Poetry 365

Not for intention, but still gone astray,   A state none but the subject can poss'bly allay,   Lost within an impenetrable shroud,   Unheard despite any cries made aloud.   So long thus spent in a lonely labyrinth,   A certain normalcy it begins to establish,   Until it no longer feels like being lost,    And that, my dear friend, is the worst of the cost.    But be it weeks or months or years,    Eventually the smoke, it clears,   The exit to the maze in sight,   Opportune, it seems, to reunite with light.   And once again breathe deep, fresh air,    No longer stagnant, moving nowhere,   Awhile lost, but always found,   Such is how it goes around. 

The sky Only several clouds in sight  The moon shining moderately bright The grass  Not quite so green  But still  There's so much to be seen  The night, tonight, will pass by slowly Alone, but for once, not feeling lonely  It isn't great, but nothing's bad  No cause to be happy, but neither sad  Appreciative, the word fits well Of all that the evening has to tell  In the quiet, the feeling will persist Nothing in world, tonight, to resist  Eyes half closed, but heart wide open  Neither empty, nor full, of any emotion  Watching the stars as Earth passes by Right now, life itself, it satisfies

Inspiration Is sometimes spelled pain And the words flow straight From your tattered veins Inspiration Is sometimes spelled joy And the words bubble forth With a strength none can destroy Inspiration Is sometimes spelled loss And the words are a raft To carry you across Inspiration Is sometimes spelled love And the words fall around you As though sent from above Inspiration Is sometimes nothing more than perspiration The words are just work What an odd little quirk

A chill in the air, but not overbearing Today, there's no reason for despairing The sky is light blue, not a cloud to be seen Today, both sides of the fence are equally green A breeze gently tosses the leaves in the trees They rustle and ruffle And it sounds so serene The sun is warm, but the air is cool To stay inside Would make one a fool All I need for today A friend with whom to lay And bask in the glory of this beautiful day

An odd feeling, in my stomach it sits Like a stone found deep within some pit But higher still, it's in my chest A tightened knot of deep unrest Mixed with frantic muffled fluttering Of some organ barely stuttering Then my throat, too, it constricts A hopeless silent derelict And with it all, a faint tickle Inside my body, a crawling prickle Like acid seeping inside out Imagination, there's no doubt "Feeling" is inaccurate A fact I can't outrun Unpleasant yes, but mostly numb I'll rest, I'll wait, but it shan't relent Until my mind slows down- silent.