My father always told me
“Never refuse a challenge.
Take each opportunity
To broaden your horizon.”
And, all through life, I’ve tried my best to follow his advice.
However hard the task may have been, so far I’ve never said never.
Last month I was persuaded,
Against my better judgement,
To jump out of an aircraft
And parachute to the ground.
I wish now I’d said, “Never,”
The parachute malfunctioned.
And that’s why I’m sending this final poem
From six feet below the earth.
Tattered mind.
Numb stuff in my teeth, and nails.
The sacrifice melted me.
When you jolt into yourself.
You assume brain fog will jump out at you as an apparition.
It’s really just swiping off rust with a puzzle underneath that I’m too tired to solve.
Zap.
You slip down the rope you were climbing like a sleepy caterpillar.
Plucking away at strands.
Tattered.
You go back inward like there’s fresh baked bread inside.
When the darkness of night is no more and the sunlight of a new day comes knocking on your door
Rubbing your eyes, giving a big yawn, lay in bed listening to the birds’ chorus of dawn
Are you thinking to yourself, “I will get up in an hour”, or do you jump out of bed and head straight for the shower
Warm in your pyjamas, bed socks on your feet, wrapped up in your quilt to keep in the heat
The house is all quiet; not a sound from the kids, not a peep
Slowly your eyes close and you fall back to sleep
You jump up from your slumber with a stretch; you are awake
But you have slept for too long. What a mistake.
You did not the alarm clock ringing. Oh, what a fool You are late for work and the children are late for school
Rushing out the door without doing your hair and your skirt tucked into your underwear
You are late for work, so an apology message to the boss you send
The reply that you got back is that we don’t work at the weekend
They always stop and look at me
Cameras often click my way.
They often gossip by this Tree
And they have a lot to say!
At times, they bask inside my shade.
They hug me just for fun.
The Tree, "the unsung friend" they've made
And I get to be part of their fun.
For instance, when playing hide and seek
They freeze behind me out of sight.
It makes me laugh when they take a peak
And jump out at their friends to fright.
Some consider me a masterpiece
As I feature in their art.
When they're near to me they feel my peace.
Now isn't that quite smart?
I have outlived many souls
Who used to greet me everyday.
Human love helps nature to feel whole,
What more can I say?
This is me. I am the Tree
And until my own time ends,
I'll be your joyous company
Your Tree, your "unsung friend".
We have trusted friends to give us a lift.
Even as this earth starts to rift.
Jump out of bed and start to collide.
My shoes quickly became untied.
When you trip you can feel a rush.
And fall into a soft bush.
Have a friend help you stand once more.
As you had almost fallen into the earth’s core.
But the cracks in the earth start to heal themselves.
And vases replaced on the shelves.
This place is looking better than before.
Like we went to a bright-sky store.
We have trusted friends to save the day.
Undo the damage without delay.
And that cookie jar I always treasured?
He sent me a new one with kindness unmeasured.
He simply saw the right one online.
The power of friendship and the internet are quite divine!
I thought I should let you know
that it might seem like things are moving slow
but the truth is that
I don’t pull poems out of my hat
because they actually
come and go
as they please
and it might seem like a tease
but I accepted their behavior a long time ago
because when you
feel blue
and give poems a role
they’ll eventually jump out of the rabbit hole
and hop away
even when you ask them to stay
but there will be a day
when they’ll know when I feel mellow
and drop by to say hello
But I must confess
that even personal poems grow restless
so they'll leave
but there is no need to grieve
because some of those poems
will return
while others will crash and burn
like paper planes
in warring flames.
It was the most empty basement I’ve ever felt.
Creaking, support beams, and spider webs.
Nothing nice like flamingos or lip gloss.
A chair for so long.
Then not even a molecule.
There’s nothing in a shoe box except shoe prints.
Things that don’t move.
Or even try to jump out of the way.
It was the most empty basement feeling ever.
I stopped getting tangled in spider webs.
It stopped, it did.
It was the most…
Like a collection of walls and the support beams that mean well.
Empty.
I got caught up in the relaxing dust, and must.
It was the most empty basement sound I’ve heard.
Strumming along with a bass hum.
I have an empty basement inside.
Got fumigated one too many.
The breeze whispers in my ears:
My love refuses to join me for a ride.
Let's move out towards the sea
Over choppy waves on currents adrift.
See, my boat is in full speed,
My strong breeze has filled my sails.
And speedily all is glee.
The hot air on the beach is far behind.
For now, it's all fresh and clean.
Dolphins jump out of the waves,
Spraying droplets all around,
They go down again towards the deep.
The breeze helps me see wonders.
So blow as much as you need,
Until the hour approaches.
Crimson sunsets colour the distant bay.
