Random posts by random folks
What a beautiful spring day this is
on this mild winter noon,
the grass withered yet triumphant
peeks out from the fast retreating snow.
Even the gray stays away
as a lone bird tests its lungs,
carried by the breeze and singing,
“What a beautiful winter day,
oh, what a beautiful day!”
The lowest-flying dreams
bounce back off the atmosphere
into the vastness of space,
on course for collision
with everything in the universe.
I try to live in the moment
absent of such fanciful dreams
but I can’t help but smile
when I hold you close–
there’s stardust
in your touch.
You’re not at all what I expected
with standards by this heart, dejected,
which goes to show how wrong I was
in all my pessimistic cause–
your love has left me quite affected
I never could draw within the lines,
my hands held the colors
too heavily
or they just weren’t steady enough,
impatient even.
But you,
you have drawn a world
I love to visit,
a world of bright colors
and shades and hues
that I can’t help but get lost in,
hoping that I can stay hidden
within those lines
for as long as I can.
It’s meticulous and mysterious
but as familiar
as the morning air.
It’s your art. It’s your words.
It’s you.
No, not hers
though I had never seen her glow
like that
nor had I seen her float on air . . .
it was his smile, a dear friend
trapped in the ugly snares
of this vale of tears
and he smiles
with her.
That boy would find ten pounds of goodness
in a five-pound sack labeled “bad”
but he would not
keep any for himself.
My friend–and her too–here’s to you
and the many, many
good and happy years
ahead.
Be well, be good,
stay blessed
in Him
who brought you together.
She dances gracefully
on the wisps
of non-existent memories
in my heart,
spurred on by music box melodies
of songs yet to be written.
I want and I beg
for her to leave,
to trod on the worn-out
welcome mat
on her way out,
but the thought of her leaving
hurts me in another, yet familiar, way.
My head bobs,
my foot taps.
Some pollution of ignorance
still travels through
my veins.
It wants her to go
but
I need her
to stay.
The Bonsai
You took sharp objects
and used them like you knew how;
the bonsai remains
* * * * *
The Redwood
Sequoia standing
strong, still insignificant
when compared to you
* * * * *
The Apple Tree
Shade from the sunshine,
beauty in simplicity–
apple of my eye
It must be hard to be a poet
to lay souls bare that you may show it
to a world that may not care
or attempt to meet you there
at words you choose, crafted to fit
your stories that will never quit
It’s not that I don’t care
but that
even the languages
we all share in these poetic words
are delicate mirrors
into ourselves and others–
it serves a purpose, let’s us see within,
but it’s imperfect, not quite accurate,
and the slightest disturbance
can shatter it into deadly shards.
It’s not that I don’t care
but that
I get excited to share my imperfect words
and break the thin ice instead.
You hid between the lines
of an open book, a quick read
yet one which requires time
and patience to begin
to understand.
Such writing once frustrated me
but each new line
my eyes trace over
fills me with awe and wonder.
It’s something new, different, nice.
You’re a new story
hid in plain sight of the classics
and I can do little else
unless I read one more chapter.
The Unnecessary Blog 