normal
is what you are told
it is
until
you realise
it is
not

I happened to find
myself longing for
some kind of change
you were telling
me this in that little
cafe on the corner
your words fell softly
through the hum of
café conversations
your eyes were left
searching in a
maze of emotions
you wore a poets frown
that I could not ignore
there’s no easy way to say
there’s no easy way to grieve
somethings that you love
sometimes leave
the thread between us
now is broken …
Clay.M

They visit when least expected
Ideas awaken you softly and sometimes louder than a parade
You must seize them
Coax them gently
Craft them
Do what poets do best
Write with words

the horrible things we endure,

flames for a flicker of comfort.

you stand in a room,

carrying a burden you can't explain,

but it sings from your face,

carrying generations of pain.

like an ocean water sting,

to be with you is not living,

it's an art of ignorance,

storing heaven inside its heavy hands,

for a single sliver of chance.