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M Norris Jun 2017
The darkness, I find it soothing.
The night air, I find it cooling.
Wither away sunlight,
For dark tendrils are creeping.
Wither away, day’s spite,
For cool air is seeping.
Fear not the dark spirits teaming.
Wither away demons,
We are invincible when dreaming.
For we are a legion.
Wither away sunlight.
This was just something quick, whipped it up last night during a writers block on another poem.
M Norris Jun 2017
Concussion abound
Its harder to breathe up here
**** my altitude.
M Norris Jun 2017
As the snowflakes start falling
I am left cold, and wanting.
Carols, like thick smoke, fill the air
Serenading people who didn't see me there.
Boney hands outstretched like a leafless tree
There are some things people don’t wish to see

Alms, alms, just for one hot meal,
Alms for Christmas, don’t make me steal.
Alms, for cocoa with peppermint and cream
Alms for kindness, for a childhood dream.

But my hands remained empty, catching only snow
The wool clad shoppers bustling past, rush rush, two days to go.
They pay me no heed for I am ragged, unsightly
They don’t want to ***** their conscience, for it shines so brightly.

The streets, eerily quiet on this cold winter morning.
Empty, not a soul in sight, not a caroler performing.
Frost laden windows reveal a world now beyond my grasp,
In tired eyes tears well as I'm visited by Christmas’ past.

A snowcapped landscape fills my thoughts
A small cabin by the woods is where I'm brought.
The sun is just starting to peek above the mountain,
Its rays springing forth like a golden fountain.

Wake up early! Before Mom and Dad,
We had to see what new toys we had.
“Look *****, look! Santa was here!
He left a print in the hearth and fed his reindeer!”
Mom made coffee as dad rubbed his eyes,
Once presents were done, we had one last surprise,
Once presents were done, we had one last dream.
hot cocoa, with peppermint and cream!

And then it was gone, like the crack of a whip,
It was gone before I got even a single sip.
Back to the seeping cold, the piercing chill
As I sit alone on Christmas under a windowsill.
I was alone,
the chill, more piercing now
Reaching my bones.
In houses all around me families sharing love and cheer.
It hurt me so much more to be so near.

Alms, alms just for one warm embrace,
Alms to banish these tears from my face.
Alms, alms to stay strong and endure
Alms, alms, the end is near.
Yes, This is a Christmas poem in June, its also very dark. Do people ever see just how rough the world can be?
M Norris Jun 2017
The grass waved around me as I lay on a knoll,
Bemused by wonder as it caressed my soul.

Free.

Free to run, free to jump, free to  skip, and soar.
Watching the clouds, I didn’t want anything more.

Did I feel a man then
Innocent and dreamy eyed me?
Then, I barely even cared.

Time flows on, ceaseless, changing as the tide.
Ever ever on, trees bud, shade, shed, and hide.

Free.

Free to run, free to hide, free to cry and be alone.
Yet there it was, His name etched in the stone.

Did I feel a man then?
Fearful and lonely me?
Then, I barely felt anything.

I had to act, basking in an immense wave of duty.
The corpse of my childhood was a thing of beauty.

Free.

Free to grow, free to mature, free to finally measure up.
As I turned away I thought I felt as my heart close up.

Did I feel a man then?
Treasonous and cold me?
Then, I barely felt human.

Here I sit, with gray streaks coloring silver hair.
Wistful, gazing back, back when I didn’t care.

Free.

Free to sleep, free to rest, free to go back and never return.
Before I go give the hourglass one last turn.

How is a man measured?
Power? Wisdom? Actions?
Or is it the things he treasured?
Growing up is never easy, what we do, how we do it, these elements can decide who you become.
M Norris Jun 2017
How I long to be free like the Sparrow.
Alas, these holes are far too narrow,
And I cannot compress my marrow.
This fate is a heavy burden to bare,
Oh!
How I long to be free like the Sparrow.
The inspiriration for this came from, funnily enough, my 1y/o son discovering the baby gate.
M Norris Jun 2017
I hear your heavy breath as you lie next to me. You struggled not for the first time to get on the bed, which you know is by invitation only. In out, in out. The pattern is soothing yet it troubles me that your golden muzzle is turning silver. Snoring now, I smile as you fall deeper and deeper into puppy dreamland. Where do you go on these journeys? Back to playful puppyhood? Chasing the wind, nipping at wafting dandelion seeds? Am I with you in that moment? Throwing a stick for you, or rolling alongside you in the waving grass? You are a true and loyal friend. Our time is now, in the moment, and for every moment after. Even if I have to lift you onto the bed, which you know is by invitation only.

Come on up old pup.
This prose is dedicated to my aging dog, Oblio. It is very close to my heart.

— The End —