Stars sing a melody we cannot understand.
How rare it is to live as we are.
The planets hum in a language we’ve never known.
We are always compelled to look up.
We used to think that the light touches everything.
But Space is so incredibly big.
The Stars, glittering like a jewel on a quilt.
Objects in an endless, weaving dance
You see, the Magnificence of it all haunts me.
The void gaping above as always.
And there are deep corners we know nothing about.
Forever drags further than we know.
Yet, in odd irony, It all goes by so fast.
Because we are here as only Smoke.
But, We act like this is all unbeknownst to us.
Tag: Poetry
Evening Poems: The Comfort of Lonely
The sadness hurts, but at least it listens to me when I talk.
The security of the space by my sides as I walk.
The comfort of sadness and of being alone.
Is the one thing that has remained loyal as I’ve grown.
The unfortunate thing, is depression is a friend,
And the only one who stuck with me till the end.
I know what to expect in this cloud of grey.
Despite frequently wishing it all away.
Evening Poems: Ending
Like feathers falling on fresh snow.
It’s the price we all pay.
Don’t shield your eyes.
From the oncoming day.
You are now empty-you can see it in your eyes.
They are now singing
For a new soul shall rise.
All must pass, my darling.
This much is true.
And they are all so happy to meet
Someone as lovely as you.
They say this is death.
The sad, sad ending.
But they are wrong.
This is the healing-this is the mending.
Evening Poems: Twenty-Something
People rarely say what they are feeling. We mask our hearts in a cloak of quiet.
Why do we stay silent?
But what do I know?
I’m only twenty-something.
We travel around the sun on this floating rock and yet we do not believe in miracles.
When did we let cynicism poison us?
But what do I know?
I’m only twenty-something.
We have forgotten what it means to have faith in something because in the end it all disappoints.
But isn’t that the point of faith?
But what do I know?
I’m only twenty-something.
Rain actually feels quite nice and yet we complain and pull out our coats in annoyance.
Have you forgotten what it feels like?
But what do I know?
I’m only twenty-something.
But someday we will age. And we will regret not allowing our breath to be taken away or not pausing in the downpour or holding our tongues.
Because as we all know,
You will not always be twenty-something.
Evening Poems: Anger
Anger is a feeling you should feel
But never house.
When his stay is over,
Know when to take his coat from the closet,
And let him go.
Some make the mistake of letting him overstay his welcome
Offer him a bed to rest.
For anger is a distant relative you can let in only for a time or he will eat you out of house and home.
Let him sit at the table but not the head.
Let him only once sip the wine and break the bread.
But when the clock strikes late
Send him on his way.
Anger is only a feeling that is felt-
But should never stay.
Evening Poems: To be an Artist
I romanticize my suffering,
And then I call it art.
Pathetic is now pretty,
Because it is from the heart.
Cutting words are poetry,
Because now they rhyme .
Beats that flow perfectly.
Words that read in time.
Bleeding is now beautiful.
The pain to be a creator.
This is my written world,
And I am the dictator.
And so I will write them,
To any who will listen.
But little do they know,
The words I weave are my prison.
Evening Poems: Little Things
People say that little things are what makes life worth living for.
The little rays of sunshine and coffee that warms you to your core.
But what if the little things are what can kill you too?
Thing after thing piles on and ends up crushing you.
Spilling that glass of your favorite drink
Failing that class and crying till you cant think.
A head cold that normally wouldn’t matter.
You find yourself sinking sadder and sadder.
Gas prices are up; they shut down a line.
I find it a lie to simply say “I’m fine.”
I need a new job with vastly better pay.
Friends that love and actually stay.
And I have found that I can’t taste.
But it doesn’t matter because money spent on the unnecessary feels like a waste.
I’m broke now. Emotionally too.
They say it gets better.
But I waited so long- so what now do I do?
Evening Poems: Anxiety
Anxiety is man,
He tells earnestly
For what I should worry
But as I focus on his features
He seems to be blurry
So I’ve come to find out
He thinks he knows best
In his well trimmed suit
With a velvet vest.
But his words are empty
A spiral of care.
Obsession dressed in good intentions
To hide the nightmare.
Evening Poems: Bridges
You say I burn bridges
Reckless and without care
But I implore you to listen
Such a judgement is not fair
I did not light the match
I did not start the fire
It was them I say
Who piled up the pyre
But one day I was done.
One day I began to tire.
Of bailing water on the blaze
That persisted in growing higher.
So I stood still.
And let it burn down.
Perhaps it would have lasted
If it were more structurally sound.
Evening Poems: Art Therapy
Once upon a time
I laid in a bed of disgrace
Running from my demons
That kept perfect pace
No matter how much I ran,
They always won the race.
I sought a way to beat them,
So I gave then a face.
Armed with a brush
Their features I did trace.
Till I trapped them in a portrait.
I put them in their place.
On my wall they hang.
Frozen in time and space.
A monument in acrylic,
To the demons I face.
