Time continues to slip
through my gentle grip.
The clothes on my back
continue to get ripped.
My words get flipped.
Blue skies open wide
bringing those who hide
out into the holy light.
Blue skies seem to fade
to gray when the sun
goes away. I don’t mind
doing a little dance
under the thunder.
Days fade to gray
as rain drops drip
onto a vacant crypt.
All colors eventually
fade to gray. Evidently,
some shade is man-made.
As life gets heavier,
my grip naturally tightens.
I am playing tug of war,
and on the other side
of the rope is the fear
that I lose all hope.
I am always trying
to stay grounded when
my mind is flying.
I am trying to live
instead of thinking
of death or dying.
When I try to pull,
I feel that the hole
in my soul becomes
filled: almost full.
In this life, I tug, tug,
and tug. I attempt to
stand on top of a rug
that is being pulled
from under me. See,
these rope burns
come easy. I won’t
slip or lose my grip
until the sweet taste
of victory drips off
of my quivering lips.
My feelings flip-flop. They don’t stop.
My feelings hop right out of socks.
My feelings don’t care. They come
and go with very little to show.
Good, bad, happy, sad, mad, or glad,
my feelings flip-flop and flop-flip.
My feelings take me on more trips
than Ken Griffey Jr. had hits.
My feelings take form and assure
me that I am still a life-form.
My feelings are real; they can heal
and can hurt in the same storm.
Will my feelings flip or flop?
Will I slip and lose my grip?
Will I be able to carry and lift
this gift of life to the finish line?
My feelings will flip and flop,
and I will keep feeling them
until the light in my eyes dim.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 