Be Happy

#creative writing, #poetry

Be happy

even when you’re so sad

a smile feels like climbing a mountain

on a stormy day

Be happy

when the winds are so strong

your face becomes ice

and your arms flap wildly about

unable to tether you

Be happy

for the sake of tomorrow

when the sun will surely shine again

Be happy

when the rain retreats

so that you are stronger

when it returns again

 

Moments

#creative writing, #poetry

We all have those moments

and I can’t promise they will ever go away

those moments we look in the mirror and say

things we would never whisper

to our closest of friends

We see so much wrong

and our insides curl up

further into themselves

like a wet towel

twisting until dry

But it’s ok

because moments pass

in the time it takes

for a Barista to make your morning Long Black

and perhaps you simply confused

one kind of exhaustion for the other

 

Body Image

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I can recall every curve

of every body I have lived in

every thought

every wave of emotion

the high and low tides

conjured by my eyes

and I wonder about the days

wasted in front of mirrors

the hours given to a voice

that was never mine to begin with

High Tea

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Peppermint tea and Poppies

 

Longing looks and blue eyes

 

Feathered hats of birds I can’t describe

 

The sound of each sip-

a soft vibration of delicate lips

 

Pink rouge stained tea cup

 

The overlapping pattern of a thin mouth

that has sipped over and over again,

seeking the cool  singe

of Peppermint residue

on the back of a quivering throat.

 

Smell the sultry wave of caramelized sugar

as it sweetens the warm autumn air

 

Inhale and you will have found

Heaven

Frozen

without the concept of time 

to make you weep at the thought 

that this afternoon pleasure shall end.

 

Peppermint tea and Poppies

and no more longing for things that don’t exist,

for all beautiful things must eventually end.

The words we say without knowing

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You said it and it stayed

and there it did remain

playing out for always

every day

like a movie marathon

And all I wanted was to read you, a poem of forgiveness

Perhaps this is the poem you were always meant to hear

I forgive you

you did not know

how the weeds would grow

and suffocate the flowers

that wanted to bloom

And when they piled on the dirt

and that putrid smell rose

it filled my nostrils and escaped my eyes

till all i could see was the disgust outside

But again

It’s ok

I think it was meant to be this way

I’ve made friends with the weeds

and forgotten about the flowers

and look!

there are trees

that line blue rivers

which house secrets inside

Swim with me now

and I know I will not drown

You have kept me afloat

of this I have no doubt

and so once more-

I forgive you because,

despite it all

it is you,

who I adore

Hope

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Never again will I be beaten, by the drums of my own melancholy.

I will whistle while I walk,

For the day has too much wonderful mystery, hidden within its circular walls.

And if the day should bite and disappoint me,

tomorrow will always have a different door.

Going 40

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Do not break these tectonic plates beneath my feet,

they were meant for me.

I think that I was born this way,

to always sway

and never truly stand.

Like a soldier

TEN-HUT!

on command.

 

I see the 60 sign and yet I go 40

I drag behind the bus and follow it,

wherever it may go.

Hunger Jacks

I said it

Not Hungry Jacks

because I see you now on the corner

and the sting of swelling spit in my open mouth says “feed me”

 

I turn the corner going 40

The grocery line of cars angrily honk all the way to the horizon

I don’t know what they expected from a Tuesday afternoon

I think they’d be happy with my always 40

 

Why do we honk at standing still?

Why do we curse the calm before the storm?

What makes the reckoning so appealing?

Does it really take a rubble to bring the Dawn?

 

I think I’ll stay at 40

and eat a bloody burger while I’m at it

and I will smile, a big juicy smile

and watch as they go 100 in a 60 zone.