sometimes the courage required to run
takes more strength
than what it takes to stay
and sometimes the words on the tip
of your tongue
are just the wrong words to say
occasionally a sailing ship
will run aground
on a reef or jutting rocks
and for each of those run aground
there is another
that never left the docks
sometimes the fear of leaving
so big it consumes all
is so much worse than to remain
but every time staying because
you're terrified of loss
is worse than to stay with the pain
sometimes to go is harder than to stay
to not leave it behind
and that is when you truly know
if you stay when it's easier to leave
and barely can leave
when it's easier to go
then you may have found something worth fighting for
Showing posts with label visual poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label visual poetry. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Just A Minute More
steps lightly prancing
above the ground where we're confined
a jump, a hop, and we have a skip
skipping is light and fleeting
the steps are young and freeing
above the ground where we're confined
a jump, a hop, and we have a skip
skipping is light and fleeting
the steps are young and freeing
for when the world is heavy and dark
and our eyes see only pain
the memories that hurt us rushing in
resurrected from the grave where we buried them
the burden becomes too much to bear
a small light step
perhaps a twirl, and our movement
becomes like dancing
light like flight and full of happiness
that pushes the dark away
it may be temporary, for only a minute more
long enough to find a place where we can be alone
but that's enough
to be composed another moment
and then they never see
a golden mask we wear
designed for a bird in flight
the mask we wear to hide the dark
to light our path a little more
a skip, a hop, and we can smile again
look for the skip and know
that is the moment when the heaviest weights
are born on weary backs
and they must hold it
just a minute more
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Loads We Carry
she carries her load on her own
weaving through the crowd
an invisible Mountain
resting on her shoulders
tense muscles, but a ready smile
she carries her load alone
despite offers to help
because who could she trust
not to suddenly drop the Mountain?
and then she knows it would crush her
she carries her load in solitude
because the definition of alone is
"in the middle of a crowd but unnoticed"
and she is every day: they see her face
but they fail to see the Mountain she holds
m
mount
mountain mou
mountain mounta
m ountain mountain mount
mou ntain mountain mountain mountain mo
mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain moun
mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mount
mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mo
mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mount
mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain
mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain
mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain mountain G mountain mountain
I
R
L
crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd crowd
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Spoken Word Poetry
The beauty of the spoken word is little appreciated
in the quiet of the night I whisper
The nuance of the voice is little seen
to you though you cannot hear
The smallest inflections escape you
in the words that you see and that you read
Trying to find the beauty in the moment
the sentences flow from my mind
Speaking the words of the deep corners of my soul
but no one is present to hear them
They then are written; recorded
pen gliding over page
(or fingers over keys)
The poetry of my heart was not meant to be read
but spoken
PAD Day 14
in the quiet of the night I whisper
The nuance of the voice is little seen
to you though you cannot hear
The smallest inflections escape you
in the words that you see and that you read
Trying to find the beauty in the moment
the sentences flow from my mind
Speaking the words of the deep corners of my soul
but no one is present to hear them
They then are written; recorded
pen gliding over page
(or fingers over keys)
The poetry of my heart was not meant to be read
but spoken
PAD Day 14
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
2am
2am
is not a good time to do homework
but neither is 1am
or anytime after 10
sleeping is for the very young and the very old right?
it's so early and my eyelids are heavy
descending
down
until
they
close
the darkness is peaceful
noise fades away into silence
dreams descend like dewdrops
dancing images people and places these are the dreams
insensible things that i've never seen
nothing is set in stone
especially after 2am when the homework is done
PAD Day 11
Monday, November 17, 2014
The Voices
Who, what, when, where, why?
the voices in my head are loud tonight
Who are you to be confident in yourself?
the voices in my head are loud tonight
What is the point of trying so hard?
the voices in my head are loud tonight
When will it all add up to be worth the pain?
the voices in my head are loud tonight
Where will you go, if this risk doesn't work out?
the voices in my head are loud tonight
Why do you bother, when everything always falls apart?
THE VOICES IN MY HEAD ARE LOUD TONIGHT
then a whisper
"Be still, and know that I am with you"
the voices in my head are quiet tonight
PAD Day 9
Sunday, November 16, 2014
This Time In History
the time is not yet passed is it
t t t
i i i
c c c
k k k
i i i
n n n
t i c k i n g n i k c i t
n n n
i i i
k k k
c c c
i i i
t t t
around this incomplete clock
this time in history
what is history? but that which is already past
moments
moments
moments
moments
each passes quicker than the next
we are writing history with our words
spelling it out with our tongues
making it with our actions
what we say is what they will remember
this time in history. what time? now, for it will be history in but a breath, soon a time long past, unchangeable once these words are written and once these words are seen
never again will this moment be
so
capture
this moment
with me
PAD Day 8
Thursday, November 6, 2014
This
why
like this?
why do i write
in stairsteps
these words are to be read aloud
with pauses in the right places, and
shifting the voice, inflecting just so
it's like spoken word
(without the spoken part)
in black and white on the page in front of me
and if you ask me to read it
maybe
i will
and you can hear the meaning that is diminished by the medium
of text without sound
like this?
