Eyes
Eyes are the windows to a soul –
yours are an azure blue nightmare
haunting my sleep.
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
My Dog, Alfred
Fashioning himself as a gangsta, Alfred
Hitchcock wears his gray hoodie whenever
I take him for a walk through our local
grave yard. He enjoys peeing on tombstones.
An intimidating terrior with
penetrating eyes and monolithic
Easter-Island ears, he refrains from barking,
never smiles, and takes pride in the way
his gray whiskers highlight his black coat. He
lives in his own monochromatic world.
An introvert by nature, he cares not
for human intercourse. Do not pet him.
one shouldn’t throw little rocks, with green moss and googly eyes, at others
just because they don’t also have rocks
just like one shouldn’t throw little rocks, with green moss and goggly eyes
when others cannot
there is a moral and a lesson to be learned;
when you are lucky enough to own a little rock
with green moss and googly eyes,
hold on to it,
put it on the table
and contemplate about how very lucky you are
By: 2015 KMH
I hold in my hand
I hold in my hand the essence of all life
It runs in my veins, what could end all strife
But I close my eyes to the simplicity of truth
and disguise the birth of life in tarnished youth
In That Old Photograph
It looks as if my skin’s too tight
like my soul hasn’t had the chance
to work its way to the surface
of my then smooth mask of face
I don’t know who she was
the way she tied her scarf like that
made up far too much for a young
girl so unformed and unsure
of everything around her
Life has a way of loosening
the skin of the soul
of pulling down what once
held firmly to the bones of youth
and still the one similarity:
that uncertainty about it all
Oh, my gosh! You did it again.
Why are you convinced I need a new friend?
Why did you get that puppy?
That ‘Molly’ tried to chew my tail!
She chewed up a shoe and half the mail.
Did you notice she pees on the rug?
She chased the cat, made her hiss and run.
You won’t let me and it’s so much fun.
Did you see her try to steal my food?
She snuck upon me and slept on my leg.
If I chase her away, she whimpers and begs.
Maybe I like her… just a little.
But you still love me, right?
Now I rebel.
Now the inner scream.
But no, I am not unhappy.
I am just hanging over the side of a great pool,
Reaching my arm in, up to the shoulder.
I can smell the surface—not water, but words—
And I see my reflection, undulating.
I could fall in, and maybe I will!
So, rebellion—explain?
Well, considering that I am feeling happy,
And alive,
I suppose it is rebellion
Against the thought that anything in the world is wrong.
I have been marching in the wrong army,
And I defect.
They’ll never catch me.
I’ve become invisible.
The house was always the object of fear
The foreboding tree out front
that seemed hell bent on being creepy at all angles
And the smell…death.
Or what we imagined death smelled like
The neighborhood kids would often dare one another
Ding-Dong Ditch!
Ding-Dong Ditch!!
Do It!
Don’t be a bitch!
Yeah, kids were vicious in 6th grade.
I remember one kid who gave in.
Running away, he tripped on his overly baggy jeans
Bloodying his JNCO’s from the knee all the way down
His Converse were never the same again
Through a door that isn’t really a door,
A keyhole into another world, a world of light
But should we fear the light? The unknown beyond the wall?
All that glitters is not gold and darkness is often hidden in light
A charming smile hides a blackened heart, the Morning Star became a demon
Is it safer on our side of the wall? Is it safer in our world?
Even the known holds terrors, nightmares in our own minds
So which is the lesser evil, the known or the unknown?
Is it truly better the devil you know than the devil you don’t?
the world awaits you
with arms open wide-
blue skies above and
forest green earth under your feet;
the world is wide open
there’s room for all your frivolous thoughts-
if you can but step through the door to the other side-
someone whose thoughts align with yours
will always be waiting there.