I wish I could take it all away
And bottle it up in jars of clay,
All the tears And all the pain,
Stored away on the top shelf,
Out of reach from human hands,
Or felt by human hearts,
But what these jars contain
Is much more than what we think,
And would be wasted If left sitting on the shelf,
We carry them with us,
We carry them in us,
Always for a higher purpose
Than what our teary eyes can see,
Broken before a King,
All the content falling apart Before
She wasn’t silent,
She was a thousand trees,
falling in a thousand forests,
With her head in the clouds,
just waiting to come down.
With no one around
To hear her land.
She drank life by the tea cup full,
Sometimes too fast
Taking in too much,
Burning her tongue,
Sometimes too slow
So that by the time She finished,
It had grown lukewarm
And eventually cold.
Waiting too long or
Not long enough
Before taking a sip
Or regretfully a gulp.
But she took it in
Trying her best to sit up straight,
With a smile on her face
Even when the tea became bitter,
And the party grew sparse.
She folded the soft orange blanket
That had been speckled red over time,
hugging it tight as the wind
Tried hard to pull it away
To join the other lost blankets
Decorating the ground,
she took a deep breath,
Letting it go as a gift to the wind,
And welcomed quietly the cold.
Photo Credit: Foto Pau Flickr via Compfight cc
I wander if Autumn ever gets scared,
Knowing it will soon
Loose it’s splendor
In submission to the changing
Breathe of Winter,
Or if it welcomes it with open arms,
In surrender of the change,
Knowing that it’s time has passed
And that it must move on,
Delivering itself to the desolate
Wonder that lies ahead.
Or if it sighs not wanting to give in
To the beauty that it knows is waiting,
Because it would mean losing
Photo Credit: isiltasuna Flickr via Compfight cc
I want to hide among the thorns
Like a wildflower,
With no expectation,
Kissing the sky,
So desperate for only
I want to be poetic,
Not in the sense that I want to
I want to sit by a fog filled window,
With a cup of coffee,
Staring out into the rainy afternoon
Or the morning sunrise.
Not moving nor doing anything
Breathing quietly as if I did so any
Louder I would wake the world
From its eternal slumber.
sipping the hot liquid wrapped
Around my finger tips,
Watching the world as if it almost
Refuses to exist,
As if I am not my own,
As if I am looking at me from
The outside in,
Like a little piece of poetry.
Depending on how you look at things, depends on how you see them. So many meanings for so many words, what is beautiful for one is terror for the other. The same two things can be used to talk of two different things and have entirely different meanings.
She loved so deeply
That her heart took root
To everyone she met.
The problem was that often times
The ground she chose didn’t deserve
The roots she grew,
Taking them away just to destroy
Everything that stood above the surface.
Till one day when the roots gave in,
Knowing they couldn’t take another blow,
They let go,
Taking so much with them,
And it destroyed them both.
We try our hardest to be free,
Free from expectations,
Free of the chains of time,
Free of the things that weigh us down,
From the things that make us, human,
Even the bodies we are locked in.
We do everything we can to tell ourselves we are,
Because nothing can convince us,
Though we won’t admit it.
We can’t comprehend the idea that we are already free,
Because to do so we would have to admit
To full surrender.