Category Archives: Poetry
Tiny beak and tiny eyes with wide open stares
Searching and hoping for their scattered share
Way up high you catch your flight
Spiraling down with such delight
Bobbing and hopping at the ground
Trying desperately to make your rounds
You sing so loud with no regard
All the while keeping guard
Tiny dancer sitting on your branch
Taking charge of this entire ranch
Brown and tan and golden hues
Watching you gives me such amuse
The recesses of my soul can only handle so much pain
Constantly fighting with the emotional turmoil
Wanting nothing more than to put it all to rest
Allowing sunshine in where darkness has lived for so long
So long have the days been where fight or flight mode has taken up space
Like a dingy old apartment with dirty windows and floors
Shattered and torn curtains with no fresh air allowed in to dance around the room
I need fresh air in my soul to wrap its arms around the spaces that have been left empty and dank
To wrap its arms around my soul like a fresh fall day so that my soul can take a deep breath in and exhale.
Exhale out all the dust and smoke of disappointment and let down of days gone by
Come to me blue skies and sunshine, bring with you the warmth of your sun
The sun that radiates its beams on my face, beams that will dry up the tears that the rain and clouds have brought
Bring with you the gentle winds that will sing a song to my soul, a song that will comfort me and with one soft breeze I will know that everything will be okay
Everything will be okay so that laughter will once again fill my spirit and nourish my soul, a soul that has forgotten the true meaning of happiness and rejoice
I want to dance around on my tippy toes like a little girl pretending to be a ballerina
I want to soak up the rays of the suns brilliance, brilliance that feeds my soul and my body, brilliance that will warm my cold and weary soul
Warm my soul as the wind gently sings and cradles it, because then and only then I know it will all be ok
It will be ok.
ARE YOU MY FRIEND?
Will you be there when I’m down,
And catch me when I fall?
Will you hold me when I need
To feel the warmth of your touch?
Will you laugh when I laugh,
And cry when I cry?
Will you let me rant and rave,
When I need to let off steam?
Will you discuss those painful things,
That you’d rather not think about?
Like the times we’ve hurt each other,
And promised would never do so again?
Will you say the right thing,
When all I’ve heard is the wrong?
And tell me soothing words,
That make the pain I feel subside?
Will you understand me when I say,
“I can’t see you now, go away”?
Will you come back when I call,
As if nothing happened at all?
If you’ll do these things for me,
And keep smiling all the way.
If you’ll be with me through the bad times,
As well as the good.
Then truly you are my friend,
My pal, my mate and my confidante.
And that means so much to me.
I thank you dearly, for being there,
You, My Friend.
Fighting the Instrument
Often the instruments of change
are not kind or just
and the hardest openness
of all might be
to embrace the change
while not wasting your heart
fighting the instrument.
The storm is not as important
as the path it opens.
The mistreatment in one life
never as crucial as the clearing
it makes in your heart.
This is very difficult to accept.
The hammer or cruel one
is always short-lived
compared to the jewel
in the center of the stone.
If you try to comprehend air
before breathing it,
you will die.
If you try to understand love
before being held,
you will never feel compassion.
If you insist on bringing God to others
before opening your very small window of life,
you will never have honest friends.
If you try to teach before you learn
or leave before you stay,
you will lose your ability to try.
No matter what anyone promises—
to never feel compassion,
to never have honest friends,
to lose your ability to try—
these are desperate ways to die.
A dog loves the world through its nose.
A fish through its gills.
A bat through its deep sense of blindness.
An eagle through its glide.
And a human life
through its spirit.
I present you with another challenge.. go and buy the book “The Book of Awakening” by Mark Nepo. Come back and tell me what you thought about it.
At the Window
I was at the window
when a fly near the latch
was on its back spinning—
legs furious, going nowhere.
I thought to swat it
but something in its struggle
was too much my own.
It kept spinning and began to tire.
Without moving closer, I exhaled
steadily, my breath a sudden wind
and the fly found its legs,
rubbed its face
and flew away.
I continued to stare at the latch
hoping that someday, the breath
of something incomprehensible
would right me and
enable me to fly.