Ever True That You Are More

 

ou, over there, yes you

O ver in a mind of blue;

U nearth that diamond in your rough

gree and know that you’re enough;

R egret will always follow doubt

E ach great has chosen to surmount;

ll that to say I know that you

W ill overcome that wall you grew;

E ach day you chip, though seem far long

S ew threads into your tapestry song;

O h if you’ll but take that step and see

M inute are the flaws you flee;

E ver true that you are more


prompted: “write a poem telling someone they are better than they think they are”

And One Did Not

This church I stand before is mine

Next door, 3 crosses left behind

They hail from an event now passed

But the crosses, they were built to last

 

There they are, wrapped in lights

Not for Christmas, just to light the night

A hayride planned to journey past

It took awhile but the rain did pass

 

As always I parked beside the field

Weeks gone by, the crosses steeled

Standing vigil, or so I thought

One cross… two…. and one did not

 

I’m not sure which wind laid the waste

But mid cross fell upon its face

This was so jarring to behold

As the other, smaller two stood bold

 

I paused, reminded of history

Long past, but still no mystery

An innocent man had drooped far down

As devout sinners, whispering, stood around

It was poetic just to see

That one cross bent low, on its knee

I know the story, believe it true

Savior on the cross for me, for you

 

A pretty story for the spring

But there is sorrow that we sing

That clean cross now on muddy ground

Life keeps going, who looks around?

One person could run and lift it up

Two people and the work be shut

Instead inside the church I go

To teach a story of long ago


Prompted by: “Write a poem about noticing something interesting while passing by a church near your home.”

 

Prison Jar

Plucking flowers and leaves

Think I have everything I’d need

But I softly fade, like the clippings you drop in

 

Pixies dim when they are sad

But I have no telling light like that

I plead through the opaque glass, but don’t catch your eye

 

Do you know as you rest on your pillow

Placing my prison jar gently in arms reach

Do you know as your dreams soar through the ceiling

That I’m alone, though you are near, I’m incomplete

 

Morning comes, I feel the sunrays

I slowly rise: trembling, I pace

I’m losing air, and the boundary seems greater now

 

Sleepy eyes greet me through the shine

Smile turned frown, I’m borrowed time

Hurriedly you take the lid and cast it to the floor

 

Do you know that I will never hate you

Gentle thoughts, but far too much, you’ve hurt my tender form

Do you know I’m grateful you’ve released me

I’ll never tell, it might be well too late to “save me” more


A #NaPoWriMo piece inspired by the prompt: “Imagine you are a tiny person, who has been captured and put into a jar for display or science”

 

 

The Crown I’d Wear

#NaPoWriMo continues!

Today’s prompt: “Imagine you, but in a completely different life based on making a different decision that impacted everything else.”

I’m not generally one who looks back regretting.  I like to think that all roads, good and bad, have led me and are leading me in a specific direction. Plus: in the movies, changing things doesn’t generally turn out for the better.  I’ll keep my lot and work with what I’m given.  Ever forward!

I decided to live out a semi-dream of mine for the sake of the prompt, though on record – I wouldn’t go back and change anything.  Honestly, this dream was a passing thought that maybe could have gone somewhere. God only knows ~

*Here ends the explanation that is 10 times longer than the poem itself.*


The Crown I’d Wear

Beastly palace home

Forty hours I’d give my smiles

Memories they keep

 

 

I Had 3 Quarters

Oh how I longed for reprieve, no wait.

Yet, here I stand with mouth agape.

I blink, I blink, I cannot think.

Although I have money, I can’t purchase my drink.

 

I feel angry, especially annoyed.

This is no R2-D2 droid.

This is a broken contraption circa ’85.

A vending machine that is hardly alive.

 

I once had expectations high.

I believed, when the pocket change caught my eye.

Now the sign taunts me, tells me to seek fountain H20.

“Out of Order,” it laughs; I kick the machine and go.


A poem for National Poetry Writing Month (#NaPoWriMo).  The prompt?  “Write about your feelings when there is an out of order sign on a vending machine.”

Of Kitchens and Grandmothers

In celebration of NaProWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month) 2020, I’ll be kicking things off here with a little writing piece brought into being through the prompt, “Focus on a single memory, or describe what you might imagine the typical grandmother’s kitchen to be like.”

 

Oh Simpler Times

 

Sunlight sneaks through windows

Wash hands as yonder see the field

Space is bigger to a youngling

Beg for sampling, she will yield

 

There’s always too much sugar for the lemon

There’s always extra chocolate for the milk

There’s never want for purse-found candies

There’s never enough of her genuine ilk

 

Hide from the left that made it over

Hold out hands for sugary sweets

Hugs so soft they warm the soul

The Grandest of Mas never fail to treat

RSS
Follow by Email