My bones have grown
strong. Although not
shown, these bones
hold me together.
They make me feel
alive and well. Me:
my bones can’t be
rehomed. Bones
can break, shatter,
and weaken as life
does its job. Bones
come into play
every day when
we say, “I have a
bone to pick with
you” or “You are bad
to the bone” or
Break a leg!” Later,
my bones will be
brittle, and it will
be hard to see.
Until then, I will
roam for as long
that I am strong.
Gone with the wind; we fly away today.
We knew we would not stay. It is hard to
say which way we are going or how fast
the wind is blowing. With no signs showing,
curiosity starts growing. The ways that we face
the days can dictate the rate at which we go.
Before we know it, things, times, people,
will be gone. Before long, we will learn
life’s unwavering song. As time flies, the sun
will rise just like the tide. There is no need to hide
when we seek the time to understand both
day and night. Gone, but never forgotten.
Here I am to feel fresh – never rotten.
Anyhow, I feel as if the wind blew me
out of my shoes. Now, I stay gone. I left to go
on a right path. Now, I have gone and found
a piece of peace: a life on the bright side.
It looks like we are going into overtime, folks.
During regulation, the game was played without fear or
hesitation. Both teams fought, blocked, ran, stole, and shot
lights out. Fans almost had to get their lighters out.
Empty the gas tank and tie those shoes tight. One ship
will sink. One team will win, right? One team will take
flight straight to Disneyland, and the other will go home
with a fine-tooth comb: looking for what went wrong.
After all four quarters, overtime is a tall order. After long,
the game was stopped after one coach threw a chair.
The other coach pulled the ref’s hair. 50-50 with 50 seconds
left in overtime lit on the sign. The game was delayed,
and no fans stayed. Anyway, both teams left the building
before overtime was finished. No one won, but it is fine;
only some of us are lucky enough to live and see overtime.
It’s been raining
for months –
If I said I was dry,
I would have to lie.
The wind has been
blowing prior to me
knowing. People
misplaced. Problems
faced. Dreams chased.
Memories erased.
The perfect storm
is brewing. No shelter
can protect you or me.
We will have to see
what it means
to be caught between
life, nightmares, and
dreams. We are the
eyes of this perfect
storm. Together, we
form chaos and grace
in a world we face.
Rage and elegance:
hell bound and heaven
sent. All we can do
is watch our perfect
storm take shape
and hope we can
enjoy the rain
soaking our brains.
What we do: what we say
comes into play everyday.
The choices we make take
form and can transform
into the start of a storm.
The choices we make
can clean or poison
life’s existential lake.
To be or not to be? See?
There is a choice to be
made – an option to take.
Which way will we go?
At times, we don’t know.
Make the right choice
or don’t. Either way,
the life we live shows
us we are in control
of our delicate souls.
Life or death? I choose
living a life – feeling
alright. I choose to live:
an option we all get.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 