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They Come to Me When Things Are Still

They come to me when things are still

And leave me without choice to hear

The things I've heard and know too well

Of tired topics,

To be clear

I, myself and just the ears

Without chance to think, or speak

It seems all I do is overhear

Their endless banter of 

Self critique

Seldom, do I have a moment

For myself

Today, for instance 

Was particularly loud

Who...

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End rhymeshealingmental healthnarrative poem

The Walls We Built

I could not reach you

But how I sought to

How desperately I longed

To belong to you

But the walls between us

The ones you built

Stood far too strong

And far too tall

For me to reach

 

Oh, but how I tried

How relentlessly I cast my bleeding hands 

Against the jagged rocks and stones 

That kept me from you

Lost,

Alone

But how I tried

 

And I wait...

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End rhymeshealinglong poemsnarrative poemrelationships

Boy what a Lady!

 

I saw her standing on a crowded train,

a beautiful face and a perfect frame.

With oriental features and flawless skin,

was this superficial or was there beauty within?

 

She caught me looking and to my surprise,

she smiled and looked directly into my eyes.

I felt transfixed and my heart took flight,

is this what they mean by 'love at first sight'?

 

As the train ...

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Humournarrative poemrelationshipsrhyme

A turkey in sheep's clothing

"Fattening up time" the wall calendar read

which meant only one  thing to old farmer Ted.

Christmas was coming and there's money to be made

you see the bigger the bird the more he'd be paid.

 

He'd saved up all year and bought high quality feed

to ensure that his flock was the best he could breed.

So this year Ted's turkeys would be the tastiest in town

and the best biggest...

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Christmasfarmerfunnyhumournarrative poemstoryTurkey

That Which Autumn Leaves

That Which Autumn Leaves

 

The clowns were funny in the ring,

as they joked and tumbled and fell -

but in the camp, after the show,

they made our young lives hell.

Still in their masks of garish paint

and drunk on Vodka shots,

they cut and bruised and beat us,

hatching cruel, twisted plots.

 

I never saw the demons

lurking safe behind the masks

...

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autumncaravancircusguiltkiller clownsnarrative poemredemption

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