Reality

There are some days

I just want to huddle

In a dark corner of my room

And think

‘how scary’

The world is.

There are some days

Where I just want to scream

In frustration

Of all the red tape

I’m seeing.

There are just some days

I feel the unease in my bones

A foreboding premonition

That might never come true

Just by reading a few words.

There are some days

I find myself staring

At nothing in particular

Wondering about tomorrow

Thinking about today

Reminiscing about simpler times

When yes and no

Right and wrong

Correct or incorrect

Needed no proof

Needed only trust

Had softer consequences.

There are some days

When all these fears

And realities

Come crashing down

A feeling of hopeful despair

Sends our convictions

Wavering in the wind

And leave us wondering if

We are achieving

Our means to our ends

That we are living

And not just

Existing in reality.

Quote #174

From Eleanor Roosevelt…

Sourced: http://www.firstladies.org/biographies/firstladies.aspx?biography=33

“Do one thing every day that scares you.”

Wonders of the World

I think of the wonders of the world,

I think about the ancient wonders,

The modern wonders,

The technological,

But then,

I realise,

However amazing they are,

They are not what I was thinking of at all.

I’m thinking of the wonders,

Not made of stone,

Of steel,

Of copper wire,

But wonders of the heart,

Of the people we meet,

Of the very belief

That we live in a world of something so much more.

The seven wonders,

Beautiful and bright,

Within my sights

I can see with my eyes,

The things that change the world,

One action at a time.

My ears fill with the sounds

Of happiness, sadness,

Laughter, and needs for anger management,

They scream at loud noises,

And lull to the silence,

It roars,

The silence roars,

And then it settles,

Becoming a bumble,

Of sound and voices,

And I touch,

With my fingers,

The sights that touch me,

And the sounds that sing to me,

I touch, and feel

The hot and the cold,

The brittle and the hard,

And taste what it means

To be alive,

Living and breathing,

Existing and feeling,

It tastes like freedom,

Bitterly sweet,

And that I feel,

This bitterness,

I can’t help but feel,

But I don’t complain,

And complain beyond doubt,

Because I know,

That this is something I can feel,

Even though I might doubt,

This bitterness,

I cannot deny that I do not feel it

Just as I cannot deny the laughter

That escapes upon intervals,

Bubbling and boiling,

Spilling over and uncontrollable,

Spreading, until it blooms

In the centre of one chest,

The feeling of love

For the incomparable,

Things, that make us humans,

Go beyond our very natures

To be the very best we can…

For those we love,

The sights that we adore,

The sounds that we hear,

Within the silence of our thoughts,

The touch of hot,

And cold, the taste

Of the feelings we retain,

That makes us laugh

And sometimes cry,

We are humans,

Tore by own affliction,

Growing,

Day by day,

By the seven wonders

Of our hearts.

 

 

N.b.  I had a little issue writing this…no offense to those I may cause offense to unintentionally as I realise that maybe not all of us have the pleasure of seeing, hearing and feeling what my poem discussing.  This makes me feel somewhat troubled, but I wanted still to express how I felt about the world.

Just So You Know.

Just so you know,

We are who we are.

Just so you know,

We will be who we want.

Just so you know,

We don’t have forever.

We are nothing but a star in the dark time

Waiting for a moon to shine upon us,

Giving us the sun’s rays,

So that we can twinkle high above,

Stars, they shine all night long

They give us the song’s that we cannot sing

They are the celestial gods,

These hot balls of fire,

Are dragging us apart,

Spinning our worlds

Turning our heads,

Giving us some kind of hope,

But we are the makers,

The dreamers and the doers,

We look at the stars

And see something we don’t see,

We look at the moon,

And feel the tides change,

We shade from the sun,

And dare to glimpse its brightness.

Just so you know,

We are not puppets,

On a string to be mastered,

Just so you know,

We are not bound by the fears

That holds us at bay.

Just so you know,

We are the makers of our futures.

 

Quote #155

 

 

 

From Isaac Asimov…

“If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood. I’d type a little faster.” 

What Happens to Us?

What happens to us?

Even though we are in love,

What happens to us?

We know everything about each other,

But yet there are so many secrets,

We have known each other for so long,

Yet, not really very long at all,

We love each other very much,

But yet why, why does it feel like,

We will fall apart at the lightest touch?

What will happen to us,

In this small moment of heartbreak,

When we realise just how much,

We’ve hurt each other in the end.

It was so subtle, hidden behind smiles,

In those rare moments,

Where we saw each other.

It’s when we part,

And forget to say what should have been said,

It’s when we part,

That we think on one side or another,

That we will last,

But on the other,

It’s not like that at all.

The feelings are still there,

And they still matter,

But between all the pain,

All the hurt and heartbreak,

Can we still be what we once were?

What happens now?

When I want to stay with you,

What happens to us?

Can we make it last?

I look at you,

And see something,

I did not see before.

Once before,

I might have just

Let us fall apart

At the slightest touch.

Love does not come as a given,

But grown over time,

It takes work and effort,

And boundless forgiveness

For the faults that can be forgiven.

I have said my piece,

It’s time for yours,

How do you feel?

