#505
Sitting above the clouds
i wonder why i never
invested words in the past,
or threw my blank states
against blank pages
if only for different shades
as i turned and turned
chasing the light west,
soft missions, big plans
minor mistakes, lost words,
from the lost boy,
i wonder how he’d feel now,
sitting for a meal, a drink,
i wonder how i’d like him myself.
#506
i wonder how
many mismatched mugs
led me here, now.
Waltzing through mornings,
and midday daydreams,
dancing through fantasy,
talking as if imaginary,
a mug, a schmuck like me.
How many bland, watery teas?
Lukewarm coffees, cold,
bitter, scorching, chipped,
mismatched, awakening,
half hearted hellos,
and stirring conversations,
how many cups counted?
How many sips left?
#507
i guess we’re not going to win
who actually needs to change the world?
So long as we strive to make it
just a little better,
one smile at a time, each is enough,
bigger laughs, a touch of colour,
a kind a word, a fond memory,
we can be a hint of spice
rather than the a stick of dynamite
ready to blow minds,
we can choose to set off fireworks
rather then tempers,
shake it up, shake ourselves,
scream with joy and
dance ourselves towards happy graves.
#508
i’ve really got to stop
thinking that i even
have the smallest grasp,
that it matters, that i matter,
that this, that, or anything
i touch could be underlined,
or important at all,
they say nothing lasts,
and i hope not,
especially me.
#509
God! What?!
Decisions? Again!?
Didn’t i just make some?
Wasn’t it your turn?
Alright, alright, you’re right,
i prefer it like this,
it’s not like i don’t hear
my own echoes,
it’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok…
i’ll figure it out.
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Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love 'em.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write