"thankfully" poems
I dealt death today.
I know it’s a part of the job.
I know I’ve seen it too many times to count.
But today,
I felt it.
I left the room long after their family did.
There was no where I could go
To escape their
Roaring grief.
They were long gone.
And I was left with their precious baby.
I curled his arms and legs up
Closed his eyes
Wrapped him up gently.
With love and respect
Here he’ll sleep forever.
And oh,
They are so thankful,
That it was me
That I understood
That I was so careful
That I spent the time with them.
And you’re not supposed to take it with you.
You’re supposed to leave it
When they walk out the door
With one less goodbye.
But I took it with me today.
The way they felt before
The way they felt after
The long quiet goodbyes
The man in a suit on his knees weeping
The mother and son making a cocoon
Sheltering their dying baby.
The solemn face of the woman who plays god.
The green death.
The last breath.
The heaving of the living as he gave his last.
The waiting.
Slower rhythm.
Quieter.
‘He’s gone now’.
I watched the clock
The same way I had
An hour before
Waiting for death.
Soon as I could
I fled out the door
Ran into the street
Tried to outrun it
Instead I ran to you
I dialled your number
With shaking hands
I know I’m not supposed to
But all I wanted was you
Your voice
Ringing out
Thankfully
I wept alone.
Today I dealt death
And I found I am not strong enough
To sustain this
Alone
Or for long.
I found I still consider you my haven
Deep down
But that you are not my haven anymore
Or should be.
I listened to the silence
After the call rang out
And decided
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 6:42 AM UTC
my computer keeps freezing
the song keeps playing
living up to expectations already
don't be pressured baby, don't be pressured
only half of my fingers are cold
as I think of Brown-Eyed Ska girl
thankfully, she knows I exist
that's one part of the equation complete
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
Left out and drenched blue
The sky could not change it's hue
Solace found in night.
Persistent contrast
Each had made the sky alive
It winked thankfully.
Accepted this fate
What purpose lay in repine
Smiled, oh the sunshine azure!
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
Not an enigmatic smile
Like the constipated, condescending smirk
Adorning, and inexplicably adored, on the Mona Lisa's smug face;
But a smile to justify God's existence;
A smile that, when dazzlingly bestowed
Upon one fortunate soul, caught rabbit-like in its
Wondrous radiance, infinitesimally, and cumulatively,
Increases the World's joy. Where every living thing -
Whatever exists on the planet, imperceptibly hums
To a new, more celestial pitch -
An effervescent vibration celebrating Life's mysteries:
A reason for existence.
It's a smile to make an Alchemist cry -
Turning a leaden heart to gold in an instant.
It's a smile to make a mediocre poet struggle
To articulate an adequate description
Using all the hyperbole, simile and metaphor at his limited disposal.
Inestimably more brilliant, and more valuable,
Than the most flawless diamond ever found -
And, perhaps, just as rare.
Thankfully, a renewable resource,
Enabled to enlighten and heat
The recesses of any beneficiary's
Heart and invigorate their soul.
Helen may have caused a thousand ships to sail,
Destroying a nation as a consequence;
And Cleopatra nearly caused the collapse of an Empire;
But Tao's smile, unleashed in all its glory
Could melt the Antarctic ice-sheet -
Drowning us all in its magnificence.
Mayan's have a myth that states such a smile
Only comes around once every twelve thousand years,
In the Great Galactic turning.
Einstein's General Theory of Relativity
Is often mistakenly considered to concern gravity,
But is, in fact, concerned with one's relative position
To Tao's smile - an inescapable vortex of pleasure.
No music conceived of the fabled Celestial Spheres
Compares to the silent, ethereal harmonies tattooing my heart
Whenever, beacon-like, that smile flashes fleetingly in my direction.
And Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle has not a Quantum core,
But revolves around the statistical uncertainty of being blessed
With the ephemeral thrill of a benign grim.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Recovery, Initially, is about knowing; Knowing that change is necessary,
Accepting that your life is not where you want it to be, About facing up to your fears and anxiety
Then taking the first step eventually… When you, and you alone, feel you are ready.
