Poetry In Motion #3

Poetry in Motion #3

did you see
the waves
crash against
Highland shores
this morning?

did you see
her eight month
old totter
his first
steps?

did you see
his daughter's
proud smile
as she accepted
that
diploma?

and did you
see how it
all fit
together

to make
poetry in
motion?

each with
words crouching
around
attempting

to explain
how it took
your breath
away?

Lost in the Right Direction

“He was lost and now he’s found,” the stupid words were running through my head and wouldn’t leave me alone.

I wasn’t lost, I knew exactly where I was, sitting in front of the River Thames, a sweater pulled close around me and the hood lowered over my face.

My face was cold, hair tucked on my right shoulder, finger stuffed in the sweater’s front pouch.

It looked like I was a kangaroo, but at least it kept my hands from becoming too chapped.

Sighing, I stood up and headed down the way, my worn in runners making no noise against the old cobbled streets.

I don’t know if there were cars, as far as I knew I was the only person surrounded by bright lights that were fading off, fuzzy around the edges, blurs around each corner that could have been people or vehicles.

I wasn’t lost. I knew exactly where I was; maybe not where I was, but that didn’t count.

Did it maybe mean where my thoughts were?

Before I continue on a fruitless mind game, I looked up, just slightly, as the sky cracked open, a bolt of lightning showing its jagged body, searing its light to my eyes until all I saw was repeats of it all across my vision.

Cursing quietly under my breathe I wondered if now would be when I’d get lost.

An ambulance roared past, shocking the lightning patter away from my eyes.

The vehicle bumped and roared its way down the narrow street, sirens wailing, echoing, coming back a hundredfold, bouncing off the cobbles and buildings.

The lights kept me entranced, and I stood there in the pouring rain, each raindrop part of a steady rhythm as they fell, only to crash against the street.

I managed to make it home, how, I walked, but I couldn’t tell you what route I I took, how long it took me, or whether or not I passed anyone on the way.

I just know I walked because my feet ached, calluses bubbling on my heels.

Entering the bathroom, I flicked the light on, started the shower, and slowly peeled off every later.

I stepped into the steaming shower, and barely noticed that it was too hot.

“He was lost, and now he’s found,” how I hated that verse. I don’t even know why I was thinking about it.

Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed the top towel off of the stack that I kept there.

Wrapping the sea foam green towel around me, I wiped the steam off the mirror with my right hand, and stared at my reflection for a moment, not really seeing what was visible, trying to peer through my pores, trying to see if I could see everything that made me up, what made me work, what I was thinking.

After a bit, my vision fuzzed over, the mirror re-fogged, and I was no closer to finding out if I was all there or not.

Sighing, I crept away from the mirror, and re-dressed myself in a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, and shuffled my way to the small kitchen where I turned the kettle on.

I could hear the rain, it was pounding on the roof, I could tell, like I was standing outside, even though it should have all been muffled.

Suddenly, I felt like I had just run a marathon, heard feet pounding one after another on the uneven cobbles through an alley, narrow buildings on each side, trapped, encased.

Heard nothing, but saw noise. It ricocheted off of the brick buildings, metal ladders that grew from buildings like ivy, footsteps that stumbled onto wet stones, breathe hitch, whoosh out, and cascade into white fog, dissipate.

Looking around, it took me a moment to realize I was in my apartment, and I had fallen asleep on the narrow couch.

“He was lost and how he’s found,” I muttered under my breathe, while pouring the evaporating water into a mug, and dipped the teabag in. Once, twice, three times.

I knew if I pondered in much longer I was going to give myself a migraine, which I sure did not need.

Leaving the tea by the sink, not eve really knowing why I had made it in the first place, I decided to see if anything was on TV.

Flipping through channels, I watched mindlessly as a group of cartoons paraded across the screen, intending, I’m sure, to make people laugh.

Finding nothing to catch my interest, I switched it off, mad at myself. I needed to snap out of whatever I was in.

At the rate I was going, I would be insane before you could say asylum.

I drifted off to sleep and ended up dreaming of feet running, footprints staining the group, showing where everyone was headed, and how we were each lost in the right direction.

She's Just Waiting

she's just waiting
for that perfect
guy
to see beyond
her catcher's mask,
basketball jersey,

track cleats,
volleyball pads,
speed swimmer's

suit

she's just waiting
for the perfect
guy

who'll see
that
she's scared of
making mistakes,
getting hurt,

breaking down,

being weak.

she's just waiting,
for the perfect
guy

to tell her that
she's beautiful,
unique,

smart,

and his

that she's his
only girl

she's just waiting,
cause she
knows

she's worth
him.

Oil & Water

did you see it in
my face?
confusion,
as dense as
London fog

though,
my London fog
won't dissipate
it's staying

close

everything's being
contradicted.

did you know that
oil and water
are mixing?

yet,
salt and water
aren't

look back,
see who last
wound the
clock,

caused this
disaster

i'm going to go
off,
find a slate of
solace

because you're
receding
as you
please,

leaving me
here,
with oil and
water

For Death

i saw
death today

we brushed
fingers,

barely

but,
i felt a cold
shock

race through
nerves and
tendons

his hood was
up

i begged,
pleaded,
cried.

wanting him
to take it
off

"let me see
the face of
death!"

i wanted to look
death in the
eye

instead of
brushing
him

he sadly shook
his head,

pulled his
hand away,
as i stood there

crying,
reaching,

for
death.

Untitled #4

I promised myself
that I wouldn't
cry.
no matter
how hard
it was going to
be.

she's on your arm
(it can't hurt)
walking down
(won't let it)
holding your hand
(look away)
arm around your waist
(walk away)
talking in your ear
(faster faster)
I should have known better
(run girl run)
than fall for you
(almost there)
so, maybe I deserve this
(open the door)
for being so stupid
(and fall down)
if only a heard breaking
(look at the pieces)
didn't hurt so
(will not let myself)
bad
(cry)

New

'Ello all. New to blogspot. Though not new to blogging. I've been going for almost a year on livejournal, where I try to post every day. And usually manage to succeed. I dunno what I'll be posting here all the time. But, it'll probably end up being my writing. Poetry, short stories, rambles, drabbles, the lot. I do it all. Except horror. Can't write it to save my life.

Oh, and on livejournal, I'm manyfacets.livejournal.com and onyxexistance.livejournal.com. You'll have to friend manyfacets first though.