I wrote a reversible poem! Read it Forwards and then Backwards!
I’ll love you forever
So I gave you flowers
The church bells rang
Till death do us part.
To Never to be severed from.
My darling it’s you I never want
To lose
To love is
To feel my heart beat stop in my chest.
I hear those fateful words
My head spins.
I’ll never forget
This
What did I ever do to deserve
You
It begins and ends with
Flowers
Field girl, field girl,
You belong to grass of the field
A gentle power you’ll wield
That many will seek to destroy
You have gold in your hair
Eyes of honey so fair
Dont let them take your heart.
Sea girl, sea girl,
Many will try to tread your depth
And come up short of breath
It is not your fault they never learnt to swim.
You have salt in your blood
For You are the flood
That bathes the world in blue.
Storm girl, storm girl.
Your voice is thunder
You’ll leave them to wonder,
Where your power lies.
There is force in your will,
Rain water does fill,
Your throat and spills through your eyes.
I wish my brain would let me rest
But instead its such a pest
In my mind, it weaves a nest
Threads of lies and old regrets.
I pray to God this is a test
Unwelcomed thoughts only a guest.
A temporary, void distress.
And not a permanent life long unrest.
All these fears I have confessed.
Yet I must act as if I’m blessed.
Even if this weight I’ll detest.
A burden to bear at his request.
I just want to run away
And start something new
A blank slate of a town
Where I’m known by few.
And I want a new name
Maybe I’ll dye my hair red.
Go by Joselyn or maybe even Rebecca instead.
The new wardrobe is next
New jackets and dresses.
Leaving behind the old me and all her old messes.
I want a new apartment
That overlooks a city
Decorated in plants and decor I think is pretty.
But even if I did all this,
Would it even work?
You cant run from yourself and all that hurts.
Because even in a new town, new city, new flat, new name,
The heart that beats in my chest
Is still the same.
I’ve got on a gown of ash
Come on darling, let’s look past.
The room’s afire, windows alight.
Orange flames against the night.
They’re playing our song,
Just dance along.
A waltz in a ballroom of fire.
The shadows weave against the wall
A tragic dance- dont let me fall.
In a ring of spark and ember.
I’ll do my best to not remember
This waltz in a ballroom of fire.
The violins climb and then they sing.
The fateful song in the halls do ring.
The tiles are now stained with coal.
My hands are black-this is the toll.
Look at me, though the flames are higher.
This is The Waltz in a ballroom of fire.
The clock strikes- it is the end.
The smell of smoke
As time continues its endless march.
Smoke is all I have to breath.
Fire and flames are all I see.
Is that a shadow-or is it your face?
Your hand that I hold is my saving grace.
As we Waltz in a ballroom of fire.
Admist the crackle, a clock does chime.
This is it- we’ve run out of time.
All I ask is you hold my close.
As we raise a glass of final toast.
Of a night well spent in a ballroom of Fire.
I broke my heart one day,
Fell to pieces in the day to day fray.
Shattered shards of red clay
So I put them in bag and went on my way,
To find a healer to make me okay.
I have heard tales of father time
Tales and poems and even a rhyme.
So to his house I did climb.
Hoping to find father time.
I found him sitting for a meal,
Hoping he’d take me up on a deal.
“If this heart you can heal,
Unto you, I shall kneel.”
Father time did not conceal,
The frown in his face he did reveal.
“I cannot make a heart feel.
Tis a law I can’t repeal.”
“Only the maker of the heart of clay
Can give the healing you so crave.
If you wish to heal this day,
You’ll heed my words, I do pray.”
“But of this, take close note,
This isn’t a quick antidote.”
“If this pain you wish to release,
To put It back together,
He must have every piece.”
You are the star keeper. In your bag you have your tools which is nothing more than a paint brush and your star ink.
Your job is to roam the earth and witness stories befitting to be written in the stars.
I’m the most hopeful pessimist you’ll ever meet
how do I accomplish such a feat?
I wish to see the good in all I meet,
yet expect something dark lurking beneath.
I hope for the best
expect the worst.
hope I won’t be last,
but I don’t expect first.
the world can be cruel, that much is true,
but I couldn’t help but hope for the best in you.
By the Brooke 