Recovery, Critically, demands pure honesty, requires the utmost integrity
Most Especially, when confronting your past traumas, your history
Though it may make you feel angry, sad and often times guilty
This process is key if you really want to move on, to change truly.
Recovery, Truthfully, is far from easy, It can be fraught with challenges, setbacks, difficulty.
It can hurt physically and even worse emotionally, Testing your will power to the extremity.
It takes great Strength, Courage and Bravery; Determination, Resilience, in the face of adversity
Recovery, Thankfully, need not be a lonely journey, Though you alone must take ultimate responsibility.
There are lots of supports out there happily; from good friends, family and in your community
Though it can be hard to ask for help, understandably…Let not pride undermine your recovery.
Recovery, Ultimately, is about getting where it is you want to be, about starting anew daily
About achieving realistic goals you have set regularly, Learning from the process; what worked successfully
Starting to believe in yourself gradually, Gaining an insight into what you are capable of ...potentially
Finally, Recovery is for all, a lifelong journey, Guarding against ambivalence, relapse, constantly.
Knowing that every day will, in reality, pose real threats for you in your recovery
But every day also presents an opportunity… to engage with, enjoy, your life more fully.
May 19, 2023
May 19, 2023 at 12:59 PM UTC
imagine an underground network of rapists preying
on tourist & local girls; having an agreement w/
the pimps & cops [same]; the tourist guides
leading the ladies of all types, mostly young,
stupid & white - blonde is better; local girls
hitting puberty, getting dragged into the den
at twelve get a choice, if they live; the dens filled
w/ liquor & drugs; partying a little or just jumping
her, dragging her to the open floor;
she wakes up naked, thankfully not dead, her
purse nearby; she goes to meet her new Desi
bf at the bazaar where he introduces her
to his friends; that night the same thing
happens; it happens for a week then a month,
then she helps the gang get other girls into it;
it goes on all summer, & on into another summer,
the winter filled w/ hot springs & expensive dates
on the paved side of the street; Bollywood stars
in American cars paying her **** who pays her
coyote who pays the cop to get her to Europe on a
tourist visa to work an exclusive Parisian Brothel
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
Love dangles in my eyes.
Love floats in my air.
Love is my every tomorrow
and today is already gone.
I scroll through
hopeful photos.
I see yellow glows
in windows.
Thankfully,
the lamp and the screen
grant me amity.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
I had my first baby
When I was still a child myself
I was fifteen
When she intruded my world
The best intrusion
I've ever come across
And from day one
She was " boss"
A baby girl was placed on my heart
I was awe struck and in love
Right from the start
As I looked at her features
The breath of fresh air
I looked at her filling my life
It was no longer bare
I was a child
With a babe in arms
But I chose to love her
And protect her against harm
I grew up beside her
She taught me love and patience
She showed me whole love
And in me she created
A better person
A woman that grew
My little girl beside me
Nothing I couldn't or for her
wouldn't do
She is now fourteen
A different girl to the one I had been
Thankfully .....
She is simply Devine
Everyday of her life
We grew up together
Side by side
I had three other babies
There all beautiful
And my world
But this poem is for
My first baby girl
We fight
Because were passionate
The same fire inside
She lights up this whole world
Because she's to confident to hide
She's my baby girl
From the first moment I held her inside
And each time I look at her
I no she saved my life
........... A small cry ...........
Baby girl
I'll love you till i die
And even then
Ill love you from afar
Because you are
My guiding star x
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
how do you paint water, or clouds?
I could read poetry for the brief,
of my of remaining life, however brief,
and never be satiated, of love,
and streams of water,
never stilled, always running
in patterns that exist,
but for milliseconds,
admired by clouds born in, of,
a moment of re-formation that
is perpetuity long:
unending shape shifting,
like the freedom of flowing water
currents, forming, reforming and unthinkable, nay,
inconceivable that human eyes
or their spoken words
could capture their
shiny white foamy essence
But of love,
that we can do, paint, design, recreate its
endless loops of undulations, like the radiating circularity
of a pebble dropped gently
to its burial sight in a quiet pond.
