A Sensible Man
My uncle Brad is a sensible man,
But one afternoon
He took my hand
And told me he'd seen that other land,
What lies beyond,
A little past the break of dawn,
the question without answers to be found
He claims to have seen himself
Lying upon the ground,
An experience out of body
If you will,
He claims not to understand it still,
All he can offer is a memory,
A small prologue to what we all
Will see.
My poems/writings reflect my feelings and anything that inspires me to write the piece. Sharing them on a widescale is a dream of mine, so this is the first step. Enjoy!
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Out on a Limb, Written 11/13/2010
Out on a Limb
How much more intriguing would I be,
If I lived high up within a tree?
Refusing to come down
Among the limbs I'd dance around,
Imagining myself to be Robin Hood
From the very branch on which I stood,
From my quiver to bow and feathered hat
Speaking in ye ol woodsman tone at that,
A Robin Hood without his merry men
All alone I am left my tree to defend.
How much more intriguing would I be,
If I lived high up within a tree?
Refusing to come down
Among the limbs I'd dance around,
Imagining myself to be Robin Hood
From the very branch on which I stood,
From my quiver to bow and feathered hat
Speaking in ye ol woodsman tone at that,
A Robin Hood without his merry men
All alone I am left my tree to defend.
Voice, Written 11/13/2010
Voice
I know I have a voice
It's hiding somewhere in my head,
It seems as though I've misplaced it
Perhaps stuffed beneath the bed,
But certainly not by me,
well...
Maybe.
I know I have a voice
I'm quite certain it is not dead,
Perhaps it has just escaped me
Playing hide and seek instead,
Lurking somewhere I cannot see,
Perhaps my voice is running free.
I know I have a voice
It use to lay in me like lead,
All the things I would have liked to say
But rarely ever said,
Perhaps it's found someone other than me,
Through which it may speak more easily.
I know I have a voice
It's hiding somewhere in my head,
It seems as though I've misplaced it
Perhaps stuffed beneath the bed,
But certainly not by me,
well...
Maybe.
I know I have a voice
I'm quite certain it is not dead,
Perhaps it has just escaped me
Playing hide and seek instead,
Lurking somewhere I cannot see,
Perhaps my voice is running free.
I know I have a voice
It use to lay in me like lead,
All the things I would have liked to say
But rarely ever said,
Perhaps it's found someone other than me,
Through which it may speak more easily.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Threads, Written 11/12/2010
Dressed to impress
Out on the town tonight,
I've redone my lipstick three times
Something I have got to get just right,
My favorite topcoat hanging at the ready
Waiting patiently upon it's hook,
This is but no ordinary jacket
It has quite a peculiar look.
Lined inside with silk for such a sensual fit,
Sleeves lined down to my wrist
The tail ending at mid-hip,
Seven buttons to the top
Each a penny's size,
And might I add how this color
Accentuates my eyes.
The picturesque pattern alone,
Deserves a paragraph all it's own,
Oddly arranged oriental birds,
Peacocks of some sort
I imagine they travel in herds,
Betwixt the feathers leafed flowers boldly show,
In wild pinks, blues, and purples
All down my back they grow.
Finally, to tease with it's touch,
Anyone to hug me
Now enjoys it doubly as much,
the fabric soothes the skin,
A lovely deep lavender suede
Greets all who gather me in.
Out on the town tonight,
I've redone my lipstick three times
Something I have got to get just right,
My favorite topcoat hanging at the ready
Waiting patiently upon it's hook,
This is but no ordinary jacket
It has quite a peculiar look.
Lined inside with silk for such a sensual fit,
Sleeves lined down to my wrist
The tail ending at mid-hip,
Seven buttons to the top
Each a penny's size,
And might I add how this color
Accentuates my eyes.
The picturesque pattern alone,
Deserves a paragraph all it's own,
Oddly arranged oriental birds,
Peacocks of some sort
I imagine they travel in herds,
Betwixt the feathers leafed flowers boldly show,
In wild pinks, blues, and purples
All down my back they grow.
Finally, to tease with it's touch,
Anyone to hug me
Now enjoys it doubly as much,
the fabric soothes the skin,
A lovely deep lavender suede
Greets all who gather me in.
Charade, Written 11/12/2010
Charade
Oh how my beauty's let me down
Mistaken and misshapen me
Thrown her colors all around
Dazzling and distracting
Disguising true intentions
With shiny toys and fairy tales
Clouding all perceptions.
A facade, short-lived
It could not last
Seeing through this charade
From yesterday back through the past
Unraveling and reeling
There's not much to be known
She's pulling at your heart strings
Digging down to bone.
It bothers you
The door she's unlocked inside your head
Letting something escape
That's now hiding beneath the bed
Always there on the edge of your dreams
Breathing the idea of
Nothing being what it seems.
Oh how my beauty's let me down
Mistaken and misshapen me
Thrown her colors all around
Dazzling and distracting
Disguising true intentions
With shiny toys and fairy tales
Clouding all perceptions.
A facade, short-lived
It could not last
Seeing through this charade
From yesterday back through the past
Unraveling and reeling
There's not much to be known
She's pulling at your heart strings
Digging down to bone.
It bothers you
The door she's unlocked inside your head
Letting something escape
That's now hiding beneath the bed
Always there on the edge of your dreams
Breathing the idea of
Nothing being what it seems.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Unmarked, Written 11/4/2010
You wouldn't like me at night,
scratched and scarred
searching for something I can't quite
put my finger on.
Curious and creative
searching for suggestion
to further my poetical persona.
An odd informality,
keeping the past close by
reminiscing ancient reality
to poke at an inspiration
eagerly easing into a rhythm,
to sweep and sway the super conscious
particularly those paying close attention.
I entice you to find my footing
feel my motion and movement
swelling slightly and significant,
that of most importance
will go knowingly unnoticed
feel what may not
be real.
Inspired by not the lyrics but the sound of the music.
The song The Bird and the Worm, by The Used.
scratched and scarred
searching for something I can't quite
put my finger on.
Curious and creative
searching for suggestion
to further my poetical persona.
An odd informality,
keeping the past close by
reminiscing ancient reality
to poke at an inspiration
eagerly easing into a rhythm,
to sweep and sway the super conscious
particularly those paying close attention.
I entice you to find my footing
feel my motion and movement
swelling slightly and significant,
that of most importance
will go knowingly unnoticed
feel what may not
be real.
Inspired by not the lyrics but the sound of the music.
The song The Bird and the Worm, by The Used.
Irreplaceable, Written 11/4/2010
I see a thousand faces
to me they're all the same,
searching for a substitute
someone to take your place,
someone to fill the gap
warm me the way you would
I'm lost without a map
I'd retrieve you if I could.
Swallow you up
and hold you in,
living happily together
in a house made of tin,
listening to the rain
falling lovely on our roof,
happiness is out there
you are my living proof.
Please don't push me away
and make me keep searching
for a face,
the closest thing to something
I can not replace.
Momentarily sated
I know it wont last,
I feel I will forever live in
the shadow that you cast.
to me they're all the same,
searching for a substitute
someone to take your place,
someone to fill the gap
warm me the way you would
I'm lost without a map
I'd retrieve you if I could.
Swallow you up
and hold you in,
living happily together
in a house made of tin,
listening to the rain
falling lovely on our roof,
happiness is out there
you are my living proof.
Please don't push me away
and make me keep searching
for a face,
the closest thing to something
I can not replace.
Momentarily sated
I know it wont last,
I feel I will forever live in
the shadow that you cast.
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