ThinkingOutLoud
My poems are simply my thoughts stemming from poetic lies, along with the beautiful and sometimes ugly truth. / / "I am still so naive; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don't ask me who I am. "A passionate, / fragmentary girl," maybe?" Sylvia Plath / / "i carry your heart with me (i carry it in / my heart) i am never without it." E.E. Cummings / / Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated. / / Copyright © ThinkingOutLoud
I was often
envious
of those that knew which road to choose,
walking it like a familiar memory,
while I would stumble and fall.
I blindly moved forward.
Sometimes taking too long,
to pick myself up,
bruised and scraped
backtracking
wandering
and
making up for lost time
in both lightness
and
overwhelming darkness
I would pray for a sign,
a compass
to give me direction,
as the sun and moon
exchanged glances
But somewhere along my journey,
envy went missing
and
now I often pass by those
that knew their way-
voraciously attempting
to trace their steps
back to the road they came from
Searching
for the wrong turn they made
ragged
blinded
by
their mistakes
As I look back at the view
of my trail
from where I have risen
after every fall
and I see my bruises and scrapes
that created a map
I notice its key
identifying pitfalls and battlegrounds
mountaintops
valleys
and
rivers that flow effortlessly
and I find myself
at peace.
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 10:50 PM UTC
The
scariest
place to be
is on the
edge...
the precipice
between
keeping it together
and falling
into
the abyss
Knowing
that when you fall
you
fall
a
l
o
n
e
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
There were times
she felt
like his bad habit
passionately
longed for,
quickly savored,
and then
carelessly crushed
beneath
the weight
of his world
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
Her failures
often
screamed
so loudly
that they
silenced
her dreams.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC
I look at you
and I whisper
a prayer
hoping you'll
reveal
that smile.....
slightly twisted
the one
that pulled me in....
begging for understanding
that smile
like
the moon to the tide....
gravitational
forever changing
leaving me breathless...
surrendering
all control
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
The egg shells that
I've walked upon
have finally
turned to dust.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
She wore the years
on her face,
making it plain to see
they had not been kind.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
Life is merely
a series
of before and afters
begininngs and endings,
Sometimes we
are a fortune's king,
weilding the key
to open
or close doors.
Other times,
our control is lost
and a line is drawn
by the sword of a skillful hand
marking
a change of heart
or opportunity.
Inevitably, death bows
to the governing power of Chronus
holding time in his hands
But in between
the before and afters,
and the beginnings and endings
are moments.
*defining
turning
quiet
stolen
of no return*
Moments
The rhythmic newborn baby's cry,
goodbyes that cast a shadow,
songs filled with Heaven's joy?
kisses that taste of forever,
breezes that dance with the angels
or quarrels armed with poison.
Moments
Some left with arms reaching
for they were missed.
a hesitant heart refusing love
words left unspoken
time not taken
forgiveness held captive
Looking back
at memories held,
moments have brought
light and darkness
but the missed moments
have left the deepest scars
marking opportunity's lost.
So, I try to remember
that in between
the before and afters,
and the beginings and endings,
are moments,
and I shall
adorn them in jewels
and embrace them in peace
lest them not be missed
for soon,
they too shall pass.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 9:34 AM UTC
Actions
have
the
power
to
silence
even the loudest
words.
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
She fed him her love,
serving his happiness first,
but he let her starve.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC