I Am – A Poem

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

To Whom It May Concern – A Poem

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.

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What Must Be Done – A Poem

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.

 

Hoping They Hear Me

English: Fragment of the USSR greeting card with calendar and assistant postal markings advertising zip-code writing, 1962 Русский: Фрагмент поздравительной открытки СССР с календарным и дополнительным почтовым штемпелем, призывающим указывать почтовый индекс, 1962 год (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tonight I did something I haven’t done in a very long time, and something I’d never done before.

I read a blog post here about how nice it is to get a handwritten note or letter in the mail, and I decided that I would do the same.  I pulled out my dusty stationary and began writing a note to my mom.  It’s been a very long time since I wrote a letter to be put in the mail and sent off, even longer since I wrote one by hand that wasn’t written on the inner flap of a greeting card.

After I finished the letter to my mom, I didn’t want to stop, so I decided I would write another letter, this one to my nephew.  He’s almost 16, and his home life is pretty rough right now, and I had intended to just write him a little note telling him that I loved him and stuff, but it turned into a lot more.  I wrote to him about how soon he would be a man, and how important it was to know just what kind of man he wanted to become.  I told him to respect himself, and to respect women, even when they don’t respect themselves.  I asked him to be kind, I told him that there was always time for one more hug, and that no one ever regretted not being a worse person in life.  I told him that I loved him, and that I would be there for him if he ever needed me, and that the hard times will pass, even though they may not seem like it right now.

Breaking Through Blogger’s Block

? Block (Photo credit: Cut To Pieces)

Every now and then, I find myself with Blogger’s Block, a.k.a. Writer’s Block In the Blogging World.  I’ll sit here staring at a blank screen, feeling frantic as I watch the minutes creep past, worried that an idea just won’t come.  I’ve sat for hours trying to think of a topic to post about sometimes (not literally, I get up to do other things, but that page is still there, accusingly naked, in my mind), and as the time ticks by, I get that sinking feeling that I may not be able to come up with anything to write about at all.

Recently, I’ve come up with a few tried and true ways to smash through Blogger’s Block, for me at least, and I thought that perhaps some of you might appreciate the suggestions, so here they are:

The Only True Lack In Our World Today

Exchange Money Conversion to Foreign Currency (Photo credit: epSos.de)

We are led to believe that there is scarcity in this world, and that is a lie.  The only thing there is a shortage of is money.  The goods are there, the food is there, the power (solar, water, geothermal) is there.  The only lack we have on this earth is lack that was created by those who wanted to have, while others had not.

What is the only thing standing between the homeless and a home?  Money – the materials exist, they simply cannot afford them.

Record Highs

Thank you (Photo credit: Avard Woolaver)

I’d like to send out a little thank you to all of my subscribers, as well as those of you who stopped by my blog yesterday for a visit.  You really made my day!  Thanks to you all, yesterday was a record high for Free, Fun or Interesting, surpassing my previous ‘Best Ever Views’ by nearly 35%  and the number of followers is also at a record high.  I will spare you the reenactment of the happy dance I did when I saw my stats this morning.

I truly appreciate all of you taking the time to read and/or comment, and for putting up with a plethora of subject matter.  The fact that you guys put up with my special brand of crazy really means a lot to me, and I hope that, even though my topics are all over the map, you continue to find something worth reading here for a long time to come!

Thanks again, and you all are awesome!

The Helping Hands Project – Artists Unite!

Help Others (Photo credit: Keoki Seu)

Please allow me a moment if you would, to introduce you to a fellow artist.

Born in Iceland in 1969, Artis considers himself a ‘visual artist’ and I would have to agree.  His photography is certainly a visual delight.  He’s spent a lifetime developing his personal style, which he calls ‘No-Rule Art’, about which he says, “I simply make my own path without any particular rules or guidelines. In that way I feel free in my creation of my work.”  As a producer of high quality photo art from Scandinavia and Europe, his love for not only his art medium, but for his subjects is made obvious in both the words he writes, and his work on display.

What differentiates Artis from the thousands of other blogs on the internet? you may ask.  His difference is in the way he has approached the dilemma we bloggers/artists face; that of being one of a million faces in a crowd.  I ran across his blog by seeing a post he had written, calling artists- whether you create your art with a camera, a paintbrush, or a typewriter- to come together and help one another.  To reach out a hand to others, and help promote and share our work as a united group, using our blogs to help spread exposure for one another; to share with our readers a glimpse of art/artists that they otherwise may not have run across in this enormous world of the internet.

Soul Shells (A Short, Dark Story)

Crab Hides In Gastropod Shell (Photo credit: Maitri)

He was dead.

I knew it.  Deep in my bones, where you know things.  He was dead and I knew it.  I still couldn’t believe it, because sometimes the mind cannot accept what the bones just seem to know, but my brain accepting it or not didn’t change the facts.

I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.  I’d never seen a corpse before, outside of a funeral parlor, and a morbid curiosity I hadn’t known I possessed seemed to draw me closer.  Closer, and closer still.  The whole time I was inching forward, I watched him.  Looking , searching for something.  What, I’m not sure.  Perhaps a shallow rise and fall of his back, or a whisper of breath, enough to move the scraggly hair that had fallen over his face.  Something, anything my disbelieving brain could use to tell my bones that they didn’t know quite as much as they claimed.  I hoped for a sign of life.  I would have prayed for it if I still believed in God, but I did hope.    Once, I thought I did see something, but my mind recognized the illusion for what it was.

When I was close enough to touch the body I stopped, unsure.  I’d seen enough crime dramas to know you weren’t supposed to disturb a crime scene, and I had the type of luck that I could be pretty sure that right about the time I touched something, someone would come along, and I’d end up taking the rap for killing the guy myself.

Love

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.