Tag: poet
NaPoWriMo – 1/30
Shade falls from the sky
On my walk
All I see is feet.
Heat stifles the air,
It’s Autumn!
All I see is feet.
Sizzling chook and beer;
Lost tigers.
All I see is feet.
Friday night, sweetheart
twilight walks.
All I see is feet.
C’est la vie, Swan St.
Feel free to share...
#iamgrateful for my friend
You are the needle to my thread
You are my greatest mystery
You are the voice inside my head
You are the co-author to my story.
You see me where I’m standing
You keep me on my feet
You hear me when I’m whispering
You narrate our lives in tweets
We dance like no ones watching
We sing to the highest note
We laugh until we’re crying
We wrote a book of silly quotes
I’m thankful that I met you
I’m thankful you’re my friend
I’ll never ever forget you
ours is a story, without an end.
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Journey
Inspired by Thomas Moore ‘The Journey Onwards’
The plot was marked above the earth
gravity she was breaking
her tail pointed towards her birth
and her eyes towards her dreaming.
It’s always hard to leave our friends
the people that define us
but on we go around the bends
away from those who think they know us.
The tapestry of all our years
tell the tales of our growing
we look back on them with happy tears
with memories overflowing.
Reliving moments way back when
affirm the threads that bind us
enrich our love again, again
for those we left behind us.
And as she breathes each foreign shore
and wanders every street
she thinks on love for evermore
and looks for it, in those she meets.
Another scene marks another weave
older chapters start to fade
but the light of love never leaves
and so her story is made.
So, when the road comes to an end
and her tapestry is complete
she’ll think of those from way back when
her people, she will greet.
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Written for R U Okay Day 2015
I started writing this weeks ago for R U Okay Day but forgot to post as I got distracted with life. But here it is. Better late than never…
there is
thunder
in my thoughts
this enemy
has been caught
today
my attention
shorts
as a silver lining
is sought
the curtains veil
my weary eyes
this lead weight smile
my only disguise
people keep asking
why?
It is what it is.
Sigh.
Every day my thoughts
climb this wall
heeding to the worldly call
A soldier must never fall
Every day, the same old game
screaming silently in mental pain
the heart is beating
the lungs are breathing
but the thoughts want to blame
and escape
the suffocating shame
of the toxic enemy
haunting this brain.
Feel free to share...
Dear …,
You’re bird shit on my window
every day, I don’t see you
but if you left, I’d miss you.
You’re a cloud around my dreams
try as I might, I can’t see
how you could possibly be.
You’re the abstract on my wall
images painting the clues
can’t you see my, your, our truth.
You’re a voice drawn on my phone
speaking words I cannot hear
I just don’t care – that’s my fear.
I’m the unicorn you wanted
I’m creative and I flaunt it
I’m screaming for you… can you hear it!
Feel free to share...
white noise mornings
I’m a bi-racial unicorn
just living life and going strong.
I got my non-fat-mocha-latte
a pick me up from last nights party.
Morning time is always buzzin’
social media all a fussin’
Way up North the earth is shaking
Way down South they’re all a baking.
Mr Z has spoken honest words
two links up from the dying birds.
Mysteries showed on a foreign shore
but that was it, they say no more.
Sports fans are afraid to boo
just in case the media shoot
no need for questions, no need for why
that’s there story, don’t bother to cry.
It’s all white noise in my ears
propoganda, sensationalist fear.
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winter
Winter is her weakness
a body trapped in bleakness
shaking and aching
the darkness enchanting
her hopes bequeathed
as she falls like leaves
windows fill with teariness
as she is locked inside by weariness
waiting to see again
waiting to hear again
waiting to sing again
Tomorrow starts with latte
the fuel of fearful Friday
and the fire inside her ignites
as Winter continues to bite.
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discontinued doll
Like an old weary discontinued doll
She breathed all her music to her last breath
and now she is thrown down the dark rabbit hole
no one wants her, there is no one left.
Tears streaming down those glossy plastic eyes
her dreams deflated like an old balloon
times bumps and bruises can not be disguised
as her heart drifts further from the blue moon.
The truth radiates through these broken parts
a truth that cannot be written or said
a truth that has been there right from the start
whispering quietly inside her head.
They say it’s better to have loved and lost
so cherish the moments before they are tossed.
Feel free to share...
Postcards picture…
Postcards picture perfect days
that magnified glasses will betray
these fantastical notions
of still quiet oceans.
A mind, like a carousel spinning
knows something is missing
like a broken doll part
all alone from the start.
Dancing to someone else’s beat
unable to feel her own feet
a marionette of expectations
pulls away in every direction.
All I need is someone to lean on
a strong arm to keep me strong
A kindred spirit to harness
the secrets and the darkness.
Postcard pictures perfect days
that hazel eyes will betray
with the worn imperfections
of a weary souls reflection.
Charlie Ann Alford 
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