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Introspection Water Poems | Introspection Poems About Water

These Introspection Water poems are examples of Introspection poems about Water. These are the best examples of Introspection Water poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Fancy Hair

I turned on the water sprinkler under the Weeping Willow
A fine stream it did spray
The tree was lacking the nourishment that it gets from water
For it has not rained much in many days

As I was working in my kitchen and viewing the scene
Along came a male Red Cardinal
On a rose bush he did preen
Just close enough to the water to receive a fine spray

When he was water coated, he flew away
Up into the Weeping Willow and puffed his feathers out
Shook his tiny body as a dog after taking a bath
Then he sat in the Weeping Willow and rested for a spell

Before he had time to dry,  a Black Bird
Landed on a Weeping Willow limb
Just close enough to the spray to get his shower today
Very intelligent these  birds of the yard

Knowing how to refresh and clean their feathers 
Sometimes I wonder if they are not more intelligent
Than some of the humans that have big brains 
And fancy hair....

(I'll call it free verse for no other reason than I don't know where else it would fit.)


Details | Free verse | |

The Purest Music

    One fine day as I was traversing the green,
in the last throes of Autumns'  twilight.
I sat upon a flat stone,
overlooking a trilling brook,
to ponder the meaning of life.
As I sat ,and thought,
the soft chimes of music,
from the water spirits,
lulled me into a dream state.
Some where in  that liquid crystal,
stubborn stones are worn smooth,
by the passage of time.
Elsewhere the fluidous mercury,
rushes toward a cleft ,
a water fall.
Bringing forth melodies,
never to be reproduced ,
by mere human hands.
As my lids grow heavy,
I'm awakened by the flash of silver,
denizens ,  
silhouetted by the last rays of the setting sun..
With regret its time to leave,
as I turn to go ,
a misty rainbow is captured ,
by the fading beams of light.
I smile, at peace,
the promise ,
the sun will once again ,
eclipse the horizon.


Details | Narrative | |

Today at the beach

Waves crash down on the rocks reducing them to sand
Then sweeps them away to some far off land
The wave roll in covering my feet in sand
In the concept of time I wonder just who I am?

I gaze before me the vastness of the sea
Represents all the possibilities inside of me
I can’t think of any place I would rather be
I have trouble describing there’s so much to see.

I walk out to the rocks to find some treasure
I find many starfish much to my pleasure
It seems that the only way to go is up
So I step up and take a drink from life’s cup.

Peace and tranquility fill me inside 
While the waves provide a pretty good ride
The water is cool and so refreshing
 All of the pieces seem to be meshing.

A seagull in the water and gets hit by a wave
I dawn a smile and feel I am saved
I like how the sky melts into the sea
Over the horizon sounds like the place to be.

The adventure I’m on may never be through
Sometimes I’m not sure what I should do
I just press on and see what shall become
I like what I see so I try to grab some.


Details | Lyric | |

The Downward Spiral (with a nod to NIN)

She sees herself suddenly as a small girl
bare feet on the cold black and white tile
little toes curled
sees the white porcelain tub and
how pretty the light blue water was
so deep it almost came to her chin
as she climbed in

For hours she'd play with her dime store sailboat
loving it though it would hardly float
always taking on water
listing, never level
her wet skinny back hunched over
shoulder blades like primordial wings
every few minutes she'd have to shake the thing

Trying desperately not to break the spell
of pretend
and when
it was time to let the water out
she'd always stay to watch the water drain
weighing the emotional pain
both fascinated and horrified,
as the suction intensified,
by the force of the water
the unstoppable slaughter
waiting for the inevitable rotation
to begin
the dizzying spin

Slowly at first growing faster and faster
a miniature cyclonic water disaster

The dime store boat of course on its side
circling faster in the relentless tide

Then the drain would give a horrible belch
much satisfied with itself.

As she grew the tub got smaller
with shallower water
less and less room
for pretend to bloom.