Humans know, understand and excel at clasping and grasping
at the synapsing of human cells from differing bodies:
the exogenous erogenous of human touch that like the clouds
and the water,
who
could paint that,
who capable of capturing
said sensations that wrack
and enliven the body with invisible
interior chemical reactions. I
cannot.
Thankfully better men and women have treatised their entreaties to the powers of the universe and been rewarded with the skilled delicacy of weaving human tapestries, the milliseconds of connectivity, eclectic and electrifying of different currents and differing amperage’s forming and reforming like water moving, just like the clouds changing in response to the externalities of wind and gravity and all the forces of nature that encourage us to study
and stare at these flows,
hoping to entrance them into standing still for but a moment, and instead, mesmerizing us into standing motionless for hours in awe of their freedom.
Love’s undulations too mesmerizing, and freezing us into
place, or alternatively
caucus to run endlessly arms extending,
flying though not airborne,
rocketing us upwards while feet never budging,
but finding good wards, masterful metaphors to recreate and thus to share the fabulous mystery of this thing we know as love.
2:58AM
Friday
jul 22 (jewel 22) of the 23rd year of the 21st Century.
O.L.P.
Jul 21, 2023
Jul 21, 2023 at 3:05 AM UTC
unsure, uncertain,
of the laws invested
in the realms and reams
of poetry ingested,
am i addict,
or supplier,
retail consumer
or
wholesale supplier,
a mom & pop candy store,
or a metastasizing intelligence
that takes any thing, and all,
a solitary letter,
an instance of a sighting,
a gasping palpitation
and reformats it into
a hehe literary madhatter^ piece
you supply, I demand,
I supply, boy oh boy,
do I ever, but you never,
come to me directly asking,
write me a poem, thick or thin,
witty fitty or an overly looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong
e~pistle (a/k/a e~pistol)
yet the trade goes on and om,
the marketplace never closes,
except when periodically the
gatewaykeeper is slow to pay his bills,
and the trading centres are global scattered,
young entrepreneurs try to sell a single
piece, as if it was breaking news history,
and tired old men, review their lived,
eager to memorialize, so it's ok to forget,
in retro!spect perspective,
the mirror who cannot lie,
states affirmatively, you are
both ****** and dealer,
a corporation scientific
of ancient biblical origins,
a psalmist, a deacon,
a lyricist, but thankfully
not a singer,
an essayist who writes best
when ****** by tawny port wine,
who snatches inspiration with
equality of equity,
(wait! that's wrong,
the equity of equality,)
where he can
find, ***** city streets, the deaths
of heroes, the sunrise calm miracle
he drinks in daily, by rivers, by seas,
by estuaries brackish, and streams
of watered purity, the riveting bays,
the individualized glisten deflected
into my eyes, that each
contains one pure blessing within…. nml
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 9:24 AM UTC
*i think, you should stop going to italy, for one, oh **** me, keep going on hedonist piss-fuck fests to places like mallorca, but stop going to italy, you're making my stomach ache from laughter, with what you come back with, the so-called "innovations"; somehow i'd just poach my cauliflower, and drizzle it with fried breadcrumbs, and serve it as a side-dish to fried eggs (2), and some tatties; for goodness sake, even cauliflower cream soup makes more sense, garnished with some fried chorizo!*
first it was avocado on toast...
who the **** puts avocado on bread?
i can imagine putting it in pasta...
but on bread?
hey, what the **** does
the acronym f.a.d. mean?
i don't know, and i won't google it...
o.k. avocado on toast...
nothing near guacamole,
but fair enough...
but what i discovered... pushes
the button where i turn into a fox laughter
(fuchslachen) -
i couldn't stop...
you can find it in the weekend
section of the saturday times newspaper...
written by nicola m.
cauliflower and mozzarella pizza...
you have to be ******** me...
cauliflower? on pizza?
one of my housemates at university told
me an anecdote:
i was in a restaurant once,
and asked for a pizza with no cheese...
he continued:
and then the head chef came out and
asked me... are you, insane?!
a bit like: bread... but no butter?
