paradise

A leafy dusk 200 miles away,
is where I can stay in my bright minds eye.
To get away from all these sleepy summer days.
Because although the scenery is gorgeous,
the street holds barely a soul.
As if in the warmth and comfort,
they have decided to sleep all day long.
It's still so beautiful out but a bit lonely too.
I want to hear the laughter of neighbor children as their shoes hit the pavement,
running and chasing each other.
The muffled voices of adults nearby, as they sip sweet iced teas.
Smell the barbecue which wafts over the fence from the next door backyard.
Then at the end of the day, watch the sunset with my family under the humid starry sky.
This, is a piece of my paradise

Fireflies (Haiku)

Fireflies fly through the night
Mini dancing stars
Humbly intriguing us

Why Do they surrender him?

It's sick how his corpse, like a shiny old shoe,
is "beautified" to be shown off in happy horror.
He who once stood tall and strong,
now looking weak, laying low.
As if he's giving in to the skies and other peoples opinions.
No more fight in him, no more emotion, no more being.
Why are they making this his lasting impression?

The Dead Man's Hand

Would you touch the bone of a gone and dead soul?
No? Than tell me why.
As you look through the earth you can see that even through new technology and buildings we are all falling apart.
The dirt you use for soil, when planting your store bought starters
it is pieces from other living things, decomposed,
most of them forgotten.
The water you sip quietly, has been drunk more than a thousand times before by creatures now nonexistent.
Those new shoes you're so proud of, they were the skin of the mighty buffalo.
The steak you ate for dinner used to be a living cow.
The cow should have been free and happy, but for the extra
selfish souls this cow had to live confined and sad.
So now tell me again.
Why won't you hold a dead mans hand?

Goodbyes

Everything is packed.
The front door waiting,
open.
I have tied my laces,
twice,
because the first would undo
with my fast pace.
You have helped me prepare.
With this the next step will follow;
the hardest step.
Next we must say goodbye.

Walk? Stroll? Circle.

To dip a foot in the salty sea can almost be a good deed.
There are the highs and the lows. Go fast or slow.
Just try to keep on the path we have walking,
or maybe it's strolling, or something in between.
Because I never quite understood it,
How do you see the new mountains afar?
Do you see them clear and crisp?
Unlike my scrawly blurred sight with the sharp jutting edges dodging through.
The world is spinning but we are still walking in perfect harmony.
Are we lying in the grass;
I feel as if this is just a dream.
Let me know once and,
remind me a second time when I'm distracted.
When you awake, give me a poke.
We'll start the walk all over again.

Universe Picnic

Bring me the sunset in a cup.
Give me the moon in a bowl.
I'll bring a plate full of stars and
a basket of perfectly puffed clouds.
We can lay down a blanket in softest blue of sky and
we'll have a beautiful universe picnic.


The first line "Bring me the sunset in a cup." is from Emily Dickinson's poem Bring Me The Sunset in a Cup.

Older Dust

She sits in solid gratitude from the past which is now all glued up.
The cobwebs in the ceiling corners and dust pushed aside down the hall
show this old tired state.
She sits like a weary hoarder, among tokens of her past.
She may share the objects and memories but,
yes, we all see.
She is still lonely.

Amazing Opposites

There is a bird and a tiger.
They only stare at me.
The tiger's bright yellow eyes send me the clear message to watch out
but the bird watches in fear that I may hurt him.
I am only afraid for the bird though.
The tiger stays focused on me, not seeing the bird, but when he does,
it will be an end for sure.
The bird raises it's wings and launches into flight,
landing on the tiger's back.
I watch as the bird lays it's head on the tiger's and I hear the tiger pur.
I am so frozen now at the sight before me, of this yin and yang.
This fire and ice molded together into something new and untouchable
like hot ice , only a light touch will burn you.
They are like the setting sun  behind the deeply shaded mountains,
bright orange from sun to tiger and dark blue-gray from mountains to bird.
The tiger's tail twitches back and forth but he slowly begins to back away under a soft growl.
The soon disappear into the tall grass,
leaving me wondering what I have just seen.

