I Forget Things


I forget things
way too much,
and my dream-wings
curl out of sight,
and out of touch.

I have forgotten
choices I’ve made;
the fruits are rotten,
but they were ripe when
I picked and played.

I’m shocked to see
where I once stood;
high up, atop a tree.
I remember now,
oh, that was good!

I’m here again,
but forget I may…
Wait, where’ve I been?
Oh, I remember
this form of day!

My dream-wings shine
and I feel them stretch.
Fresh fruit is mine;
The seeds are for
the ground to catch.

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Misunderstood


If my dying words go on misunderstood,
what will they think and say of me?
I was misunderstood in life, as well,
and now forever misunderstood, I’ll be.

Words are mischievous little foxes
and so are sentences, too.
Sometimes the foxes act differently
when watched by me instead of you.

How bad can misunderstanding be,
when the understood is not that great?
It’s so easy for us to overlook degree
when we attempt to communicate.

By degree, I am a bit too cold
and my words expand in space,
but maybe when I’m dead, or old,
my meanings will align some place.

The Way

I laugh with them;
I dance with her.
The fire burns;
the faces blur.

I flap my arms;
I start to drift.
My hand reaches
and tries to lift.

I fly backwards;
I fight and twist.
My eyes open;
they don’t persist.

I sit up; awake.
I stay up alone.
The fire burns;
the way is shown.

Distant, Guarded Man

Tonight, I was waiting in
the check-out line of a store,
trying my best to not just look
at the products or the floor.

Two women joined the line
and behind me, took their places.
A daughter and a mother, I thought,
with happiness on their faces.

I am often much too reserved,
so I wanted to give them a smile.
I managed only half of one, unseen,
but it still felt good, all the while.

Next time, I’ll step it up a notch
and give a warmer one, if I can,
for it’s quite unseemly of me
to be such a distant, guarded man.

Sapless Passerby

Weeks ago, I was walking
with the river to my right.
Headphones sang me music,
as my eyes took in the sight.

I came upon a young couple
who fished with a 3-year-old,
and I turned my eyes away
from a family and the river; cold.

I didn’t want to be awkward;
I was only a sapless passer-by,
and just as I thought I’d made it
the little girl beamed out a hi!

I waved and smiled back
and said to the child “Hello.”
And I felt a little foolish
for the kindness I oft forego.

Bell of Night

 

I heard a bell ring in the night;
It came from deep below.
I’m sure it’s source was from a dream
that had for me something to show.

I’ve been awake and slept again
a few times since this has passed,
and I am dismayed about the fact
that these things go by so fast.

I write two lines and fall asleep,
while the clouds blow overhead.
Tomorrow I will wake up and take
the bell of night beyond my bed.

Raise the Stakes!

I had a fairly normal day,
but I thought of something great.
I thought of something I can say
when I am in a lowly state.

When I am down and uninspired,
I will do just what it takes;
I will say what is required,
and that is, “Raise the stakes!”

And when I raise the stakes,
I will start to lose all touch
with the dreary living-breaks
that don’t account for very much.