and i thought i was insane eating a watermelon
today, whole,
the red pulp, and the outer layers including
the skin included, allowing myself
a gorilla imitation cameo gimmick...
but i thought i was mad...
but there's avocado on toast...
and now... cauliflower on pizza...
it's a ******* side-dish!
wait, don't tell me... you're going to put
some potatoes onto the pizza the next frizz
comes along... right?
how about beetroot?
thankfully, if i have some
wacky ideas in terms of culinary escapades,
they happen, drunk, after 12a.m.,
and i'm the scientist, and the experimental rabbit
2-in-1...
a newspaper column?
apparently, you get one, putting avocado
on toast...
or cauliflower on a pi-zzzzz-ah...
to be honest, even though i haven't tried it,
grilled aubergines on a pizza could work...
the toast? marmite and cheddar...
english people should stop glorifying holidays
in italy... they're ****** cooks...
an italian would just look at
a pizza with cauliflower and say: cosa?
i'd suggest heading to scotland first,
and picking up the vibes from some haggis.
**** me...
avocado on toast...
caulifower on a pizza?!
now i can die happy, 'appy,
clapping: encore!
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC
#
A lively debate
that inside I create
A seemingly
simple state
But this state
of affairs
Is like a ****** affair*
The details
I wish not to share
Please,
don’t stare
For inside
I’m scared
Am I prepared?
Do I have
the ***** to do
what I really care?
Or am I going
to stay on this ship
of self-despair
Where
I can scream
my lungs ******
into the air
But does anyone care?
Do I even f@cking care??
Maybe a life spared
but ***spare me the
retched bullsh@t***
of self-pity
I’m self-giving
It wreaks up the air
It’s noxious scent
is not one I care
to ever encounter
or fair
Let’s “clear the air”
and take on
what I want
from now on
No longer a pawn
who is living the tired
joke
of some *pathetic
love song*
No, THIS
is my “Swan Song”
Where I belong
This sh@t is ON!
Climbing the mountain strong
Bellowing a chant
a song
That’s been so deep within
for so long
It can only come out
Right
Because “wrong”
does not belong
**This virus
is airborne**
No longer forlorn
All the darkness
is gone
You have been
forewarned
Are you ready?
Because it’s coming
Sounding the horn
Sacrificed
the firstborn
The “storm”
Once icy and cold
Now simmering warm
Going to bubble into
volcanic ash scorned
This Oath
hath been sworn
Tattered and torn
**** cloth
all that is worn
But forward my path
What’s behind me
**My ***
The past
*Worn out,
decayed,
and shriveling trash*
All that
is gone
as I head
towards the dawn
Through the darkness
I’ve trekked
The Sun rises ahead
And with it
My song
My Swan Song
I am reborn
withered and worn
But still strong
I belong
***I am one
with the Universe***
The path before me
is brightly lit
with happiness and joy
No more patheticness
All the grit
and the spit
Broken teeth
All that sh@t
It all meant something
It was THIS
*Every bruise
Every break
All the “wrongs”
and “mistakes”*
Are what it takes
You can call it fate
or simply short of fatal
but since
neonatal
through this day till
Every day
I thankfully say
“Thank you”
for showing me the way
Because now I have
A love that stays
A true love
One that can’t
get away
Because I value Me
One ‘hopes’ or ‘prays’
But like a house
Each brick is laid
Onto the next
Foundation made
A sturdy house
Can’t blow away
Hard work put in
Made it this way
The same for me
The price I paid
But end result
A saving grace
#
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
7:43
and i’m trying to not write your name,
you never appreciated my rhymes
maybe that’s why your name doesn’t rhyme with anything.
7:44
and i’m thinking of someone new,
someone better than you
i swear just one more drink then i’m through.
7:45
and i’m out of my mind,
head over heels for someone who’s not even mine
and once again i’m forced to leave you behind.
7:46
and your name makes me sick,
you’re such a
and i’m beyond over you and your heartless tricks.
7:47
and she makes me feel like i’m in heaven,
thank god you showed me hell
thanks to you my swollen heart's getting well.
