BeautifulEveryDayDetails

Tree Climber

Reach for the big, up in the canopy

The stars, the sun, the moon, and time standing still

The horizon right before the eyes, then gliding far away

Pull out from the trunk, fly high above, don’t look below, don’t look back

Leave the ground behind and let the story come alive

This poem was inspired by an illustration by Rachel Joy Osterman. You can look up her work here https://www.etsy.com/people/rjodesigns

Fall

That vibrant time of year when colors burst from tired limbs lowering in the chill breeze

Like butterflies they flutter about or wave back and forth across the way

Landing with a soft quiet resolution to end the rapturous movement

For a time, blankets of red, yellow, orange, and green cover the the trodden path

Later, some souls step on the molted remains, of that beauteous display, concluding the end of the season of dancing color.

People Mirrors

Poke, Poke, Poke,

Tap, Tap, Tap,

Knock, Knock, Knock,

Stop, you Perverted Sages

Go away or let me fix your comprehension

I’ll show you my way of view

I have not wrote for seven days

Excuses

I had to work

I had to sleep

I had to rest

I had to eat

I had to clean my room

I had to breath

I had to, all the time

But mostly deep down inside I ran to find the reasons why I had not the motivation to rhyme. My emotions where angry and distraught and had blocked all thought. It was easier still, not to fill the silence, just ignore it for a time, in hopes it go away. The storm rages still, but I can’t ignore the call anymore, to spill out something onto white space, if only as a distraction to dark forbidding emotion.

When to write

All the time or just some, when the voice is rattling on

I don’t know, does it have to rhyme or be profound?

Perhaps the words just have to dump in order for the rubies to be uncovered?

Does writing make any sense at all or is it irrational like love or mathematical numbers.

It would be easier if it just came out with prescribed dictates or concrete points.

But alas writing is ever evolving and changing and sometimes sounds like a goose, noisy and annoying.

Worry

It sucks dreams, joy, and the truth down a big black hole where no light reaches. It destroys more than poverty the world over, and masks itself as wisdom to the fearful. It rules the lives of most and yet is mostly unseen and not talked about at length very often. It is only recognized as an emergency when it has reached monstrous proportions, and the ashes it has born have choked out the life that once was rainbow bright.