I wonder how many lives you touched, before mine
How many heartbreaks you caused and how many you tried your best to mend
How many times you closed your eyes and wondered what the future would bring
Not knowing it would include me
I wish to see a world of my dreams
Full of rejoice and sunbeams
I wish to see the children
Not growing like weeds
But like flowers in the orchard of humanity
With adequate feeds
I wish to see the poor's children
Carrying books like me
Unlike their parents working in sun's steam
I wish to see the teens
With footballs rather than
Sweating in the farms with ploughs
I wish I could be the change
That this world of my dreams need
But alas! My friends this only happens
In my dreams .
One year from now I'll be receiving my future
One year from now I'll leave whatever I once knew for the great unknown
One year from now I'll be screaming for joy or crying in anguish
One year from now only one word, "congratulations", will matter to me
One year from now I'll be packing up my life
One year from now I'll be moving out
One year from now my future will be decided
Better days are a memory of the past,
better days are a hope for the future,
better days are todays sunset and tomorrows sunrise,
a better day just needs someone to make it.
Skewed, and Angled.
Perception of time seems so vulnerable, at least able to be captured.. mangled.
Away it flies, yet draws closer by the second; quilted with its own set of rules and manners.. entangled.. in itself.
The ultimate healer, but kills all, besides itself, "In time." Dividing a fine line between happiness and misery..
Above rides the wind, and below, the waves.
Neither can go back, or skip ahead.
What is your poetry, my friend?
Is it the cool spring day that bounces
off your clothes after a long winter mourning;
the spine-chilling defrosting session
you have when the sun finally rises
and the forward look to the light of a new day.
Or is it the morning silence of a library,
hot teas, and warm crumpets, that carries
your imagination far far away
after forgetting the chaos of yesterday.
Your poetry is your happy place,
your depressed face, your angry taste,
and an exhausted out space...
Your race to the moon and back
before mother tucks you in
and turns off the lights.
It's the bad blues news
and the good old days' anthem
that hums on long to the Sunday tunes
without a care in the world.
What is our poetry, my friend?
Is it a couple of pals laying waste
to the grass below our restless bodies
as we gaze up into the galaxy
and pronounce what is your and mine;
the grass clumping together in our hands
and spilling all over each other's hair.
Or is it the strum of your guitar
and the beat of my hands clashing
against each other to make a sweat
Yet miserable lullaby for our hearts
to pour our into the beach we set camp at.
The waves matching our irregular beat
with its own casual style
that loves to ride up onto our toes mid-chorus.
Our Poetry is what we make of it.
love letters dabbled back and forth
across the classroom get caught
just to share the love we have
with everybody else who doesn't have.
The glittering looks we give
when everyone bursts out laughing
because we know they know
they will never come close to us;
not even second place.
The tear drop memories of what was
and what coulda woulda shoulda been
but now isn't there for us to even cry on;
just cold shoulders and salty whispers
about the past, that should never have been
because it makes up too much pain for the present.
My coffee is luke warm, the pideons are feeding on bread, I merge in the abyss in awe and good stead.
Strangers pass me by, a whilst the day has just begun, I sit here in silence, under the beaming rays of sun.
No tasks to bare in mind, no challenges to be won, I indulge in my imagination for both solace and for fun
As I reconcile my mistakes, and peer into the horizons ahead, I enjoy splendid feelings of hopefulness,without a single tear to shred
A friendly relationship with this moment, and a sincere wish to be, an ambassador of this life, to live joyfully and and free.
The universe is hinged in our minds, and our hearts, for life is a unified bond we can never be apart.