I sought the balm of quiet streams,
The hush of leaves in twilight's seam.
A softer touch, a breathless sigh,
To soothe the ache, to still the cry.
Yet whispers grew, a haunting hum,
A melody too soft to shun.
Its lilting notes, like woven thread,
Bound me close where silence bled.
Two paths diverged beneath the trees,
One bore thorns, the other ease.
But in their midst, a fragile sound,
A siren's call, a tethered ground.
I chose the road of gentle harm,
Of whispers wrapped in lulling charm.
Each step I took was light, yet fraught,
With solace earned and solace bought.
The fork behind, the hum ahead,
A quiet tune my spirit fed.
But oh, the cost of seeking peace,
Is knowing pain shall never cease.
And as I walk this shadowed way,
I find the night does not betray.
For even harm, unmeant, untrue,
Can cradle wounds and cradle you.
Branch out like leaves do
Picked a clover instead of
Looking for Unique
it's autumn time now..
missed the forest for the trees
send me ease breeze please
The fish in the sea
that looks for a tasty food
is caught by its mouth.
How could it possibly be so confusing
Intentionally unintentional which forces reactions
Let's be honest here
You're trying to endear
Honesty's better if you want good stuff to happen
Ripped to shreds like paper
As I fall from the sky
Heaven has abandoned me
The Gods have forsaken me
And every time I fall, another part of me breaks
He always picks up the pieces and attempts to put them back together
But every shard is as sharp as a knife
One slip and someone gets hurt
My heart is permanently crimson from all the pain it must endure
When he sticks the fragments back into it
The cuts will soon seal
But the scars are forever
You are an angel, he said
But I cannot fly
For my heart has been cut
And my wings ripped apart
Put that thing away!
But I'm playing Pokemon!
Settle down and pray!
I will not dye my hair,
blonde like Marilyn Monroe,
or cover myself in makeup,
to go and put on a show.
I am not one of those girls,
who will purposely flirt,
winking at every man,
just to eventually cause hurt.
I know how it feels,
to have my heart broken,
he was selfish and cruel,
uncaring words were spoken.
I never wanted to hurt your feelings,
because we were not meant to be,
I feel so very flattered,
that you had a crush on me.
The right girl is out there,
she is waiting for you,
just like my guy is searching,
for a heart that beats true.
Simba the cat sitting in the a/c by the glass door looking outside,
Watching, ever watching nature take it’s ride,
Now a distant cat in the green tree shadowed field, on the prowl crossing,
A flock of birds springing up from those sun speckled shadows in the offing,
A squirrel running the top rail of the wooden fence’
Watching Simba watch is my recompense.
She spends a part of each day rubbernecking,
Entertained, interested and inspecting.
A butterfly darting off on a butterfly’s quest,
A gecko camouflaged on a tree flagging at rest.
A mysterious knot hole centers the trunk of a huge grandfather oak,
It’s leaves silhouetted by sky blue and cloud wisp smoke.
I had much to do today, but here I am watching Simba though,
she fooled me. How long have I been here. Where did she go?
It was something that needed to be done
but I wish it happened a different way
Neither of us were budging
So another source stepped in
Keeping us apart
Unintentional? I think not
They want you away from me
funny how that all works out
Your thrown in with others
as your seeking your own unintentional revenge
it's making me sick
but I guess it makes it fair
friendships are your own right
and there's nothing I can do about it
You're doing a great job Nicko
I guess you always win
Facing the unknown.
Only to feel alone.
Future incognito.
Gambled tomorrow.
Things planned.
Permanent trip in hand.
Constant Worriment.
Lost merriment.
Past presents...
Recent judgments.
Uncountable days…
Endless dismays.
Agitation of mind.
Sign of the times.
An unintentional write.
Of an internal fight.
In writing
a poem or a novel,
the writer,
learns about himself;
he won't always
like what he learns,
for writing,
is like tilling a garden:
some dirt gets
turned up with the soil.
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