Author: partikaposts

(Phase 3)

Sitting, patiently – in the street
A special figure she plans to meet
Over and over of shuffling cars
A man steps out, ready to greet

Standing quite tall – in draping dress
A man unowned and speaking less
His arms reach out like open bars
To fix once more the grateful mess

Talking through – in straight line
Of all the moments she said ‘it’s fine’
Bottled up in empty jars
Wondering why there was no sign

Rolling hills – inside the cave
Never once was she this brave
Letting emotions take more control
As she left her words at his grave

(Phase 1)

A storm as big as a wave
Commencing over itself in time
Pressing loudly in massive form
The sea as a musical chime
Deciding on who to save

She sat atop the dense rock
This was hidden through the trees
It was often dark in there
Nature was all she sees
Eyes set on wooden dock

So much does not matter
On the ink laid upon her hand
Her written truth comes out
Arising from the dirt sand
Climbing up the ladder

Commanding the tide is her key
With pen in hand and wet feet
Dawning on the sunset new
She wonders when her life will meet
She writes once more “you and me”

Headache on High

Simple sickness
Living in hearts
It is called a cold
Very young it starts

Heavy, holding
The headache on high
Aching, swelling
Dropping down from the sky

The simple falter
Multiple times a year
Ultimate pain
Fringing in fear

Floating, withering
That dreadful headache on high
Confident in struggle
Not the least bit shy

Even when physique
Is in top gear
The head still pounds
Like a frightening shear

The mentality it holds
Aided by the pill
Is not a sickness at all
If the person remains still

That damned emotion it seems
Is blocked by the minds
That the headache on high
It touches and finds

Reaching further inside
It goes deeper it seems
Growing vastly enough
The headache on high beams

When it finally leaves
To return another day
The headache on high
Finds its next prey

Forgive to Forget

The window only opens half-mass
As he lays in his bed – sweating, panting
He looks to his left to view an empty glass.
Was it the big one or small one?
Or was it the thought?
But the memories are gone . . .
He had said this a lot.

He cannot say much
He feels no ways
But as his thoughts take over . . .
The harder he lays.

It’s an equal weight,
But an uneven bar
Because the burden of most
Isn’t seen from afar.

Many have felt it
But few have lived with
I cannot see the impact
Of saying it’s a myth.

It won’t end tonight
Or tomorrow . . . but when?
He can only wonder
As the room begins to spin.

Further – further
From life he goes
Into the shadows,
Nobody knows.

Gone – gone
Erased from the past
Everything is over
Done at last.

When something new starts
He thinks of why
Before does not matter
And the result is a cry.

Time to let go
Distance to forget
Enough with the thoughts
Extinguish the amends.

Back to bed now
Where there is only mind
A whole day is next
Time to rewind.

Forgive it all
The thoughts that abound
Forgive it all
Light shall come around.