7:48
i realize it all now but it’s too late,
you’ve already played your promiscuous game
thankfully she told me she loved me and stayed.
(god, in five minutes so much has changed)
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC
In the end,
Mars is just a rock.
A rock covered in sand,
Made of worn,
Rusty,
Iron.
That said,
It can't control me.
Only I can,
And that's a point of pride.
I sting as much as I will,
I pinch as much as I will,
And I'll sleep in your sandals
As much as I will.
Thankfully,
I often choose to be benevolent.
Only I can choose my morals,
And that's a point of pride.
I may be passionate,
I may be persistent,
Obsessive,
Loyal,
And manipulative all in one.
But I am that and more.
If Mars is meant to restrict me,
It has failed miserably.
Can the same be said
Of it's rusty sand?
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 9:30 PM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
A pour of liquid upon the sky
hollows around the city
flickering unknowing lights
as she stands on the corner
A fantasy strews in my mind
with walls painted to emblaze
floors swarming with haze
Red on her lips
A tense that lures my eyes
reaching the inside-out
tangled in a state of enmity
as I wade in serendipity
nobody asked me how I feel
the fact she was never even real
We tag around the maze
I baffle between truth and fake
boundless as we kissed
Breathtaking, filled with bliss
A perfection I'll never miss
But twas a treacherous crime
And thankfully I woke up in time
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
I dated two robots yesterdays
Both were programmed to service me well
We did things
In the same
good old
learned order
of doing things
And after sunset
we kissed
at the beach
With one -
our feet touching
With the other -
our view inviting
the rush of salty waves
Alas
Both robots could suddenly
not speak
One even bluffed
he had a virus in throat
AI intelligence?!
jaa ha ha
The other was hanging just with
With variations of
what do you feels
Tell me your fantasy s
‘Don't think
tell me whatever comes first’ s
And
I believe
And
I say
But
Mine is what he can't understand
His’ is
I think a drink on the beach
But unfortunately I don't drink
Using coconut biotica only
These days
Ahhahhaa
...
While they chatted so well!
Without any error of a word to spell!
…
I dated two robots yesterday
That sighed only to say
I can't believe I am holding yous
How much I missed yous
Hugging robots
Vibrating robots
Robots with small mouth and twister tongue
Ready to penetrate into mine at a slightest chance of an opening
A disguised disgust of my sincere failure
not towards the robot but myself
Hiding you still under my palate
from where the soma of your love drips
Now as if forcefully been replaced
to a taste of this preprogrammed chatalike
Have they lost their voice because of my best dress
or maybe the fantasy of the sandy bikini
which they will never see
in the dark wherein
Both hiding their face
But I see
By my loose body parts
Maybe a lookalike
But I ain't no robot
Oh my sandy bikini
Oh Chosen so carefully
To rejuvenate their fantasy
a different pattern for each-
yes. I do take care of that!
Stays now
as an Everly Brothers’ dream
In my mind only
But
My ‘okey ‘ is an ensuring
‘yes yes’ the Indian way
Of course
They did their best
Seriously
Thus
A big CHAPEAU
For the zest
That obviously still can break china hearts
I took it as a test
To get to know me better
Let me be broken through your dream
Let me cry and shake and perceive an angry cloudy color world
let my remains of china burst
I dated two robots yesterdays
while expecting for a man
Thankfully though
these are yesterdays
Today I met a true man
A gypsy
We will date sometime
Play tabla and darbuka
Drink dance and sing
And sleep
To salute the sun
early in the morning
At the beach
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 2:58 AM UTC
As I scale the slope
I note the melody of the wind
With its sweeping symphonic shifts
My nails grind against granite
Before flaking and falling into the abyss
Yet I persist
Upward along the lone path
Where the air recedes like tides
And frost forms fellowship upon my eyes
Before seeking to turn my sore limbs, frigid
Icily assuring each ache is anchored in anxiety
Which stems from the worn clothes of society
Yet as I climb, the fabric is discarded
Like old styles of yesteryear
Now basking in all my naturalness
I finally summit, my thoughts thankfully descend
My heart lifts up its scepter and then my chin
Beating with Brilliance it grins
Furls up it sleeves and wordlessly begins
The work of healing from within
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
.
Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Allowing the beasties free reign in the village
Bellowing out o’er the wickedest sound
Pacing the streets, seeking out bits of garbage
Leaving their stains on the innocent few
Leering in windows where children are hiding
Tender young things and so easy to chew
Thieves in the night lurk about come the morning
Stealing the sun at the break of the dawn
Drinking of sewage a’ flow in the gutters
Checking off names as the many are gone
Peering ‘round corners, down alleys, in shadows
Seeking the favor of all who do grieve
Laughing in spite of the torment now growing
Licking their lips in the hope you believe
Roaming in groups so the followed outnumber
Say what you will for the king does not hear
Lost in his throne made of mirrors that flatter
Shivering, cowering, caving to fear
Deaf to the villagers asking for reason
Blind to the pillage befalling this land
Dumb, well I guess that just goes without saying
Nary a care what the people demand
Feasting on turkey, potatoes and gravy
Raising a glass to the enemy proud
Taking a stand against those who support him
Locking the front doors while yelling aloud
***“Carry your torches, your pitchforks, your honor
It matters not for this evil shall win
Even when gone there are echoes of anger
Lingering on till they come back again
Give them your all, what you’ve poured your heart into
Down on your knees, bow to them one and all
Step over rock and the piles of rubble
This castle will stand even when the walls fall
Shout all you like as no change is forthcoming
Accept it or flee, you think I give a ****
When you are gone many more will replace you
Now pass those peas and a slice of that ham”***
So roam the beasties, their teeth ever sharpened
Fanning the flames as so many are burned
Tearing apart what the people envisioned
Silly to think that they somehow had learned
Nothing so happy with no ever after
Always the same, it will happen again
But unlike some other long winded stories
Sadly in this I can not say “the end”
Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Thankfully I can peruse from a distance
Witnessing all without hanging around
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 9:25 AM UTC
In the dark night I was prevented from my satisfying slumber,
as I was troubled by my rooms dark corner.
Though my eyes were soon to be sealed,
may my dreamcatcher cure me from this dreadful darkness to be revealed.
Thankfully, the dreamcatcher protected me through this night,
as I was navigated to an existence so bright.
I was floating above the sea as I saw the lights
of thousand beaconing lighthouses from these ongoing heights.
Keenly guided from all insecurities,
I now clearly see the seas of opportunities.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 5:24 PM UTC
Across a void of space and time far away from where I am supposed to be, but a lot closer to myself
Headed away from home but towards it at the same time
All I have is a select few thoughts packed into boxes
Boxes that I treat as if they're a part of me
From boxes on wheels to boxes that fly,
To boxes that clearly say, "I live as if I'm never going to die."
We go looking for more boxes, boxes that we places parts of ourselvs in
And sometime we decide it's time
To give away a box or two
After all that we've been through
Castles built of boxes tumble time and again
And yet we build, for boxes will always be available at a bargain
They say "No need to carry your own boxes, let us do it for you!"
And while you're waiting on your boxes; Here, it's on us, have a brew
Boxes of color, boxes of shapes
Boxes that distinguish us based on our drapes
Drowning in a sea of boxes, can we barely see land
But thankfully whenever you want to move your boxes, there's always someone to lend a hand
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 1:15 AM UTC
I know
that whatever I do
I can do it with you.
Thankfully,
you'e by my side
day and night.
In the dark
and through the storms
You'll be might light
and You'll be my warmth.
You give me strength
and reason to breathe.
You are everything that I need.
You have saved me from my sin
You bring hope to me again.
This month we celebrate your birth
the most joyous day on all the earth.
The world fills with your love
and gratitude for Thee above.
We thank Thee, Lord
for the sacrifice
of your precious earthly life,
that you may feel
our joy and pain
that we can be with you again.
Because I know I'm never alone
and that you're with me through the storm
I can endure through the darkest night
because I know that you're by my side.
With Gratiude
and Love for thee,
your humble servant,
Makenzie.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
Things I like nowadays
are: one, the way you look at me when I laugh non-stop.
