The Gift of Seasons

She folded the soft orange blanket

That had been speckled red over time,

Inward,

hugging it tight as the wind

Tried hard to pull it away

To join the other lost blankets

Decorating the ground,

Shuddering,

she took a deep breath,

Letting it go as a gift to the wind,

And welcomed quietly the cold.

-t.r.p.

Photo Credit: Foto Pau Flickr via Compfight cc

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Autumn Sighs

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

Something first.

-t.r.p.

Photo Credit: isiltasuna Flickr via Compfight cc

Sleep Among Thorns

I want to hide among the thorns

Like a wildflower,

With no expectation,

Kissing the sky,

So desperate for only

One’s attention.

-t.r.p.

People Are Poetry

I want to be poetic,

Not in the sense that I want to

Write poetry.

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

Of consequence,

Just existing,

Breathing quietly as if I did so any

Louder I would wake the world

From its eternal slumber.

My lips,

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.

-t.r.p.

The Loudest Fall

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,

Pulling away,

Taking so much with them,

And it destroyed them both.

What We Think We Don’t Have

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 so so we would have to admit

To full surrender. 

-t.r.p.

In My Stillness

We fight the stillness,

Trying our hardest to avoid the darkness

And the quiet that it brings,

Because even when we’re screaming in our own minds

For someone to save us from

The crowds of people taking over,

The quiet still seems lonely.

If only I would learn to let you speak.

 

Not just in the moments when the storm is higher

Then I know what to do with,

Or when the walls are too slick

At rock bottom that I can’t pull myself up,

Or the times I feel so lonely,

Forgetting who to turn to when I can’t feel you there.

But, in the moments when I feel you sitting there,

So strongly, waiting,

I can’t help but be anything but still.

 

Even when my mountains crumble,

Yours stay strong,

Screaming their adoration without saying a word,

The ocean crashes against the walls you gave it,

Obeying sometimes more silently than me,

In my stillness I am learning,

I can see, that you do so much of this for me.

Apple Picking 

I won’t stay quiet forever,
I’m sick of going silently insane,
Not saying a word
For the sake of everyone but me.
Screaming on the inside
At all the fake around me,
Can none of you see it?
Pretty on the outside,
But rotten to the core,
Stop trying to deceive me,
And just pick one already.
Put down the facade
And show me something real. 
-t.r.p.

Image

Simplicity Is Often Loudest.

Same Road, Different Feet.

You’ve been in my shoes,
Standing in this place before,
It looks different now,
Maybe it’s because I’ve really been in yours,
I don’t know what to say
Because it’s always been me on the other side,
I never let it show,
Because I didn’t want you knowing
Just how much my shoes had been through.