The nature of me – A poem

My words are the leaves the trees grow,
I need them so I can bloom.
To stop writing is to leave me lost
Wilted, withered in the gloom.

I listen to the trees, they help me breathe,
Clear my head when it gets crowded.
They remind me the sky won’t always be blue
And my mind too, will sometimes be clouded.

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Blooming in the rain – A poem

april showers bring may flowers
and there is purpose in the rain
the human heart holds strength in powers
to control suffering when there’s pain

there are only shadows because there’s sun
without light all life would turn dour
with rain, melancholy flowers can bloom
no matter how broken, our heart is still ours

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Illusions of Significance – A poem

You are a chapter of significance enclosed in the story of me,
That was the chapter, and
Sometimes I write words and reread them
And struggle to find who wrote them.
Maybe my poems will never be read by you
Because I didn’t write them for you to read.
You are a mystery I will never solve because I am no detective
And I will never perfectly write you
Because you are not the one I am supposed to perfectly write.
You will always be significant,
Because you are teetering on the edge,
You are a question until I stop asking
But I am deciding to let it remain unanswered.

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To beginnings middles and ends – A poem

You say we ended
While still in the middle,
But if it’s over
Wasn’t that the end?
We’re in the middle of our lives
The middle of our growth
The middle of our timeline
In the middle of learning both
Who we are with each other and on our own.
I don’t know who I am yet
How can I ever expect to know who you are?

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Turning out.

Things don’t always turn out as we plan them to. I’d go as far to say that they never do. What is a plan, really? A wish, a dream, a fleeting thought? An idea? We can never truly plan for anything as unpredictable as the future. A plan changes as life does, as we do.…

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The ways a place can hold you

There are different ways a place can hold memories. Sometimes you see them and other times you feel them. It might be just a breath, other times the feeling can consume you. But either way it moves you and either way it’s there.

Sometimes it can be like a waft of familiar perfume that makes your heart skip a beat. Or it’s like you travelled back in time and you’re no longer standing there but surrounded by your past unfolding in front of you. As if your soul escapes your body for a moment and the only thing possible for you to do is stand there and feel it.

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Things the trees told me – A poem

Today the trees told me
That when their branches creak above me
It means they’re listening
And if I hear them whispering
They’re talking about me.
Today the trees told me
All the things they overhear
When we’re near enough
And our minds are loud
Every thought we think is clear.
The trees talked and listened to me today

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Used to – A Poem

I got used to the way
The wind in the chimneys
Sounded like ghosts.
You get used to all the things
That scare you
Disappoint you
Hurt you
When they’ve happened
So many times
Yet got no further than
The fright
The disappointment
The pain.

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Messages in bottles – A poem

Just the sight
Of these ominous oceans
Gives me the feeling
That these rocking motions
Are actually
Living in my heart
And my stomach.

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