24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Where is the blinding grief I thought
Would see me through the day?
It has been a horribly reliable fuel source.
Horribly reliable.
And on this day that I thought would be made easy
By flammable words and imagery,
Blinding grief is nowhere to be seen.
At your house in my mind,
I look around and see
Everything we left,
As though we are still there.
I am sorry for the leaving.
Every time, I am sorry.
The bell tolls
I am leaving.
Grieving will come,
And go,
And come,
And go.
Like the breath.
Everything moves in cycles,
And I am no exception.
When I met you I was young and restless now my soul is withered and worn I gave my heart unconditionally then it was returned torn it was battered and bruised never to be the same I go toward love with haste cause the love I gave unconditionally turned out to be a waste.
I am, the perverbial bear in the China shop.
You think bulls were bad?
Whoever who came up with that phrase, grossly underestimated the destructive nature of THIS BEAR.
Now, keep in mind I do not break stuff on purpose but alas, stuff just breaks around me.
From frying pans to waffle irons, to glass cases but thankfully not any bones yet,
I am the one they warn about on security tapes.
I am that curious and friendly customer that people love to know but hate to serve.
I’m a cooking maestro, a passionate poet, and most of all I’m a bear in a friggin China shop
It is no lie
Break a true gypsy heart
It will haunt you for life
Your senses will be dulled
Your food will not taste good
Art will not inspire you
Lilacs, lilies, lavender; will have no scent
You will find no pleasure in silk and satin
Music will lose it’s magic
You will forget the words to your favorite songs
Laughter will feel forced and foreign
Your travels will be weary
Your days will ring empty
Your nights will ache lonely
Your pockets will be wanting
Your heart will feel heavy
Be forewarned!
Who am I?
I hardly know.
A writer to be,
I want to grow.
To create,
And let the words flow,
And inspiration strike,
For all to show.