Poems

In a world where a second is too short
Yet a moment seems forever
A memory lasts a few hours
And a scar will eventually heal
Many roads will take you nowhere
Some will take you here
Stars fall from blinding heights
Only half might come back up
In a world where Time is everywhere
Repeats a few days later
Where breaths sing a sweet sugared tune
And oceans scream through nightfall
Catalyzing silence echoes through
Your mind, your body, your sister
It’s a different view from your balcony than mine

There’s a birds nest on my roof,
Starling or sparrow.
They squawk endlessly
And eat from the wheelbarrow

There’s water in my wheelbarrow
Because of endless rain.
I would tip the water out
But the rain has been a pain.
I won’t tip out my wheelbarrow
Because it’ll just get full again
And the fill up, tip out process
Would probably drive me insane.

There are mosquitoes in my backyard
Growing in still water.
I dare not open my door
For fear of the slaughter.

The birds are full,

 

 

 

She looks into the mirror and she sees
A girl whose face is streaked with falling tears

Her hair is flowing in the summer breeze
As she attempts to conquer her worst fears

She does not see the beauty that exists

Because the world has tried to bring her down

Each day the negativity persists

Upon her face there is a mournful frown

Her friends have tried to make her understand
That she is really beautiful inside

She’s always there to help and lend a hand
And on her comradeship they have relied

So far away, it’s hard to imagine.

Think of the quiet efficiency, the deadly intent.

And I have to explain where her father went.

The chilled breeze comes by, and for a moment, I can taste the answers.

But just for a moment.

Eliza doesn’t speak her mind.

I guess she’s thinking of the way she and the neighbor’s daughter fight over toys and the right to draw with chalk on the sidewalk.

Maybe I could say it’s that kind of problem,

Simple,

Clear.

Crystalline stars weave across the whirling sky; so careless, so alive, The swirling mists, a tinged blend of the seasons, bound together, The echo of an eagle's call, sounding over a bottomless lake, A cicada's song so shrill and resonating, The sound of distant waves, crashing against shore, Again, Again, Again, Together, forming enchanted chords only the night can bring; one so foreign to those who truly listen,