Lonely nights offer moments of silence

and one dish suppers where candlelight seems a waste

Seated with pen in hand, I smooth the ruffles beneath

as if that will help the words flow



Upon closer inspection I find

heart shaped patterns on the dining room tablecloth

mimic the movements of my hand,

layered one atop another, calling on each to oblige



Crossing lines, intersecting at pre-destined points,

repeating in harmony with one another

as my thoughts gather in the tiny squares

of this colored graph paper staring at me, waiting



Moving in sync with butterfly curves on the corners

and scribbled etchings along borders,

fantasies of a mind in a dream state

swirl, touching each box of this formatted design



Folds neatly collect the shapes of spilled ink

seeping slowly through the cloth

like raindrops on a leaf following the veins

in an abstract yet confined flow



To the blurred eye sits nonsense,

a collection of nothing on a vast white sheet

dancing like uneven feet on a rounded floor

of no particular meaning or feature



Yet to me, my penned innocence calls loudly,

even in the darkness of lost words, these patterns,

as is everything found filling me is you…

and my pen pleads in heart shaped longings

When I was eleven I came home
with a piece of paper
back then I knew
how much those five letters  
would determine how much
you were worth
and as a kid, I felt pretty
worthless
there was a time I remember
before the paper
where all I would do
was draw

Mountains fascinated me
and that’s what I drew
all the time, mountains
I drew them with snow caps-
Without snow caps
I drew trees at the foot of them
Plaster a setting sun in the distance
Made them look like teeth
And a road came from them
Leading nowhere but to you

I was eleven
When I tasted the value
Of myself
Slapped across my cheek
Like a tattoo
And the first word
To be printed on me
For everyone to see;
Failure

And they all knew that
Was true
I could never turn my mountains
Into Everests
My trees into the Amazon Basin
Or my lakes into the Atlantic
And I ran through the world;
A blank piece of paper,
All of a sudden everybody had
A reason to use a sharpie

I’ll never be able
To make my mountains
Into Himalayas

And I can never stop them from
Using their Sharpies,
After a while your skin color
Doesn’t matter anymore
What they see on you is a story
And they can tell me what they think
But they’ve never seen my back
The things that I’ve carved on to the
surface of my spine
She feels them sometimes when we
have ***
trying to figure out where the period
ends.

Thunder roars, flashes of white-lit skin appear then dissipate as chaos takes form.

Heavy raindrops cool our searing skin but not our heat. We are existence, we are all that lives and breathes within this moment.
Will you take my confession as I take to my knees? begging to be cleansed, aching to be whole and not wanting.

Will you take my sacrament with your liars tongue, let it linger as I pour and plead unto the raging heavens for forgiveness.
Take my empty vessel and fill it with your longing, too long have I walked in shadow, my edges blurred by shifting darkness and sweet liquor warmth.

Bring me to life, if only in this moment. Fear me, as I fear the shattering of all that I touch and we shall rage amidst the fury, at what is and what can never be.

I handed in my homework
Gave it with a nervous smile
the paper damp from sweaty palms,
the waiting was a trial.

Today I got my paper back
from the dreaded Mr Barr
he grinned at me and gave a wink....
along with an A*!

He said I made him chuckle
as he read my little rhyme,
he thought the rhyming clever
and the rhythm quite sublime

He asked me one last question
in the hallway where we met
with deep concern upon his brow
"Did you find your brother yet?"

Now I'm hiding in the bathroom
racing with the lesson bell
quickly writing this wee poem
to let you know my work did well.

My brother's somewhere hiding,
first comes counting, then comes finding
but this child that I am minding
my last nerve he's tightly winding

Mum and Dad have gone out dining
on their date night, romance shining
while the little brat is whining
hidden in the curtain lining

So I'll get on with my writing
cause it must be more exciting
to be sat here with my rhyming
as my skills they need refining.

Now the little ork is pining
still not found, my name he's crying
eyes accusing me of lying....
Is a pinky promise binding?

I'm all alone, sat here at home
my ***** mind begins to roam
I have an itch, I need to ease
won't you help me baby..please?

I'm sending out this sirens plea
in hope that you will rescue me
come to my aid and quell my plight
it can't be wrong if it feels right.

Lets tear at clothes and make some noise
I'm tired of all my other toys
that hum and rattle through the night
in hope of bringing sweet delight.

I beg you baby, roll the dice
kiss me once, then take me twice,
with you I'll play my favourite game
I promise you'll be glad you came.

Today will be a good day
put on your favourite shoes
and skip along the pavement
give ******* to the blues

Leave your troubles for tomorrow
kick your worries into touch
just one day of easy living
isn't asking for too much.

There have been too many bad days
filled with darkness, hurt and loss
so lets pack them up and seal them tight
within a puzzle box.

Say hi to fellow strangers,
and be giving with your smile
then see it warmly echoed
in the faces passing by.

Yes, today will be a good day
I'm determined that it's true
and my heart hopes most sincerely
that you have a good day too.