are better than this
A bald dandelion
is what I want
after being blown apart
Hummingbirds suck wind
when the nectar is gone
I don’t have room
for accolades that gather dust
when we will still be hungry tomorrow
Life seems like something huge
Indescribable in the world
Till you have to pack it up
Till you are told fit everything in a few
Little boxes
Everything must go they say
But when putting everything in
One life seems not so big anymore
Xenolithic the best way to describe
Everything in a life all you know
Stuffed in just a few little boxes
Festive firs are tumbling
bare of coloured glory.
Needles and fronds carpet
halls grey with silence;
carolling a distant joy.
Gifts rest in hibernation;
wingèd figurines lie swathed
beneath a glittered duvet
of prized iridescent tissues
adorning a winter casket
keeper of twelve days
festooned in priceless reverie.
No! Mom's numbered boxes! All night we spend
Digging through papered names Red, Other, Mend
We find lights, but they aren't right
missing the Blue Silver White
Santa yawns, says, “Oh man, this house again!”
Checking boxes all day wrong
a doctor is a bureaucrat
Come 5:00, he says 'So long'
~ a future diplomat!
I refuse to fit into
The boxes they made for me
Days will pass
Over millions of minutes, and
Every time you look
Somewhere out there,
New boxes are made for
The ones who don’t understand.
Maybe I’m wrong, but
All these boxes are imaginary.
They define everything about
The boxes they put you in.
Every box holds expectations, and
Right inside them is where they say you go
There they sit
Unmoved, stilled
Yet fully filled
With recorded words
A journey of sorrow, grief
Great loss...my proverbial cross
Proof that I was me
I can't bear to open
The plastic lid
Peer inside the ocean
Where all the fish are the same
Swimming in a nice, neat row
Declaring, "She made it!
She's finally WHOLE!"
....WHOLE, with nowhere to go...and no one to be
Written by Trudy Schrader on 08-02-2025
Toxic notions, mixing up potions
Bubble and boil, cauldrons toil.
The words evade me,
They could've made me - by now - but somehow,
I forget what the words were
I forgot I could speak, I became so weak, inside
I was dying, I couldn't stop from crying,
I wanted to run and hide.
Perfection is just a reflection,
An image people perceive to be portraying
A mask to deceive or a mask to achieve?
Striving for success,
Trying your best is the best you can do.
We get approximately three boxes a day in deliveries
My husband is the ultimate order-machine
He takes more stuff back than most people order
I am sure UPS knows his name now
These boxes stack up on couches, the back of a bookshelf,
Beds, chairs, tables, and other not-for-boxes-places
When I get tired of them, I burn them in a huge bonfire
I love this part of the boxes the best, thus I encourage these orders.
Irene boxed it all up and took it outside.
There were five thousand one hundred and twenty-five boxes.
If you sort one box every day, you will have this sorted in no time.
Irene was a mathematician.
She divided it out.
If she sorted one box a day
It would take her fourteen years to sort it all out.
She went back inside and got a match.
The fire burned for three days
While there is still time
close your eyes and listen...
Even the silent
have something to say.
While there is still time
go to the ceiling, root out
the forgotten boxes
full of hidden memories and halt...
dust does remember.
What is important is that there is still time
the birds of your neighborhood
to rest from cutting air
because that piece of air is common.
There is little time
to make noise
and step loudly
because voice is heard
when strong
and step when loud.
It's time to hear the unspoken
and come out of your memories
because you have been there for a long time
trash pickup occurred.
will have to break up boxes
throw them all away
inaction speaks louder than words ~ in fact it shouts to heaven above
i don’t seek indoctrination ~ this dude knows what it’s like to feel love
stay in your own comments box ~ i have no agenda nor need a shove
when putting digits inside someone else’s bubble ~ wear a latex glove
Cubism - words in cubes
Put words in cubes.
Ideas aligned at once,
inside the box, attuned.
Intensive interplay, makes sense.
She went searching for peace at the grocery store.
Those shelves were all empty, her people at war.
There were loaves of loss and heartbreak over by the bread.
"We have a sale on hatred," the store manager said.
She found boxes of empathy mixed in with the teas and
told the young cashier, "I'll take two boxes please."
She went searching for peace at the grocery store.
Those shelves were all empty, her people at war.
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