Poem
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When I wake to a rainy day, And the street lights cast their warm glow on the wet pavement, And the rest of the city is still asleep, Leaving me peacefully alone with my coffee and my thoughts, I almost feel like a morning person.
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Daylight burns into smouldering sunsets Then fades into the charcoal of night. Each morning the dawn strikes a new match, Lighting a fire that burns hours into ashes. Once started, the flames cannot be extinguished. What’s incinerated cannot be unburned.
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I didn’t forget My childhood memories Of hiding my suffering Of silently struggling And endlessly wondering Why all this was happening Why God didn’t love me. I didn’t forget My years wandering, Of helplessly stumbling, Of hopelessly drowning And constantly questioning Why I was still hurting Why I couldn’t love me. I didn’t forget My
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They’ll make you fight a thousand battles So that they can win the war By wearing down your armor And wearing out your sword. When the fighting’s finally over And their victory’s ensured, They’ll be no one left to remember What you were fighting for.
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I go through paper Like it grows on trees And I live in a forest. Putting pen to the page Is grounding in a way Typing is not. Paper grants the freedom To organize my thoughts Beyond the bounds Of pixels and bytes.
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I’ve long suspected that I’d never live by The word. The pen is not the sword that cuts My path. It hangs on the wall as mere decoration Because I lack what it takes to Become The warrior poet
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I wish life was as soft as a bedtime story-Gentle tales about gentle lives. I wish the world was as simple as a fairytale,With clear distinctions between wrong and right. I wish that reality was as gentle as a lullabye,With the soothing notes soft as starlight. I wish you an eternity of peaceful dreamsThe sweet
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I’ve always loved the wind. I love hearing it howl through the chimney like a restless spirit and tickle wind chimes like a fairy. I love watching it shake tree branches, and make leaves dance across the street. I love feeling it cool my skin on hot summer days, and steel my breath away in
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Like the 3 faced goddess, I’ve lived 3 lives in one: see The maiden I was, the mother I am, And the crone I’ll become. The Circle of Life and the Wheel of Time Spin together as one. In an unending dance- It shifts like the moon and rises like the sun. Ever present in
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I can’t concentrate long enough To write, or to paint. I long to create But I’m too tired to do more than stare at the blank page And imagine.
Bringing Mae Flowers 