Years later, dime store sailboat long forgotten,
life having been mostly rotten
working with the most cynical of cynics
ER nurses bitter that it's more like a clinic
runny noses and coughs that folks thought were urgent
working hard to save those who were truly emergent

Hearing from them the phrase: "circling the drain"
memories suddenly flooding the brain
almost able to feel herself as that young girl
watching the sailboat beginning to swirl

Feeling the blood drain, face going pale
she sees vividly the boat with its bright red sail
yellow hull and blue plastic deck
fine hairs rising on the back of her neck

She realizes now the fatigue of age
is from fighting the pull with defiant rage

The closer you get, the faster you spin
and soon the dark whirlpool draws you in

With a knowledge that seems to be purely primal
she now understands the downward spiral

And she knows that she will not put up a fight
she'd rather go silently in the dark of the night

And the dime store boat comes to rest on its side
so it's all come full circle at the end of the ride.

SADNESS
©Danielle White


Details | Free verse | |

Who Am I

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment 
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.

One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world 
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering 
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.

My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?

Jacob Reinhardt
10/3/2013


Details | Rubaiyat | |

Why Poets Write

Why Poets Write


Why do poets write?,
Why does the moon shine at night?.
Why does water fall with such grace?,
Why is a rainbow such a beautiful sight?

So, why do poets write?
Do they write because the moon shines so bright?
Do they write because water falls with such grace?
Or is it because of the majesty of a hawk, in flight?

Poets write because that’s what we do,
Whether it be a Sonnet, Etheree or Haiku,
We see things through our own prism,
And write about it in our creative point of view.

This is why I write,
I write because I see beauty in the moonlight,
I appreciate the splendor of a waterfall,
And the majesty of a hawk, in flight.

I write because it feeds my soul,
Writing the perfect poem is my ultimate goal,
I write, I do my best,
The rest is out of my control.

The perfect words, in the perfect order,
Follow the rules, no pressure,
Slowly see your creation come alive,
When it works, there’s nothing better.

Poets, generally, don’t write for the glory,
We heal people by proxy,
We are emotion peddlers,
And we do it all for free.

I can’t speak for everyone, nor would I try,
My urge to write is something I’d best not deny,
Or things go drastically wrong,
Like ice, in the middle of July.

So, regardless of why you write,
Keep your vision in sight,
Take criticism with a grain of salt,
Never get discouraged, never get uptight.


© 2011


Details | Rhyme | |

Reverie

(Another old, childhood poem.)

Do you remember the old water well,
constructed of wood, stone, shingles, and clay?
It still stands in the dell --
old, decrepit, and gray.
Bordered by flowers of varying hues,
it serves as an altar to a lonely recluse.
The old water well where once we did meet
lies crumbling in dust, a hermit's retreat.


Details | Rhyme | |

Jesus Is The Living Water


Jesus... The Living Water Jesus is the living water which can satisfy. HE is the oasis in a land barren and dry. Only HE can bring true satisfaction deep within. HIS living water can break the bondage of sin. He awaits you with his love and grace. His living water shall fill your "empty space." You were made according to his design. He created this world with you in mind. Come and drink of his water that only he can give. Taste of his everlasting love each day that you live. NOW is the day of salvation... please don't delay! Listen to the words Jesus has to say. His promises are forever, steadfast and true. It is no secret of how much he loves me and YOU! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Lyric | |

Garden Rose

Written August 21, 2013


There's a girl in the garden
She's messing with your rose bed
Plucking weeds out from your head
And watering the seeds in your bed

But where will she wander
When the roses are dead
Will she come back for more
When they turn back to red

She can run all alone
Write this story in stone
On concrete slabs
Of skin and bone


Details | Haiku | |

'the ocean'

Abyssal, deep, the ocean flows and ebbs--drowning souls under, tide-like.


Details | Free verse | |

A Departing Memory

I know you.
Candles lit, incense fuming,
You like it when I bite your neck, just hard enough.
Blankets thrown about the room
So recklessly, they refold themselves.

