#cramp
My eyes closed,
I say to myself
Someone must have placed a heavy metal object on the top of my stomach,
not knowing I'm a human who feels PAIN!
And that person in my mind keeps telling me
that he has kept it gently there.
I say, 'Hey! It's a metal object and it hurts anyway!'
Gathering up some energy,
I go to my table and sit in a chair
Skimming through the pages of my diary,
I try to write a poem,
when suddenly something kicks me from the inside,
keeps making me suffer until I stop.
No wonder I was trying to write about PERIOD CRAMPS!
There you go again!
These cramps are not just pain to my body
but some reminders that keep sneering at me saying,
"No, you can't do that!"
Believe me,
Sometimes they are worse than this society that reminds me of my boundaries.
Anyway, five days pass by
and then I say goodbye.
Seeing my grin,
It decides to remind me,
"My pal, don't you worry
Cause I will be back again."
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 11:34 PM UTC
1.
Pain
when felt
hard enough, ceases
to be just that:
painful
2.
The sensation of
pain sometimes seems awfully
pleasant to my bones
3.
A sting makes my life
bend in beautiful
imperfection
I sip it
like a lollipop
4.
It's like the
grate of yearning
is more pleasant than
the earning,
tasting,
breathing
the dream.
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 11:25 AM UTC
What, oh what, do I write about today
Do I write about the weather or of something gone astray
Let's think about this for a minute and see what subject comes up
Sometimes you sit here just staring and refilling your special, coffee cup
Sometimes your dreams have a great subject, that disappear as soon as you wake
You try like mad to remember, but you can't, cause your brain is now on a break
The mind plays jokes on the poet, it leads you in so many ways
If we all could just control it, then writing, would be more like play...
Brian Hill - 2019#130
Inspired by sitting here staring at my coffee cup...
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 9:47 AM UTC
When you left me,
Your absence worried me,
Like ache of soul, pining my heart,
Losing my identity,
Longing beyond bearable sound,
Screaming with a pain when my heart started bleeding,
And making me empty.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 1:54 AM UTC
You have dreams, don’t you?
Every night before you sleep,
I’m sure there is something you long for to have, do or keep.
I know, everyone has plans;
but not everybody is ready to dance.
You see, there are these little things I call cramps.
I don’t know if you got me or not;
I’m talking about those little things behind every evil plot.
You know that time,
when disappointed of the day you go to bed,
and the only thing that can put you to sleep,
are the lies to your soul you have fed?
Them are those cramps,
Them are those damps.
In the morning you get up, I guess all sore;
but nothing looks like the thoughts you had the night before.
All those things you said you’d do,
now seem foolish, pointless, untrue…
The past and future seem within reach,
and the present looks like one hell of a glitch.
That is just the thing we tell ourselves,
looking for excuses, shuffling between shelves.
But we all deeply know,
that firstly before us, that is low.
Motivation is bad, it won’t get you what you seek.
The mind changes all the time, it is terribly weak.
Persistence is what you need;
Your own discipline is what you need to feed.
Push it to the edge,
until it’s hanging from the ledge.
Do it, even if it hurts,
if that is what your soul lurks.
Then you’ll know what you want, what you need.
Opinions and perspective change all the time;
Your own hill, only you can climb.
It’s not important what you think is stupid or smart.
Get your aim at the stuff that fill your heart.
Aim and shoot,
shoot and in your target the bullet beroot.
Rub and scratch those little cramps,
those nasty damps;
Give it all, yell and shout,
until the cramps get burned out.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC