I was 26 when dreams were gone
And I lay a corpse

A day as every other
Set of work and more
It never occurred twice
To savour this life a little more.

Through this day
I only remain a memory
I have lived short
Was it the wrong order
Or a quick thought
I haven't questioned yet.

It seems okay, to let go
To leave you behind
I am sorry for parting soon
I will be waiting.

-D

Someone walks by and calls me beautiful
Beautiful because I am sitting alone at this bright red picnic table

I am surprised
It is such an unexpected and lovely occasion
To wonder if I am a melody of an unsung song

Something familiar to passers by
Yet entirely unique

Like an art form that is effortless
Simply because of my place in that moment of life
Surrounded by a cacophony of college students
Some of whom are my friends

This was my moment of solace
Of solitude

"Click"
School photographer takes a picture of me tearing into my hamburger Piled high

Once the party is over
I am gone
Like a shooting star

He looks up in the sky and sees me
And while I want the one to join me ablaze
I feel the fear in his heart
Fear I will never be the fireball I once was
If I am suddenly plucked from the sky

Having this unsung
Effortless
Imperfect type of beauty
I smile as I think of the one
The actual one
Knowing it is him
Always and forever
And walking up to the big bright picnic table
Hoping to stay awhile
We lift off ablaze into the night sky

© 2018
Brandi Keaton

Awake, the empty chamber of my mind
Calls out to paired and endless sky
The thought of you, a galloped course
The heels of your palm, struck with force
I cannot claim the earth as mine,
Just as she do flee the pick of eye
To wallow in sorrows of course divine
Calls out my heart, with verses hoarse.

I have but land to wander soon,
My passions held in heaven's sent
The ancient glass of sky full hue
The earth's embrace a lover's swoon
The soft edges of aluminium bent
These are the ways I'll remember you.

We are the unsung poets
who toil in day for the harvests
then write at night as the wick burns
in the dark slips of our meek turns

We are the unseen poets
who invisibly raise armours
swing pens as the dark evades the light
a strip to the core of the soul,our right

We are the trampled heroes
whose halos are out-shined by thunder
and tongues tied to a word twisted silence
Our heavenly seduction of a naked dance

I am the unsung poet
inspired by love and rhythm of life
transpired by the ounce of human experience
My eternal contract that only makes sense

~~~

The unsung heroes
They work every day
Without complaint
At a job with low pay.

There are not many are out there
Who place their laurels
On the person who's right
But ends a quarrel.

It takes a person
Internally strong
To accept a defeat
And say they were wrong!

Those little things matter!
But don't get much ink
Like the husband who shaves
And cleans up the sink!

The mother who picks up
The toys from the stairs
The wife who cleans drains
And removes the hair.

The child who sees
That grandma is old
And therefore replaces
The toilet roll!

The boyfriend who remembers
The day of first date
A girl who pays dutch
To help out her mate.

Remember that you
Are needed and wanted!
So many small tasks
Are taken for granted.

At last the bell
Is taken and rung
For the persons who do this...

... *the heroes unsung.