1.
Blessรจd are the few that know youth's toils
Can'st thou see the fair pilgrim's pride?
The melancholy green in a maiden's eyes
That's sun-kissed upon summer's golden bride.
A heart that beats wild on a tempest tide,
An ocean deep where that heart doth lies.
Sailed for a fate of which
stars defied.
Can'st thou hear the west
wind straining?
Between gales lost echoes
banshee's cry
Bid thee farewell, the old
moon is waning,
The old world laid behind
with renewed spirits shaming.
Zephyr's golden lyre
bellows a traitorous sigh,
The fair maiden travels,
herself betraying.
2.
To a Craft That I Cannot
Craft
Poetry is freaking hard.
How can I compete?
When Shakespeare
When Keats
When Tennyson
Are the masters of their
craft.
I am the master of faking,
Of aching,
Of contemplating,
Of procrastinating,
Of annihilating
Any poetry that comes to
mind.
I try to craft a craft that
cannot be crafted by me.
With that I must raise a
glass in praise
To those who can phrase a
phrase.
I swear upon it by the
lords of the sonnet
That I raise a glass in cheers
to the masters of their craft!
So I’ve crafted this craft
that cannot be crafted by me.
Salude!
3.
An Ode to the Royal Felines
I feel like I am being
watched and judged.
Eyes that never leave my
side
Eyes that stare both
blankly and with contempt.
It is then that I remember
that there are at least three cats living in my home.
Call me crazy cat lady;
it’ll never phase me.
I have my lord defenders
and kingly felines at my side.
Lord Willoughby, First of
his name Esquire; also known as Sir. Willard the Conqueror.
Sir Oliver, King of Boo and
Keeper of the Fluff.
Lady Oreo, Queen of Nag and
Mother of Hairballs.
My home is their castle and
they rule with royal might.
I am but a peasant in their
eyes and they my superior.
I am a slave to their
purrs, their tufts of fur between their toes, and their magnificent bellies
presented to be rubbed.
I am the crazy cat lady who
endures and adores their looks of judgment.
I am a servant in my own
home but what does that matter
When a castle is a castle
and those who rule, rule with unconditional love
4.
To the Girl with the
Headphones: A Letter to my Autistic Sister
I wonder what’s inside that
head.
My sister, the quiet
reclusive ray of sunshine.
What is it like in there?
Are you locked in a
pleasant world?
Is it one that I can enter?
If so send directions
because I am quite lost.
Are you happy?
Do you suffer?
I know it’s hard to
articulate, I know it’s hard to express,
But I want to know…
Who are you talking to?
Is it only to yourself?
Or do you have your other
friends all jammed in there as well?
Talk to me please so I can
to get in.
I want to get in.
Do you want me in?
Or are you trying to get
out?
What is this limbo we are
trapped in?
I know I must enter your
world instead of drawing you out.
But let me know you are
happy instead of drowning me out…
Tell me you are happy,
please.
Silence is a hard pill to
swallow but it is all you can give
My sister, the quiet
reclusive ray of sunshine.
I wonder what’s inside that
head.
5.
Enemy, Thy Name is Writer’s
Block.
We meet again my long time
foe… writer’s block
Brain, why do you hate me
so?
Procrastination.
ADD.
Netflix calling me to
finish season 4 of a show nearly a decade old.
The cliffhanger from
chapter 26 you just have to finish.
Laziness, no you are never
lazy… just reluctant to write.
Gosh darn it, write
something!
Anything! Make it garbage
just write!
Try!
Write!
Think…
Think…
Think…
I’ve got it!
Nope, nope it’s gone.
Darn that was a good one;
at least I think it was…
It’s been four hours.
Do I give up now?
No.
Never give up.
Think…
Think…
Think…
I’ve got it!
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