Poetry that is relatable and just what the doctor ordered
I lost myself in the ocean of my thoughts,
My eyes drifting toward the horizon.
The ebb and flow lulled me to wisdom
While I picked up flotsam to store away for later.
There’s no train to take me from one thought to another,
And I’m not sure if there’s even a boat anymore,
Just weightless bobbing around
Until someone draws me onto a lifeboat of conversation,
And I show them the trinkets I’ve collected
Until I clamor off in search of other treasures.
I would burn down the world for you
My passion blazing so everyone can see,
But you want to be swept off to sea,
The tide taking you out
So I can’t get you back.
I would be a tree growing for you,
Having your birdsong fill my whole being,
But you want to be a kite,
Chasing the wind,
Hoping it doesn’t let you down.
I would build a castle for you,
The steadfast rock that you claim to need,
But you seek out the fields to run in.
They have no shelter,
And you pray the lightning doesn’t find you.
So my passion turns to stone,
But it doesn’t build a castle.
And my tree roots die to frost
That no birdsong seeks to warm.
And my stronghold falls to ruin
Where the rubble waits dead.
“Best” does not mean “only.”
“Safe” does not mean “solely.”
“Affection” does not mean “passion.”
“Difficult” does not mean “rationed.”
“Sacrifice” does not mean “gladly.”
“Painful” does not mean “badly.”
“Able” does not mean “easy.”
“Loving” does not mean “needy.”
I inhabit the fairytale love,
Not the kind composed solely of passion
As each person burns up before it’s begun,
But of a slow-burning love,
The ember that is offered, regardless of mutuality.
I desire the fairytale love.
It’s pure and simple and sweet,
Only burning when the time is right,
Never waking before the prince comes,
Then rising with the sun on my face.
I still seek for the fairytale love,
One of dedication and chivalry
Where both parties respect one another,
Understanding that’s where true love comes,
Living happily in their commitment to each other.
You led him.
He followed,
Right to where we thought he wouldn’t go.
This life here
Is borrowed
But his children still call this earth their home.
You say that
You see us
So I wonder why it seems you just don’t care.
Birthdays and
Graduations
For them will not have their father being there.
It’s 3 AM conversations,
A pocket full of daisies,
Coffee grounds in a notebook,
And pictures on a string.
It’s a painful relationship
Spilled onto happy best friends
So they can vibe in the friendzone
Until one of them reflects.
It’s flip-flops in the bathroom
And sleeping in till 10
Just because it’s the weekend
And the problems wait untill Monday.
It’s laughter with friends,
Weird stories to tell later,
And bittersweet goodbyes
Until we see each other again.
I trace your face amidst the drops,
Your pink cheeks popping out against the grey.
You’re like a witch with root-brown eyes
Shining in the rain, parting my lips.
I can’t help but feel you close
While you stay in your world of rain and glass.
Inside Out has got it wrong,
Joy would be green, not yellow.
Fear would be red, with horns and a prong,
Not some purple-suited fellow.
Now, purple would be Disgust,
Or maybe more magenta.
Sadness, the color of dust
To pass on her gloomy agenda.
For anger, orange or golden
Because it always seems justified
To get your pride so swollen
That it hurts when you’re thrust aside.
No, Disney has got it right:
You do have feelings, it’s true,
But the colors they chose aren’t quite
The perfect neurological hue.
My heart feels like a waste paper basket.
It’s not innocent.
It’s messy and crumpled and torn up in some places.
And people keep writing on the pieces I’m trying to recover
So I can’t even tell what was there before.
And some people help
But you can’t erase permanent marker.
My heart feels like a fortune cookie.
I’m a little stale nowadays.
People come to me for advice or future plans
But none of those plans involve me, nor is my advice taken.
They break me for my secrets that I give willingly
While they don’t understand I’m a gift myself,
But it’s hard to believe that while I lay disguarded on the table.
My heart feels like a piggie bank.
I can be noisy.
But nothing compares to the noise of me shattering
Because someone thought it was smart to break me for two cents.
Now my pain is at my edges, biting people.
And someone tries to glue me together, and they get hurt too.
But you can still see my porcelain smile.
Sometimes, we feel suppressed,
Like our heart is being shoved inside a tissue box
By forces beyond our control
Or anyone’s comprehension.
Sometimes, we feel like a sun,
Blazing with power and passion
In ways the dark can’t understand
Or fight against.
Sometimes, we feel content,
Like the breeze in springtime
That whispers in the rain
And everything heals.
Sometimes, we feel peace,
The utmost joy filling our hearts
Only eclipsed by the One
Who paid dearly for it.
Sometimes, we feel sorrow,
The tsunamis passing through God’s people
To force them to share and reach out
For other hurting people too.
But sometimes, we feel whole
With every feeling wrapped together
Confusing us with joy and sorrow,
Fighting against the dark to bring peace.
Prescriptive Poetry 