Don’t cry over spilled beans.
Some secrets don’t make it
to the grave. By all means,
secrets get caught between
a rock and a hard place:
a happy and a sad face.
It’s one thing to give it away.
It’s another to never say.
One day, no one will care
for the beans we spilled.
Don’t cry over spilled beans.
Fear no judgement. Live on.
The spilled beans are gone
as our spirits grow strong.
Tag: keep
Bones
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.
Holidaze
Life, as we know it, flies by
Much like Santa’s sleigh.
Winter is coming; snow is
Falling, as we are calling
Friends, family, and others.
Given the choice, we will
Rejoice. We will find a voice.
We must remember to keep
Each other warm during this
Weather. It is the only way
That it will get better. We’ll
Dance and sing holiday songs
To spread needed love and joy.
Days pass and smiles last as
The holidays come fast. Yet,
The date is set, and here we
Are. Some hop in a car
And others stay in place.
Some dress up as Santa Clause
And others light the Menorah.
There will be Christmas parties,
Kwanzaa celebrations, and eight
Days of Hannukah. Plus, many
Other holiday celebrations will
Occur without any hesitation.
No matter the occasion, rise up
And love each other this Winter.
It’s not too late to participate
And to remove our splinters.
Enjoy the holidays and smile;
Who knows? The holiday cheer
Might stay with us all year.
Windows
My eyes are windows,
and my mouth is
a door I slam shut
here and there.
My feet are floorboards.
My body is the house
that my mind powers.
I live here; I try to keep
it nice. I have my own
back. It supports me.
My arms reach out
to my neighbors.
My soul lives inside
the air that we share.
My heart hides beside
lungs that breathe
and preach peace.
My eyes are windows
to an unknown world.
Are you ready to go
to a place only I know?
The Escape Artist
I slide through a window.
Dropping two stories to
the ground. I run around
trying to find a place
to escape. I am gone;
I am free from the past
and the shadow it casts.
I run down the street
with the toughest feet.
Barefoot and confused:
the moon is my muse.
I was free – a simple sign
To escape again. I escape
to find the perfect rhyme –
words that define my life.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 