And we roll down a hill together,
Kissing the leaves, tickling with our eyes,
Laughing with our hearts.
"You'll just leave me for the next girl you find."
"Yes," I say. Because only
Nothing
Lasts forever.
And it spills through the cracks in your hands
The moment you grasp it.
Like water from a stone.
She bites my neck
Drawing lines of ecstasy down my back with her fingernails
Spilling into me, fighting my words.
"I leave when the sun sets."




Details | Personification | |

Birth of a Poet

The animals know better than us. The rain has never poured so loudly in a key so soft.
To the front, the sailing of city buses and mini vans cruising across in this weather makes the water underneath their tires sound like the street is crying out for 5 more minutes of sleep. Up above, the trees are protecting a nest of baby blue jays before they get washed away by the silence of their mother not being there. But with sky blue young spirits, and small empty stomachs, they keep hope alive in the fact that even children know storms and struggles don’t last forever.
Below the trees, nature has found a name to call it’s own. From the hole dug by the little boy next door, a family of three foxes have named human nature sanctuary, and burrowed their problems into the sediment to rest for a while.
To the side of the hole, a flock of ducks are swimming in the water with eyes open wide enough to where you can see their loyalty to love one another rushes wild.
To the right of the pond, caged up in a man made blanket, and lost in his own mind, is the boy. From what he remembers, last night was like a train accident; A head on collision of two people he could’ve sworn he saw holding hands just the other day. He hears the sound of plates shattering in C-minor, and the chorus of words that his parents screamed in F-sharp, so he imprisoned himself in his own bed sheets, accompanied by the courageous corduroy bear who he swears keeps hearing whisper “everything will be okay.”
It’s raining outside, and the crescendos of screams have been silenced by it’s peaceful security.
The boy, sleeps soundly now. The rain has protected his ears, and guarded his heart from being washed away by all of his nightmares.
He doesn’t care whether he wakes up. The baby blue jay, the resourceful fox and the brave little duck are all he wants to keep dreaming about.
Maybe he’ll run away into the rain? Or maybe into the arms if his mother?, whom he prays he can still recognize. To the left of his bed, he picked up the blank page of his coloring book and a crayon, and became a life long poet in that moment that morning. Taking a deep breath in, and giving a soft breath out, his first sentence was
“The animals know better than us.”


Details | Free verse | |

Nonsense

It so hurts
This feeling of nonsense
This inequality of love
Of both sides
Because of excuses
Because of worthless attempts and matters
You perform the most despicable and careless mistakes
You know I can’t hate you
But I’ll dislike you forever  
And I’ll avoid the speaks, the furious gazes
I’ll avoid you and try never to need you 
Never to want something from you 
Because I know
My tears aren’t that precious anymore
Aren’t that water that really matters
Cuz the fire within me grows
Without the water to let out that blazing mass of anger
It would shoot the stars and take out the moon
To come back a fury stone, a burning Meteor
My kind acts and reasons to be better
Chucked sharp thorns onto my face
So I went off, leaving those pitiful acts behind
To move on, to step on a new trail 
One with one of nonsense 


Details | Lyric | |

Turn on your light

Turn On Your Light.

Turn on your light

Turn on your light
Light the velvet softness of your night
You might have felt that breath of sweetest power
In that silver moon
That paints the twilight hours
Have you ever felt that mystic pull
That takes you from the smallest flower 
To melt into the all.

I sometimes stand there staring at the sea
As each wave reaches out to destiny
To fade and then to come back
So another wave might form
To be destroyed
Then to be reborn….

Turn on your light
Pass no judgment, who’s to say what’s right?
 No need for this when light is shining bright
Have you felt such magic
Have you felt that pull
It’s something that must happen to each fool
He must learn how to melt into
The silence of the all.

The secrets they be wrote within your soul
Seek them out and let them make you whole
Each flower it must bloom then die
So know your precious I
Must be destroyed
To be reborn… 


Details | Blank verse | |

Morning Rain

Tears from the sky.
Pools reflection,
Looking at me.