Is it true?

We are two,

Finding a way to work the answer

Of

What happens to us.

Your Hand On My Back.

There are words I cannot say,

I open my mouth,

And I shape them,

But there is no sound.

I stand on the cliff edge,

And try to scream,

But all I hear,

Is the birds calling in place,

Where my voice should be.

I cannot scream,

Even though,

I want to scream.

I feel the tears,

Of frustration,

Falling,

Where there is no voice,

To voice the pain,

And anguish,

I can cry,

But only the blue,

Blue sky is witness,

To the sorrow that has filled my heart.

Cry,

Cry,

Scream.

I can’t scream.

I can only move my mouth,

I can only try,

And try,

And try.

You find me,

At my worst,

Huddled under the clear blue sky,

Crying in frustration,

Unable to speak the words,

I so desperately want to say.

And your hand,

Just your hand,

On my back,

Reminds me in that moment,

That I am not alone.

 

This Small World.

This small world,

Turns slowly round,

With one satellite,

In eternal orbit,

Following this world,

As it dances around the sun.

 

This small house,

Is the centre of the world,

With one room to sleep,

One room to eat,

And one room to lounge,

It is empty,

Only full when the summer comes round.

 

There is a small life,

Just born in the middle of the night,

Crying for some love,

Crying for some milk,

It is the symbol of life,

The happiness of a mum and a dad,

The miracle of a lifetime,

Don’t ever let it go.

Walking on Starlight.

I’m walking on the starlight,

A road into my dreams,

I watch the thoughts of yesterday,

Become the thoughts of today,

I see the sights of tomorrow,

Become the sights of today,

I know I am the future,

Of hard work and good fortune.

 

I’m dancing in the sunlight,

In the middle of my dreams,

Thinking about my happiness,

Drowning in illusion,

I’m wanting a forever,

Hoping for an eternity,

Dreaming, dreaming for a dream that is reality.

 

I’m falling through the cloudscape,

Gathering the dreams,

One wisp at a time,

Putting them together,

Threading and weaving,

Building a tapestry

Of wishes, making dreams come true.

 

I’m singing in the moonlight,

Paving my way of light,

Crashing through the darkness,

One moonlit square by moonlit square,

Walking forward,

Looking ahead,

At that shining bright light.

 

 

In The Centre of the Universe.

Once around the stars

I weave,

Gathering my soul,

The magic of the heavens.

I call for the song

That is the stars

Enchanted by love

And given to hope.

I find the rose

That’s buried deep

And pull out its thorns,

To nurture it.

It’s rare and fine,

Amongst the blossoms,

Red like blood,

Surrounded in pink.

I close my eyes,

And look for the sun,

The light,

Is a shadow north.

I smell the taste of tomorrow,

And listen for today,

Their song very sweet,

Very sorrowful.

And I ask,

What is the world looking for,

A place to put me,

A voice to replace mine?

I cannot be replaced,

I cannot be exchange,

I am a human,

As perfect as the next.

I am a rarity,

Of utter perfectness,

Cherishing my fullness,

My thinness.

I can’t be changed.

I am a creation.

With my arms and legs,

My eyes and hair.

I weave around the stars,

Casting my spell,

Looking for my place,

Right where it should be,

In the centre of the universe.

We Are Worlds Apart.

We are worlds apart,

Living in a different dream,

Searching for that special other something.

 

We dance to lyrics unknown to us,

Unafraid of the eyes upon us,

We dance living forever in the moment.

 

We believe in yesterday,

And look towards the days forward,

With fingers crossed, and hope abound.

 

We sing to tunes from the star world,

Unafraid of the alien song that comes,

As though we have known it for all our lives.

 

We hope in silence,

Counting the seconds, wishing on the stars,

Believing like we have never believed before.

 

We read the words of foreignness,

Embracing in the exoticness,

Reciting poetry that we would not have before.

 

We know we are,

Somewhere safe in our fears,

Ready to face what comes right after.

 

We are worlds apart,

Dying with the same belief,

That we have lived as the ones before,

Facing our fears,

Overcoming obstacles,

Until we can say,

We are:

Satisfied, happy and,

Brimming with life.

Quote #138

From Albert Camus…

“You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.”

In a Well of Darkness, I Fly.

I’m in an endless hole,

Deep dark in the darkness,

I’m terrified,

I’m terrified,

Unsure of the long days to come,

Waiting,

Watching,

As the sun peaks over the opening,

Glowing,

Bright,

Burning my sight,

And I wait,

For its hot touch,

Bright shining rays,

To touch me,

In this deep dark hole,

And it reaches towards me,

Its fingers creeping across the endless space,

Coming towards me,

Like a toddler beginning to walk,

Almost succeeding,

Almost touching…

Then fades,

Pulled back by its mother,

To walk in another direction,

Passing over my dark and endless pit of despair,

I find myself,

Living again,

In a hole growing endlessly deeper,

Dragging me down,

Eating me up,

One inch of skin at a time,

Until only my mind,

Is left sane and clear,

Hoping, waiting,

Endlessly despairing,

For the hands of the sun to reach,

Yet never reaching,

The space between us,

Endlessly growing,

Until I am no more,

Than a shadow of who I was,

A shell of someone who had too much hope,

And not enough power,

A shell waiting for that moment to shatter,

Into the dust,

From which a new bird can be born,

Glowing and bright,

Rejuvenated,

Ready to spread the long-awaited wings,

To fly towards a future,

That comes from the pain and despair of the past,

To no longer live,

In that endless hole of hopeless,

But to fly towards the future with the wings,

Of the hope from the well of the past,

From thyself, and from the soul,

Of my own expectations,

I reach out, and touch,

Those tendrils of light,

Mingle with my own,

And together I fly.

Endless Monotony.

There is a constant strumming

In the background,

Behind the buzzing words,

Beyond the narrated images,

It’s hovering like a fly,

Sticky to that that is meat,

Tempted by the smells,

In swarms with the heat.

I sense an endless monotony,

Of constant humming sound,

Filling the spaces between noises,

That carpet my mind in fury.

I walk along an empty road,

Searching for that breathless tomorrow,

And yet my future,

Is unset in stone,

Changing tiles from left to right,

Building upon each other,

Changing from endless monotony,

To an endless forever,

Giving me hope,

Inspiration

And beauty.

I reach the end,

Of a journey,

Long and fraught,

With hurt, pain, love,

And surprises around every corner,

Blooming colour,

In endless monotony,

I can’t see anything else,

I can’t feel anything but the,

Constant strumming,

In the background,

Keeping me awake,

Opening my eyes,

I see,

Bright,

Wide,

Arcing,

Across the bright sky,

All the colours

Of my imagination,

Creating a rainbow,

Bursting apart,

The endless monotony,

Of the days past.

The Desert Rose.

I am that seedling,

Carelessly planted by a man,

Who had not a brain to think

Further than what he sowed

In a land that was barren,

Hard dirt, and solid rock,

Blistering under the sun

From dawn to dusk.

I am withering,

Under the endless heat,

Flourishing in the cold of the night,

Sprouting the skin,

Of someone under pressure,

Fighting the weather,

Every sun up,

Til sun down,

Pushing through,

I will reach the sky.

I am growing,

At a rate beyond slow,

Blooming with beauty,

Unknown to this land,

Glowing bright, liquid,

In the aridness,

Thorn covered,

For protection,

Against a wildness

Of a heart downtrodden,

I will rage, soar, far higher,

Than the seedling that had begun,

From a man who carelessly sowed,

What he will, where he willed,

Leaving his seedling behind.

I will conquer,

This parched waterless wasteland,

Bringing the rain, unseen,

Become the queen

Of roses, thorny and protected,

By the shear will power,

Of a seed long forgotten,

Blossoming with beauty,

This land shall flower,

Under the eyes,

Of the Desert Rose.

An Endless Dream of Time.

We are sitting in an endless dream,

Of endless flowing time,

That stays still, counting none forward,

Turning none back,

Melting on dream branches

And spreading across the land

Like a disease

Setting in to rot,

Decaying.

Time is of an essence,

Unfounded in nature,

Of wanting and needing,

Of constantly vying,

Whining for the lack of time,

It’s at the tips of our fingers,

Slipping through as we close our hands,

It dances around us,

Making us a fool,

Counting the seconds,

As the clock strikes one.

We chase the endlessness of time,

Searching,

Looking,

Reaching out,

For what will always evade us,

At our greatest moment of need.

We are sitting in an endless dream

Persistently chasing what we cannot catch,

With a net,

Or a fork,

Or the boundless space of our minds,

It will always evade us,

Circle around us,

Age us,

Terrify us,

Sitting still,

Is just an endless dream,

For us who moves with time,

Going with the flow,

Counting what can’t be counted,

Taking our hopes and knowledge,

Knowing that time cannot freeze…

We are just sitting in an endless dream.

[Hehe, omg lol, Salvador Dali’s Persistence of Time inspired me!]

Quote #122

From Emily Brontë (Wuthering Heights)…

“I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.”

Quote #121

From Joseph Mitchell…

“…you can hate a place with all your heart and soul and still be homesick for it.”

The World Waits.

The world waits,

For that final breathing,

In, out,

Like frost in space,

Twinkling, light,

Breathe,

Air,

Unbreathable,

Sinking,

Bright and light,

Undeniable.

The stars are shining,

For the years to come,

With many hopes,

And wishes,

Sparkling brightly,

For all the eyes to feast,

Upon their undeniable beauty.

They sing the songs,

In the shadows of the night,

Humming in the darkness,

Sending shivers down our backs,

We pray,

We love,

We live,

As the world waits,

For the next day,

And the next,

And the ones that come after,

Forever til,

The one last day,

When the sun’s rays,

Reach us,

Burn us,

Engulf us in its beautiful rays.

Life will bloom,

Forever more,

Dancing in the winds,

Singing in the trees,

And playgrounds,

Rolling in the dust,

Stamping in the deserts

Of love and hate,

Filling in the holes of time,

As the world waits.

Quote #120

 

From Amelia Earhart…

“Adventure is worthwhile in itself.”