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Patrick Fisher Feb 2014
Snowflakes

I wonder if the snowflakes,
flying around the quad
are searching like I do

I wonder if inside of each one
is a little beating heart
aching for something more

I wonder if they look
around and see one
another and think, How Beautiful.

I wonder if they know
they can not even control
where they are going
or where they land

I wonder if the snowflakes
regret the shadows in their past
their days among the clouds

I wonder if the snowflakes
on the ground look
up in envy
of those in flight

or do they merely look
around and say,
I’ll never fly like they do


I wonder if they know
how much suffering they
cause with their frigid fingers

or how much joy they
bring to those
with hearts like children

I wonder if each one
desponds, surrounded
by many like it

or rejoices in the
effect the one can have
when entwined with the many

I wonder how the snow
feels as it slowly
disappears

Do they fade in peace
or overwhelmed by
the fiery flames of 32
do they burn in anguish?

Oh snowflakes, never
leave
me.

You make me wonder,
and to wonder
is a beautiful thing.
Patrick Fisher May 2013
The tenths of milligrams of saturated fat,
The letters of words of a cereal box,
The colors of the eyes of my big, fat cat,
The sound of the door when she knocks, knocks, knocks.

The shape of the curve of that one perfect wave,
The rising of the smoke of our back yard fire,
The itch of my brain from that all-essential crave,
The pain of a word heard passing by her.

The fear of a hand that’s always swinging,
The red of my heart when I just can’t take it,
The grasping of the smoke that’s never staying,
The blue of my eyes when you just keep faking it.
Life lies in the little things.
Patrick Fisher Apr 2013
Day after day,
I came to that room,
on my back, every little thing.
A place to just forget,
a place, I'd learn to call my home: room 217.

Day after day,
I'd enter that door,
not wanting to do anything,
until I saw your face,
shining through the darkness.

You gave me hope
in the smallest ways,
in daily actions
done with a loving heart.

Day after day,
I'd sit on that desk,
Loving dark thoughts,
glaring at the world
through my black-tinted glasses.

I'd feel quite alone,
isolated by my judgments,
unwilling to step out,
onto the boards, with you.

I poured my worries into paper,
into binders, into packets,
I created my own world,
full of facts, full of practice
Day after day.

The contest came,
a Victory.
Turning us to one another,
for one moment, unity.
Still, just one, more day.

Then, day after day,
I'd stand up in front,
preaching algebra, statistics
just hoping something would stick.

But as they say,
you can lead a horse to water,
but you can't make him drink.
(Though the salt before sure helped)

Day after day
Questions answered,
reflections made,
life lived,
busy, hectic days.

And though all I taught was Math,
you taught me love,
you taught me joy.
You taught me how to loosen up,
how to look at life right.
For perspective has never been my strong suit,
from this view here near the ground.

And I can't thank you enough,
for countless little moments,
a lesson taught,
a concept learned,
a smile appears, as success draws near,
if only for a while.

Day after day,
the tension builds,
the string pulled taught,
all eves on us.
(or so it seemed,
in our own little world)

Now it's two parts down, just eight left,
And each one of us, a team,
every minute given, a gift.

So onwards we marched,
though states and through mind,
to the city,
to the lights.

And my nerves are on fire:
the embers of anticipation
lit by sparks of competition
the flames licked up my spine,
I saw my hands were shaking,
my heart beating faster,
than it has in a long, long time.

Now a wave is building,
Now looming overhead,
Now a wall of pure terror,
the fear of failure towering,
over all.

My heart is a battleground,
for was of Reds and Whites.
My flickering passions,
my blinding anxieties,
WARNING: PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR IMPACT

I try to calm the tremors,
It's just one more day.

Moments pass, every second, a century.
Now a wind at my back,
pushing me forwards
shoving me onwards,
shaking the foundation of my entire soul.

