Little Words

Today, I just have little words
Nothing else could rise or soar
But I still enjoy the music
So I guess I’m not done for

I’ve failed to write, and to ignite
For weeks, or maybe more
And I have tried, so very hard
To thrive within this bore

Oh, there is a moment here
Where thoughts can fly and play
But they’ll soon lose their altitude
And much to my dismay

My little words are all I have
And what little they convey!
But at least I get to touch them
Before they fall away

Copyright © 2019 – Adam Light

Truly Awake


The last vestiges of the evening are upon me,
And I feel, deep in my soul, that slumber is death.
I tighten my grip on consciousness, my blood racing.
I do not want to let myself go willingly.

Tomorrow beckons, pleads, and stipulates,
As sleep tries to lull me into an unconscious submission.
I detest this old routine and wish that I was free,
Like an owl flying below the moon but above the humdrum.

I aspire to challenge sleep and tomorrow both.
I yearn to emerge victorious in the lively night.
Let the sun’s rays reveal something new when they arrive;
One who is truly awake by nothing but his own accord.


Copyright © 2019 – Adam Light


Dear reader, I need feedback. I write for myself, but I share for the world. If this poem had an impact on you, positive or negative, I’d really like to know. Thank you.

– Adam Light

Why Not

For a long time, I studied Earth
But it always spun too fast
I never knew if it was worth
All the questions it amassed

I couldn’t see more than a blur
And I couldn’t answer why
I never knew what could occur
Underneath that cloudy sky

In this cosmic, forsaken place
When I had no other shot
I let the why just die in space
And asked instead, “Why not?”

Copyright © 2019 – Adam Light


Dear reader, I need feedback. I write for myself, but I share for the world. If this poem had an impact on you, positive or negative, I’d really like to know. Thank you.

– Adam Light

Then When?


Five years ago, I wrote a note
to my ever-struggling self,
and, just now, I found it
in a notebook on the shelf.

A lot has happened, since that time,
but somehow I’ve not reversed
the pathetic, whiny thinking
that upon myself I’ve cursed.

Surely, I’ve made some progress
and garnered more control,
but I still wake up each day
without a purpose or a goal.

There’s one major difference, though,
between these separate times,
because although I’ve always written
I haven’t always written rhymes!

That could have been the end of this
but I still clutch the pen,
because a change is called for
and, if not now, then when?

Copyright © 2019 – Adam Light


Play feels good
Yeah, I can play
But that feeling
Cannot stay

I’d love to be
Somewhat okay
But I can’t shake
This great dismay

I’ll play right now
I’ll play tomorrow
But next week
I’ll strain with sorrow

I’m not okay
Because some day
The worst will come
And it will stay

So I ask you
Do you know
How playfulness
In life should go?

Do I laugh now
And give way
Or do I drop
This whole array?

Can this burden
Be my game?
Or have I lost
With no acclaim?

If I have wisdom
I don’t show it
I’ve played the fool
But killed the poet

Copyright © 2019 – Adam Light

Desk of Life

Sometimes I am a spinning top
Unstable and severe
And sometimes I’m a paper weight
Static and austere

I’m always on the desk of life
Peering off the edge
Or reading scribbled papers
While I spin around the ledge

But I proclaim there is no fate
Or if there is, I couldn’t know it
I can slink and sprawl
Or spin and fall
Or maybe just forego it.

Copyright © 2018 – Adam Light

Lost Dog

I’ve always dreamed of
finding a dog that’s lost.
I could be a hero for a day –
and I would do it at no cost.

I’d make a four-legged friend.
The kids would laugh and play.
I’d bow and wave goodbye to all,
and be on my jolly way.

But lost dogs are elusive –
more so if you stay in.
They certainly aren’t ever there
when I take the trash out to the bin.

I just checked the window,
but still, none are around.
I guess I won’t be finding dogs
that are not lost, but found.

Maybe next time I go outside,
I’ll just look for whatever’s there,
because perfect opportunities
are just too stinking rare.

Copyright © 2018 – Adam Light


A snake had bit me
in my dream;
I grabbed it by the head.

Venom was in me,
it would seem,
so I whipped and beat it dead.

I looked for people
or a cure,
but I could find no aid,

and as I trudged on,
with pain so pure,
I forgot to be afraid.

I stopped to rest
beneath a tree
some time about midday,

and when I started
thinking free,
I knew that I would be okay.

What does it mean –
this dream I had?
I don’t think that there’s an answer.

You could examine
any tale and add
the legwork of a dancer.

I encounter things,
then make a choice
on how onward I shall go

and give little thought,
or little voice,
to meanings that I don’t bestow.

Copyright © 2018 – Adam Light

A Timely Story


I’d had some good times
some victories
but they’d been lost
beneath the seas
I couldn’t remember
setting sail
nor recall
why I departed
I was just a sunken,
sodden fool
who couldn’t finish
what I started.

On a seabed,
I fell asleep
and breathed the water
way down deep
I saw monsters,
ill of eye
and saw myself
in mirrored glow
I knew I was
a dead myth then
and that I had
to let it go.

I swam up and up
and out the sea
and relished in
that victory
I flew above
the rolling waves
that sparkled from
a full moon’s light
and told myself
a timely story
that would only
last one night.