heartlike (heartlike) wrote in heartonpaper,

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various poems

some of them are short.. so i won't make a new post for every one of them.

i saw this tree in my dream
upward rising, swelling in esteem,
scraping up to the sky above,
touching the clouds, fascinated in love.
ever climbing, ever growing,
with endurance and strength ever flowing.
this tree, cut down nor threatened by none,
shows the world of all that can be done. 

my purpose of life is here.
because in this place I first learned to fear.
this sidewalk, this porch, this window, this pane
all are mine. with them I brave all rain.
but today, it is expected of me to say goodbye.
it hard to do when I long to be nearby.
my memories and loyalties, a roosted dove.
because in this place, I first learned to love.

what they cannot accomplish
there a few I know who breathe alone.
their path no one takes. their souls no one fakes.
their life, a tremor of unwanted fate and luck.
their birthright so condemned and their days lived so alone.
their eyes find no way through all darkness,
their words to be heard by no one and little spoke.
their destination no social knows. their motivation,
the hope of a better day, the hope of a lending ear.
there a few I know who breathe alone.
they work without noise and live without company.
their voices grow silent as the years flee on,
their will to be smouldered slowly out by destiny.
their fates were chosen because of who they were
their souls predestined by others because of what they cannot accomplish. 

seasonal life
The rain loudly pelts the roof outside
echoing into my open window by which I sit.
It pours to Earth as hail, destructive and devastating
but all at the same time, gentle.
The cold drifts into my window, chilling me entirely
defeating the purpose of hot cocoa and a blanket.
Rain pounds on the roof above me, like a dozen
marching men fascinated with parading on my house.
This cat that sits by me, wrestling a paper ball,
pauses momentarily to gaze at the raving rain.
It is here, and now, that the wind whistles and I can't
help but think of how much our promise has faded.
It's only been a few days, but it feels like it's been forever.
Perhaps that's because the hope we cling to
fades like a star beneathe our grasp.
Voices downstairs resonate and rise, laughter and
gossip in so a massive number peeling at the walls.
Kitten, so young and ignorant, follow to the source,
drawn by life to life, engrossed by the touch and light
of humans.  I, with direct orders to sway his path
from the likes he's drawn to. Bubbling giggles startle
me away from my window, the thoughts of you still
fresh on my mind. Foriegn, ugly eyes stare me down and
disect me like a mere science project, green with gills.
Enthralled in the food they bend over and obsessed with
getting me to eat with no apetite the same odd things.
They beg and coax and I continually reject and refuse.
No, I don't want desert. No, I don't want a Santa shaped plate.
Their outbursts make me listen more desperately to
the pounding rain, with hope that their voices will be
drowned out. If I could, I would wish them away and you nearer.
Doubt has so quickly seized our small, newborn hope,
crushing it and spreading the shards across a black floor.
But this time it doesn't really matter. Rain pelts the roof, fascinated
and drawn to life.
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