That guy over there?
I’ll tell you friend
you may not believe me
but I knew him when.
If you’re not in a hurry
and have a minute or two
I’ll tell you a little story
about a guy I once knew.
He was nowhere near perfect
but he held his head up high,
not because he was special
he was just a regular guy. Continue reading
Example of my Springtime artwork. (Prints for sale! *wink*)
SPRING
I feel you near
the air fairly vibrates
with anticipation.
Mother’s raiments
wait impatiently to unfurl
in celebration.
White blankets fade
deferring to your preference
for emerald and pastels.
Old man weakens,
a kinder sovereign takes charge,
giving birth to change. Continue reading
Often we hear it said that the opposite of LOVE is HATE.
Please allow me to disagree.
For the true opposite of love
Is Apathy.
For the opposite of that which holds us in thrall
Is not to care
About it
At all.
AT 9/24/13
inspired by comments on the post below
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Blast from the past! This is an oldie I wrote back in my Sophomore year of high school… back in (cough)’96(cough).
Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think in the comments!
I AM
I am a wild animal in a cage Continue reading
This poem I wrote also about 4 years ago (apparently I’d gotten onto a poetry kick around the end of August ’09!) and I wrote it for my mom, but I thought it to be humorous, so I figured I’d share with the other moms out there, not just mine. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think in the comments! (You don’t have to be a mom to share your thoughts! All are welcome to!)
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN
I thought I made it
pretty clear
in my request to you last week,
that things aren’t going
as they should
and my patience has reached its peak.
I don’t know how else
to request
a certain change in plans,
I’ve grown quite tired
of being quiet
and censoring my demands.
Dissatisfaction
rules the day
so again, I will implore:
Dearest Family,
I’m not your maid
get your own socks off the floor!
Written by A.T. on 9/01/09
This poem is copyrighted to the author and may not be used or reproduced in any way without expressed written consent.
Please do the right thing and ask permission to do anything with my work other than read it where I have personally posted it. Thank you.
I’d like to personally think everyone who has served in the armed forces, ANYWHERE in the world, for ANY country, for risking your life for millions of people whom you will never know, and who will never know you. We all think we’re on the just side of battle, so no matter who you fight for, I’d like to say that I sincerely wish you didn’t have to… this is for you.
This is a poem I wrote almost exactly four years ago to the day. I’d love to know what you think about it. Love it? Hate it? Why? (Note: This is a rhyming poem, 99% of mine are, and although there are many who don’t like the style, give the content a chance, that’s all I ask, you can still dislike it at the end because it rhymes, LOL)
WHAT MUST BE DONE
Each day he awakes
knowing it could be his last;
each night he sleeps lightly
knowing the danger’s not passed.
English: A palette of watercolours and a brush. Deutsch: Wasserfarben und Pinsel. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
This morning, I was causally going through my reader, when I came across a blog post I had seen yesterday, glanced at the excerpt, and somehow gotten distracted and not actually read. Having the time now, I clicked on it. Oh, happy day! What a joy to read!
The other day, I had pulled out my old acrylics and decided I’d try to paint a picture. I decided I’d stick to abstract, since it requires less drawing skills (of which I sorely lack, outside of the occasional stroke of luck), and it turned out terrible. I put the paper down, washed out my brushes and said to myself, “Well, that was just as bad as I thought it was going to be. ” and left the room. I haven’t touched my paints since, because in my mind, I’d just reiterated to myself the fact that I can’t paint worth a damn.
While I was reading this post, my mind flashed to those paints, and that horrible painting, and I actually wanted to try again. I actually wanted to paint a bad picture. It had done what I have been unable to do for myself my entire life… Continue reading
A Japanese couple holding hands on the beach (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Our love didn’t fall from the sky and land in our lap.
It’s the kind of love that lasts a lifetime.
It’s not conventionally pretty or beautiful.
It’s scarred up- lumpy, bumpy and bruised.
It’s got laugh lines, wrinkles and grey hairs.
We had to fight for it, with it, and sometimes against it.
It hasn’t always been easy to live with, or seemed worth the pain to keep it.
But it’s ours,
and I think it’s perfect.
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