Making it

Making it


Slowing down to make it through
doesn’t work
when slowing down
turns into stopping.
When resting for a minute
turns into crumbling
until tomorrow.
When limbs are strong enough
only long enough to build
and start again.
Well-meaning hands on my exhausted soul
tell me it is okay to pause.
Those hands urge me
to have more Mary
and less Martha.
Those hands don’t see
the course of my day.
Twisting and winding,
working hard to climb up
only to end with rushing back down.
Then I’m left staring at the next hill,
feeling beaten again.
Those hands don’t know
that I want to stop.
I want to crumble,
but I’m forcing myself to hurry
because too much else will fail
if I slow down
and stop.

The Leaves of Autumn

The Leaves of Autumn


must feel tired and fragile.
They’ve made it through
three seasons of hanging on tightly
only to have no control
over losing their green,
falling to the ground,
and crunching under hurried feet.

I tremble in the wind
at the hand of some unseen disease.
See through and crumbling
in the shuffle of life.
Having no control
over my slipping grip.

Africa (revised)

I'm in a poetry class right now, so I've revised a few poems and written several others. I won't post all of them, because I admit sometimes I jot down whatever comes to mind 1/2 an hour before class and that is just sad. This is a poem I've posted earlier, but revised, and I think it is better now.

Africa

Alpha and Omega, I'm somewhere in between

Buried underneath greys
Come, find me if you can
Dialated pupils and hazy starlight
Evolve into more colors
Far away from normal evolution
Gigantic leaps and even bigger tears
Hydrangias forgetting to bloom
I can't see past today
Just my blood in battle flowing right now
Kenyan sunbeams from my heart to yours
Let them in, if you can
Magic show confetti falling from my waiting children’s eyes
Neglect the puddles and they go away
Omega back to Alpha, I'm somewhere far between
Pretending I'm closer to home than I think
Querying the leaves for answers
Remembering how they used to be great
Solemn eyes of wives watching them fall
Twisting, turning, like me in the wind
Unforgiving and uninviting tundras
Violence bursting from under them
Wayward paths spelling their stories with cracks
eXhale, inhale, do it again
Yellow and blue promises sink with the sun
Zulu warriors marching back home.

Africa

This poem was written with each line of the poem starting with consecutive letters in the alphabet.

Alpha and Omega, I'm somewhere in between
Buried underneath greys
Come, catch me if you can
Dialated pupils and hazy starlight
Evolve into more colors
Far away from normal evolution
Gigantic leaps and even bigger tears
Hydrangias forgetting to bloom
I can't see past today
Just my blood flowing right now
Kenyan sunbeams from my heart to yours
Let them in, if you can
Magic show confetti falling from their eyes
Neglect the puddles and they go away
Omega back to Alpha, I'm somewhere far between
Pretending I'm closer than I think
Querying the leaves for answers
REmembering how they used to be great
Solemn eyes watching them fall
Twisting, turning, like me in the wind
Unforgiving and Uninviting
Violence bursting from under them
Wayward sidewalks spelling stories with cracks
Exhale, inhale, do it again
Yellow and blue promises sink with the sun
Zulu warriors marching back home.

Admittedly Not My Best Work

The moon is bouncing
in the reflection of a midwest acronymn
I'm finally realizing some things are more important
than falling and black ribbons

I wrote my name in the clouds
so it won't be forgotten
while patches of sunlight and shadow
dance around the lawn

I fell asleep
and then the world was under a March sky
At least this odd blue isn't the usual black

I stored the love under my bed
until I needed it again
I'm just sick of your pitchfork and fire
way of dealing with life

The familiarity is gone
covered by useless rectangles
He's an awkward parallel of something better

I drew a future in the mud
to try and see it clearer
But I still can't decide
if it's the one I want

I don't want to be another post-it note love
stuck on the window
then moved to the fridge

I saw my face on his heart
and wondered how it got there
and how long this one would stay