Forever Creating

A crystal dewdrop twinkles in the sun
A little furry spider weaves his web.
He’s intertwining, overlapping; spins
and spins to make, to shape, and to create
a simple work of tranquil beauty. He’s

just like the painter with his brush in hand
and a white canvas before him, he will
create when inspiration strikes, but for
now, he will simply watch, observe the light
that dances on the haystacks, that plays in
your eyes, that surrounds you with warmth, the light
embraces nature with its touch. He smiles
and paints with pastel colors, gently, he
puts vivid images, visions from his
mind on to canvas. How serene, a work
of art. He paints and paints from day to night,
just watching the waves, the stars, the life that
goes by. He sees, he paints, and he creates.

Just like the writer with his special quill
pen, who puts words on paper, which brings things
to life. He writes and writes from dawn to dusk
of people, places, and weird events. He
shares heartfelt emotions, his joy and pain,
his dreams and hopes. He shares his fantasies;
he beckons words to come alive. He writes,
he types, he makes, he shapes, and he creates
through time and space, eternal, just like God.

forever creating
– Images taken from Google

So Precious, So Ephemeral

A soft breeze drifts by
as you open your eyes
to the rising sun
emitting an ivory light,
so breathless, so beautiful,
full of life.

The scent of fresh grass,
a newborn’s cry,
birds singing their song
to the whispering wind.

Feelings emerge,
overwhelming you.
Love… life… everything nice.
The birth of a new day…

but everything changes…
when the sun starts to set
from day to night –
yellow, pink, purple, navy
BLACK!

Soon the twinkling stars
will disappear…
loneliness, fear, neglect,
guilt and shame,
who is to blame?

The breathing of the lungs
in and out,
the chest continually rising
up and down,
so quiet, so still…

The rose withers away,
no longer beautiful,
no longer loved.

The beating of the heart
starts to dissipate.
Time is ticking
away.

Blood clotting in the heart,
memories clogging the mind.
The flicker of hope
begins to dim…

A knock at the door,
it is time…

Life…
so precious,
so ephemeral.

A Kaleidoscope of Colors

A kaleidoscope of colors
twirling in my mind.
How can I describe
the feelings I feel inside?
Can I open up my heart,
hoping to open up your eyes
to see the side of me
that you do not know?

Sensations tingling in my spine,
sounds buzzing in my ears,
fear pounding in my heart.
The deeper we go,
the darker it gets –
shades of red and purple,
and chromatic blacks,
but on the surface,
all you see is yellow.

Shining brightly,
a smile on my face
with tears deep down inside.
A kaleidoscope of colors
twirling in my mind.
Do I dare to show
the side of me
you do not know?
The side that isn’t
yellow?


Image from: http://henpantha.wordpress.com/2011/09/26/needle-point/

The Sense of Urgency

I find it amusing to see cars race to cut me off only to be stopped at the red light, needing to brake furiously.  Americans are often in a hurry to accomplish so many things on a given day that they fail to see the beauty in the world.  I try not to be one of those people, so I make it a conscious decision to take a moment to breathe.

The Sense of Urgency

Cars on the freeway
speeding and braking,
braking and speeding,
drivers on the freeway
cursing and cussing,
cussing and cursing
because they’re gonna be late.

People in line
crossing their arms
stomping their feet
cursing and cussing,
cussing and cursing
because they’re gonna be late.

Tick, tock, tick tock
what is the meaning
of the clock?

clock
Every delay
can make you late
for a meeting,
a workout,
a dinner,
a hangout,
or a sitcom
in bed.

Every delay
is an opportunity
to enjoy the moment,

to watch the  sun set
in brilliant colors,
to watch the rain reflect
off wet pavement,

to sing along
to a song,
to listen
to the angelic voice
of the cashier,

to see a child
smile
from pure joy,
to simply
take a moment
for yourself
to cherish
every delay

every day
and make it well spent
because you never know
when your last delay
will be.

Not Even the Trees

Steel-toed boots, high-heeled shoes,
K*Swiss, Nike, Doc Martins –

Soles on wet pavement
taking step after step,
long-legged strides,
some in jeans, some in skirts.

Soles on reflected orange lights,
shimmering green, flickering yellow.
What does it mean?
The meaning is lost.

Owners of soles
on the same path.
North, South, East, West,
they converge and diverge,
but it’s still the same path.

Through raindrops on wet pavement,
passed storefronts and passing cars,
longing for merchandise,
longing for the past.

Heads bowed down
staring at puddles
of memory,
ripples
of emotion.

The soles walk on,
seeing but not seen,
seen but not seeing,
in the dark, dark night.

The wind whispers
to the trees
and the trees
whisper back,
pondering, contemplating
the meaning
and the meaning
is lost.

trees

Writing Challenge:

Now it’s your turn –

  • This poem was inspired by the song Not Even the Trees  by Hootie & the Blowfish
  • Write a poem based on a song that speaks to you.
  • Enter your poem as a comment below.