thomas-harper
I get up in the morning and I go to bed at night. Sometimes I switch the two. But basically, I convert oxygen into carbon dioxide, follow in the carnivorous footsteps of my ancestors, and listen as the ever moving universal clock ticks away the precious moments I've been given to enjoy. And I write.
crawling up a mountainside,
filled with certain dread.
knowing that a misstep,
will probably leave me dead.
that’s what writing feels like,
from inside my head.
falling from an airplane,
a pack upon my back.
in love with total weightlessness,
without a single lack.
that’s what writing feels like,
when everything’s on track.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 2:14 AM UTC
finding the tiny pieces
of the broken vase
putting them back together
with nothing out of place
would be altogether simpler
easier by far
then wrestling the decision
entangling my heart
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 6:53 PM UTC
What does it mean
when someone appears
surrounded by a glow?
What can you do
when you can't stop thinking
about someone you know?
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
Would you know your soul mate
if she tripped in to your life?
Would you give up everything
to see her by your side?
Making tough decisions
will always cause some pain.
So live and risk rejection
or die silent once again.
You cannot ride the rapids
afraid to rock the boat.
You can't aim for the bleachers
if you're too afraid to choke.
A life under the radar
may seem safe and secure.
But is it truly living
when only fear's endured?
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
I truly can't imagine
how dull life must have been
before the art of writing
gave advent to the pen
How did the hapless poet
recharge his weathered soul?
What outlet had the writer
stuck in that bookless hole?
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC
One more time.
Just one.
Just one more chance
to remember
how it felt
and I'll never ask
for anything again.
Ever!
Except for one more time.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
miscommunication based on fear
destroyed the fragile buds
of friendship
or more
what was once a smile
so bright and so warm
is now a look
of sadness
losing the opportunity
to show the depths
of my sincerity
physically hurts
so I pretend like all is well
like nothing happened
and save my tears
for when I'm alone
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
If a picture tells a wordless poem
Then a brief glimpse, starting with a glance and
ending with a knowing wink,
would be a short story.
And too, a playful exchange,
culminating in an unexpected tryst,
needs be a novella.
And thus, an afternoon chase leading to:
a heartfelt talk, a fevered clash of naked flesh,
and a midnight mocha by a lively winter’s fire,
must be the the opening chapter of mankind’s greatest epic.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
From
a word or glimpse,
captured surreptitiously across a crowded mall,
a story’s seed is planted.
It grows in form and substance,
consciously and subconsciously,
while personal gifts and personal items
are sought out, encountered, and purchased.
Then,
a day or a year or a lifetime later,
a story flows,
ripened word after ripened word,
from mouth or pen or keyboard,
on its journey,
through ears and eyes,
on the way to
enrich a
soul.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
The aches and pains and disappointments
of a life lived as well as
experience and wisdom allowed,
explode and expand to fill and overflow
every thought, every feeling, every motivation.
“It’s too hard. I can’t handle it.”
But even still, underneath
the rust and the grime and the dust from disuse,
lies a burning heart of hope and faith and love,
as even the bleakest and darkest night
eventually spawns a glorious new dawn.
“I’m so tired. I don’t think I can continue.”
Endless exertion climbing an impossible to scale wall,
even in utter failure,
still tones and strengthens seldom used muscles and
oftentimes the mere refusal to quit
is the tiny, almost imperceptible seed of unconquerable courage.
“It’s impossible. There’s just no way.”
The final step, cloaked in futility,
reflects the effort already expended,
not the amount still required and
holds the inimitable power of eventual success
as a reward to all those who except and meet its challenge.
“I made it! I can’t believe how close I was to quitting.”
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 8:30 AM UTC