Tag: Poetry
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weary.
We are weary soulsCarrying the weight of a weary worldCrushed by the taskDoubled over and going under. Trying to come up for airWhen another wave pulls us underLapping lost in the vast seaUnsure of the horizonSurrendering to the darkTo the depthsTo the possibility of nothing. Drained to the point of depletionEmpty.A hollow vesselMoving absently in…
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the end.
It’s the end of an era!We exclaim and applaudAnnouncing loudlyWhen the conclusion finally comes. And yet -It is the end of an era, We sigh to ourselves. The event far off on the horizonThat season so far beyond our reachHas arrivedSo suddenlySo unexpectedly -Here. The end of an era.Author’s Note: Originally published on Instagram by…
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rule breakers.
How do rules break?They break one shortcut at a timeOne “this is easier”This is quicker. This is better. Rules breakAs a slow shift to convenienceThat you didn’t even noticeBut you taught your sonTo take the shortcut across the roadInstead of the crossingAnd soonSoonThis convenience is placed elsewhere.For what reward is there in doing the right…
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Little glass jars.
There is a little glass jarThat sits solid and stillIn my little rock heart, On a DIY shelf I built. I take each of those nice wordsYou took the time to writeAnd fold it up too small to seePlacing it inside, safe and tight, My little glass jarOn my little heart shelf.There are other thingsWhich…
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done.
Have you ever felt done?DepletedCompletely and utterlyUnmistakably DONE?You’re done – morethan you’ve ever been before. The most done.Done-est.What if We reframed ‘being done.What if It isn’t actually The most done.but The Beginning.At the end of our tetherAt the end of our limits our control our abilitiesWe find how littleIs in our control.And how much freedom…
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Blessed are the Mothers
(in the trenches) Blessed are the mothers in the trenches Those with a newbornWhose screaming faceThey are just getting to knowAnd yet, already, love completely, intimately – eternal.Blessed are the mothersUnfolding and cracked open Struggling to bloomEmpty stomachs, full arms, The messy bun solidified with dry shampooFor the fourth, fifth, tenth? Day in a row…
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endurance.
SometimesThe problem is notThe pain itselfThe painWe can handle but the duration – The unending needFor our enduranceWith no end in sight.How long can we hold on?Can we last in this fight?Without sign of the horizon -Without hope of the light.”The dawn is coming” someone whispersfrom distant shadowswe can’t touch.If we just hold on a…
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maybe
Apparently, if we don’t look after things, they can go bad -maybe even die.The garden unwateredWithersThe toy unlovedRustsThe fruit uneatenSpoils.The relationship unattendedLanguishes – maybe even dies.How terribleTo watch something with such potentialsuch hope and promisebecome dustdue to inattention.Let us chooseTo not take that which we loveFor grantedTo water the bloomsAnd watch them blossomTo take the…
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the future
It blasts off like a rocketSoaring out of your controlYou want to get it back But it’s too lateIt is already on courseAlready pursuing purposeAlready in the atmosphere.It sneaks up on you quietlyUnexpectedlyWhile you’re busyDoing 100 other things.Unaware, it announces itselfAnd takes your breath awayYou want to silence itAsk it to waitTo come back, when…
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diggers & unicorns
My son asked me to draw a diggerMy daughter asked for a unicornBoys love all things concrete, and concrete.Real, reliable, strong, dependableStrength you can touchLike the wheels on a dump truckAnd depend uponLike Spider-Man’s websUs girls are still chasing magicAnd the elusive beautyof all we cannot fully seeLike unicorns and fairiesTheir flight and whimsyBringing hope…
letters and lattes 