Now, I stare into the forest
of everything I've done.
Screaming, Shouting, Searching for an answer.
Peering, Peeping, Pursuing a response.
All at once, a sight emerges,
I perk up, expecting fruition.

But all I saw is a cloud,
a blackness, rolling, building, tumbling,
rippling like growing hear
flickering like dying hope,
and All at once, it hits me.
As a river flows form my head,
seeping drop by drop into my heart,
and all I want is to be alone,
to choke, struggle, and drown
in my own salt-water sea.

So I step back,
and all at once,
I am entombed.
A rock guard,
A light snuffed.

So now I say to myself,
Day after day,

Everything I do is in hope of the Resurrection.

Again, I hear,

Everything I am is in the hope of the Resurrection.

A final time, I know,

Everything, is in hope of the Resurrection.
Dedicated to my 2013 CP Academic Decathlon team - love you guys
Patrick Fisher Apr 2013
Here I am,
blood, guts, and all,
with everything behind,
and everything ahead.

I’ve walked this path
for about seventeen years or so,
and for the first time,
I want to take things slow.

My minds aswarmed with questions,
What am I doing here?
Who are all these people?
What’s next, what’s that I hear?

A community of brothers?
Discussions, sharing, intimacy?
What did I get myself into,
Where’s the bus so I can leave?

Then I feel the rock fall, in the pond of my soul,
and before the ripples grow,
I can already see
That this place, this place!
is the place for me!

But the thorns of doubt are strong,
and I wonder if my soil is enough
For a beautiful plant to sprout
and reveal to the world my flower

For I am a garden
Rocks, weeds, thorns and all,
And I came here
for one reason,
To cultivate my garden.

But one plant, one flower,
Can’t do it alone.
I need you now, my acquaintances
to help me learn to call you brothers.

For though we seem an arranged line,
a row of identical seedlings,
Each of us is special
Whether red, white, brown, or purple
And I do believe
Our gardener planted us here for a reason
To lean on, to share with, to not be alone.

So here I am,
Past, present, and all.
Baring my soul for you,
As a petal opens itself to rain.

So don’t be afraid,
Of the thickets or the shrubs
We may all rise together,
If we but shed our love.
And though for me,
This is the end of a beginning,
the last chapter in my book,
I hope you all are just starting,
to bleed your ink into this brook.
Trust me, I know it’s scary,
I sat there, and there too.
I was told coined clichés,
told to be open, like you.
And though I was slow at first,
I began to flow like a river,
coursing through the stories of my life,
and all at once, crashing like a waterfall,
Never looking back.
So I hope,
and I pray,
that you take these words to heart:
Be here with I AM,
With every mind, body, and part.
This could be your moment,
this could be your waterfall,
but before any of that,
You have to watch someone
jump off the cliff first.

Here I am,
Leaping for my life.
Be with me,
And you’ll never think twice.
Junior Encounter, April 19 - 21, 2013. Dedicated to my group, Rosario Galante, Skyler Hassett, Patrick Maxwell, Jack Searl, Trace Jones, Walter Paul, Danny Fell, and Andy Simon. Love you guys.
Patrick Fisher Apr 2013
When I forget my jacket,
in the cool November weather.
When I watch a scary movie,
and I forget what’s real.
When I hear that perfect word,
and my heart feels on fire.
When she touches me right there,
in that desperate, broken way.
When I whisper “I Love you,”
after hanging up the phone.
But it’s always the worst,
When I swear she whispers back.
Patrick Fisher Apr 2013
If I could bleed onto this paper, I would
If I could hit you until you bled, I would
If I could yell at you until you hit, I would
If I could cry with you until you yelled, I would
If I could look upon you until you cried, I would

If I could run from you until you looked, I would
If I could tell you the truth until you ran, I would
If I could be with you until you told me the truth, I would
If I could love into you until you were with me, I would
If I could do anything, would you love me?
Patrick Fisher Apr 2013
wispy willow me
Spirits bending as a tree
Peace, Hope, Charity
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