Details | Haiku | |

Water Flows Freely

.
                                              Eleven P.M.
                                Now twelve midnight, two A.M.
                                         Water flows freely

                                       Sleep eludes my eyes
                              Three A.M., four-thirty, augh, sigh
                                          Water flows freely


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Free verse | |

Immiscible

A globule of liquid is
dropped into this ocean,
Blending in, one with the water that is
chaotic, frothy, never still.
Moving along,  flowing along the waves
Shaken, being the shakee, watching the water move
Everything after all is a tumble of roiling emotions

Then the ocean stood still,
and there was only hmmm . . .


It turns out, this globule was a mistake...
It never belonged, never truly blended in.
An illusion, perhaps?
It had always been different.
In a word:
Immiscible.
In every sense of the word.
Easily separated, filtered out.
Then tossed, swallowed
 by sand.
Vestiges of it erased,
like it never deserved to be there in the first place.
Immiscible.





08262012219p242


Details | Ballad | |

Goats

Goats

They’re everywhere
These pretty little creatures
On the serpent road to Exmouth
They be some of the features
Along with Emus, Kangaroos
And handsome birds of prey
These little goats be bountiful
They’re all along the way.

They be domestic goats 
Who’ve gone back to the wilds
Where they have bred one million fold.
As one moves along the miles
These little goats be seen so much
In their many shades and hues
Don’t know where they got their water
It be tough country too.

The weather here be hot and dry
As the sun bakes everything
And mostly here no rain does fall
To drinking water bring.
And yet these goats look healthy as
Such nimble little beasts
You’d see some dead there in the road
As the crows do have their feast.

That be the price of progress
That poor beasts have to die
That be the curse of human beings
Sometimes it makes me cry
Yet still they be so plentiful
These handsome little guys
Another little part of nature
That make love in me rise.


Details | Ballad | |

Those blessed wetland trails

Those blessed wetland trails.

The sun is shining lazily
The sky is azure blue
As green leaves dance with the morning breeze
The birds be singing too
They sing a serenade of bliss
And peace is all around
As all along these wetland trails
Blue lupins can be found.

The perfume heavy in the air
It speaks of wild geraniums
The young ferns looking soft and green
And all those tall wild gums
Give out a rather pungent scent
A smell I've learned to love
As parrots screech in blissfull joy
In those trees there high above.

The lake, she glimmers neath the sun
As the ducks give lazy quacks
My feet scrape on the sand and gravel
As I stroll along this track.
Trees all gnarled and and twisted
Form a tunnel just for me
Oh I could write forever
But for now, I'll leave it be.


Details | Rhyme | |

Fearless Journey

I’ve been following this dark shadow that looms over head
Dreaming of my dreams, afraid of living them instead

As the world keeps moving forward and I just watch from behind this wall
I grow tired of crossing my fingers and hoping someday that it might fall

I climb to the top and look to the deep sea below
I wonder if I can make it as far as the blue water flows

I hang on the edge gripping with bloody finger tips
And I close my eyes tightly as the blood slowly drips

The pain from the past can hold me here in this place
or I can let the current  move me forward with peace to replace

They say the only thing to fear is fear itself 
So why not take these dreams off this perpetual shelf?

I watch my life flash as I dare to take the plunge down
and take a deep breath saving air in case I drown

But as I hit the water I feel exhilaration through my soul
and somehow now I know, fear will never win control

I vow to live this life and chase my dreams across the sky
and live forever moving forward and never asking why

These walls I’ve let crumble are now just pebbles made of stone
and fear no longer a passenger on  this journey of my own








Details | Rhyme | |

I am me

Written on 29th and 30th April 2012.
BY: Sashi.Prabhu (zeauoxian) 

