Gone are the days of independence
traded for housework
And new life goals
Of creating a family
And earning success.
No more immature debauchery,
Finished with pearls,
Longer hemlines
And modest necklines.
I miss the days
Of reckless fun,
But I’ve moved up
And on
And traded it for self love
And you.
Spring is like a perhaps hand
With fine lines that grow
After white Winter has thawed
To create warmth
And defrost you.
This hand creates life
When touching nature
And perhaps will bring smiles to pleasant neighbors.
This hand is weathered
And perhaps quite old,
But this hand brings us youth annually.
Yes, perhaps Spring is like a hand.
I am participating in NaPoWriMo 2013! If you’d like to participate, feel free to check out the link here: http://www.napowrimo.net/
For today’s challenge, the first line is from a poem by e.e. cummings that can be found here: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15407
Don’t fret, I will not just be posting poems because I like to mix it up, so I’ll be sure to post some other things as well 🙂 I’m excited to participate in NaPoWriMo! Thank you all for joining me on this journey 😉
The morning was met with cold
And darkness, not rays of gold
For the sun disappeared for lack of being bold
And left the sky empty because of the cold.
The sky has begun to turn a deep gray
Waiting for the blessing of the day
And for all the people to say “Dear Rain, go away.”
And fill the town with color instead of just gray.
Rain is harshly falling down
Every where you may look, the ground
Is wet through and through and all around
And will leave the wilderness fruitful from the rain that’s falling down.
There were times both happy and sad
Sometimes we were even mad
But you were always by my side
Buckling me in for the long ride.
We took a trip just you and I
With views that made me weep and sigh
And filled my heart with memories
As we looked out over the cold dark seas
Wondering about all the things to come
Leading us back to where we came from.
Then we hit a downward slope
I didn’t know how we could cope
I suffered through pain and being ill
But this year will be better still.
Festering, growing
Sheltered from the world
Until bitten, cored
And ripped from their homes.
They fall like bombs
Cascading from the sky
Where they land
With an inaudible explosion.
They are crushed
Swept away and forgotten
Or buried to give new life.
An egg
Tiny and round
Decorated with fine deep ridges
And microscopic internal architecture
More complex than its shell.
Mother left it behind
Attached to a leaf
A luscious green solitude
With a home and food nearby.
A caterpillar
A long eccentric worm
With 8 bit stripes and spindly-
Dangerous hairs.
It grows
It learns
It sheds its skin.
A chrysalis
The shell of a transformation
A new beginning
From youth to adult
Naivete to wisdom
And growth-
Tissues broken down
New structures, new architecture built
Made from browns and greens
That camouflage and protect.
An adult
A colorful butterfly emerges
Spreads its wings for the first time
Trying them on for size
And feeling beautiful,
Full of life
Ready to fall in love
See new places
And thrive.