Details |
Sara Gold Poem
Some things I thought would never change -
it would always be "us three",
I try so hard to understand
why that wasn't meant to be.
The smiles, fun, and laughter;
the jokes we'd throw around,
Are now but distant memories
planted in the ground.
Only unlike seeds they do not wait
come spring to sprout anew,
They're trying to hide in the depths of my mind;
this year no flowers grew.
I had thought it would be like a rubber ball
and bounce right back to my grasp,
Yet I never had known that this friendship of ours
was made of fragile glass.
So when it came crashing down that day last month,
I almost didn't care,
For my perfect life had that perfect ball
that wouldn't need repair.
But the glass it cracked so harshly,
flinging pieces once so strong,
Could these sharp and hurtful shards
have been here all along?
I'm trying not to blame you,
but blame you I just might,
My pride is stubbornly in the way;
if I'm wrong I still am right.
For fairness we'll say we were both at fault,
clearly misunderstood,
And it could've ended there with a sorry that said
"I tried the best I could".
But the hurt took residence within you
until it overcame your heart
As the best friends since first grade
began to drift apart
I tried! I visited!
I texted! I called!
Only to receive unfriendly coldness
in the face of it all.
Not once did I text back a rude response
though I, too, ached with hurt
I forced on fake friendliness
while your remained curt.
Why didn't you inquire
about things on my end?
One who takes, but not gives,
do you call that a true friend?
Now instead of "us three",
I'm left with "us two"
But what's sadder than that
Is that you're left with...you.
You got lost there, in the place that whispered
"all is being lost",
But avoiding me just didn't work-
our paths were bound to cross.
So as we try our best to reconnect;
change craziness to sane,
I just want to say I'm sorry
for all the hurt and pain.
So the smile now, it's real today-
I'm not angry or upset,
But no glue in the world can fix up this crack
for I simply cannot forget.
Copyright © Sara Gold | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Sara Gold Poem
I was born a rock
On some nondescript plateau,
The sort of stone that just blends in
With the mountain’s scenic pose.
They taught me how to follow
What nature brings my way,
And life as a rock was boring
Because it repeated every day.
Inside my little pebble brain
I heard a daring voice,
That told me how I lead my life
Is really all my choice
It told me I had splendor
That resided deep within me,
And if only I’d discover it
I’d be a shining beauty.
I still lived with the rocks
To the world, one tiny speckle.
But in my heart of hearts
I knew that I was special.
I was living for a purpose
That one day I would discover,
For such beauty would not be bestowed
With no chance to uncover.
On the day a tall man took me
Anticipation filled my stone,
For maybe he would help me
Make my inner beauty known.
With this mindset in my head
I did not fill with fear,
When he produced a set of tools
And held me in the air.
Finally a chance to prove
What I’ve been guarding all my life!
But I let out a small gasp
When he chose his chisel knife.
A knife is sharp, the blade is cruel
How would I survive?
While he chiseled at my body,
Would I cope and stay alive?
I made a strong decision
Through this torture I would stand,
I’d be proud to see the end results
And prove it to this man.
The chiseling was painful
But I accepted without questions
For I knew this all was necessary
In my ultimate progression.
And from my little rock-self
Once just a speckle in the soil,
With carving and precision
Came a diamond for the royal.
Diamonds aren’t born
They don’t merely just grow,
They’re a product of hard work
And pain from the chisel’s blow.
There’s beauty in each one of us
A potential to unlock,
Remember that a diamond’s worth
More than a peaceful rock.
Copyright © Sara Gold | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Sara Gold Poem
My heart did don a mask one day
Now do you wonder why?
For I’m too scared to show the world
I’m weak enough to cry.
It’s donned the mask of smiles
Of saying “I’m okay”,
Of feelings never mentioned
If the peace I’d thought they’d sway.
For I thought I’d be well-liked;
I’d thought that I’d belong,
If I’d wear this martyr-mask of mine
And show them I was strong.
So now they call me pleasant
Yet it’s not the me that’s real,
For a heart is not connectable
When you’ve robbed its right to feel.
And as my mask grew bigger
I watched it shrink my me,
For I felt compelled to shape myself
To what the world wants me to be.
I’m marching all alone now
In this useless masquerade
Where passerbies don’t stop to cheer
For life’s not a charade.
How can you know the actor’s thoughts
As he stands there on the stage?
Or see the young bird learn to fly
If it’s locked up in its cage?
How can you glue the shards of glass
If you never knew they broke?
Or take back hurtful words
That you never knew you spoke?
I tried to protect others
By hiding deep within
But still they’re getting hurt now
Because they’re not invited in!
For if they’d come I’m scared to know
What monsters they would find
That wear the mask of “all is good”
And act too sweet and kind.
So as you see, I became my mask
And I caused my heart to die,
For beneath this martyr-mask of mine
I’m now to numb to cry.
I’ve lost that gift of living
We’re now too far apart,
So if you’re ever in the graveyard
Please bring me back… my heart.
Copyright © Sara Gold | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Sara Gold Poem
The farmer took a seed so smooth and small and round,
And gave it one last kiss before he dropped it in the ground.
The seed began to whimper; its feeling were quite hurt!
He wonders what he did so bad that landed him in dirt.
The days wore on so slowly and more lonely he became,
Until one day, to his delight, he chanced upon some grain.
I wish my future could be like theirs- to be a stalk of wheat,
But deep down the seed knew that this was no easy feat.
Time just wore on endlessly; his days were oh, so plain,
While the seed just sat and waited for himself to grain.
One day he felt a pelting of droplets on his back,
The young seed was so scared; he thought that he would crack.
This evil ran, he thought out loud, and brushed away a tear,
Where is the farmer who put me here? Why does he not care?
The farmer heard the cries, yet continued on his way,
He chuckled softly to himself at the seeds naivete,
If all his dreams are pinned this hope to become grain,
He's going to have to learn to suffer through some rain.
Sometimes we act just like a seed, with hopes to become great,
Yet by sitting softly in the mud, nothing will formulate.
When troubles overcome us and the rain comes to and fro,
We know each test and trouble that we face is helping us to grow.
Copyright © Sara Gold | Year Posted 2016
|