Tribute

I wrote a dozen poems
Off the top of my head;
Wrote them, wondering
If I was better off dead.
Because I fight with my brother;
I fight with my mom.
Sometimes I fight with my sister
When she goes on and on.
So I wrote a dozen poems
Just to clear out my mind:
They were pretty good,
And of the earnesty kind.
I would have shared them with you,
But I was out walking,
And by the time I came in,
Every one I’d forgotten!

Letters

My thoughts are my letters,
That never get sent, sir;
My thoughts are my letters
That never get done.

I mean to write letters —
But some are much better;
I mean to write letters,
But they’re never quite done.

They’re there in my mind, sir:
My kindest of letters;
They’re there in my mind, sir,
But what can be done?

Best left to their betters,
These thrice-cursed letters;
Best left to their betters,
For I am quite done.

Nonsense

Well, you’ve got my head a-scratching–
(You’ve got my head a-scratched?
“You’ve got my head a-scratching…”
We’ll just go with that.)

You’ve got my head a-scratching;
He’s a-scratching at the door.
He’s a-scratching for a-something,
But can’t find what he’s a-scratching for.

Yep, you got him all a-looking
But he’s all a-lost as to what for.
Perhaps it’s how to go a-cooking
Without a-losing all the flour to the floor.

And now he’s really all a-scratching
Because a-baking’s what he’s searching for;
Must’ve been a-deviled to say “cooking”!
Er… but that’s not what he’s a-scratching for.

He was a-scratching for ideas;
Must’ve a-scratched right through his core,
‘Cause when you’re a-thinking for some reasons,
You don’t go a-bulling through the China store!


Disclaimer: I have absolutely no idea what this is. Truly, I’ve no a-knowing where it came from at all! I was just a-going about my day, trying maybe not to slay anyone who even looks at me the wrong way (anyone and everyone!! Basically), and I decided I’d a-try and lift my mood by a-letting go a little. Don’t you be a-judging! I’m mostly just a-kidding. But… I’m still a-going. Yeah, okay, I’ll be a-stopping now. Don’t want to get stuck like that…

Debate

I am one to give up;
I am one to back down.
I am one to turn a smile
Upside down.
I am one to wander;
I am one to drift.
I am one to wonder,
Though thinking leaves me miffed.
I am one of many;
I am one alone.
I am one who dreams too much
Instead of waking up at home.

***

Am I one who gives up?
I’m sitting here right now.
Do I never smile?
But I laugh like a clown!
Do I often wander?
That doesn’t mean I’m lost.
And if it’s a penny for my thoughts,
Then they’re well worth the cost.
Am I one of many?
I often feel alone.
But if I ever dream too much
It’s because my dreams are someone else’s home.

Dare To Dream

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There are days I dare to dream,
Then tell myself it’s not to be:
“Foolish girl!” I’ll reprimand;
“Yes, you: For that is all they see.”

True or not, that’s what it seems;
And what else will it ever be
If this foolish girl
Doesn’t dare to dream?

Rabbit Hole

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Leave me down the rabbit hole;
Leave me crying in the rain.
Go back home where you belong:
You are not to blame.

Return back to reality:
Don’t dare speak its name.
Just leave me to my rabbit hole
And I will do the same.

Forgotten

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There’s an ill wind, blows from the east,
Yet always blows into my eyes;
And carries with it ashes of things
Ravaged, then by time disguised.

It blows the dust of men long-lived,
Maybe even wise;
And that of urchins, bony-ribbed,
Firm with deceit and lies;

And what remains of maidens fair,
And perchance the elven race:
This the wind, in passing there,
Invites me to face.

So if some days you chance upon me
And I have tears within my eyes,
Pray don’t leave me, wondering,
Or gaping in surprise;

For I’m just contemplating
Long forgotten lives
And trying to keep from thinking
One day those ashes will be mine.

 

Manipulation

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But they seem so knowledgeable!
Could it really be
That they don’t know any more
Than you, or than me?

A well spoken word
Is still just a word:
The word’s only action
Is from the well-rounded herd.

Don’t listen to the bark
Or let yourself be cowed;
There are times to ride the waves,
And times to stand your ground.

Read Me

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Read me, if you will;
Read me if you won’t.
Read me in my solitude —
But when I’m watching, don’t.

Read me when my back is turned,
Or when I’m lost in thought;
Read me when I’m found again —
Just don’t let yourself be caught.