[x]

The little thingsThe little things they said,
Are what matters the most.
Hello! Goodbye! Can I help you?
Providing aid to some lonely ghost.
Are all forgotten in the blink of an eye.

I'll walk into a room and say good morning!
Noone looks up, but a few albeit they were yawning.
I'll stand in line, waiting on my turn.
A gentleman cuts in front, looking quite stern.
A passerby bumps into me and spills coffee on my shoe.
Not a word of apology, even as I smile "Hey, howdy do?"

I'll stand on the sidewalk next to a puddle so clear.
A driver will pass, splashing me while the street kids cheer.
I'll leave my phone unattended next to my l

As kidsThe grown-ups would ask, when I was a kid,
What do you want to be when you get big?
We were doctors and lawyers and superheroes!
All said cheerily through mouthfuls of cheerios.

Replies would be long, replies would be short.
"I want to be everything!", I said, with thought.
The bliss of childhood, I'll never forget.
Not once would a decision be filled with regret.

As we grew older, we knew were fooled.
The innocent friend that we called life,
Had an envious twin known as strife.

Ah well break's over, so back to work I go,
As dull as it is; to this day I'll still be reminiscing,
About a past much more exciting.

Kirsten Z. jacob

My Heart's Moth DanceI always loved,
Butterflies.
I wanted them to
Be born in my stomach,
Unexpectedly.
I wanted to feel,
Their fragile wings
Flutter inside.

And so they did.
But they were too frightened
to escape.
My voice became thin air.
And I,
wanted my heart to fly
So it could tell you...
That you're the meaning,
of love.
Hope.
Life.
Light.

I never really understood
Moths.
They were like my words,
Tripping over
In my voice,
Stuttering and stammering,
But you came along,
And moths
born in my heart,
Pushed all my words,
Out of my mouth
In rambles of
Beauty.

You have shown me,
How special moths are,
Your eyes shone the light

My AmbitionsMy Ambitions.

People tell me I have talent.
And my attempts at poetry are noble and valiant.

I want my words to leave a mark on this earth.
I write for myself, to give me some sort of worth.

I still think anyone is capable doing I what I do.
Paint the same or an even better image of the one I just drew.

I've been accepted by a few, but rejected by many.
This life is perpetual and the strain is getting heavy.

I write for you, as well as for me.
I write from my heart, to set my mind free.

A man who writes poetry isn't the epitome of masculinity.
I had to disregard the stereotype and over come the humility.

My writing is all I have

UndefinedUndefined.

This message is confined to my draft folder.
Uniquely unrefined and unclassified.
Impulsively constructed and expressed.
Unedited and grammatically incoherent.
Disjointed and unintentionally unaligned.
An unorthodox colloquial format.
Where punctuation refuses to be punctual.
Too jagged to be placed in to a framework.
Too contrastive to be accepted.
Labelled as unintelligible and unprofessional.
Indefinitely definitive within its own right.
Distinctively and informally introduced.

Impossible to understand.
Wielded by the unconfident hand.
Venomously categorized.
Abusively criticized.

People fear what they cannot

RoseLove bears her thorns to the hearts outworn:
But her lips always bloom in the valleys torn.
If you see me weeping, and catch my heart, leaping,
And withstand the sting -the flame- of my love

Tidy Little BoxesEverything in tidy little boxes
All of my memories are pigeon holed
One section left vacant for all the dreams
A million for the dreams that they stole

All the boxes with perfect right angles
Protractor now set to ninety degrees
With such rigid habits I wont survive
Please will you come and make a mess of me

Everything in tidy little boxes
While your dreams remain scattered on the floor
It's best that way, mine are hidden away
And stay so very easily ignored

All the boxes are stacked up together
So high one day they will surely fall down
Either that or they will be stacked so high
They'll encompass, suffocate and surround

Eve

Your poemThis poem is from you
Written down by me
Although it isn't mine
It's yours, don't you see?

I write down the words
but they come from your mind
even though you don't know
what you leave behind

I pick up what's left
and put it all together
I don't know what I do
but it's for the better

You say you can't write
but that's not your need
Just simply be there for me
it's the poet inside me you feed

Falling asleepI lie on my bed at the end of the day,
Letting all my troubles just drain away.
An intimate time I can look forward to
By bidding the world a warm adieu!

I close my eyes and say a short prayer,
Thanking God for all I hold dear.
Into the silence I slowly fall,
Just then a mosquito decides to call!

Its tiny wings create this horrendous sound,
So under the sheets I go, where I can't be found.
This hide and seek I always win,
Till it flies away in a beaten tailspin.

Finally now I can get some sleep.
Maybe even count some white fluffy sheep.
I take a deep breath when I felt a slight tingle
Under these sheets I was baking, medium

CapableCapable

Sometimes I think we are able,
Of doing more than we are capable.

Believing the unexplainable.
Achieving the unobtainable.
Understanding the unspeakable.
Admiring the unsuitable.
Depending on the unreliable.

Heart AcheHeart Ache.

