Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
So he wants some words
He wants to talk…
Where do I start?
I can’t even find the beginning or end
When did I lose my choice of words?
I used to be so out spoken

I’m siting here
Thinking of which words to say
Which will help
Which won’t at all
I’m thinking of all the people I’ve hurt
It’s starting to weigh me down
From words I couldn’t say…
Or feelings I couldn’t express…
I’m thinking about the person I want to be
I’m thinking this is not me
Or the person I want to be

How do I go about this?
Nothing I can say will change anything
I just know I want to make things right
Right now
The truth only makes things worse
The truth just adds to the confusion

The truth is
Under my own pressure
In the moment
I made a decision
Not realizing the consequences
Doing a human thing
I rarely let myself do
Because my curse of over thinking
**** over me

Forgive me
I’ll give you all the time
All the time in the world
This time, I’m not going anywhere
I can’t fix everything
But I can try and fix this
My fingers can’t keep up with my typing
My mind is raising x100
A million ways of how to say sorry
I know this is just one of them…
Robert C Howard Jul 2016
They gathered by Williamson Road at sun-up
      from neighboring spreads across the Tioga valley.
They came with carts laden with lumber stacks -
      with saws, adzes, hammers and sundry tools.

They gathered with the homesteaders bond.
      to co-build their neighbor's' dreams.

Sweet music of community echoed off the hills.
     Chisels clanged into rock, shaping the foundation,
saws sang into boards to frame a timbered skeleton.
     The staccato syncopation of hammers fastened walls
that soon would shelter plowshares, stock and grain.
      A smithy leaned over his fire and forge -
chiming iron into sturdy latches and hinges.

     Children scurried about mixing squeals and laughter
with exuberant fetching and lifting whenever called.
In two short passings of the sun the deed was done
      and a handsome new barn, decked out in a wash of red
was silhouetted tall and proud against the fading light.

Homesteaders gathered at a celebration table
      to share a hearty meal adorned by the music
of fiddles, grateful smiles and easy laughter.
Then one by one they steered their wagons home
      gazing back at what their labors had wrought -
knowing to the depth of their communal souls
      that we are more together than we are apart

Listen up, America!  This is the music of community.
      We are more together than we are apart.

*© 2016 by Robert Charles Howard
Julie Langlais Feb 2016
This temper that lives inside
Storms out unexpectedly
Like a monster unleashed
Ignited by stress

Spilling Anger
Yelling in irritation
Sensing my mother
Lurking in my shadow
A vile aftertaste still lingers
Forced fed by her poisonous venom

Until I realize
I'm roaring
Splashing my screams onto
My loved ones
Making them cry

The beast has taken over
From the depths
Where my momster
Lay her eggs  
Waiting for them to hatch
And be released
In shame and guilt

The last thing I want
Is the mirage of that
Ghost haunting
My babies

The creature that resides
Hidden from the world
To protect against  
The carnivores who feasted
On my innocence

Now breathing to exhale my scare
Away from my young's oxygen
One breath at a time until
The monster's ghost
Has settled back
Deep inside my oppressed soul

© Jl 2016
My kids were really testing my patience one evening, as they pressed on my last nerve, I fell over the edge. I yelled at them, sent them in time out, and then sat in guilt while I heard their cries. I'm usually a very laid back quiet mom, but loses it sometimes. That time I yelled louder than ever before, and felt horrible after. I wrote this in that moment.
Keah Jones Mar 2015
I was raised on dissonance
watching the mental conflicts rage war in each of the human beings I am a product of.
they almost named me concordance so that I would never feel like I was the product of two failures
so that I would feel whole in a divided world
but from day one I have been an anomaly
loving pain but living with the fear of being hurt
this is why they named me variance
to teach me that growing up meant filling in the pieces
and that it was okay if each piece was taken from another whole to patch yourself together
I was raised on numbers
my first word was five
this number composes all human beings
five fingers
five toes
five vital organs
but none of them are mine.

Frank Ruland Oct 2014
Hellraising was my first occupation,
and then I let the Devil step in.
Labyrinth Apr 2014
That woman has never had a motherly soul.
           That is why her children have become so impudent!
Patience and Kindness is the key to raising young ones.
           Support and Love is the key to raising young ones.
                      Trust and Faith is the key to raising young ones.
You want to look for the bad things in them, and so you will find them.

— The End —