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Heidi Franke Apr 2023
He called in for a shower after being alone on the streets for a week.

Is that time enough
to get ***** for a shower
   as a man nearly twenty-six
in years.
She could turn him away
like her father’s sister
might have and did.
From time to time.

It all depended on how many times in a week,
month, or year
he would show up without a call.
Without knowing he still existed.

Somehow, his presence and
were a mixed blessing.
His presence was like a merry-go-round
that goes against the earth’s pull.
Like a brazen thorn
stuck into your shoe.
******* all the ***** things in.
Taking everything in its sight
and power and making
everything contort
to his reality.
Where he and only he resided.
Would she open the door for him?

What she does know
is that she might risk speaking
in a bright happy voice
of a mother
so gladsome to see her son.
Welcoming him in.
Rather than turning him away
because of his inconvenience.
Grief is inconvenient.
That is one thing she knows.
Notes on helping a mentally ill adult child. Copyright 2023 @ Highwireart
a dusky walk
through the middle
of the park
clear of
the shadows
of branch
and leaf
at its edges
the only light
stretched out
but struggling
from distant
lamp posts
or the
yet more distant
halo of moon
breaching cloud
it is enough
to plot
a route by
but not
with confidence

a leather flapping
tells tale
of bats
in their erratic
yet assured flight
by many
perhaps for
that very reason;
not flying
the expected path
Sachiko Aug 2022
It’s been raining for 4 days straight.
It’s hard for me to get up in the morning.
Day and night, It’s still gloomy outside.
The sound of the rain is seemingly alike with your voice.
Actually, the tears of the rain is your own tears.
The sadness that you don’t quite understand yet.
You said you like how the clouds clear after the rain.
Ironic, you like to solve problems, numbers.
But you can’t even face yours.
The rainbow brings you hope.
I think you just hope for people to love you endearingly.
But they have to undergo heavy storm.
You hated the sun but you’re the sun.
You’re just coward of the heat.
Your own heat.
Just like the weather, you’re pretty unsure.
We don’t need to cross our paths again.
But I am wondering what makes you remember me?
He likes to write just like me but he write stories not poetry.  We were seeing each other for 3 months. But have to be apart as he will live far away. This poetry is for him. I hope he is well and happy.
Nylee Jul 2020
A new year
Adding a number to the age
One year less to go
The life is so unpredictable
Mortality is real.

This could be my last
Isn't it a thought
The end will be my new beginning
Won't it be beautiful
A start with a finish.

It has been a year
And the day is back
A constant reminder
Of a time before when I didn't exist
But then I appeared
To be a speck of universe
So very tiny part.

The day after the day
Is a withdrawal,
No greetings, no messages,
Just left over piece of cake,
But here is the reminder
Call this friend,
It is his birthday now.
colette alexia Jun 2020
If the pattern's unpredictable
What can I depend on
What does it mean to need someone
As far as I can tell
I don't even need myself
My heart doesn't beat because I say so
It beats for its creator
It beats because that's what it was made for
I tried to follow reason
It only took me so long
To see that all creation
Begins with the uncreated one
After the hypothesis and details
It was pretty simple
Our sin broke the system
And still your love persisted
That I never could have predicted
Empress Asa Mar 2020
Day by day the rules has changed..
When the words false it's mean nothing..
The mission always same..
But the ways are different..

This is not mission impossible..
This is mission unpredictable..

How could the mission changes the rules..
Everyone didn't understand..
The way we look are different..
We have our eyes to be understood..
We have glasses to fill it full..
We have our opinion..

The mission didn't change..
But our mind are changes..

Let happens will be happened..
With all the happiness in the past..
With all the sorrow in the present..
With all the kindness in the future..

We are didn't change..
Our minds take the control..
The way we look..
The way we see..
The way we think..
The way we feel..

Hope everything gonna be alright in the end..
Tori Schall Mar 2020
It's a bitter dance with fate.
He twirls me and I reply by stepping on his toes,
because I can't dance to such a foreign beat.
And fate is whisking me away,
moves unreliable and messy,
barely better at dancing than I am.

This can't last forever.
Eventually, we'll grow tired
of the confusion and unpredictable moves
each other will make.
And we'll break away to take our own steps,
off the dance floor and towards the buffet
where we gorge ourselves on the future
we choose for us.
The things we know will be what we want.
Fate cannot control us here,
He cannot lead us away on a mystical journey
going off into the misty evening.
At least, not until we open our eyes and realize:

We always come back to the dancefloor.
and Fate comes in many forms.
Ayn Feb 2020
Do you ever wish
On what peeves you most
To just dissipate?

I wish that I wasn’t so late
In learning when someone
Chooses to be filled with salt
And infectious contempt.

A warning system
Would be a nice addition
To this life of mine!
People are so unpredictable. It gets annoying at times. Apparently I have the polar opposite mindset of what a writer should have. But ***** my brain. Writing is fun!
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