The Realization

I watch my feet sink into the mud below it creates a cloud on my toes.
I watch the water's rippling surface of my reflection before picking a foot up and pushing my leg forward.
I must go on.
I do not know what is ahead but I feel drawn as if it is whispering in my ear.
My urge to move grows stronger and I try to walk faster.
I feel as if I am being pushed back,
as if the more I try the harder it gets.
I flinch in a quick jump as I believe to see a shark.
A better look and I find it is only trash.
A sudden realization hits me and I stare at the scene around me.
Cans,
bags,
wrappers, and
scraps of old metal
are floating across the wide river.
Suddenly every way I turn is filled with trash.
I try to hurry back on the path in which I started but like before I am pushed back.
The mud is getting deeper and softer so it collapses beneath my feet.
I cry for help but my face is already sinking into the river and it comes out as only a scarce gurgle.
I am thrashing my arms to keep myself afloat but it is no use.
Water rushes into my mouth, nose, and ears.
Garbage covers my face.
The last thing I see before going under is a small patch of blue sky.
It's surrounded by darkness but still there, even a last shred of hopeless unbelievable hope.
But now I have been flooded and must lay on my bed of garbage.
Maybe that's just where I belong.

Rotten Flowers

I smell the rotting flowers which lay strewn in a
floral mess on the degrading cement.
I know she's there trying not to cry,
appearing as a corpse on the outside.
A death toll can ring but everyone is asleep,
when will they wake?
This whole street is a mess,
covered in unworthy shadow and
no way to see right.

The Never Ending Dance

I spin and twirl and dance in the spotlight,
ignoring the surrounding dark stage.
I await a sound from the audience, maybe just one small sound.
It reminds me that I'm not alone but 'i hear nothing so I keep going,
stifling back yawns.
The spotlight which follows me is growing dusty and dim,
but I am a puppet on a string which must continue quietly.
My breath comes out in large puffs and my legs feel like jelly.
I still have to continue on waiting for what seems like nothing.
I slow with no hope of keeping up.
My strings have broken but have left me tired and weak.
So now all I can do is face forward on the stage,
stuck and ready for my last bow.

Deep

A dull sharp pain can be a deeply held thought.
Soon covered in darkness and would there be red?
It would be a stain.
A bright red smudge on the perfect canvas.
This canvas which was once so clean and innocent.
It now looks "plagued".
But now what if the smudge stain grows,
to a red murky river.
Blood red mixed with saltwater running over scabby rocks.

Believe

A small puff like an over hydronated cloud popping before it's first rain.
A deranged monkey sits, but is fading away.
Catch it quickly.
Too late, it's gone.
The lady is still singing but her melody is too loud to get her attention,
her voice echos on,
invading all thoughts.
What do I hear, is it singing or just buzzing,
a high pitched ringing which I cannot stop.
A loud presence with no turning back,
no fading like the monkey.
Thoughtful isolated thoughts.

The fire

I pull the chair to the fireplace to dine with the ravishing flame.
Words spilling from my mouth are responded to with cloudy smoke.
I sit upon my chair, the fire on its wood.
So we can both stay here until it's last dying "words".

Gone

The bitter bite of a lie set in silence.
The cold scream of a harsh word's cut.
The thought of a rainbow in a sunny sky has fallen to the bottom of a murky pond.
Every second is a rythem
every breath a breaking note.
The promise of yesterday is broken and unheld.
No more rythem,
no more notes,
only simple silence.

Idea to Expand into Poem

I thought of this today. I like it and am planning on expanding on its thought to turn it into a poem, maybe a long one.

The thought and feel of a word said through silence.

Hide and go Sun

Even now, the sun hides; it's rays have died to the eye.
A whisper of the wind tells clouds to move on and
soon light is here again.

New Beginning

What if everything were foreign to my lips.
Would I then be able to lay in silent bliss?
I could understand and learn.
Everything would be interesting, no bore.
Is that what it would take to
smooth out this mess.
What all is tangled so no daylight gets in
is the only answer for escape,
a new beginning?

Memories

A place full of memories.
Could it be like a jail cell?
With the electric shock of flashbacks.
Burrowed deep in your mind.
They are every way you look,
change is coming,
frighteningly.
Light is being scared away and to all dismay,
soon only darkness will remain.

Ribbons

Everything is a jumbled mess like too many ribbons in a small drawer.
The ribbons become tangled, loop through loop, end around end.
I dig for the perfect light blue, a color of peace and serenity.
Only, the ribbons are too crowded, leaving meager space for my desperate hands.
I throw back the pink and green, pulling the knot tighter and worsening the situation.
I remember having the blue, a day which seems so long ago, before it slipped into the drawer.
I grab the red, a typical ribbon color and hold it tight to help for now.
Red id blocking everything out with its intruding shade.
Red doesn't help though, it only
blocks,
separates,
stuns,
numbs.

