Choices
Never know till you flow
will it end or just grow
will it mend for pretend
while
I stare at the snow.
Grab the ink
while I think
using keys more with ease
forget the trend
just jot then send.
4 pm Poem
Need vs Want
We want more money
We need more compassion
We want the latest gadgets
We need more love
We want only what is best for us
We need more empathy
We want the coolest car
We need more inclusion
We want luxury
We need more tolerance
Imagine a world where
We focused not on what we want
But what we need
Poem #7: Heartland
Heartland
Twin lakes of glimmering green shimmer reflections of sky.
Crescent path to the south curves up or down.
Forests of swaying, short golden leaves to the north—none beyond the lakes.
She is down to Earth, gazing at the sky.
Fields of cream-coloured rye outline the land.
I know this face.
Rain clouds gloom and thunder broil,
Those dark shrouds hanging dim the land grey.
Sprays of rain sputter, spilt upon the lush turf.
The lakes go still afterward, hazed and foggy.
Days in a daze and the clouds lift from her face.
Winter arrives and her eyes glaze over.
White complexion, smooth as an empty white page.
Overflowing with Life.
Spring turns round and she’s still as beautiful as ever.
The path smiles to the sky.
Sunlight beams rays of glistening grace.
Autumn rolls around and her face is rosy.
I walk about, a painter in a drawn land, better than I could ever brush a replica.
The leaves fall but her hair does not.
Face the Moon, accept the Sun.
Love not the world.
‘Tis a fruitful place.
Leaf to dust.
Seasons to and fro, relentless rhythm, eternity oft and off.
Spiral aim swirls my eyes torrents in the sky.
Rising brightness shines my weary clouds away.
Hope is not singular in nature.
The lakes do not give in and neither does the sky.
For they reflect one another in harmony.
Love is stronger than the fibre moulding the earthly material together.
Rain to earth, roots to leaves to seeds to forests to dust to life again and love
indefatigable.
Wind burning cold vapour in, warmth of hope exhales.
Tree to paper to words to poetry to song to heart to you to all.
Oppression has no touch or sound or influential taste in this place.
Sown a single blade of green grass, cutting darkness asunder.
A single blade of grass.
Circular frame—is it the substance or the sustenance that defines the distance?
The picture of a landscape paints hope upon my face, my frame.
Hanging on the wall so I do not forget hope.
Finality (4:00 PM)
The ear piercing silence of having
said too much hangs over our heads.
That last word fell, dragging with it
a love that we placed too high on a pedestal.
I tap my nails in a vain attempt
to drown it out.
We submit to quiet shame and
wonder when it got this bad.
You sigh and turn on SportsCenter.
I flip thru an outdated Rolling Stone.
I watch helplessly as the remains of our love
slip like shadows thru my fingers.
Dark as misery.
Incomprehensible as air.
The Gradual Decline of “We Need.”
“We need…”
The scariest opening of any conversation
Right up there with, “You know I love you, right?”
“We need…”, though?
It’s the gradual ascension on the rails
To that roller coaster, you swore to yourself you’d never go on
We need to talk.
We need to take a break.
We need counseling.
We need a lawyer.
Hour 7
We need…
The freedom to express our truth
We need…
The courage to face our darkness
We need…
An unconditional love of self
We need…
The vision to see the bigger picture
We need…
Acceptance of what is beyond our control
A Prayer (hour 8)
We need you Jesus Every day
We Need you Jesus every step of the way
We need you Jesus as our Guide
We need you Jesus by our side
We Need him in the Morning
We need him in the evening
We need you to be our guide
We need you to carry the ride
We need you to abide
We need peace in our life
We need to pray more often
Thank you Lord for keeping us
Thank you Lord for everything.
We need Jesus more than ever
as we go through our stormy weathers
Whitestone Lake- Poem #7 Using Prompt #7- Poetry Half Marathon
Stars twinkle shut.
Red and pinks shoot across the darkened sky.
Morning awakes.
The baritone bellow of the bull frog
breaks the morning silence.
Gently waves roll onto shore.
Morning awakes.
A warm wind passes through the bull rushes
and they shake a morning greeting.
Morning awakes.
Reds, pinks and now blues accent the sky.
Billowy clouds hang low and smile a welcome
To the new day.
Morning is here.
Copyright 2015, by Ingrid Exner
Story
I walk around with your words echoing in my mind,
I walk around with our unfinished story
reverberating in my head.
You are more broken
than I could have thought –
your scars fill pages of my diary,
words upon words
I poured out through my tears.
I wrote you a letter
and spilled my hateful heart
all over its pages –
and I forgive you now.
In my head, I’ve already written our end –
happier than you ever could have been.
Back side of things
my butt, big, small, medium… I don’t know its size because I need to first know who I’m comparing it to, although every living thing that becomes eye view seems to change from stranger to competition in a matter of seconds, I know how to accept others and yet I don’t know how to accept without anything good or bad being reason enough to change my self thoughts. I just want it to bounce around or maybe I want it to push through the tightest of jeans. You would think I had a thing for women the way I’m looking at them, so scared of how things will change for me when they are facing back side and I have to look to see, insecure and trying to heal me…