along with the weather
i sigh along with the weather
finally a cool night
rain, consistent but not harsh
the most beautiful of lightening
and thunder from a far
rolling from the west to the east
gradually losing and gaining voice
trees highlighted
by such a beautiful specimen
even the pages that i write upon
are speckled by water
by light
leaves upon the nearest tree
are sparkling
people, i see run
from car to shelter
wind chimes are silent
the only noise i hear
besides nature
and neighborhood dogs
is my own voice crying out
not necessarily crying
but shouting
yelling
screaming
voicing
to be heard
the only thing
that is lacking
is content
as i put that last word on paper
the weather deepens
darkens
harshens
so i must say goodnight.
|
STEVEN HENDRICKS
YOU BRIGHTENED MY LIFE THE MOMENT YOU TOOK ONE HALF OF A STEP INTO IT INTO ME INTO MY HEAD SENDING POEMS SCREAMING, YELLING OF PAIN. OPENING BLOSSOMS. YOU ARE A BLOSSOM. FIRST - ONLY A SEEDLING, THEN SPROUTING ROOTS GRASPING SOIL FOR SAFETY AS A PRECIOUS CHILD GRASPS HIS MOTHER'S BREAST. ROOTS DIGGING DEEPER, EVOLVING. AFTER A PATIENT TIME, THE FIRST OF GREEN APPEARS A TINY GLISTENING PUSHING UP THROUGH THE EARTH GLADLY RISING, FOLLOWING ITS PATH TO SUNSHINE. LOOKING FOR A DRINK A MONTH OR TWO AND MORE POEMS MORE WORDS ARE EXCHANGED MORE MINDFLOW MORE SPILLAGE OF SOUL. YOU, A SEEDLING HAS NOW SPROUTED ITS FIRST LEAF UNCOILING FROM THE STEM - SPILLING OPEN AND SPEWING HAPPINESS UPON ANY WITNESS DISPLAYING PRIDE AS IF NO OTHER LEAF EVER EXISTED. HOURS, DAYS, WEEKS PASS AND MORE EXCHANGES ARE MADE DREAMS, WISHES AND HOPES BECOME THE TOPIC OF DISCUSSION BOATS BEACHES BRIDES AWAIT LIPS FOR REVEALING. JUST THE SAME, FOR YOUR FIRST LEAF - A WISH HAS BEEN GRANTED A BLOSSOM SO TINY, BUT STEADILY STRETCHING PEDALS OUTWARD HOLDING A COLOR THAT WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE ONE THAT ENTWINES EVERY COLOR IMAGINED. PISTOL AND STAMEN ERECT AS NO MAN HAS EVER BEEN. A BEAUTY NO OTHER HAS EXPERIENCED. A LITTLE BLOSSOM - A LITTLE STEVEN. SO UNIQUE - SO BEAUTIFUL. AND TO SPEAK FOR EVERY ONE WHO HAS EVER EMBRACED YOUR PRESENCE, WITH EACH AND EVERY LIFE YOU HAVE TOUCHED, ANOTHER SEED IS FERTILIZED, READY TO CREATE, TO LOVE TO GROW. THANK YOU |
Contemplation
|
Colors spinning through your mind in shapes, spatters, blends and swirls. sometimes patterns and sometimes, nothing at all. the lights go down all around you so you can understand. candle after candle and just the right music. all comes together, sometimes in shapes sometimes in swirls. you raise your brush to the godliness of water. dipping the tip into the fertility of color. lowering the brush the creator to paper. although omnipotence presides, the brush does not know, only obeys only follows what the hand asks. line after line, sometimes in spatters, a life forms, a presence to be admired, to blend, to shape into another creature, creation, expression, exasperation Completetion. |
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Music
|
is something that can touch your innerself much easier than anything else. only some have that gift. listening to such a beauty can release so may bottled up visions. there are not enough bottle openers in the world. there are not enough caring parents there are not enough caring souls. but music is something that can touch, can inflict, affect, open and outrage. in the most angry moments, music has helped. the saddest moments, it was music and then we have our happy songs. music. such a release, such an eye opener. such a beautiful thing. not to be taken for granted. used, abused or disguised. dreamed about, yes. invading your thoughts, yes. those random songs that refuse to escape you. those that remind you, those that help. for those with the talent of music, don't forget it is yours yours and yours to share if you so please. but remember, make yourself happy with it, remind others with it. it will always be yours. but the first time you share it, you shall not be alone. others will either understand or interpret your talent into their own lives. it will always be yours. innerself. bottled up. beauty. release. don't forget. |
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an undertow
Like the undertow in a heaving current
I am being pulled, stretched, torn
Angels sing around me
Sing praise of a higher force of which
I cannot comprehend.
