Original Work, Poetry

Mind’s Eye

When I was a child, I never thought I’d reach twenty-five,
I’d just never felt all that alive.
When I reached the age I’d never thought so,
I will admit for a while – it was touch and go.

Now that age I’ve moved beyond,
To life I’ve grown attached, grown fond.
But sometimes in the deep dark of night,
It can be hard to see the light.

The child once more takes hold,
And I feel like I’ll never know what it’s like to be old.
To be sure, I must admit I don’t want to die,
But, my old self, I’ve never seen in my mind’s eye.

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Original Work, Poetry

Together, you and me

I can still remember
The first day
I ever saw you
Standing there so
Self-assured
I filled with such doubt
Of who I was
And could yet be
But you always knew
Always could see
That part of me
I could never set free
Until the first day
I ever saw you
Standing there so
Self-assured
I was filled with such awe
Of who you were
And what we could yet be.
Together, you and me.

Original Work, Poetry

And Fade Away

A day’s happiness gone
In an instant. The exact moment
I see your face, only can you such a thing do.
Your negativity reaching out,
Searching for a new victim to invade,
To spread out and propagate,
A never ending cycle, I am caught
Unable to evade tendrils crushing
The life out of me struggling
To breathe suffocating everyone
It manages to hold in its sway.
I get so tired searching for
A moment of peace. It’s so easy
To forget the bright start to the day.
Oh well it was so long ago it can’t
Have been the day. Perhaps I’ll
Just lay down my head, suddenly so weary.
Never to escape, close my eyes…

Original Work, Poetry

Rise and Shine

It’s like a sickness.
A raised temperature,
An unfocused delirium,
A feeling of coming death.

Midnight creature, forced,
Awakened at unnatural
Hours of the day
In a battle for survival.

A sense of nausea
Unable to be quashed
Temples pounding, unyielding,
The coming of the sun.

The early bird,
Gets the worm,
Yet the moonlit tiger
Catches the larger prey.

Original Work, Poetry

Unmoored

Unmoored (1)

Such Envy, I have.
For those with no doubt.
For whom life’s plan is clear.
A destination, clearly, seen at the end.
For those who walk on level ground,
Stable ground with no pitfalls or detours.

Such Envy, I have.
For those with no questions.
For whom land is their constant companion.
A horizon of luscious land, no sea within sight.
For those who never experience the terror of being
battered to-and-fro, alone, in a storm.

Original Work, Poetry

A Question of Self

Three women sitting down together
Each discussing their lives
All are separate yet
All are the same.

A three-sided mirror sits
Each face waiting to reflect
An image.
The first face – always uncovered
Catches the sun’s rays
To send out to the world.
The second – sometimes uncovered
In only the deepest silences
Always alone despite the crowd.
The third – never uncovered.
Its face, unknown even to its owner
Who sometimes always with
The greatest of trepidation
Gathers a moment of courage
To grab the corner of the cover
Intending to pull it back and reveal
What lies beneath.
Only to stop at just the last moment,
Each and Every time.

Three women, three lives.
Three mirrors, three images.
Two lies and one truth, or
Three truths and no lies?