Only right two times a day,
That’s what all the world will say.
My arms lay broken at my side,
In broken glass my hands do hide.
A stray ball that came my way,
Broke my soul while kids did play.
Gears that used to fit so well,
Began to grind, that’s all I could tell.
I used to click so tried and true,
Now my state is oh so blue.
My way of life I could abide,
Now left with my tarnished pride.
You light up my world.
You help me see the things
that are right in front of me
You outline my path
and create shadows along it
You turn on when you are told
like an obedient dog waiting for a treat
You stand like a statue in a museum
waiting for the opening hours to come.
When the power fails,
so do you
When we are gone,
so is your purpose
When the nighttime comes,
you are awakened
When we forget to turn you off,
you scorch with anger
And then you burn out
because you have worked too hard
And can no longer shine
1942, the middle of World War II, a reign not so delight,
A silent barren street wraps around the diner tonight,
Just three figures remain and a few hours until twilight,
Even with empty mugs these nighthawks won’t take flight.
Phillie’s, the tank full of glow that seeps and pours,
To cast a reverse shadow all over the opposite floor,
And while everyone else in the city sleeps and snores,
Nocturnal nighthawks stay alert without pressure to soar.
Sales down as the bartender hasn’t a busy shift to attend,
But someday he knows times will have to mend,
But in the meantime everyone’s got plenty of time to spend,
Because it feels this night will never end.
It shimmered in the sunlight along the ocean shore,
Enjoying the peaceful afternoon.
Lazily, lying in the golden sand, sunbathing.
Feeling the freshness of the sea breezes
the waves brought.
Waves,
Crashing onto the sand,
Beating its outer shell,
To scour every trace of dirt into the sea.
From its spiral open end,
I heard the sound of the ocean,
I heard seagulls calling,
I found myself roaming in the vast blue sea.
All is awake.
A simple walk,
A trek to the unknown
A leisurely trot through the beast.
Rich flowers bloom
Colors so strong you fall,
Unidentifiable nature
Feeling the warm turquoise sky
Clouds fill your thoughts with deja vu
Sentimentality draws your eyes
To a scarlett and tangerine fire
Fire creates all life.
Landscape adapts,
Golden velvet caresses your skin
Marking the last hour of light
Fill the night with delicate lace flakes
An easy wind painting the forest,
The blackest evening of the year,
A liquid moon looks in the mirror of a glass lake.
The birth of a new beauty.
Twilight is born,
Revealing shimmering and pure glares
Leave all alone
It will be there tomorrow
When untouched
For eternity
For when the darkness comes, through the
streets it lurks.
The long bulky figures slowly disappear
inside.
In the alleyway they go, rolling past it all,
nothing to see but shadows
In the alleyway they go,
rolling past it all,
nothing to see
but shadows
Appearing anonymous to the people outside
oblivious, all is dingy within.
All are perfectly lined up, randomly with no
avail or order.
Dim lights make their way on the dirt path.
Engines running,doors slam, and all silence
follows.
The back, stalks a mountain, which can
faintly stare upon you.
Up the top of it, every movement is visible.
All slippery ice, hardened soil, and dead
leaves.
Early morning rises, and the figures come
alive. Exiting with notion. One tails the
other.
The yard drains of them, all empty… it is
what it is.
I’m a linear surface with no reflection,
But I have many bumps,
From paint splatters
To dents.
You can stare at me,
Throw things at me, even
punch me
And they think I don’t care.
They stick nails
in me,to hang
heavy pictures on me.
They stick plugs in me.
I do all of these things,
Yet I get no attention,
Cause I am just
Another wall.
You buy us in the store
Each with a large hole
To put your feet in
Pretty soon I will go with you everywhere
Protecting your feet like armour
Through day and night
And rain or shine
I’ll be like a friend
As we will play during the rainy days of April
And relax in the shade during the hot days of July
We will jump into the piles of leaves we rake in October
But all fun must come to an end
When the first snowfall of December rolls around
There will no longer be a need for me
I’ll watch dolefully by your door
Remembering all the fun we had
As you walk to school
In your new winter boots
People look down on me,
never looked up to.
Sometimes they kneel down,
to help me.
Only when I’m a mess.
Do they care?
No.
Only when I get in the way,
in the way of their comfort.
Sometimes I’m perfect,
I feel pretty and people feel satisfied:
a win-win situation.
But most times
I’m just stepped on.
Dragged
through rain or snow,
dirt or mud
But
when I’m weak and tangled,
they will pretty me up into a bow,
maybe twice or thrice. However,
in the end
I will become loose.
Dragged and stepped on.
In a cycle.
So please,
be careful and mindful
of our feelings.
When we are stepped on,
kindly help us get back up
to be the beautiful selves we are.
Your shoelaces
From the city, to the opposite
From millions, to hundreds
From buses, cars, and motorcyles
To an SUV or two a day
Birds chirping endlesslly
In the big oak tree
Rocky Mountain air
Mountain ranges fill the sky line
The deck’s paint
Bleached by the sun
Benches and chairs
Weathered down from countless storms.
Sit down and take it in
This is peace
This is tranquility
This is the cabin