Inside, at 60 beats a minute,
my heart is resting,
accumulating layers
of life on the outside.
These layers, like tree rings,
remain hidden inside,
and show only a peek to the outside
of the sometimes sweet
and occasionally bitter
when we add a pinch of salt
and then a lot of sugar.
Inside, my heart is racing
but you might not know
until I tell you, on the outside.
How should I finish the goodbyes?
I’ve spent the past weeks
finding good, appropriate, warm, special, and creative ways
to say goodbye:
to students who are leaving our school to continue on to high school,
to students who are leaving to attend other schools,
to teachers who are leaving because they’re moving
or because they want a change in their careers,
and to our head of school
who also is moving to another life challenge.
I feel I am ready to stuff all the goodbyes into one beautiful box.
It will hold all the emotions.
It will contain the tears and best wishes,
hugs,
waves,
cheers,
Right now, right before dusk,
stretched bars of shadows
reach across my lawn, nearly touching
the house,
but
not
quite
yet.
They linger
before the sun carries their power
over the mountains.
Sometimes I believe they’re lovely,
showing off the light in a different way,
kind of like before that last closing of the window blinds.
Other times they seem like fingers grasping,
scary thoughts reaching for my mind.
We five students and teacher
strolled two blocks from our city school
to enjoy a near patch of green
on this warm winter day.
I’d thought more people would come
to catch the rays, enjoy the balm
but
no one came to see
that pansies here
on December second
were still in bloom.
I gave a thought to them
because others near
just walked right by,
oblivious
of this sweet gift.
There
Is
No bigger
Fraud,
Than
A
Promise
not
Kept....So am I a fraud?
How to stop time:kiss
How to release time: Breathe
I am from dark lights
From closed books and old forgotten poemsI am from the wood beams and metal walls.
Splintered floorboards
I am from the treesThe dead oak trees
Who's long gone limbs I remember
As if that where my own
From quiet dinners and my own space.
From mother and father.
I'm from silent goodnight's and unsaid words.
I'm from the quiet and the still
And scars.
I'm from cleaning the house on quiet days.I'm from Smyrna and Tennessee.
Coffee and tea .
From pictures pinned to the wall
And memories in my heart.
Items lost
Items found
Moving town to town
Trees leafs
Falling
round and round
My home is not where I'm found.
I slowly drift on the waves of my thoughts
The rocks that I bump into
Are sharp and hard
But some spots are covered with green moss
The assiduity of the never ending flow
The incessant onslaught of garbage
That floats along with me
On that river of my thoughts
We are what we make ourselves to be
We can be whatever we want to be
Who are we really,
Behind our pressured imagination and creation?
Did I make myself? Did I create myself?
The rocks don’t provide me with an answer
and the garbage just drifts
So do I, simply float, my jaw held stiff
He paints his lips
With the color red
And wears dresses
With pink pastel on them
He breathes in air
Laced with expensive perfume
He loves the high life
And dances to the sound of old time swing
When no one is around
Since 4:30 in the morning,
I've been looking at the sky.
The way the dim rise of the sun,
Glitters on the tide.
My head is aching,
From my busy night, my busy mind.
All the thoughts,
I thought I'd left behind.
there are some things i want to see.
there are some things i want for me.
i want change,
in fact i could go as far as to say
i need change
because staying like this won't let me be
the best version of myself
i want love.
this never will be something i need
this is something i want
i want love because i need to be able to wake up
with a smile and and think everything's okay
i want support,
it's almost like it's something i live off
is it a need if i want it more than air?
i want someone to who i can tell all my worries