Puddles and Cobblestones

June 29, 2010 at 4:25 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

Traveling down a cobblestone road,

I’ve seen it before

Crumbling with green in the cracks

Ahead there is a shining tower

That beckons the lost and longing.

I stumble, and see the tower

Reflected in a shallow puddle.

Mirrored in the water

The tower no longer shines

But blends with the water and sky.

I will leave this road

That is taking me no where

I will leave the puddles and cobblestones

Only be sure that I will return

Inevitably.

***I wrote this after I had a very strange dream in which I was in a crumbling city full of reflective puddles.  It was inspiring for sure, but still quite creepy.

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No One was Saved

June 23, 2010 at 11:23 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

I am Eleanor Rigby.

I come out of this world

A lonely person

Searching for love

Dreaming about that day.

I am a river.

Soft and sweet.

My embrace like cold needles

Carrying my dream away

Back to the lonely banks.

I am a smile.

I play on the lips

Of liars, saints, and lovers.

I come and I go

A sign that they are just barely getting by.

I am a secret.

Shared between friends,

Holding people together

Tearing others apart

Because no one keeps me to themselves.

I am Eleanor Rigby.

I keep faces in jars

Because my own face is the mask.

The river, the smile, the secret

are truth.

***I love allusions and I felt a sudden connection to Miss Rigby, so this is my tribute to her (as well as the four men who brought her into existence).  I look forward to the day when I don’t feel like I’m turning into Eleanor and Father McKenzie any more.

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Glass and Sand

April 8, 2010 at 12:48 am (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , )

When the sand has gone

Every last grain

What is left?

The world has ended

No more flowers

No hands or feet

No more minutes, seconds, or hours

The world has ended

Our time has slipped away

Because this hour glass

Held a single grain

And was attached to the table

With our pride and hatred

Our time is up

Just a blip

a passing moment

in the endless stream of time.

***Once again this poem originally had different spacing, let me know if you want to see the original.  I was inspired by Blake to write this, but I think my take is a little bit more morbid than his.  I am generally a dark person, but sometimes my macabre view of life is surprising. It makes me think, how about you?

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Empty Spaces

January 28, 2010 at 2:02 am (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , )

Little girl

in a downpour

sad eyes

smile on her lips

Big blue eyes

staring at the raindrops

one step forward

outstretched hands

She steps farther from home

feeling her emotions like the rain

raised hands

tears mixed with rain

Her hands above her head

she melts into the storm

empty

spaces

The little girl is gone

just blue eyes and a smile.

***My mind is in the past these days. Who is the little girl? Is it me? What happened…

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