What is done is done. We wave hello to the sun.
We never forgot about the moon. We need both
the fork and the spoon. The day may be gone,
and time may be flying, but I am still trying.
In the sky, I see birds bobbing and weaving.
I can’t take my eye off what is now leaving.
I loved, cried, and smiled in the past tense.
I live in the present where it just makes sense.
The memories stay as the past fades away.
The future is bright: I’ll be there one day.
Days pass by, and the petals
fly. In a glorious garden, life
slows down; I can now zero
in on sounds that have yet
to be heard. I look around.
I see vibrant colors and shapes.
Without thought, birds and bees
survey the land. Abundant motion
surrounds a restless soul. I see
trees dance above a strong ground.
Coexisting with each other, all forms
of life carry on with no concern.
Not asking to be born, I learn to ask
how to live a life without keeping
track of all that I lack. I ask flowers
what it feels like to be pulled, planted,
cut, watered, and given away. I pluck
a flower in the midst of April showers,
and I begin pulling petals. One by one,
under the justified sun, I start pulling
petals. “She loves me. She loves me not”.
Asking questions that go unanswered.
After another question, the flower
was naked, missing its petals. Because
of my questioning, the flower’s beauty
is missing. I destroyed something due
to me not believing. I knew that my
doubt washed all the beauty out.
I lay the flower stem on the dirt,
and I realize my questions did
nothing but cause pain and hurt.
Fight fire with fire. See
the flames kiss the sky.
Watch the sparks fly.
Feel the temperature
rise as cold weather
dies. Think back to
a time when the clouds
cried. Feel the heat
rip like a baseball
hitting a catcher’s mitt.
Poison swirls inside
a dormant mind.
Love stays on
the brain as hate
goes down the drain.
When life knocks,
do not be afraid
to open the door.
When the heat rises,
try not to go down
in flames. Save your-
self. Ask for help
before you strike
matches that will
turn all into ashes.
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.
Today, I got carried away.
Instead of work, I play.
Sometimes I forget to live
without stress. The older
I get, the shorter the days.
Today, I got carried away
from what I was doing.
Half the time, I don’t know
which direction to go.
The other half of the time,
I don’t know if I should
go outside or stay in
and hide. These long legs
carry me away. One point
to the next. Feeling blessed
in my chest, I hold my head
high. I look to the sky. I see
wings carry birds away.
I feel the wind chill my skin.
I can count on my days
getting carried away.
My mind might stray, yet
my body will stay. Blue
skies littered with birds
help me find the words
needed to carry me away.
I look ahead and know that
one day, blues fade to black.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 