The Ocean Is Calling

Throughout the summer, I took a trip or two to the beach.  As I sat there, just staring at people walking by, I started to let my thoughts take over.  I wrote this poem just as the sun was beginning to set, as the families started packing up their things, and as the waves began to crash even more violently than before.  It was that time of day where time seems to stop.  Everything around you slows down and becomes so peaceful that you feel like you are sitting on air.

After sitting there for quite some time, with my notebook in my lap, I realized how late it was actually getting.  I started to pack my own things up to head home, but before I left, I looked at the sandcastle the family next to me left behind when they went home.  It was beautiful; all of the broken pieces of shells covered the top tier of the castle, and a single piece of seaweed was wrapped around the bottom layer.  It was just about up to my knees, maybe even a bit taller, but I’m sure that to the kids who built it, they felt as if the sandcastle was big enough for them to live in it.

As I walked away from the ocean, the warm sand, and all of the sandcastles, I turned to look back at my footprints.  Maybe someday, someone else will walk along the same path as those footprints, and it will lead them right to the ocean.

The Sea

When I looked out into the ocean

All I saw was some beautiful water

The blue and green of the sea

Took me away in my mind

I thought of all the times

In which I couldn’t realize

All the blessings I have

I don’t try to count them all

The sea is like a person

It has many qualities

Like calmness and patience

I can see the way it waits

It waits for the tide, it waits for me

It wants me to be there

It wants me to wait with it

To wait until the tide comes

The sea also thinks

It reminds me of life

And the values of a person

And the flowing of a cycle

As the sun goes down

I am still staring at the sea

Soon it starts to drizzle

And the sea seams to grow

I can imagine the water going up

Up and up until it reaches the sky

Then the sky would be welcoming

And the sea would come back down to me

Back down to me the sea would come

Then my daydream would come to an end

And I would slowly go home

Still thinking; thinking about the friendly sea

The Sun Will Always Rise

It certainly has been quite awhile since I’ve posted anything.  But I do have some new material!  Before I post some of my newer, more recent poems and things, I want to show this specific poem.  I wrote it a long time ago, and I am not sure how I even remembered I had this.

I’ve had this sudden realization during the past few days.  Not knowing something that everyone else is aware of is like waiting for rain in the middle of a drought.  Sometimes, you can feel like you are the only one who doesn’t know what everyone else is talking about, and that makes you feel left out; maybe even lonely.  But you know what?  I’m sure you know something that they don’t.    Things change all the time.  So why are we surprised when we become unaware of an event happening around us?  It is possible we just don’t pay attention to the world spinning around us, but I like to believe that since the world is always turning, our lives are always changing.  It is the constant cycle of life.

There is something that never really changes – the sun always rises in the morning, and sets at dawn.  That is one fact we can be pretty sure of.

 

The Sun

In the night

I hear the whispers

The sounds, the voices

Through the darkness

 

Calling me, calling, haunting

Pulling me in

Convincing me

Through the darkness

 

The blindness is thick

Usually silent

Standing outside

Through the darkness

 

Wondering about the stars

Bright, but not bright enough

Still calling, haunting

Through the darkness

 

Waiting, questioning, thinking

Understanding methods

Silence overtaking me

Through the darkness

 

The dark explains many things

All you need is patience

To wait, to wonder, to journey

Through the darkness

 

Into the silence

Completely still

Now it’s here, silence no more

The light is here, light up the world

The Rain Knows

The rain always gave me a sense of peacefulness.  I always felt secure when it rained, no matter where I was.  When I was younger, I didn’t quite understand where the rain came from.  I was just so used to it appearing.  A few years later, I knew the scientific terms, but I didn’t understand.  But now, I think that I’ve established a peace of mind whenever it rains because I know more about it.

Maybe I feel safe with the rain because I know more about it than it knows about me.  I don’t have to trust it.  All I need to do is listen, and it will talk to me.  There is really no effort on my part.  Just a few opening lines to match with the beginning rain drops, and I’m all set and ready to go.  The way the rain falls has always interested me, in one way or another.  Sometimes I would wonder, Where is it coming from?  But on other days, I would think to myself, Why won’t it stop?

