My Friend
Sometimes I am my only friend.
Sometimes only Jesus is my friend.
But some friends that I've had are gone.
Some are dead, some just said so long.
You see lately, I feel very much alone.
And sadly, it causes my heart to turn to stone.
The only friend that I do want, no longer wants me.
The love got lost for she just will not see.
Um, ooops, I was in a very bad way this day evidently. Because I just finished this poem with a vulgar rant of how I was feeling at that time. Hmmm, not the best way to wrap up this exercise huh? :) lol Oh well, life goes on and I've made some new friends since then and the sun came out the next day or whenever. It may have been cloudy that next day, call your local meteorologist if you want to know for sure. :) I hope your sun is shining where ever you are today. Love Leslie. <3 :)
Note: Day 7 of writing exercise.
If I Could Change The World
If I could change the world, we'd all be quite content.
Everyone would understand exactly what was meant.
Peace would ensue from every view.
And deep in our hearts, love always grew.
Well let's just say that I was the ruler.
I'd be very well liked, no one would be cooler.
Everybody's hopes and dreams, always would come true.
If I could change the world, that's what I would do.
But here we live from day to day.
What can I say, that is just the way.
So somehow maybe, we could change.
The way we feel and not feel strange.
I think that that would be the best.
When things get rough, we just take it in jest.
If I could change the world today.
I would do it for all of us, if I may.
Note: Day 6 in writing exercise.
My Funniest Experience
I can't remember, I smoked too much pot.
I was busy being mellow and the rest I just forgot.
The funniest thing that I guess that I can say.
Is that I can barely remember the first part of today.
When 30 years pass and you're melancholy.
You don't remember things that seem very jolly.
So I guess that would be the funniest of all.
That when it comes to memory, I just don't recall.
Let me see if I can find deep in my mind.
A tale of woe that we all know when we get in a bind.
I had a dog, Barney the Beagle.
Just a nice dog, no need to be regal.
The pastor came to call on Dad.
And as he was talking, Pastor must have looked sad.
Because Barney decided to go and hump his arm.
Yeah, good ole Barney, he wasn't known for his charm.
Note: Day 5 in the writing exercise.
Someday I Want To Be...
What I want to be someday I will keep secret.
For if I tell you I'm afraid I will regret.
Because to shine a light on future hopes.
Opens the door wide for idiots and dopes.
So someday I want to be what I want to be.
It's really not for you, it's only for me.
So if and when that day does come.
I hope it all adds up to a tidy sum.
Looking in the mirror of future reflections.
Is a solemn journey meant for private inspections.
I've spent my whole life waiting for that day.
But as you well know, what comes, what may.
Someday I want to be happy to be me.
To know a little joy and to just be free.
To just be comfortable in my own skin.
And get out of the trouble that I've gotten in.
Note: Day 4 of writing exercise.
The spirit of those that I still see.
I believe are those that take care of me.
Between their love and love of God.
They help me to not feel so odd.
Within this life in this earthly realm.
The government and county now man the helm.
I have a living angel who helps me hang on tight.
She's always there although it doesn't feel quite right.
I guess I failed at things myself.
I got stuck up there upon that shelf.
Now my cares are out of my own hands.
I have to do what the situation demands.
But I, yes I, am the only one.
Who still needs to get things done.
Who'll take care of all this mess.
And I will, by golly, by guess.
Note: this is day 2 of the writing exercise during my stay at a half way house during a civil commitment three years ago.
Note: This is Day 1 of 7 of a writing exercise they had us do when I was in this half way house after my stay in the mental health unit. It wasn't something they required to be written in poem form or rhyme or anything. That's just me. I actually think writing in rhyme helps me to express myself. :)
Who Am I ?
I am the breeze, I do as I please.
If you want to know just watch me blow.
The aftermath will show the trail I'm on.
Just don't blink for soon I'll be gone.
You say you want my guts.
If you think you're going to get that, you're nuts.
I can do these little exercises.
But I don't trust them who despises.
So when the sun comes back around.
You'll see I'm planted firm on the ground.
Yesterday's ambitions are all used up.
So today, I'll just pour another cup.
Reflections come in many ways.
I'm left looking for the one that pays.
Day 1: Who am I?
I am me until I die.
I didn't say they were good. :) Just vented my angst as I thought I should. :)
Auto Correct Writing Exercise!
Once there lived a beautiful duck
who was always ducking about literally, physically and figuratively
who always waddled into dumber ducks than her
they would always ducking ask her dumb ducking questions
like don't you love ducking about literally, figuratively, and physically?
she would ducking say well, of course I do! it is dam ducking pleasurable don't you ducking think?
they always replied with If you ducking love it so much than ducking bend over and let us ducking duck you right now
she would always ducking say no ducking way you dumb ducking ducks ducking sex is sacred didn't you ducking know that you ducking dumb ducking ducks
they would ducking say come on don't be a ducking biach or a ducking can't
she just slapped the shot out these ducking ducks and left them lying on the ducking ground like a ducking who're leaves their ducking ducker before satisisfying him but already taken his money!
(The writing exercise was to choose three poetry cliches and make them fresh)
(back stabber, after my own heart; and a soul of discretion; maybe more...)
He was a back stabber
After my own heart
Meek and sleek and sneaky
He wormed his way in
And 'innocently' uncovered
State secrets
Private tales
Skeletons in closets
They were all fair game
He was a back stabber
Not to be trusted
But had
Such a sweet smile
That promised a soul of discretion
It was too easy to believe him
It felt good to trust him
He pulled his victims in
And it wasn’t until the court case
Was over
And the jury voted for him
Again
That you realized he was a back stabber
He pulled it off with such panache
And charm
You had to admire the guy
Even while you staunched your blood
I wish – oh I wish
I had his skills
He was a back stabber
After my own heart
Poetry
It is our dreams and failures,
It sounds like the rain and thunder,
It looks like the calm before the storm,
It feels like a never-ending rollercoaster,
It makes me feel sick.
thanks to Karen O'Leary for her great writing exercise.
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