His Poise
Look at who is next to you,
how he sits there
Like coffee being poured
from the pot—who are you?
What is he doing,
as he sits there in his head.
It makes me wonder,
all the time. Have you ever
noticed me thinking about you?
No—when he looks over at me.
When he blinks his eyes,
that is how he shows he cares
like a bird flapping his wings.
He never had had a chance.
The wind will take your
ashes one day—dust
of your soul will float on,
I’ll find someone else to look at
As his thoughts soar on
to another great mind out there
his death will be a shame,
and he will be greatly missed
he’ll never be able to fly until
he breaks through his shell.
Until then, he’ll sit there,
wearing his plaid shirt over his chest.
His tight black jeans
and slick black boots on his feet.
Sitting there and thinking
and blinking.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Seibles Imitation
Inside my head
There is another mind at work
Inside my head
I close my eyes My world goes black
Everything is gone.
I think of one idea – I
then interrupt it by another
one idea colliding with another
And with another idea
Creates a new understanding
As if my brain creates new ideas
Not knowing if these ideas were even possible
I open my eyes to let the light in
To shine on my thoughts
It bring my thoughts to life and give
Them a mind of their own
Like a car that can
Park itself without any help
I know why I think the things I do
I just wish I could touch these thoughts.
But for now I’ll have to keep my eyes shut
And hope my thoughts make their move
There is another mind at work
Inside my head
I close my eyes My world goes black
Everything is gone.
I think of one idea – I
then interrupt it by another
one idea colliding with another
And with another idea
Creates a new understanding
As if my brain creates new ideas
Not knowing if these ideas were even possible
I open my eyes to let the light in
To shine on my thoughts
It bring my thoughts to life and give
Them a mind of their own
Like a car that can
Park itself without any help
I know why I think the things I do
I just wish I could touch these thoughts.
But for now I’ll have to keep my eyes shut
And hope my thoughts make their move
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Wojahn Immitation
Recovery of a Removal
In one room the woman rests from her removal,
Peacefully before she wakes to inuring pain.
In the other room the girl grips the paper cover,
In pain while the laser pierces her skin.
The woman has the support of her whole family,
As they wait patiently and quietly in the lobby.
The girl is all alone there,
No one there to support her. Only to scorn her.
The woman slowly cracks her eyes,
Her chest had been sewn back together.
The girl squeezes her eyes closed in pain,
Her bad decision being zapped off of her body.
The woman’s family comes into the room with tears in their eyes,
Thankful that the doctor said they think they removed all of it.
The girl looks for a glimmer of support from someone in the room,
But no one will hold her and tell her that it’ll all be over soon.
The woman pulls her gown down to see the damage done,
But the bandages that cover up the incision are wound too tight around her.
The girl looks over towards the pain to see the damage done,
Half of “Michael” began to fade away.
The woman slowly fades into sleep and her family leaves her to sleep,
But she still wondered if they got all of the cancer out of her body.
The girl gets up off the table and loks in the mirror at her lower back,
She remembers back to what made her want to get his name on her body.
The woman prayed for strength during recovery of a tumor.
The girl prayed for strength during recovery of a broken heart.
In one room the woman rests from her removal,
Peacefully before she wakes to inuring pain.
In the other room the girl grips the paper cover,
In pain while the laser pierces her skin.
The woman has the support of her whole family,
As they wait patiently and quietly in the lobby.
The girl is all alone there,
No one there to support her. Only to scorn her.
The woman slowly cracks her eyes,
Her chest had been sewn back together.
The girl squeezes her eyes closed in pain,
Her bad decision being zapped off of her body.
The woman’s family comes into the room with tears in their eyes,
Thankful that the doctor said they think they removed all of it.
The girl looks for a glimmer of support from someone in the room,
But no one will hold her and tell her that it’ll all be over soon.
The woman pulls her gown down to see the damage done,
But the bandages that cover up the incision are wound too tight around her.
The girl looks over towards the pain to see the damage done,
Half of “Michael” began to fade away.
The woman slowly fades into sleep and her family leaves her to sleep,
But she still wondered if they got all of the cancer out of her body.