Father time always has lessons to open heartedly preach, Of late have understood few of them, which was for a long time out my thoughts reach. Now life seems to me as a sandy bank of a long desolate beach, Where we trudge life’s sandy path in a hurry without an end the shores of success to reach. But I often ask myself, what lessons, life to us, does preach? Need to with all 5 senses deem or else we will end up filled with remorse and impeach. People tell me about change, And ways to my life rearrange. But my heart and mind vehemently hum to me to be real sure, And ensure that the changes don’t take my life on an offbeat detour. Far away from people who on me shower their love and care, Is that what you desire I ask myself? Stop think, mull and be minutely aware. Life’s Moments pass us like flowing water of a the sea or stream, Linger on, Sweet memories of some wonderful people who touched us like waves, come to mind or in our dreams. In our quests to succeed and get on in life we strive to move ahead to the success shore, And those cherished moments keep flashing in our dreams and in our thoughts more & more.
But
We trudge each day life’s sandy path in a hurry the shores of success to reach. Need to with all 5 senses deem or else we will end up filled with remorse and impeach. Life’s Moments pass us like flowing water of a the sea or stream, Linger on, Sweet memories of some wonderful people who touched us like waves, come to mind or in our dreams.
So
I often mull and ask my mind, Mostly about me but also about thoughts that often in mind and they themselves grind. Must I, my beliefs, ideology and principles change? To improve my life and it’s relations and my entire life rearrange?????
Now
I long to be my original me As an original is worth more than a copy, as the world conceives and all see, I am my original me. I am me I am Me………….


Details | Lyric | |

Laws of the Dead

The law of emptiness takes form
Choosing a sight beset by storms
A town abandoned by its youth
Decaying resentment for any truth

I walk recounting every deed
Tracing my steps beyond the trees
A child hiding underground
Trying to talk, but lacking sound

His presence pulling at my chords
Anger within as I relate the law
The silent child turns to walk
As lights flicker out, beneath the rock

Waking to water at my knees
Sadness to see my town besieged
All life is taken by this storm
The law of the lonely has taken form

Stricken by pain beyond my time
Holding the laws to calm my mind
Recounting how this could have been
The closer I look, the more I scream

The law of blame now taking form
Finding the cause of this deadly storm
The quiet child takes my hand
A breath of water for this dying man


Details | Sonnet | |

Dirty Birdies

They might be dirty birdies… but of course I love them so.
Even with the birdseed scatters far across the floor.
But I doubt they’re really dirty since they crowd my birdbath so.
And with the drought outside my door I let their water flow.

They flutter around the bowl with ease as it empties twice a day.
And I enjoy watching them play in a wonderful display.
Nowhere will you find such an intensely flowing water storm.
And 12 stick close together as they show they’re many charms.

I authorize their playfulness for my many tiny friends.
Even a tiny hummingbird comes to my window in the end.
Now that is most surprising, as I have nothing for him to eat.
We both just like admiring the view for it is such a treat.

Of course he’s really telling me to turn on the sprinkler hose.
For he loves to travel back and forth as the water travels so.




As a child my mother took care of the chicken coup and began to
Despise those Dirty Birds… but when I was young her comment turned 
Into a name for those I loved… I was too young to realize her true meaning
At the time… Later it stayed with me as a memory of how different were our
lives and how things are passed along from one generation to another...


Details | Rhyme | |

Drought

The screaming wind blasts the dry land,
twisting the parched sand across human roads.
A town's cracked lips taste the sun baked air,
searching for moisture to ease its barren loads.
Scorched plants wither in the sun's vicious waves,
their frail bodies dying from the intense heat.
Soon, these tender fields of man's nurtured hopes
turn yellow from drought's arrogant treat.
Dreams of water evaporate into nothingness,
as the frying of the earth sizzles on.
Humans pray for the gold of heaven's moisture,
but the time for blessed rain has gone.
As drought chokes a plant's breath of life,
sun burnt mortals quickly begin to tire.
Nature's life wains within the devil's garden,
and water flees from drought's river of fire.


Details | Quatrain | |

A Penny for your Thoughts

The dreams inside my heart are never ending.
I find some comfort in the people I’m befriending.
I look all around to find a solution.
 Maybe I’m just part of human evolution?

