These are the two pieces that I entered into Broken Plate. The first deals with my feelings toward knowing that a relationship will never work out and the second... well, that's pretty self-explanatory. Enjoy :)
...with you in mind
I’ll wonder why it is,
this wishing well wisp -
awaiting, away your days.
Friends tells you lies,
your heart just smiles,
even though your face can't make the shape.
You've cried enough nights,
your hurt has holed, coiled -
burrowed deep in souls' dark soil.
A good attitude acts, its
flimsy flaunting - your body scrapes,
weak and frail as your sanity spins sane.
We saw this begin. We won't see it end.
Human nature is flawed, and so are your friends.
Manic thespian sits. Weightless,
sick. With worry, regret – a stasis.
Of poignant nights void of touch and kiss.
Your past blurred by present events,
only smudged up your vision, hence -
the future needs little leverage to carve out its place.
Ha! I barely blip on the radar.
No land-ho! for this sailor,
“Keep traveling lone pilgrim, your port is at storm.”
Well, one day you'll see me,
atop mast with ship coasting -
below your eyes weep, but I can’t be forlorn:
Yeah, I saw this begin. I won't see it end.
Human nature is flawed, and so am I, friend.
The long journey has come to an end.
Your last stop has passed by on the way to the grave,
And like the dog that’s gone astray,
You found your way back home again.
Touch the gravelly sand if you may,
Let the course grain shake you awake,
This is your home if you choose to stay,
The trees ‘round hang like sorrowed heads say:
“Can you not stay and make your bed,
Beneath my boughs to rest for all time?
No man or beast can stir you from sleep,
No force can take you while we stand guard.”
They whisper still, those wisps of smoke;
They tickle your ears and dance in your throat,
Look down and you see, a fresh hole dug,
He looks back at you dark, but reassuringly so.
The hole speaks low, and though he reeks,
Of fresh earth and moss, gently he speaks:
“Come forth my child, I mean you no harm,
Lay down for awhile, this is where you belong!”
Even the grass, brown in the dusk,
Screams at your ankles, to join them thus,
You can join them on the cycle of life;
Ashes to ashes, dust to dirt mold and grime.
“Join us!” the three in unison shriek,
You feel so compelled, but is it time for your sleep?
Is it really that time to lie on that cold muddy floor?
To look up at the sky and say goodnight to the world?
You look into the eye of the dark and with a sigh,
You say, “Sorry dude, it’s just not my time”
And you turn on your heel; dig it into the dirt,
And run from the grave that beckoned you forth.
And you startle awake to a hospital bed,
The taste of sterile air greets your aching head.
Your parents and loved ones hover over you and stare,
Of all the people; you were the most prepared.
The End seemed so peaceful,
So still, so serene,
So you will go back,
When it’s your time to sleep.
- ► 2010 (21)