Voices rising higher, louder
Pressure gaining ground, becoming stronger
Falling downward.
Voices rising,
Sinker further.
Screaming in my ears.
Fingers reaching for help.
A cry no longer heard.
A tear left unwiped.
A pleasure unable to be found
A silence.
A stillness.
A darkness, pulling tearing,
Weeping.
|
embraced by everywhere
She sits on her front porch drawing what she
can, feeling limited; by the weather, the surroundings,
the time of day. God, so f'ing limited!
Day passed slowly- within an office...
no sunshine allowed, no trees, no grass, no 'urban settings.'
Yet she strives to accomplish,
to better her own self-
the light of a lone street lamp shines.
pouring its healthy glow onto a rain spattered street.
spreading as far as it can. Shine on, my
fellow friend- stretching your arms of light.
if only you could help the sun take flight.
cast your light so that the beauty of shadows
can be made. So dark, smooth and calming
to the soul.
She can feel you cast your light just as she feels
the breath of the sky around her. Moist and chill.
Breathing in her smoke, exhaling only healthiness,
taking in what it can... blowing out what it can,
giving life to leaves that stand so still, giving life to
hair that has been plastered by spray.
How can one not enjoy such a journey full of
light, breath and yes, rain?
She wishes she could blow like leaves
in the wind.
She wishes that she could be tossed about
like wind chimes- only to make beauty.
Ting, Tang, Chime, Chime... a melody,
a charming awakening from the cold.
The anger that has shat upon her
day can do nothing else but go.
as the breath of the wind inhales her smoke,
it also takes the unhappiness of the day.
"exhale" ... here comes the wind of time
the breath of life, so beautiful,
so untamed.
so alive.
so natural.
everywhere
|
Mental Talking
moments to myself
quiet yet full of noise
music, meows and mental talking
a silent conversation
'what do you believe in?', 'where are you?',
what shall become of your journeys?'
many answers, too many answers
come abroad.
the ratio topples over
answers are heavy with meaning
another meow
stretch and the head clears
just enough to alleviate one gram
one gram of water - helping the overflow calm.
a new song
rolling of neck and fingers crackling
the momentum of song digs well into consciousness
ounce at a time, the weight begins to lighten
blue onto white, escape is not allowed
pen onto paper - 'venting only please'
words when rolling off on tongue, stumble and stagger
ink onto tree - something private, something free
but in order to balance - freedom and privacy bash heads
privacy loses its war to public.
freedom wins with a release of words.
mental talking hits paper.
|
by wax and wick
a single fire
burning - not everlasting
only until wax and wick give
this one flame holds what most desire
some thing to burn for
a next to yearn for
a bottom
to hold up against
by wax and wick
spilling contents
only when necessary
the flame lives on
a day by day basis
waiting for a match to ignite
just one spark essential
and its next is born
by wax and wick
melting down
but holding up
against
the bottom
reminds me of
my days
from one to the next
by pen and paper
but i yearn for a different next
and stand strong against
my bottom
my end
spilling contents
only when necessary
|
Guardian Angel
|
A Mother both grand and great such a pleasure that for you, I create. A kind hearted soul with the softest of touch it is my Grandmother My Guardian Angel that I care for so much. With twinkles in her eyes and a love, one of a kind She is an angel on my shoulder a good conscience in my mind. She questions often of my life of what I know Pushing and nudging me further to grow. My Guardian Angel you have shown me the way to a family of love, I cannot go astray. I thank you and love you for being by my side. My Guardian Angel - You are my Grandmother My Pride. |
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i feel
|
i feel that every time i steal a moment to write it always starts out with i feel. and i wonder why. maybe it's because the only time i am able to steal anything it is only the moments i allow for myself my thoughts - concerning me my words expressing me my feelings of what is going on inside of me. so. i feel that sometimes my life is going so fast that i can't keep up i feel that i don't make enough for what i am worth i feel that i am not appreciated for all that i try to accomplish in a day i feel that i excess in areas where i should not i feel scared when it comes to taking big steps. i feel that i should. that i should feel happy with what i do have i should feel content with how my life is i should feel complete with whom i share my time with and i do, and i am and i will take that big step. |
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