During days when I thought the clouds would never pass, like when my best friend at the time moved to the other side of the United States, or when I thought I had lost someone very close to me, I knew that raindrops wouldn’t fall forever.  But in that mind frame, where my thoughts were frozen in my feelings, I began to understand what I was truly amazed by.

One warm summer day, quite a few months ago, I was babysitting my younger sister when she decided that she wanted to go for a walk.  As we started out, the bright blue sky was perfectly clear.  About halfway down the street, it started to pour rain.  I wanted to go back and get her inside, but she insisted we wait out the rain.  Her determination amazed me, even though she was at such a young age.  We continued to walk down the street.

By the time we had reached the end of the road, the rain had amazingly stopped already.  The seemingly endless amount of rain had ceased without warning.  We stopped at the stop sign at the corner.  When she looked out onto the road a rainbow had formed down our entire street.  I followed her as she tried to run to the end of the rainbow.

It amazed me how simply she saw everything, and how she adored the rain.

Alone with Myself

I know people say this a lot, but change isn’t always a bad thing.  I used to think that everything that resulted from change would make my life worse in some way.  I admit I was wrong.  But, to say the least, change isn’t always a great thing either.

It’s like finding the balance between light and dark in a photograph, or between black in white in a charcoal picture.  Art is as unpredictable as life.  Or, the other way around:  life is an unpredictable as art.

The creative thinking behind every work of art, whether it is a poem, a painting, a sculpture, etc., is unique to each individual person.  Everyone’s thoughts are as different as they are (which is a good thing!)  If everyone’s hopes and dreams were the same, how would anything ever get accomplished?

 

Red Flower

So many occurrences down by the river

The swing, hanging helplessly from a tree, creaks

A napkin left alone from a picnic fluttered in the wind

The river runs all the way across the land

But who knows where it will end?

 

Age-old ruins still stand tall

A mountain top overlooks the valley

The sunflower stays open all through the night

A hopeful star shines brighter than the others

Sometimes crazy hopes and dreams aren’t so crazy after all

 

You cannot judge a book by its cover

It will take you where it wants

Like the water in the river

How it takes the red flower, following the river

 

A lighthouse seems to see the beginning

The beam of light stretches all the way into the ocean

But who knows where it will end?

 

What Goes Around Comes Back Around

Have you ever felt like one day, there is no point in doing anything?  Nothing at all?  Even when you are sure that no matter what you do, something will come back around?  One word – Karma.

I am a firm believer that what you do, how you act, how you present yourself, and in what ways to you share your talents will always come back around back to you, for better or for worse.  I try to live life to the fullest, but sometimes, it seems like nothing you do will make anything better.  But you know what?  Then I always think of one word: Karma.

I wrote this poem on a day when it was windy, a bit foggy, and I was in a really depressing mood.  But somehow, through my deepest thoughts, I came up with this.  I hope interpreting it isn’t too much trouble.  But hopefully it will make you think closely about the words more than you would have during a day when everything was going your way.  🙂

Further

A maze of uncharted territory

Lost in a sea of words

Common life, strong gestures

A maze of occurrences in

The common word

Outside, like in the middle of the desert

Willing eyes looked into the maze

The center of the maze looked back

A maze of words that want to be written

The thread follows each, and I try to grasp hold of it as it passes by me

The Shadow of the Day

Each new day brings a new beginning.

Sometimes it seems like everything is falling apart, but honestly, doesn’t the next day or two always seem a bit better?  As I’ve learned from experience, that rough day (or week, in some cases) will always improve, no matter how difficult is seems to be.

Find your common ground, and glue your feet to it so it won’t move out from under you when you aren’t paying attention.

 

The Shadow of Petals

The sun streamed into the windows as morning broke

Like when you see a flower bloom for the first time

And how it seems as if an uncountable number of petals will fall before it does not grow anymore

The sun decided when it wanted to shine though the slightly opened window

But you cannot decide when you want it to leave you alone

It will leave you be when it gets tired

But no sooner, and no later

It notices you too, you know

How much longer will you wait until you have the chance to become familiar with it?

