Dec 2015
On sleepless nights, I pray the sleepless nights away.
In the heat of the moment, I pray the heat will stay.
Where we are going, I hope we thief the time today.
And spend today’s time tomorrow, let it last a little longer.
So on the dreamy nights, I pray the dreams come true.
On the cold nights, I pray you hold me till I’m warm.
On the lonely nights, I pray you're with me till they're through.
Where we've been, I put the memories in my box of accomplishment.
I leave the sad moments for those who've taken everything for granted.
They drown in the sorrows of every fruitful tree they've planted.
On the wonderful nights, I hold you deeper in my heart,
And to the one I pray, make sure she and I will never be apart.
In the heat of the moment, I pray the heat will stay.
Where we are going, I hope we thief the time today.
And spend today’s time tomorrow, let it last a little longer.
So on the dreamy nights, I pray the dreams come true.
On the cold nights, I pray you hold me till I’m warm.
On the lonely nights, I pray you're with me till they're through.
Where we've been, I put the memories in my box of accomplishment.
I leave the sad moments for those who've taken everything for granted.
They drown in the sorrows of every fruitful tree they've planted.
On the wonderful nights, I hold you deeper in my heart,
And to the one I pray, make sure she and I will never be apart.
A little treasure from 2011.
I was horrified by the idea that I might have been a better writer when I was younger; meaning that in 2011 at the age of 20, I had reached a level of "mastery".
I now know that, that is not the case.
When I spoke of my horror through a Facebook status, a friend of mine said that I'd been better before, because I didn't overthink my writing.
Being the "now and then" stubborn kind of guy that I am, I faced that comment with disdain... until (recently) I realized he spoke the truth.
Once I was a writer whose writings were sculptures; simple devices of sensory ploys.
Now however, my writing are machines. Suffused with purposes that, although they may not be greater (by no means lesser), are more complex.
They once had enough dimensions to ***** a house of cards.
Now, they bear dimensions capable of representing the innumerable walls of a bee hive.
The answer is simple. As a writer, I evolved from a poet to a novelist, and so I wasn't thinking "little-picture" anymore.
I think that this is why novelists generally have a hard time writing poetry.
We have to know observations such as that to truly understand life.
My transition from a sketch-artist, to a poet, to a film-maker, to a novelist has made me a greater writer than I would have been otherwise. (Maybe I'm just confused LOL)
Anyway, now practice will make perfect.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, I was getting over a break-up that had occurred the year prior to 2011 when I wrote this poem.
See, I love hard; diamonds don't shatter easy, but they fracture like glass, finding themselves irreparable...
I was horrified by the idea that I might have been a better writer when I was younger; meaning that in 2011 at the age of 20, I had reached a level of "mastery".
I now know that, that is not the case.
When I spoke of my horror through a Facebook status, a friend of mine said that I'd been better before, because I didn't overthink my writing.
Being the "now and then" stubborn kind of guy that I am, I faced that comment with disdain... until (recently) I realized he spoke the truth.
Once I was a writer whose writings were sculptures; simple devices of sensory ploys.
Now however, my writing are machines. Suffused with purposes that, although they may not be greater (by no means lesser), are more complex.
They once had enough dimensions to ***** a house of cards.
Now, they bear dimensions capable of representing the innumerable walls of a bee hive.
The answer is simple. As a writer, I evolved from a poet to a novelist, and so I wasn't thinking "little-picture" anymore.
I think that this is why novelists generally have a hard time writing poetry.
We have to know observations such as that to truly understand life.
My transition from a sketch-artist, to a poet, to a film-maker, to a novelist has made me a greater writer than I would have been otherwise. (Maybe I'm just confused LOL)
Anyway, now practice will make perfect.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, I was getting over a break-up that had occurred the year prior to 2011 when I wrote this poem.
See, I love hard; diamonds don't shatter easy, but they fracture like glass, finding themselves irreparable...