why do i write
in stairsteps
these words are to be read aloud
with pauses in the right places, and
shifting the voice, inflecting just so
it's like spoken word
(without the spoken part)
in black and white on the page in front of me
and if you ask me to read it
maybe
i will
and you can hear the meaning that is diminished by the medium
of text without sound
Teeth And Tongue (another disjointed poem)
you hold a great weapon
delicately between your teeth and your tongue
it's cradled between what was and what might have been and what might be
delicately between your teeth and your tongue
it's cradled between what was and what might have been and what might be
words
speaking
writing
preaching
living
talking
comforting
scolding
...................................
listening
to the words that pour from where i hold them
between my teeth and my tongue
or crammed down the back of my throat
or lost somewhere between thought and sound
they pour forth to reach you
them
the world
the brokenhearted
all the people that dare to listen to the words
don't forget the power you hold so gently
between your teeth and your tongue
Why My Fingernails Are Black (aka No I'm Not "Goth")
What does goth even mean?
the image in my head is wearing all black and leather and metal spikes
(and dark makeup)
No, I'm not goth
so why are my fingernails black?
because some colors suit certain people better
black is deep like the night sky, and also the color that techies wear
(tech for life)
the sky has stars as well
and so my fingernails sparkle
the truth is, i don't know why
except that it suits me to have them this way
dark
but with some specks of light
the image in my head is wearing all black and leather and metal spikes
(and dark makeup)
No, I'm not goth
so why are my fingernails black?
because some colors suit certain people better
black is deep like the night sky, and also the color that techies wear
(tech for life)
the sky has stars as well
and so my fingernails sparkle
the truth is, i don't know why
except that it suits me to have them this way
dark
but with some specks of light
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
The Mask We Promised To Wear
in a world where our words aren't promises
make them so
and never say something you do not mean
or claim a belief that you're not convinced of
"hypocrite" is Greek for actor
or at least it used to mean that
the men that run around wearing different faces each night
but that only works onstage
it's said that "all the world's a stage"
but in truth there's only one show
and we each have one part to play
ourselves
so why do we change masks so often?
why do we pay heed to the lie that we play more parts than one?
this part is one that we can play how we like
a grand stage of improvisation
but it's still one part
one mask
one face
so when you speak your words, mean them
for in a world where words aren't promises
we must make them so
make them so
and never say something you do not mean
or claim a belief that you're not convinced of
"hypocrite" is Greek for actor
or at least it used to mean that
the men that run around wearing different faces each night
but that only works onstage
it's said that "all the world's a stage"
but in truth there's only one show
and we each have one part to play
ourselves
so why do we change masks so often?
why do we pay heed to the lie that we play more parts than one?
this part is one that we can play how we like
a grand stage of improvisation
but it's still one part
one mask
one face
so when you speak your words, mean them
for in a world where words aren't promises
we must make them so
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
The Silence We Must Keep
"i am lonely"
true honesty can bring silence to a room
"i am sad"
well what now?
"i am hurting"
"i am depressed"
"i am.....
kidding"
because that word makes the silence go away
to be kidding is to not be a burden
but to be hurt is
you feel the weight of pain
put it on another? never
even though it kills you
if you told them, would they stay?
that is the fear that we see leaving
leaving
gone
we fear being alone
asking too much
not being enough
we fear that silence, the one we keep
away
with our fake words
"i'm kidding"
and the shape of this poem
reflects my state of mind in the silence around me
and i think to myself
what would i say if you asked if i was hurting?
"yes"
"just kidding"
true honesty can bring silence to a room
"i am sad"
well what now?
"i am hurting"
"i am depressed"
"i am.....
kidding"
because that word makes the silence go away
to be kidding is to not be a burden
but to be hurt is
you feel the weight of pain
put it on another? never
even though it kills you
if you told them, would they stay?
that is the fear that we see leaving
leaving
gone
we fear being alone
asking too much
not being enough
we fear that silence, the one we keep
away
with our fake words
"i'm kidding"
and the shape of this poem
reflects my state of mind in the silence around me
and i think to myself
what would i say if you asked if i was hurting?
"yes"
"just kidding"
There Are Things We Do Not Speak Of
there are things we do not speak of
loneliness
broken pieces
the songs that remind us of the past
why?
aren't they important? these are the pieces of us, our lives in small bits like the shards of a
shattered
mirror
that's why
they are too important to share thoughtlessly
and perhaps we have hurt so many times that we've lost the meaning of the word
"trust"
what is that?
to tell our brokenness to another's ear
only to have them talk again and spread your shattered pieces around
like cookies at a party? to tell our stories to the one who kept silent
(we believed)
until someone else mentioned it
and who else could've told them? no one else knew
"trust"
and the things we don't speak of
go hand in hand
if they had fingers it would be intertwined
we do not trust
and they do not know
we are all equally
broken
shattered
alone
there are things we do not speak of
loneliness
brokenness
and mistrust
loneliness
broken pieces
the songs that remind us of the past
why?
aren't they important? these are the pieces of us, our lives in small bits like the shards of a
shattered
mirror
that's why
they are too important to share thoughtlessly
and perhaps we have hurt so many times that we've lost the meaning of the word
"trust"
what is that?
to tell our brokenness to another's ear
only to have them talk again and spread your shattered pieces around
like cookies at a party? to tell our stories to the one who kept silent
(we believed)
until someone else mentioned it
and who else could've told them? no one else knew
"trust"
and the things we don't speak of
go hand in hand
if they had fingers it would be intertwined
we do not trust
and they do not know
we are all equally
broken
shattered
alone
there are things we do not speak of
loneliness
brokenness
and mistrust
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