Back I turn to my quiet quay.
Find haven in some quirky bar,
To drink a mug of cold beer.
Yet I feel all alone. Why have you left me?
The breeze whispers goodbye.
Perspiration is all over my face.
Loneliness grips my heart.
I will never find relief.
Inspired by the Song "The Breeze and I" sung by Caterina Valente.
POTD
Placed 2
Joy jumping out of bed.
Mud in my eye; well,
in my mug.
Click kicking heels together.
The weather is fine;
so am I.
Magnanimously smiling.
A peep at pre-rise;
no delay.
Yes, up before the match
strikes in the horizon;
yellow leaves of sun.
I’m undone by my God
who supplies all His riches
in glory.
Perhaps, you’re still
under the sheets,
buried in sleep.
Pre-rise tomorrow!
Click kick heels &
Joy jump out of bed!
I’ll wave at you
as you pour mud
in your mug.
words jump out of my mind in spits and spurts
Flinging themselves onto a page in scribbles and squirts
their determination is admirable, their resilience insane
these words are often clever, other times barely inane
I blame Trixie my muse, she stands firmly on my heart.
Sometimes she is hilariously funny, other times a sarcastic tart.
I never know what these words will do. They have minds of their own.
I am always amazed when they make any kind of poem.
Occurring disturbances echoing through the mind
Felt asleep
Twist and turn
Dreaming feeling like a nightmare
The midst of danger
The dream of enter
It was a person, train and car
Approaching train
A stop at a railroad crossing
Thought of can make it
Car got stuck in the middle
Train steadily getting closer
What do I do?
Do I jump out the car and run?
Meanwhile the train is coming and coming
I could be killed
Suddenly, the car starts and I pull away
The train passes and there was a getaway
Escape being a blessing
Dream as it would seem
But what does the dream mean?
Immediately woke up
Had drenching sweat
Wondered what did the dream surround?
There was danger, but somehow there was protection
Dream over
Went back to sleep
My soul still to keep.
It was true that I didn't have much ambition, but there should be a place for those without wings,
a better place than the usual one, where dreams flow like rivers at dusk,
how could anyone enjoy being woken up at 6:30 in the morning by an unrelenting clock,
to jump out of bed like a puppet pulled by invisible strings, without a script,
to swallow breakfast on the run, like a river pouring into the sea without knowing its fate,
to go to the bathroom and brush teeth and hair, like a cold, mechanical ritual,
to battle traffic, a chaotic dance of cars and horns on crowded streets,
just to arrive at a place where, essentially, you make a lot of money for someone else,
and you're asked to be grateful that you're allowed to sell your time in pieces.
But where is the place for dreamers, for those who walk unknown and free paths,
a place where mornings are not dictated by clocks, but by the song of morning birds,
where value is not measured in money, but in moments lived in harmony with oneself,
where gratitude is not demanded, but naturally springs from the joy of being and creating,
a place where each day is a blank canvas, and we are the artists of our own destinies.
If I were a submarine
I would jump out of the water
Checking to see if other ships
Were doing what they ought-er
Jules Verne would come back
And write lively stories about me
I would be deemed the sheriff
Of the Mediterranean Sea
Hope, that has kept me alive
Hope, that has kept me sane
Hope, that made me insane
Hope, that allows me to breathe
Hope, that suffocates me
Hope, that my child survives
Hope, that makes me breathe
Hope, that the sun shines tomorrow
Hope, that it rains on time
Hope, that the birds wake up again
Hope, that I am alive tomorrow
Hope, that my body doesn’t rot
Hope, that you exist
Hope, that our eyes met
Hope, that you shared what i felt
Hope, that I will make it through
Hope, that I won’t jump out of a building tomorrow
Or take rat poison or gas myself
Hope, that things don’t turn too much
Hope, that I make it through
Hope, that I will wake up again
Hope, that you will read this
Hope, that I am dead
Hope, that I am alive
Hope, that my dead body still breathes
Hope, that I don’t kill myself tomorrow
Hold my breath, gaze the space, thinking louder, this thoughts are enormous, fighting like two wounded elephants, my emotions suffering the devastating effects. Traumatized, lil and fragile mind and heart, inside me, hiding behind these heavy shadows of dread
blurry understandings, slittered senses, concogtion of confusions. I'm centered in junctions of complex decisions, with none serving as solutions, empty shells of questions, deserted lands of answers
Look high, in hope of asylum, grounds I'm standing on, failing me. Inch by inch, my feet lose their soles, marrows in my skeletons, dries up. Strength in me, grow nails, this body of mine, turns sore, I wanna jump out of it but I'm shackled to this pain, wish wings were compittable to men, I could use one now
#Poetic_Ink
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