A different stage, a different story
Yet the same effect that poetry has on me
When the pain gets overwhelming
When I can't tell a soul a single thing
I tell through poetry.

You can't expect everyone to understand
And you can't trust everyone
Because they might judge you,
Leave you,
Or tell you things you don't want to hear
Or what you already know
It's what I fear.

Poetry doesn't judge
It doesn't talk
It only listens.

You don't even have to be afraid
To be your vulnerable self
Poetry is your friend.

sometimes flowers just bloom to cheer up the ground
&' sometimes stars just shine to keep the moon company
sometimes cigarettes burn so hearts can extinguish
sometimes demons scream so souls can rest in silence

You keep on running back to her
like a dog at dinner
you keep on running back to her,
banging on her door till she answers.
You know so much about her, yet you have yet to learn that her love for you is not pure.
You are so consumed by her beauty that it doesn't matter.
Her wrongs turn into rights,
her reds into yellows,
her deep brown eyes freezing you in time.
Her Love is so sinful,
yet you keep tugging on her rope till she falls down with you.

Softly slips the moment
In the waning of the day,
When the tenderness reflected
Lets a sadness fade away.
As the setting sun throws highlights
To tall timbers on the ridge
And the burble of the brook
Running soft beneath the bridge.
Flocking starlings settle
To gently chortle in the eve,
Whilst the maiden herds the cattle
In for milking, I believe.
The countryside quiescent
A peacefulness descends,
With the falling shroud of darkness
My velvet daylight ends.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
24 January 2025

no choice