Names and Lost Songs

My day was going pretty well, until I found out that my one of my best friends was in a bad mood.  One of her family friends had passed over the weekend.  I felt so sorry for her.  But, there was really nothing that I could do at the moment.

So I’ve decided that I will make her brownies for herself and her family to enjoy.

But, in the meantime (while the brownies are in the oven), I wrote a poem.  Not really related to the tragic day, but you may be able to catch a glimpse of my thoughts.

There are so many voices in my head – the only way I know how to keep them all straight is to write poems.  My train of thought may run off the tracks a bit, but that is what traffic lights are for.  🙂

 
Names and Lost Songs

The river flows through and through, consistent with the tribal words that sing into the night

But the riverbank no longer hears the sounds of the many ghosts that whisper in its ear

It cannot remember the names of those who were only recently forgotten

If it weren’t just a river, it would have gone all the way into the larger sequences

It held on tight to the names it remembers

Although the river moved into the heart of the riverbank

The lyrics to the tribal song were flowing into its mind

It has not lost the names

The names of the souls who had returned

Returned to the riverbank, where so many were saved, but so many forgotten

The Letter Never Received

When I am tired, I tend to write poetry about something that I would normally not write about.  It’s like a different side of my writing.  When I wrote this poem, it was supposed to be snowing outside…

But nothing happened.  The sky was clear, no clouds in sight – a beautiful day, really, but not what I expected.  So I sat down and wrote a poem that takes place in the snow.

But I am still waiting on those snowflakes to come down and shower the earth and grass until no more green is visible.

This is a rather short poem, but maybe I will add onto it later.

 

The Letter

Who knew these blackbirds would sing through the snow?

The snow graciously landed on their tail feathers, not waiting a moment

Before covering the land with a clean blanket

It caught the attention of the lonely blackbird

He sat on the frail branch of the tall, bare tree

And past him flew the letter that was never received

Its ink showed itself to the snow-covered bird

 

 

Time on Valentine’s Day

Well, it is Valentine’s Day.  I love this holiday, but at the same time, I get dizzy from all the pink and red and flowers and candy and chocolate…

My friend told me today that Valentine’s Day should be renamed to “Single’s Awareness Day”.  I thought it was very good insight.

I was proud of myself for making it through today with my head held high.  All I did today was write poetry.  My notebook is now a little bit too full, but that is fine.  Anyway, Valentine’s Day is a day to hold your head up, put it in the clouds, and let it sit there.  You can think about anything you want, and no one will bother you (most likely) because today is special.  My friends and I celebrate today by buying a bag of candy and eating it all…I always feel guilty afterwards, but oh well.  It’s Valentine’s Day.

Here is one of my Valentine’s Day poems that I came up with today:

Time

Seeing the numbers flying off the clock

Like petals falling off the rose

Love blossoms into this beautiful masterpiece

And no one knows where and when it started

On your shoulder sits the heart of an angel

And you can’t lose it

Or you think you’ll lose everything

You are in your own

Like floating in air, above, and looking down

Don’t run out of time

Trust that you won’t fall

Throw your trust into their arms

Let it decide the rest

Because Time Runs Out

“Because time runs out.” I said this to my friend the other day in response to a question proposed to me: “Do you believe in love at first sight, and if so, why?” Now, my friend asked me this in a friendly conversation, but we are really close and I value their opinion very much.

I have a question for you: Do you think that we are shown inspiration directly, or do we see a form of love and we perceive it to be inspiration?
I asked my very close friend this the other day, and I was told to ask it to as many people as possible.  They said thinking about it brightened their day, and to my surprise, I agreed to share this thought.

And as a result of these conversations, I wrote another poem.

It is approaching

The treasure of the words lingers in your mind

As you study the concepts of the path

The path leads to a journey

And from the journey, a beginning

But the end is soon approaching

Tell them exactly what you mean

When you have the chance

Because time runs out

And because you change the course of time

I don’t know where it goes when it disappears

Speak your mind, say your words carefully

And far will they go

Do not be afraid when they leave you

It was their time to grow, not yours

And sitting here, I think about leaving

Death, concepts, and leaving

These things are newly formed to me now

Although I haven’t yet became familiar with them