I think there is something locked inside the dream,
It just seems to flow, much like a rushing stream.
As the water passes by, I peek around the bend,
When I view before me, my heart begins to mend.

I can’t always wrap my mind around this,
Moments of despair, wrapped inside of bliss.
Sometimes they create balance inside of me,
Opening my eyes, so I am able to see.

Some  I get while some I don’t understand.
Sometimes like a stranger from a far off land.
I gather up the pieces, hoping they will fit.
 The answers are illusive on this bank I sit.

I watch as the water washes ashore,
I see in my heart I desire some more.
The ripples are like changes, sparkling with light,
 Reminds me of the stars that appear every night.

I think I see something through the corner of my eye,
Perhaps it is the life that simply passed me by?
 I seem to wonder often where the time just went,
 A penny for your thoughts, For I only have a cent.


Details | Narrative | |

What's on the Cover

What's on the Cover
        by Amy Swanson


"Fat, fat, the water rat,"
the other children said - 
and she could never after
get that phrase out of her head.

Little girl would anxiously
await the time for play,
praying silently that they
would not tease her today.

Every recess was the same
and each day she would cry,
at times she felt so hideous
she wanted to just die.

She had to work three times as hard
to lose a little weight
while others could eat anything
that sat upon their plate.

She grew into her teen years
all too quickly she found out
that if her food did not stay down
no longer she'd be stout.

She knew that this was not the way,
a miserable eating plan;
but it made the teasing stop,
she even met a man.

She kept her secret very well
continued it for years
while going through life's motions,
hid behind her silent tears.

Folks would say "You're beautiful,"
but if they only knew
just what it took to stay that way
they'd have a different view.

Life goes on, and time went by
no matter how she tried
she never felt like she belonged
sometimes she sat and cried.

Society cares far too much
for lust of lovely things,
And those that don't like what they see
will quickly clip the wings

of someone else who won't conform
to this world's shape and image.
It matters not, their brains or heart,
it's more about the visage.

She raised her head and looked into
the mirror, with wet eyes
she shook her head and suddenly
she came to realize

she was as good as anyone
with so much love to give -
she'd died inside, a slave to scales
she now wanted to live.

She splashed cool water on her face
and made a solemn vow
today would be a fresh new start
beginning here and now.

This is not just one girl's story
many share her tale;
warnings of bulimia
oft met with no avail.

If only we could look beyond
the flesh of one another;
True value based on what's inside,
not what's on the cover.


Details | Free verse | |

Breath let Go

The earth shudders and the dust of a thousand years
lifts into the sky like a blanket thrown up in exultation
and beneath this blanket plates grind together
in sudden need
A craving to bring dried and edged flesh
with the moisture of the oceans above
together once more
and cry out in the joy of ecstasy to release their pressure
	And be at once reconciled

And the world let’s out its breath,
gives up what is most sacred to it
in reverence of this Moment:

And I dare say this moment is mine,
to the child that toiled the fields
hoe in hand and the patterns in the soil
the patterns in the soul through which water poured
and escaped in pores like water through a parched man’s fingers
and patterns fled this farm 
Leaving a parched man lamenting the presence of fingers
in times of thirst,

And to the child toiling
           in the fields 
the pattern is in the pitch of his shoulders
and the pounding of the sun
the pattern that should never seep
through unseen holes

but it seeps
down his back and across his fingers
upon his hoe it dribbles down and finds the escape
of patterns long lost
and the sweat of his toil
slips through the gaps in his soil
and the heaving of his shoulders
is lost with the patterns,	

So this old farmer he does not tread his fields,
sheltered behind wood and warmth of fire
he huddles in his world of four walls
and dares not the fields outside
Where await the failures
of his toil,
and when the earth shuddered
in joy of this moment
Knowing in its wisdom all that was to be known
the earth shudders and the dust of not so many years
It lifts into the sky like a blanket thrown up in exultation