You would tell me to stop or,
"What is so funny?" or "It's not that funny"
But you dare to stare at me and smile.
two, the way you stop me from running away when I am ****** off
but fail epically
three, the way you chase me when I successfully get out of your hold when you stop me from running away
four, the way you say 'I love you'
five, the things you say that made me smile
six, the comfort I feel when you hold my hand
seven, the way you suddenly call me to say 'I miss you';
eight, nine, ten to infinity; there is a lot of things that I like nowadays.
But there are things I hate nowadays
one, the worries I have thinking of us
two, my tears
three, the way I always forgive you easily
four, your bad habits;
thankfully it does not reach infinity.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 7:26 AM UTC
There's something more
To paper planes
Than what meets the eye;
The creases and folds
that let them fly.
Beneath the way
They swoop and soar,
Paper planes
have a tendency
To always fall.
Thankfully for us,
We can spend time
Flying up high,
Way up there,
Without a single care.
We have defied gravity
We rarely fall,
But when we do
It's never big,
Only small.
There's something satisfying
About watching paper planes.
Not knowing their journeys.
Not knowing their ways.
Just not knowing.
However we know,
We know now,
About the planes,
And exactly how
We've created a vow.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 6:37 AM UTC
Out on the ocean,
our boat breaks down.
Thankfully, we aren't too far from land.
The rescue boat is on its way,
but now the wind comes up
and it's pouring rain.
I know God is with me,
so I am not afraid.
The broken down boat
is tossed by the wind and waves.
Crash!
It collides with the big rocks
along the shore.
While grizzlies hide within the forest.
When will our rescue boat appear?
The rain pounds down harder.
We get colder and colder.
And then off in the distance...
we spot her.
The fast boat gliding upon the water.
To rescue we the stranded.
From threatening danger.
Then...
I think of my life.
And the storm that has come to be.
Like a boat in trouble on the sea,
I need a rescue boat to come and save me.
For I can get so scared and weary.
Only God can be my Saviour.
He is my rescue boat,
when I break down in the storm.
And the waves of sorrow engulf me.
He is my rescue boat who comes to me,
when I am stranded on the sea.
In the storm and in the rain.
When I'm out on the ocean of life,
and my boat breaks down,
He will come for me.
And bring me to safety.
(C) Elizabeth T., 2016
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 11:42 PM UTC
And I sit here once more,
Sun beginning to fade over the makeshift
Horizon of wooden plank fences and shingle
Roofs, glued to the homes with tar whose
Invading smell has long since passed.
On the shore I sit, a shore made of
Overgrown weeds whose leaves look no different
From the eruption of water that juts out
Of the center of the lake,
The ripples seeming to roll over themselves,
As if they are trampling over each other to
Reach me, and looking away from the metallic
Distraction in the center of this pool of wonders,
It's as if a river is to be flowing in place of the lake,
Lapping across rocks and echoing splash of ducks and
Geese dismounting their current of air,
Swiftly gliding along the filmy surface,
Like a mirror smeared with lubricant,
For the reflections this lake cast cannot
Easily be told apart.
Dark beckons the lights' full departure,
And with it the warm is swept solemnly from
The land, and my bare hands burn like the
Approaching summer's heat.
I thankfully clutch my leather coat against
Myself, and I gaze upon the lake, wishing
Its limited stretch could further.
As I trace my eyes across its
Waves, a young woman in a pink sweat
Coughs roughly and spits in the water,
As if it's beauty must be destroyed along
With that miserable soul of hers.
The willow tree I sit under,
Oh how massive it seems, its coarse bark
Digging through my jacket and on the verge
Of penitrating my skin, but, it is worth it.
Its vines hang down wearily,
Like an old man, reaching to grasp the
Water, leaning so close, its reflection can
Be seen from shore, and its desperate vines,
Swaying in the wind ask me to come closer.
I shall not, of course, for it needs to
Grow on its own, and needs to rid of
Its reluctance if it ever wishes to achieve
Its reward.
This, somewhat reminds me of myself,
But, this is only yet another wonder,
Collection of thoughts,
From under the willow tree.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC