Come Home

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This world is not where
I belong

Everything is too strange,
too different, too normal here
as I watch the world
so close, so far

I wander, wait
and wish that those from the
otherworlds would come for me
take me by the hand
“come home” they’ll say
and I somehow know they will
as go into the world where we’ll
all understand

We’ll walk through dimensions
through the greens, wilds and waters
through space-time
and I will go somewhere
back where I belong
where it’s I am part of the world
and not staring though a glass wall
and where I won’t feel so
lost and inadequate

But I’m here and not there
and much as I wish, I doubt that
my mothership or fairies will be
coming for me anytime soon

But where am I?
I don’t know
How is it that I can be lost in
the familiar?
I long for somewhere else.

I look around, unsure of where to go
and so I wander here, to and fro
hiding from the species that should be
my own and yet feel so distant from

And I don’t know why I’m here
or what to do
or what should matter
or what is my purpose

But I guess I’m waiting to
come home

Note: Yes, it is inspired by “Stolen Child” by WB Yeats

When Anything Was Possible

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Once there was
unparalleled hope
the feeling that
all my dreams would
come true
back when anything was possible

Right now, everything feels
impossible
and everything is wrong
somehow
and I’m not good at anything
anymore
and impenetrable walls are
everywhere
and some days I just want to
disappear

But I’m still here waiting
for days that will never come,
wishes that will never be,
friends that I will never have and
dreams that refuse to come true
so I dream of the days
back when anything was possible

Everyone tells me that
“everything will be alright”
and I try to believe them but
I just can’t

There are so many things that I
sometimes wish to do, to be
but just can’t fathom it
happening anymore
but it was different, back then
back when anything was possible

And maybe anything is still possible
but it seems broken,
shattered into pieces and lost
so still I walk out into the chilling wind
and let me mind fly away from reality
to a world where anything is still possible

After Dinner

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We sit – full, satisfied
dishes – used, stacked
as the night seeps through the
window, light disappearing
out of the sky

Windows glow
one by one as the lights turn on
in response to the incoming night

On the TV, people
talk, argue, sing, dance and kiss
but there’s little substance to their
dialogue, ratings are more important
then meaning

Close the windows, lock the door
trap ourselves in the house
for the city night is dark,
untrustworthy

After dinner,
the night has begun
shadowed, without sun
and another day
is done

I guess I like poems – they require less focus to write or read (unless it’s an epic but I’m not writing epics right now)

Yours to Choose

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Here’s a choice
pick this or choose to reboot
it will affect you
for awhile

influence your life
and maybe your
goals, dreams

But my gut says no
though I will wonder
“what-if:

that maybe it’ll be
better
than the other choice

but I don’t know
cannot know

Standing at crossroads
“it’s yours to choose”
I know

Mulling will only make it
longer
I know that too

But I don’t want to dive
into this
it’s like picking a horse
to keep for awhile

making sure it’s
sound, safe and you don’t
hate each other
(even better if you like
one another)

but most of all
is the right one
for you

Just a quick poem reflecting some of the overriding thoughts in my life right now (yes, it’s purposely sort of vague. If you personally know me, you may know what exactly what it’s referring to). No, I’m sadly not buying a horse though.  And if I ever buy a unicorn horse (as unlikely that seems right now), unless I am buying a horse I leased…I have a feeling it will take forever too.

Freeforming and Freeroaming

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I am a wander, wandering
alone, back and forth
around, to and fro
oblivious to this world,
lost in my own
thoughts, dreams and things
that escape this reality

But people don’t like this
think it’s odd
think it’s strange
think it’s weird

People don’t like things that are
unright
but not wrong, just unright
unconforming,
and instead –
freeforming and freeroaming

“Are you okay?”
“Are you alright?”
“Are you lost?”

I am okay
I am alright
I am still here
and I will wander about
under the trees where
I walk, bolt, prance
out of this world and into my own
where everything is better than fine

(Though I really wish you
annoying people weren’t here
and that you don’t bug me
and if you would please kindly
consider shutting the hell up
and getting yourself far away
instead of trying to elicit
a reaction from me)

Inspired by last evening’s wander. (“Are you okay?” Giggles. “I don’t get it, she just walks around…”). Sigh. Some days, I’m not sure how much longer I can stand living here. Ugh. And yeah,  I may have made up a word in this poem…sort of but not really.  Freeform is a word, it’s just that maybe freeforming isn’t? (According to dictionary.com) Anyway, I like it so I’m using it.

The Lonely Cloud

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That lonely cloud
floats listlessly in the sky
alone
with no one else
like him

Floating without direction
no reason or place
alone
with no one that
seems to really care

He doesn’t search for
more clouds though they may be
alone
because he knows he’s
not like them

Other clouds may crowd the sky
overcasting it, but our cloud still feels
alone
lost amongst the crowd which he has
no connection to

It’s hard to say if he’s lonely or not
since he has gotten used to floating
alone
but it would be hard to say that
he’s truly happy too

So he floats along
past the dancing daffodils,
laughing, golden in their bliss
past the road winding its way
to the unreachable horizon
past the forests and the seas,
where everything has their place

Finally, he drifts
around  the lonely earth, spinning in space,
for all her neighbourly planets
are unlike her

Just a quick poem for fun. I will be writing a fuller post soon.

Ginger

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Originally written Fall 2009.  Edited 2012.  Based on the character of Ginger from Black Beauty by Anna Sewell.

In paradise, under
the apple trees at Birtwick
we would graze, prance and talk
Black Beauty, Merrylegs and I

Back when I was young and
ready to learn my job, the men
were all force, holding me down
forcing me to endure the
uncomfortable harnesses and painful bits
shoved into my mouth
but still I fought.

In London they drove
me with a checkrein
forcing to carry my head high,
uncomfortably high for endless hours.

I couldn’t stand it any more,
couldn’t take it any more
so I broke out of the harness and
soon found myself in a new home
under the apple trees.

I then met Black Beauty,
my noble carriage partner
who carried his own share
and was easy to get along with
becoming friends
in and out of harness.

The barn caught fire
the world cloaked in a haze of
smoke, heat and panic
I didn’t know what to do
but then from outside, I heard
Beauty’s familiar whinny
luring me out, beckoning me

But our lovely days together under
the apple trees came to an end
I went to various homes each one
getting progressively worse
each time my lameness came back.

At the end of the line, I ended up
in a horse and cab rental string and
lent out to a man, just wanting to get his
money’s worth.

He starved my body, my soul and
with the constant lashing of the whip,
kept me working, working, working
every single day.

All pain
I could barely stand,
could barely breathe,
no longer the fiery chestnut
I once was.

I saw Black Beauty again,
though he barely recognized me.
I told him what happened and then
admitted that  “I wish I was dead.
I have seen dead horses, and I am sure
they do not suffer pain”.

For a split second a bang echoed
into darkness.

All was silent,
painless
and all was paradise.

Implosion

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The world is imploding
collapsing, falling on itself
the weight too heavy to bear

Fairness falls into greed
its spectre of wealth
all too alluring

Harmony tumbles into destruction
destroying the planet, societies
and ourselves

Love trips into hate
cupid arrows transform to gunshots –
missiles, bombs for reasons no one could remember

Understanding blurs into ignorance
from what other people have said
even though its only speculation

We dream of the stars, distinct galaxies
as if it could save the rainforests, oceans,
disappearing species all over the globe
as if it could stop the violence, greed
and corruption that stifles so many
as we desperately hope that
we can save ourselves from ourselves
before it’s too late

The world is imploding,
everything collapsing into itself
as we pretend that it’s not happening
try to believe that everything is alright
but it’s not.