February Art Challenge: Write A Poem

Have To

I can feel it moving,
The blister on the bottom of my foot.
I know it’s going to hurt when it pops.
And it does…
It hurts more than I even imagined.
I walk on.
Not because I want to,
Because I have to.

The wind brings cool, salt tinged air
Across sunburnt shoulders.
With each step the pain dulls,
But I’m limping to compensate
Creating tears on my toes.
I walk on.
Not because I want to,
Because I have to.

I’m lonely here.
Pictures are the only companions
To memories better shared.
I should call a cab and go to the room –
Sleep away the hurt.
Still, I walk on
Because I want to.
Because I have to.

Going Through Spurts

*just another stream of conscious rambling attempt at poetry, clarity, staving off the inevitable blahs I feel coming on*

I shouldn’t be surprised, yet I always am. Trying desperately to find a bright spot in the encroaching gloom.
Rainy days breed rainy thoughts, and I am flooded in them.
I can plainly see the positive and the good. It shines and, at times, truly consumes me.
Then the clouds roll in.
There is no thunder.
No lightening.
Just gray from horizon to horizon.
It’s cold…and lonely…and my best bravado cannot keep the shading effect away.
I’m not allowed to feel like this…not good, not bad.
The brave face has to be put on.
Everyone needs to know that you are fine.
You are making it.
Nothing bothers you.
It’s not true. That doesn’t matter, though.
This won’t last. It’s a moment to wallow in.
Float with the gray waters. Let your heart hurt just a bit.
I’ll land in the shallows and get to my feet.
Walking back to where I was, I’ll verbally kick myself for allowing the hurt and gray to win again – especially after so long of holding them off!
Then, somehow, I’ll walk a little further up from where I was when those clouds rolled in and took me away.
Bathed in light and then half light.
In small spurts I move forward.
On and on to regions unknown…
Paths untread….
All in spurts.

Let’s See Where This Goes

An exercise in free writing and a needed outlet.

It’s so easy to give out the pieces
Of a heart worn on one’s sleeve
You can’t cover it up
The outline is too obvious
Generosity is confused for weakness
Trust mistaken for being naive

Still, I’d rather believe than be cynical
Fill missing pieces with patches
And have hope that there is something
Hopefully better
But something

Open

Pieces are available
Easily accessible, freely given
It seems no matter how many times. they break
How many times they are rejected
The pieces stay open and bare
Open to possibility
Open to chance
Open to hurt
Open

Before I Put On My Chucks

OK…one more thing before I go off to ring in the New Year.

image

I had every intention
Of wearing the tight skirt
And the tight shirt.

I had every intention
Of facing the night full of possibility
And throwing caution to the wind.

Instead, I wanted a skirt with pockets
And a shirt more fun than low cut.
I decided on comfort instead of sex.

Besides, why can’t practicality
And whimsy
Be attractive?

It is.
Tie up the Chucks,
It’s time to go.

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Really, It’s Okay

*random poem of sorts*

You really don’t have to pretend
The pleasantries, the promises
They aren’t needed
You don’t believe me
You’ll promise to call
You say you still care
It’s okay
You don’t
Life moves us along
People change
I’ll still check in
I’ll still reach out
If you don’t reach back
Well, that’s your call
I will walk my way
With my hand open
Just in case you pass by again

Attack of the Random Writing!

I’ve been afraid of loss.
Loss of friendships, loss of love, loss of dreams –
Keep the status quo and lose nothing.
Risk everything?
I did
And I lost.
In that loss, I gained –
Surprised that the equation worked that way.
Keep the status quo and lose nothing?
Risk everything!
Soon enough.

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