The girl gets up off the table and loks in the mirror at her lower back,
She remembers back to what made her want to get his name on her body.
The woman prayed for strength during recovery of a tumor.
The girl prayed for strength during recovery of a broken heart.
Sister, With Love
Sister, With Love
Slowly she realizes something isn’t right
with her body anymore, as the pain
shoots down her left arm.
“Is it my fault?” She questions herself
but has no answer, no response.
Surgery is the only option. The doctors
have to remove the Hodgkin’s from inside her
immediately. She didn’t even have time to call her Dad.
The tumor was disconnected
from her heart and lung. The port
in place now, “Day 1 begins -- another journey!”
Each day will be a struggle for survival
during the next year. “My prayers
are with you, my friend.”
Remember your strength, Sister.
Slowly she realizes something isn’t right
with her body anymore, as the pain
shoots down her left arm.
“Is it my fault?” She questions herself
but has no answer, no response.
Surgery is the only option. The doctors
have to remove the Hodgkin’s from inside her
immediately. She didn’t even have time to call her Dad.
The tumor was disconnected
from her heart and lung. The port
in place now, “Day 1 begins -- another journey!”
Each day will be a struggle for survival
during the next year. “My prayers
are with you, my friend.”
Remember your strength, Sister.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Season of Change
The leaves are changing. The air becomes cooler as the wind begins to pick up. The days of over cast are here. The days of being overwhelmed with depression and emotions are here for now. Not another sad winter replayed over again. Change is in the air. It’s time to turn over a new leaf. The first one I pick up off the ground. No running this time. I’m going to break free from the branches that have confined me. I’m going to let the wind break me free from my solitude. Take me away to find something new, something better. I don’t want to look for it. I want to be placed there. A place that is right for me. The smells are of changing seasons and I’m about to fall away.
ENG 362 - Workshop
On Forgetting
Calm.
Breathe.
Calm.
Close your eyes.
Breathe.
Lay down in the sand.
Let the water spray over your body.
Let the wind blow your hair across your face.
Feel each grain of sand puncture your skin.
Listen to the wind.
Can you hear it?
Lose yourself in the sand.
Melt.
Fade.
Let the sand engulf your soul.
Be lost in the moment.
Forget that name, forget that face.
Lift up.
Leave your anger and sadness in the sand.
Let the tide take it away out into the ocean of tears.
Baptize your soul.
Remember your name.
Remember yourself.
ENG 362 - Workshop
A Pair of Pants
I needed to get a pair of pants out of the dryer—I could see the pants wadded up in the back of the dryer, warm and fresh smelling, ready to be worn out in the cold January morning. Every time I would come close to opening the door I could see the light turn on and then I would immediately close the door as fast as I could. The light scared me. How do I know if it ever turns off when I close the dryer door all the way? I stood in front of the dryer and then I paced back in forth. I would sometimes put my hand on the handle, think about pulling the door open, but then releasing my grip and then pacing some more. I tried to convince myself if I would crouch down behind the door when I opened it, the light would not find me. Then I would realize that my arms weren’t long enough to reach around and grab the pants. My pants were getting colder and so were my legs and I stood there in my underwear in desperate need to leave for work. The need for my pants and the obsession to avoid the light caused me to wear a skirt that day.
I needed to get a pair of pants out of the dryer—I could see the pants wadded up in the back of the dryer, warm and fresh smelling, ready to be worn out in the cold January morning. Every time I would come close to opening the door I could see the light turn on and then I would immediately close the door as fast as I could. The light scared me. How do I know if it ever turns off when I close the dryer door all the way? I stood in front of the dryer and then I paced back in forth. I would sometimes put my hand on the handle, think about pulling the door open, but then releasing my grip and then pacing some more. I tried to convince myself if I would crouch down behind the door when I opened it, the light would not find me. Then I would realize that my arms weren’t long enough to reach around and grab the pants. My pants were getting colder and so were my legs and I stood there in my underwear in desperate need to leave for work. The need for my pants and the obsession to avoid the light caused me to wear a skirt that day.
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