Strange Room

The fingers move across the keys, rapidly, flowing with ease.
All sunshine has fallen away but the partial darkness is welcoming.
Trumpets sound, so loudly, they echo in your ears.
Every light now has vanished leaving your vision dark and sulky.
The music picks up to a faster pace and you start to move your feet across the floor.
First you skip and hop, in only small steps,
but are soon you are leaping through the darkness.
You trust you won't fall, you trust any collision to be soft and comforting.
Soon the sun re-emerges re-filling the room with warmth.
You stop leaping and stand in the light before leaving that mysterious room.

Witness

The mirror and the eye turn to the sight we just saw of the raven being forced into truth.
We may say what we saw but no more may we see what we have said, for it has passed with only historical meaning.

A slow path

I walk down the muted street with my shadow at my heel.
A silvery tear shaped light beams down ahead of me.
I inch around the walls of the house 'til I reach the low back door.
After peeking through the glass I turn the doorknob slowly and step into the room.
Drapes fall near my face as they hang from the steel.
While moving toward the other entry I pass the ancient gargoyle.
Then back up to the world about to eat some ravishing fruit.

Cold, Sit in silence

We sit in the sun on this cold spring day.
you speak quickly of wordy nonsense.
I almost want to leave but this is my place
so I just sit with a crumpling smile.
Every second passed I sink and
sink staring at only nothing.
Especially then when you leave
I am empty within.

Disappearing Duck

The duck floats down and down.
Overcome by the bright darkness.
The mud below is brown,
and creates a cloud of sorrow.

Throughout the wet dirt crawls creepy little creatures.
Some snap claws or hiss.
The duck stares down at their frightening ugly features,
and says goodbye to happy bliss.

The ducks eyes close.
The creatures reach out.
They must be bad, without a doubt.
Is this the end?

The duck quakes as the creatures gather near.
Please don’t go little duck.
This water can still be clear.
Please do not fill it with your blood and tears.

The duck looks at me and softly quacks goodbye.
Just when I believe the duck will be hurt,
The duck turns and swims away by and by.
I watch him leave as I happily cry.

Witch

We look upon the ivy.
It grows up the wall.
The thing sits inside.
Carving with frightening care.
Hurry away.

STUPID

Sit on this stone.
Take a look at the small village.
Until sunrise you will stay.
Peer toward the sad fences.
Is there a child outside?
Don't let them get hurt.

This poem is about the holocaust. I used the word stupid because I think it was very stupid and wrong of the Nazi's to discriminate Jews.

Winter, leave

Swaying grass in a thin moonlight.
Winter is slowly leaving.
She was happy in her stay but now on her way keeps coming back for
"forgotten" things.
Spring cannot come until Winter has left.
Do we have to kick her out?
Maybe we will and just hope that next year she skips back happily.

Goodnight

The frost is heavy in the air,
but snow has gone away.
Every tree is bony and bare.
The dock is cold and slippery.

The skies light fades as the sun waves goodbye,
and stars will soon come play.
A crow lets out a cry and flaps its wings away.

In warm cozy houses families come to gather,
and wash away the daily rays of sadness deep inside.
After all the lather, they turn off the lights and peer ouside then quietly quietly, whisper
Goodnight.

Come back Snow

Snow snow where did you go? 

Come back before tomorrow.

Dark Castle (Part 1)

There is a castle which seems to be covered in shadow.
Ivy grows high on the walls engulfing most of the structure.
Walking through the front doors which are wide and tall enough for
three elephants stacked in a pyramid to enter.
Inside these doors there is a huge room.
This room is almost pitch black even with the
meager light from the chandelier which hangs at a peculiar angle.
A staircase flows across the right wall leading to a mysterious doorway.
Turning left there is a hall.
I walk down the the hall, noticing the strangeness of ivy growing, even inside.
I turn right right to continue up stairs and onto a second floor.
A shiver runs through my body and
I quickly turn, expecting to see a shadow.
To my surprise nothing is there.

Africa

A lion sits in a tree,
soundlessly waiting for prey.
Gazelles are wandering everywhere,
waiting away the day.
The Lions and Hyenas are at a constant battle.
They fight over carcasses and territory forever.
The bigger animals especially liven the whole scene.
Elephants drink water and moves there trunks about.
Rhino's sit around swishing their tails to and fro.
The warthogs all run around with their tails pointed toward the bright, bright sky.
A beautiful African dessert.