To Sleep (A Poem)

poetry
Will my eyes fall
before my mind fades?
Will poetic words escape,
running faster than sleep?

They are there,
right behind my pen,
pushing and struggling to be freed.
Too many push
Too many are jammed into the passage way.
The ink cannot be spread fast enough,
they are clogged and stuck.
My eyes are falling
as my mind fades.
My poetry lost the race;
sleep won.

Poem for Music

poetry

Show me your pattern,
undo your meaning,
let me into your world,
and make me dance.
Make me bounce in my seat.

I know that’s what you want;
your beat makes me dance;
your words move me to writ;
and your rhythm is the pace I write.

Yeah it’s like you know
what I need,
What is in my heart,
where my mind wants to go.

So, Show me your pattern,
undo your meaning,
let me into your world
and make me dance.
Make me bounce in my seat.
You know you do.

A Pondering Poem

poetry
Can art go on art;
Laying on it like a lover?
One inspiring the other,
romantically entangled,
but no romance to handle?

Would the art be part of the other art;
like one piece of the whole is the heart?
It would supply life,
living as section,
being whole by being only a part.

This is just a fast little poem, but I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.

Dark Den (A Poem)

poetry

Please give me,
a dark den,
with a cool current flowing through.
Let the ground be a bed,
not dirt or grass.
Really I just want a dark den
to lay my bed.

For you see
I simply don’t want to be me.
Not that I do not like being me,
simply put I don’t want to be.
Just for a time,
just for a night.

All I want to be
is in a dark den,
one that is cool,
with my beautiful bed
to curl up comfy in.

Who For?

poetry

Who do I do this for?
Who will win from my hard work?
Who will smile as I undress,
displaying my wonderfully curvy body?
Me, the answer is me.

I will win,
I will smile
and I am doing this for me.

I do not strive,
I do not fight,
I do not struggle
not for anyone,
except me and God.

If I do not do this for me,
then it is for God.
If I do not win,
then it is for God.
If I do not smile,
then I lost sight of God.

Who is all this for?
It is for me,
but if not me than for God.

Can I Meet Fantasy?

poetry

I do not want to live this life.
I want to dance with the pixies,
laugh with the werewolves
and maybe meet a fairy or two.

I do not want to live this life.
I want to see my thoughts
in air bubbles that are
taken away by the evening’s breeze.

I do not want to live this life.
I yearn to be free.
Free of things tied to reality,
where there is magic.

I do not want to live this life.
Yet, I know I have to.
I guess I will just depend on love
to be my magic
and honestly that is enough for me.

Many Journeys ( A Poem)

poetry
I walk multiple paths in life.
My life is a combination of journeys,
all taking place at the same time
all taking their own time.

I look at the journeys I walk
and try to see where I’ve been
to see where the path leads.
I look back to see where I’m going
seeing the past as hints to the future.

On one journey
I am an artist;
dancing towards acting
while I write my paintings,
soon I’ll sculpt my imagination
trying new ways to shine my mind,
but always keeping pen near paper
to pour my emotions out with ink.

On one journey
I walk and journey
alone and with friends.
We talk in the silence
and let the silence talk for itself,
with my voice starting soft
growing as I crawl along,
only being able to be heard
when I discover myself around a bend.
Then love like a flood starts to pour out
and I learn to love by loving;
I learn to be loved.

On one journey
I am alone.
friends beside me,
Family supporting behind me
and God leading ahead of me,
but no one of my own.
On this journey there is an air of not knowing.
not knowing,
Is this how it will always be?

I look at the journeys I walk
looking back to see where I’m going
seeing the past as hints to the future.
I see a loved artist,
a strong, loyal friend,
and a happily single adventurer.

Telling My Dream

encouragement

The inspiration for this post comes from my weekly writing prompt series. The prompt is ‘Write a poem or short story with the sentence, “I didn’t want to tell my dreams to someone new.” ‘

I didn’t want to tell my dreams to someone new.
I wanted you to be the only one who knew.
But like a bird away you flew.
Leaving alone to see you in a new hue.

No, I didn’t even want to tell you my dream.
I wanted it to be my scheme,
but you pushed saying we will be a team.
Yet, you still left before the sun even shared a beam.

Inside Thoughts

writing

 

The words are bubbling. They are brewing. I once danced with them on the beach with the setting sun. Now the moon reigns and the words are a mush of over cooked strew. They are just bubbling and brewing no longer dancing in my mind.

The beautiful melody of fantastic descriptions and deep pondering has left my side. I now sit wishing and wanting for the words I needed to say to arise again. I wait for them to dance out of the sludge like stew that is now taking over my mind.

Tiredness slows down my thoughts and the need for sleep mixes all of them together. At sunset with the cool breeze whispering words to me, my mind was perfectly poetic as it pondered a pure poem.  Now only random ramblings can be rattled off as the stew thickens and traps the dancing melody of the pure poem inside.