Moi, Poetry, The Fine Line

Little Life

A little life 

I have

Blooming inside of me

Little joys

Little hopes 

A fast little heartbeat

Little smiles

Little loves

You are a part of me

Little dreams

Little peace

Little hands, legs and feet

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Creative Writing, Moi, Poetry, The Fine Line

When the Change Comes

I reach up and out into the darkness, the nothingness and I pull it toward me.

I am laid out on my back and then it’s 9’oclock in the morning.

The nothingness, I grip tight in the palm of my fists,

I kiss it, my fists; I make a wish. A wish I will share with the rest of the world

Because I pull it onto my face and it becomes my glow. 

I will not try to hide it, not try to subdue. 

Nothingness it may be, but it is newfound life to me. 

And although they may say it’s another craze, another episode,

I will take my nothingness, my newfound life, my glow 

And to all of the world I will let it showshowshow.

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Musings, Poetry, The Fine Line

Religion

Now you’ve come along and my world has plunged into yet another turmoil.
The battle between religion, which is righteousness, and freedom, which is faith, has begun again.

They said that Grace is for everyone, but only for the baptized,
And I used to sing along, but then I realised,
That the grace being declared was not free, nor for all,
For most, after a life of hell into hell will fall.
That’s when my singing became a whisper, I wasn’t quite sure
If I wanted my mind to be thoughtless, my life a chore.
But the reward of this was life, heaven when I die…
Now and often there’s the questions, ‘but what if it’s true?’ and “but what if it’s a lie?”

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Creative Writing, Momentary, Poetry, The Fine Line

Behind Closed Eyes

tears on my pillow
pain in my heart
caused by you

Her words ring loud in my mind as I think about you. Emotions pour forth under my closed eyelids, soaking the pillow on which my weary head lies.

I’ve thought about us, almost daily, through and through. The notion of our unspoken love summoned to come alive but still, until this day, no words have been exchanged and thus my heart continues to cry.

I cannot laugh, I cannot eat, I cannot sleep. Yet I close my eyes. Only as a means to find your face again. But in all my trying I only find that I become Frankenstein! I create a face that is not yours. I create a face that belongs, a little, to all of my lovers; in whose arms I’ve lain to take away that pain that is your absence. I create a monster.

I close my eyes and share moments with you that you will not remember; to force back tears, yet still I cry, for my love will forever remain tender – for you alone, for you right now but you will never know.

I’ll let him go
This time
I will.
I’ll let him go
This time.

The song I sing each night as I make-believe I sleep. I let you go for  mere moments as I travel to the dimensions of dreams. Dreamland we called it. You remember?  The place, each night we’d meet.

While I’m there, sojourneying through this love, I see you clear; as bright as day, more beautiful than a thousand doves. A symbol of freedom, my dear. My one hope now, in all of life, is that of you I might dream and dream forever.

Oh my love, I wish you knew the light you bring to life. But you never will, for I won’t say until the day I die.

*

I’m asleep now and this way I’ll stay. In dreamland I have forever locked myself away.

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Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

My Unspoken Words

And I’m banking on your capacity to read my mind and know how I feel about you.

I can’t read a mind to save myself and I don’t believe that telepathy is true.

But your response to what’s on my mind will determine how happy I’ll be.

How has this notion that you must be able to read my mind conceived?

It’s because I love you and I think you should know that’s true

And if you don’t then it’s not fate and we’re not meant to be.

Because maybe there’s a truer love to be found if I don’t make it with you,

And maybe they’ll read my mind and see my love for them is true.

But maybe I will get to that point in life and find that just like you,

They too could not read my mind, and thus my lunatic ideas would mean we’re through.

And then, all over again I’d start the wait,

In search for a love, I’d hope and pray that this time it’s not too late.

I’d be older and wiser and realise that I should have spoken my mind

Because there were words written on my heart to which you were faultlessly blind.

**

And thereafter, whatever happens I will go on living a regretful existence

But if I could wish for and be granted another life I would not bear such resistance.

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Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

In The Pages

Read it from the pages, my love, and be assured,
That in the prose where noone knows yet what’s next to come,
The mystery, behind those words, behold all the cures,
Slowly. Slowly. Like a rose it all unfolds at once.

But if you pause or look away you might just miss the bunce.
I love you, said in writing can never withhold le cœur.
Perhaps not grand, direct or clear but certainly’s the sum,
So read on in the pages, my love, and be allured.

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