People constantly telling me you're not the same.
But I see all you females as the same despite your names.
I've had my heartbroken before, but you are not to blame.
But instead of removing I'm adding to the bloodstain.
The mark is healing but the impact still remains.
Fought my gut feeling and let you in to my mind frame
I can't help but think my history is repeating itself once again.
Security is one mind set that I find hard to obtain.
But after the last time, I said I would stop and refrain.
I said to myself I would never end up in this same situation again.
Maybe she is right and my past has driven me insane.
Mayb

Gaia's tearsThe familiar calm when the air runs cold
Happens more frequently as hurt gets old.
Time slows to a halt for the oncoming rain
Sparking deep from the core of the source of Her pain.

As the skies turn dark, filled to the brim
By countless sealed letters personally sent.
With written concerns calling relent.
Silence! Comes Her beckoning whim.

The roar of the thunder, the weakening gates.
Till they hold no more, breaking hinges and free inmates.
Falling with order rather haphazardly.
Hitting their mark with a message immediately.

'Tears from Heaven', fall far from home.
Misread origins and meanings from a grand tome.
Breathing

UnilateralStorm clouds assemble
like generals and senators
plotting a coup.
Dark suits blend together,
a swelling phalanx,
a nameless anomaly of rumbling whispers
and long shadows cast.

An unwitting accomplice,
the sky ushers the conspirators in
like an aspiring actor
climbing the stunted steps,
the wooden spine
of a crowded theater,
with a silver lined secret in his breast pocket.

They begin to whirl,
a funnel like a jagged spiral
from green earth to mercury stratus,
poised to take the light;
A stray cloud wanders,
dares to swallow up the sun
and, for a moment
all are unified beneath a single veil,
blind and waiting.

Everlasting LoveEverlasting Love.

Two wrinkled hands intertwined with one another.
Their frail legs moving at a notably slow pace.
They always come in to the store every Sunday morning.
Buying their weekly packets of bird nuts and wild berries.
The elderly man always gives me a subtle wink whenever he sees me.
Comments on the amount of female partners I should be courting.
While the elderly women casts an innocent smile.
Ignoring her husbands repeated jokes and tugs him out the store.

The next week the elderly man is pushing his wife about the store.
His arms straining from the weight of the wheel chair.
He holds up two variations of bird berries

Life's LessonLife's Lesson.

The hardest thing in this life…

Is to live in it.

Kela lewis-morin

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More from ~KirtZJ

Mistakes[Mistakes]

"I've made a mistake" is something I'll say
Which would be quite often, almost every day
About silly little things that don't mean much
And really big things that cause a lot of fuss

Forgetting a book and even a test
Or not remembering when you confessed
Not taking out the trash at the end of the day
That leaves this strong smell that just won't go away

Arguing with my best friend, losing them at the end
A relationship that could take many years to mend
Even making new enemies at every right turn
After acting without thought or any concern

The things I've said, the acts I've done
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Thick grey clouds float in the sky
Casting dark shadows over my life
The wind picks up and begins to blow
All of my problems that won't let go

Nothing ever goes according to plan
Then the rain falls over the land
Trying hard to make things well
As drains and rivers begin to swell

A torrential downpour is what this be
With zero visibility in front of me
How did I get myself here into thee?
Ignored the signs I did foolishly

Can I pretend to be brave in this storm?
By sitting in the eye all safe and warm.
Or I can go out timid and afraid
The only way of ending my own masquerade.

When rain falls in life

How To Use Life[How To Use Life]

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With a full cartridge, something's about.
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You've got Writer's Block mate, it's a terrible case

The symptoms are some of the worse things to *bare
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Do you find yourself doing, the things you've put off?
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"Where there is a will, there is a way"
You'll hear them say.
Follow it down a path, don't let it go astray.

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Kept tight in a bottle till the time is right
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Submitted: May 24, 2012
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My day off

by ~KirtZJ, May 24, 2012, 3:26:57 PM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Traditional Fixed Forms

This morning I woke up fashionably late.
Something to which I could never quite relate.
Lying on my bed, I paid my respects,
To all those unsavory mornings that were just so complex.

Waking up early to a deafening sound,
Thinking if only that alarm was never around!
Jumping out of bed to my morning routine,
Around the house, up, down, left, right even in between.

Pulling on my clothes disregarding any options.
When I get a job, suits would be a simpler concoction.
Even the most important meal was never part of my day.
Just maybe choking down some toast in a confused disarray.

Out the door I go, grabbing my stuff.
Mentally checking my phone, wallet, keys and books, in a huff.
I stumble outside into the cold chilly air.
It wouldn't help, but quite softly I'd swear.

Following a plan, that's part of the norm.
Into the world I go and so I conform.
Everyday forever the same thing it would be,
Just so long as no one changes that unspoken decree.

The glow of the sun shone through the window,
Cast on my sheets, so warm and yellow.
Lazing in bed, I knew what to do.
This feeling of downtime was quite overdue.

Today's my day, so I'll do what I want.
Maybe read a book like the big ones with fine font.
Or even go on a short jaunt, so long as I get back early.
Since tomorrow will be the same unrelenting story.

Kirsten Z. Jacob