#530
The lines, and cracks in the ceiling
rarely have the answers i seek,
and still i look.
i crane, and squint, and beg,
to cold flat plains,
aching for an answer.
No shelter from my anxieties
no compass for my course,
it stands and shades, and i wait.
My only solace is the action
of looking upwards, and pretending
sitting still is moving forward.
#531
The weather, a dial, a hand,
it passes, it must,
the heat, the cold,
the bleak, the breeze,
it all keeps spinning,
beyond my hand,
beyond my grasp,
may my hours be in peace,
as peaceful as i may steer,
and let the heavens do as they might,
as i walk through sleet,
and sun rays with ease and grace.
#532
And there they are
my midnight mysteries
exploding, popping from the corners
past the edges of my eyes,
salute the friendly shooters,
send them on their missions
my love ablaze, wishing,
oh i can’t pretend, i don’t love
the mysteries,
as mysterious as they’re becoming.
#533
Don’t the children
know how to win with silence?
How the shouts show their hands?
There’s weakness in anger,
no secrets in those who flare,
so fight with silence
air with secrecy,
let us learn the lessons
of those quiet assassins.
#534
May the tides serve to
untwist your knots,
rather then unravel your core,
my the rapids add, and
expedite your travels
rather then knock you off course,
may the ups and downs
thrill instead frighten,
may the waters hydrate
rather then drown you,
may you float,
and sail safely.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write