And beneath it all

Sees the farmer

The pattern of his toil

And lo and behold
It was not wasted
But a hands width beneath
The soil that caked his world
And by his own hand
Hidden as it were
The patterns of his toil
And the story that is told
Bittersweet
In the exultation of a breath
Let go.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Second Fable

 The Second Fable 
The Second Fable 
 
The BusYness 
 
 
The Alcoholic boss: 
       The man was doing inventory when the lady called his namme. 
“Johnny what is wrong with you eye just looked out at the van? 
The tire is almost flat again eye just gave you a hundred dollars yesterday to get 
the tire fixed and eye remember giving you fifty just last week? You must have 
kept the money are you drinking now again?” 
The Alcoholic Worker: 
“Tilly you are mistaken the tire is not that low eye checked the gauge myself less 
than two hours ago. 
The receipt for the tireshop is still inside the till Tilly why do not you still believe 
me tell me Tilly how could eye get a receipt like that unless eye paid the bill?” 
The Alcoholic Worker: 
To Tilly:“Every now and then they do a poor poor job so eye will take the van back 
to the tire shop and have them check that tire again.” 

To ASIDE: The whiskey that eye bought with that old coots money is still in the 
center console eye have to drink it now today and she will knoe I'm drunk unless 
eye leave the van somewhere and say that it got stolen and the bad men beat me 
up. 
Narrator Charlax Android One Seven: 
The Johnny worker got in the van and drove to the center of a bridge he leaped 
from the bridge into the water down below with the whiskey in his hand and left 
the van in the center of the bridge the tire was now so low it was just flat. 
The Alcoholic Worker: 
Johnny to hisself: “The Tilly will believe me why should she doubt so much eye 
have to make this look good a lie is soon found out.” 
Narrator Charlax One Seven: 
Johnny took a rock of largesse size and hit himself more than three times hard 
upon his brow his forehead split wide open he looked like a beaten up man. 
He finished off the whiskey and walked somewhat surprised that his worthwhile 
plan had come to a fruition in his addled whiskey mind back to the sewing 
shoppe. 
 Listen as the woman talks to him. 

                        The Alcoholic Boss: 
“Before you say a word to me my alcoholic Johnny there was a Charlax sitting 
underneath the bridge playing games down in the water he loves a mermaid 
there and kisses all her hair. He saw you leave the van and leap into the water 
my friend MISS Tilly Two is bringing back the van for you.” 
“Now don't you feel so foolish the job was feeding you now you will look for 
someone else to tell your lies to rob them of there wealth to feed your alcoholic 
drive.” 


Details | Light Poetry | |

Cascading Words

I told my Hubby I needed a fountain to help the words to flow.
It seems in the shower my creative juices, really know how to go.
My Hubby says it’s because I become relaxed, in body and in mind.
That releases everything to flow with ease and in record time.

But then he stated it might also be: the water pounding on my head.
It’s beating me senseless to release the flow and to open it up, instead.
This may be true with a hard head like mine, sometimes it needs a touch.
But I think a fountain would be way more fun, and not hurt near so much.

And what would be more beautiful, than water as it’s simply cascading around.
My lovely birds could have a drink, as my barriers come tumbling down.
My Trolls could frolick and play all day in water as the sun comes beating down.
My dogs would jump to catch the droplets as they fall upon its crown.

And all I need is to get a basket to collect my wandering thoughts.
Truly nothing could be more worthwhile, no matter what the cost.
Droplets falling thru my thoughts would become a rainbow for my mind.
With a prism throwing forth-countless words, to arrange within record time.

I wish! I wish! Oh, how I wish! To bring forth this dream of so much renown.
So many words bubbling to the surface, before they’d come tumbling down.
They’d fill my mind, and fill my soul… before touching each other’s soul.
My fountain would finally be complete, as cascading words did achieve this goal.

Now I truly know, I’ll have no fountain, or any great renown.
Still I am grateful, for the few, who’ve read the words, which I have written down.