Too many bubbles in my life
Too many ding-dings on my phone
Too many engines on my train
Too many cobwebs on my plans.

Too much spinning around like a top
Too much tripping on my own two feet
To much hurry hurry in my day time
Too much worry worry in my night.

How can I expand the hours
How can I cross something out
How can I outrun the tick-tock
How can I survive this way.

So many questions - with no replies
So many efforts - so little gain
So many teardrops shed in vain
So many times I’ve said good-bye.
ljm

I sat by my morning table grieving
And feeling sorry for myself
When I glanced out the kitchen window
And spied a strikingly beautiful bird
Slowly pacing among all the pebbles
That cover the surface of my back yard.

His  head was iridescent purple and blue
Flashing in the wintertime sun.
He didn’t seem to be in a hurry -
Just taking himself a casual stroll.
Looking around as if on vacation
And seeing the sights in a wonderful place.

I had no idea where he might have came from
Or if there was a name for his breed.
I only knew I found him a pleasure
Who turned a sad and depressing hour
Into something healing and warm
That I will remember for more than a day.
ljm

my whole life
i spent searching for you
for a love that would save my life
for someone to save me
from myself
from my pain
from my sorrorw
now I realize the love has been there for me all along
the love within myself
I realized I was always waiting for someone else
to give me permission to allow me
to live the life that
I want to live
the only permission that I need is my own
and what I realized was
that my greatest fear came true
but not in a bad way
I was always so afraid of being all alone
without friends or family
and I am
and eventhough it is hard sometimes
it is not as scary as I thought
its actually a blessing
to learn who I am
to learn how to heal myself
how to start accepting myself
loving myself and listening to myself
and my wants and my needs first
before anyone else's
to learn to proritize myself
many people when they are dying say
I wish I would've listened to myself more
and lived the life of my own choosing
I think this should be the goal before anything else
for in this body
we only live once
so the more I listen
the more I see
that life can be so beautiful
in its simplicity
in the present moments
of  a slower life.

Bright appearance
Blue eyes
All those little lies

Treating me like nothing
Sometimes there
Acting like you care

Maybe you do
I know you’re not here anymore
And with that let me say
I no longer mourn

I used to like
wearing her shoes
It gave me a
sense of grown up
Never realised
Her shoes walked
through the unknown
untrodden roads
Which i could never
ever imagine to go!

But now is my turn
To get into my shoes
To not compare
and try to wear her shoes
But to find my path
To be on my own

How i wonder,
how did she walk
through the dark
Not complaining
But to focus on her duties
I understand now
Emotions turns aside
When it comes to duties
Be who you want to be
You let me live through
Helping me all along
Now is my turn
You live your life
Fulfill the dreams of your own
And i will stand by you
Somewhere from far off.

The ticking clock, like gunshots through my head
aimed at my youthful ignorance...
the scent of you still lingers in our bed.

I ghost through space, not living, not yet dead -
straddle chasms of our best intents-
the ticking clock, like gunshots through my head...

My mind still hears the poetry you read,
replays the laugh of youth's exuberance,
the scent of you still lingers in our bed.

I enter empty house now, filled with dread.
I feel your absence, all it represents-
the ticking clock, like gunshots through my head.

A fog billows in, begins to spread,
as death comes to erode all innocence.
The scent of you still lingers in our bed.

My nose has plundered through each precious thread
for faintest linger of your redolence...
the ticking clock, like gunshots in my head.
The scent of you is fading from our bed...



© Mar 2018, Winnie Carolina

My head is resting on the fog
that cushions Pillow Mountain.
My eyes are streaming waterfalls,
flowing like a fountain.

This misty dream, it seems
was but illusion, fleeting;
A second saved within a lifetime
on a random meeting.

The silken mist embraces you:
my feet are bound by clay.
The coldness of the Earth you left
binds me day by day.

California Kids

I’ll call you up on Saturday
And invite you over.
Take the 101, 110 and 1;
(Sounds like an equation!)
And you’re there.
Just use your GPS..
There’ll be a party at my house,
Daft Punk playing on the Echo.
It’ll be epic, Echoic!
With some vintage’ tunes,
Crankin’ the Beach Boys,
Watching surfers
Shredding out-the-back,
Past prowling sharks in the shallows.
Lets go to the dunes and maybe kiss.
I know that you miss me,
So don’t ask me why
And when you come,
I won’t ask
“What are you doing here?”
We’ll eat fish tacos,
Guacamole, Pico de Gallo
And drink margaritas
While we debate French new wave,
I’ll praise Truffaut while you
Tell me that Scorsese is the man.
When we get drunk enough
I will suggest a walk
Along the iridescent surf.
You should say yes because
I’m safe now that I drive electric,
That I turned vegan
(sorry about the fish)
and wear cruelty-free clothes.
I don’t grill snapper anymore
And take my shoes off inside the door.
Maybe we’ll make it to Tower 28,
Lay down and watch the full moon
Like Jim Morrison did to write.
I’ll tell you I’m glad you’re alive—
I’m no poet, but you know that.