Short Poems
Out in the middle of nowhere
In a setting that I once knew
Floating on a sea of remembrance
Not sure about what I should do
Listening to faith for the answer
Holding onto the word
Connecting with those who will listen
Sometimes misunderstood
I want to live on a houseboat
floating from shore to shore
it would not be hard
to wake up in the morning
just take one step out the front door
I'd chase the seagulls
with my old wicker broom
my porch would look like a dock
and those crafty villains
would rue today
and off my plank they would walk
We often complain
about working all day
we're tired and way underpaid
Yet how do we spend
the time we're not here
on soft green grass we have laid
so, we sit back and sleep
and cry a few tears
and say it's unfair we must stay
Self-imposition
and lack of a dream
bring us again here the next day
There’s some things in life
I’ve been going through
Sometimes I don’t know what to say
Or what I’m supposed to do
But if I let your light just lead me
And bring me back in line
My hearts overwhelmed
But I know I’m safe
If I take your thoughts as mine
And I wish I understood the way I feel down deep inside
And I could separate out
All the unimportant things in my life
To know what’s right, is what I’ve longed for
All the days of my life
It’s just about right
It’s just about right
The Back Stories
#1
This poem is something I am experiencing now at the time of publishing. I'm following my spirit, I've felt alone, and yet feel like others are judging me, yet I press on - holding onto the faith that I have inside
#2
Do you ever have that feeling that there was more content to a poem than you remembered? That's what I feel like about this poem - I may have left out some stanzas that I wrote long ago. Still though, this communicates and emotion that's hard to describe. The part with "chasing the seagulls with my old wicker broom" paints a picture of reaching inside of yourself with a uniquely defined method of pulling / accessing a force inside of you to keep going and overcome. Think of what a pirate feels inside when he lets out and arrrggghhh (but an ounce more guttural), and short of writing another poem to explain what I am trying to say, that will give you the essence of what I felt.
#3
This poem was written in a large warehouse - 8 acres under one roof. At times we worked hard with the boxes flying down the conveyor belt with no time to stop - other times you would wait and wait for them to come which gave you time to think, and thus, this poem was born. The poem was not written from a standpoint of making a complaint but more so to compel us to find a dream and go after it with all our hearts instead of bringing us again here the next day.
#4
This poem actually has guitar music to it. I don't currently have a guitar but may in a future issue I will play it and post the audio.
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