Refreshed Ink

I am gone
but I’m not dying.
Life has taken me away
from the ones I love and my inked words.
My pens are writing lists instead of stories.
I’m sometimes afraid I’ll leave again.
This time it’ll be forever.
Then I shake the thought,
ink refreshed.

~*~

An odd poem with an odd number of lines and an odd number of syllables per line (3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3).

Thank you for reading.

~*~

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The Bitter Writer Sonnet

The adult world. The true killer of dreams.
Be what you want as long as it pays cash.
The pressure to eat kills your self-esteem.
What you love burns and you shovel the ash.

Take a risk. If you’re lucky, you’ll make it.
If not, a job that’s a pain in the neck.
And you too become a wilted spirit,
addicted to a regular paycheck.

It’s worse to sit on the side and observe.
When they sink you think “That could’ve been me.”
When they reach the other side, craft preserved,
you’re left behind thinking, “Wish that were me.”

It’s a jump, a swim, and perseverance.
Outcome depends on your craft adherence.

~*~

Thank you for reading. It was a rough week but writing this out helps a bit.

Birthday Snow

The clouds cried snow tears
on the day you died.
They covered the ground,
the rooftops,
my hair
in a cold shroud of white.

Now I’m 29.
The same age you turned
the year I was born.
I look out the window
see the snow coming down,
dusting the ground,
the rooftops,
my hair.

Birthday snow
sent from above.
No more cards
in the mail,
but I’ll welcome snow
every year
if you send it to me.

~*~

 

Figure It Out

Written for the #PoemTrail prompts “piece of oblivion” and “figure it out”. Posted today @sm_saves.

~*~

Mood on a pendulum swing.
Heart palpitates
unreasonable self demands
to have it all figured out.
A creator of all paths
forward in the right direction.
Seer of the future
devoted to a corporate machine
for the comfort of a steady check
because dreams can’t be eaten.

~*~

Thank you for reading.