A-quiver, neath that blue for
Chills, mute-raised world's, cling.
Signal out of place do feel
Its crasser tone in.
Ever since I can remember, I don’t fit in my own skin
It doesn’t help when they tell me beauty comes from within
I always felt I was less than, from an early age,
Every picture in the yearbook seemed to be an awkward stage
I look around at others who all know what to do
But even as a grown up, I still don’t have a clue
Growing up, I always lacked a certain type of grace
And it didn’t matter where I went, I was always out of place
Just when things were hopeless and couldn’t be more wrong,
I came to find a fellowship and a place where I belong
I was welcomed into a community of weathered, wounded souls
Who come together in recovery, sharing common scars and common goals
A glimmer of hope turned to faith and faith led me to believe,
And ever since, I have been blessed with a daily reprieve
I live each day knowing there is nothing that I can’t face
Now that I have been blessed with His love and saving grace
Today,
nothing seems out of place.
The river is at ease between
its banks, those four swans
are meant to be there,
suddenly emerging
from the shadows beneath
the bridge and into a bright
arena of sunlight.
And along the path,
an old, bone worn retriever
is taking its honored place
in the morning, waddling
slowly on a slack, patient lead,
unhurried in the hands
of someone who loves her.
Assembled too in their given
places, a row of peppercorn trees,
a children's playground
and the big, rusty barrel
of a naval gun pointing out
over the bay as it has done
for a hundred years
primed with peace,
and my shadow finding
its usual place to rest,
the ground accommodating
that familiar shape as it does
to a friend. There are times
when nothing seems
out of place and it would be
easy to believe.
Little hairs in certain cases,
are expected that we might see.
Arms and legs are common places,
as well as hair upon our faces.
On top of head, if no traces,
accepting bald, is what you'll be.
Lots of time, as well as money,
coif the hair, in styles aplenty.
Some may use in terms of measure,
when found in food, a real displeasure!
Little hairs sometimes on end,
results of cold, or perhaps frightened.
Little hairs grow as brows,
enhance the lashes, we do espouse.
But when we age, some do appear,
as little tufts upon the ear.
We all spend time giving chase,
of little hairs out of place.
All who have no faith in time
live at peace in a timeless mousehole
a hole in the fabric of nothing at all,
where a moment is but a whisker
that twitches infinity.
Danny boy
walked boldly out of O'Reilly's Irish pub
right into a catastrophic gap in reality,
immediately he was drunk on his own legend
knees buckled, his head lolled.
Back in some fictional homeland
his mother sang like a bird in a kitchen
while she stirred a dark mouse stew,
Danny's eyes flowed over
with all the milky dreams of the unborn.
The cosmic joke is endlessly amusing.
It is not a matrix nor a malignant mystery,
it is the love of the undying,
the faith of all those that have lost all faith
it is the tall stories we tell ourselves
that make even shameless death shudder.
The mouse squeaks
and yet another tale
falls through a torn pocket
to be heard as birdsong
by a perfectly conscious
oblivion.
As Autumn days grow cold,
frost gilds green pathways gold.
A thing once swung with grace,
a swing: seems out of place.
This summer-only toy;
looks lonely: stripped of joy.
Our world has such a gloomy face
Everything has got out of place
Nothing is as it was before
I wish I knew who let it in
So God can make it pay for this viral sin
I never thought I would have to say that my youngest brother passed away
A freak accident took his life
Always thought that I would die first.
Feeling numb and out of place
Can’t see anything but his face
Constantly missing and mourning him
Hoping to see him again someday
Rest in Peace- Michael
The lacquer, the tease, the crimp, of the hair
as we go out in style, mesh tops with flair
the motley choices of fashion pronounced
by the neon signs on our t-shirts no doubt.
Bobby socks and crop tops, spangled and bright,
all bangles and pearls to represent a Mardi Gras night.
The girls they did flock to the taverns in pairs,
to listen to the synthesised tunes that filled the air.
The boys, tight jeaned, and permed like a rock stars,
would enter in packs as though they were the masters,
sauntering through the ladies of lace,
one gloved with the charisma, yet held no grace.
The eighties were deemed a time out of place,
where anything goes, a retro space.
Defined by the music, the look now seems displaced,
yet there was fun and freedom when the eighties took place.
25/10/2018
J-ust don't feel out of place,
E-arly morn sixth of July;
S-tep out and socialize,
S-adness is just an
A-libi.
D-on't feel out of place,
E-ven though you're so sad;
L-oneliness is not good,
A-s it makes you feel bad.
P-lease don't feel out place,
A-ssociate to keep company;
Z-one of fine friendship brings gladness and glee.
M-ingle with everyone,
O-pen your eyes in other's face;
R-ub elbows with acquaintance,
A-nd don't feel out of place.
Another day in a world where I'm out of place
To always stay where the years turn I'm out of place
To see confusion form from clay in trembling hands
And find turmoil is on display I'm out of place
The beds I've slept that turned to gray as time has died
In vagrant rooms that went astray I'm out of place
Cast astray in worn out shoes from a foreign soul
Where each path walked may lead to death I'm out of place
To see a world now bend away years beyond me
To my dismay of simpler times I'm out of place
Maybe the next roadway will lead me home in peace
From yesterdays of disarray I'm out of place
2/3/17 contest Form G
En route to dinner in Toronto,
We were slightly shocked
To realize that our street
Was very slowly being blocked.
A film crew started setting up
As we sat down to eat
And that was when we noticed
New York taxis on the street!
I asked what they were filming.
"Suits," he answered in reply.
I've never seen the show
But when it's on next time, I'll try.
We ate our meal while gazing at
A phony New York mile.
Tomorrow, when we're back at home,
We'll think of it and smile.
She was very old, very weak
Couldn't move, couldn't speak
Nurses were in need
Too many people to feed
I thought I'd volunteer
I needed to find a career
I noticed right away,
As I brought the spoon to her face
Her painful, bloodshot eye
And the hair that was out of place
The course grey hair had pierced her eye for so long
No one could see there was something wrong
Her body gave up and her eye no longer watered
No one had time or could be bothered
But I saw it and brushed it out of her eye
I'll never forget the gratitude in her smile
I knew then if I could make a difference
No matter how big or how significant
It was the need I had to fulfill
Anything to lesson the pain of the ill
Just that tiny action
I took away what hurt
I knew what I needed
I became a nurse
One attack can trigger a full on war,
One voice can stir up a nation,
One decision can screw up everything.
Why does it have to be this way?
Why can’t people have their own ways of life,
And live safely believing them?
Why can’t this world find peace?
We are all here.
We all have goals.
One thing that we have in common is the will to survive,
Today the world fell out of place.
We turned on each other.
We screwed up.
We killed.
Why can’t this stop?
This world lost it’s way.
Murdering,
Unsympathetic.
Today the world fell out of place.
But this time?
I don’t think we can fix it.
11/13/15
I live a life, a life without belonging
I am a puzzle stripped of five pieces
My heart feels a deep longing
To escape from these shackles without releases
Secluded in a cage that’s locked, but has no key
It feels like I am fading into nothing, nothing at all
And I cannot get rid of the anger deep inside of me
I cannot run away; my back’s against the wall
With no source of rhythm I cannot keep up the pace
I try to keep in control, but all these emotions want to be released
I cannot move on anymore because I am out of place
My will is continuously being decreased
I am the bird that cries all night begging for a chance, but will never be set free
Because I am different from you; is there anyone in this world that is out of place like me
Or am I the only caged bird that cannot seek the fix that’s missing and keeping me awake crying all night long.
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