☆°▪︎ THE COLOR AND THE BLUR ▪︎°☆

I

try,

.

a

n

d

.

try,

.

a

n

d

.

try . . .

.

.

.

t

o

assemble

.

a

n

d

.

align

.

t

h

e

.

lies . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

.

I

.

cannot

arrive

.

a

t

.

the

reasons

.

why . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

.

.

.

I

seek

.

b

u

t

.

cannot

find . . .

.

.

.

 ~ I

seek

.

b

u

t

.

cannot

find,

.

.

o

r

.

.

divide

.

t

h

e

.

lines . . .

.

.

.

 ~ I

cannot

.

find

.

o

r

.

divide

.

t

h

e

.

lines . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

.

I

believe

.

I

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

rather

.

b

e

.

blind . . .

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

rather

.

b

e

.

blind,

.

a

n

d

.

at

times

.

surprised . . .

.

.

.

than

bitter

.

a

n

d

.

unkind . . .

.

.

.

s

o

.

.

.

I

try . . .

.

.

.

I

try

.

t

o

.

assemble

.

a

n

d

.

align

.

t

h

e

.

lies . . .

.

.

.

I

try

.

t

o

.

assemble

.

a

n

d

.

align

.

t

h

e

.

lies . . .

.

.

.

I

try

.

t

o

.

assemble

.

a

n

d

.

align

.

t

h

e

.

lies . . .

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

.

.

.

a

.

brighter

design . . .

.

.

.

because

.

I

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

rather

.

blur

.

a

n

d

.

color

.

t

h

e

.

lines,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

be

blind . . .

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

rather

.

blur

.

a

n

d

.

color

.

t

h

e

.

lines,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

be

blind . . .

.

.

.

than

.

t

o

.

be

.

bitter

.

a

n

d

.

unkind.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in June of 2020 where the affected party experiences a heartbreaking loss and has trouble making the pieces fit. He or she attempts to find comfort and consolation and navigate beyond the tragic event – ultimately choosing hope, warmth, and kindness even if it means believing something which may not be completely true. I played the wonderful song “RIP” by Emily Haines in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

☆°▪︎ SOMEDAYS AND YESTERDAYS (THE ECHOES REMAIN) ▪︎°☆

I

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

wave

of

.

t

h

e

.

echoes

.

again

today . . .

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

echoes

.

t

h

a

t

.

remain

.

i

n

.

that

place . . .

.

.

.

 ~ a

warm

embrace . . .

.

.

.

 ~ a

subtle

trace . . .

.

.

.

o

f

memory

fades

.

a

n

d

.

faraways . . .

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

somedays

.

a

n

d

.

yesterdays . . .

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

somedays

.

a

n

d

.

yesterdays . . .

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

somedays

.

a

n

d

.

yesterdays . . .

.

.

.

played,

.

.

.

exchanged,

.

.

.

a

n

d

even

erased . . .

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

wave

of

.

t

h

e

.

echoes

.

again

today . . .

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

wave

of

.

t

h

e

.

echoes

.

again

today . . .

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

wave

of

.

t

h

e

.

echoes

.

again

today . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

almost

.

g

o

t

.

away . . .

.

.

.

 ~ I

almost

.

g

o

t

.

away

.

today . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

those

echoes . . .

.

.

.

they

blame,

.

a

n

d

.

shame,

.

a

n

d

.

still

remain.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in June of 2020 where the affected party occasionally revisits a past which haunts – leaving feelings of guilt, shame, and sorrow. I played the wonderful song “Uncertain” by Robert Deeble in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

☆°▪︎ THE WHISPER AND THE BURN ▪︎°☆

It

.

f

e

l

l

.

as

.

a

.

whisper . . .

.

.

.

 ~ a

.

whisper

.

l

e

f

t

.

unheard . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

I

.

do

.

n

o

t

.

know

which

.

w

a

s

.

worse . . .

.

.

.

the

urge . . .

.

.

.

the

blur . . .

.

.

.

the

blister . . .

.

.

.

o

r

the

burn . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

I

.

yearned

.

f

o

r

.

you . . .

.

.

.

I

.

yearned . . .

.

.

.

I

.

yearned . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

I

.

yearned . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

now,

.

i

t

.

seems

such

.

a

.

curse . . .

.

.

.

 ~ it

seems

such

.

a

.

curse . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

now,

.

I

.

know

.

y

o

u

.

were

.

t

h

e

.

first . . .

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

now

.

.

I

.

know . . .

.

.

.

that

.

y

o

u

.

were

.

t

h

e

.

first . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

I

.

could

.

n

o

t

.

form

.

t

h

e

.

words . . .

.

.

.

 ~ no,

.

I

.

could

.

n

o

t

.

form

.

t

h

e

.

words . . .

.

.

.

because

.

I

.

h

a

d

.

not

learned . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

could

.

n

o

t

.

discern

.

t

h

e

.

true

magic,

measure,

meaning,

.

a

n

d

.

worth . . .

.

.

.

until

.

t

h

e

.

pages

passed

.

a

n

d

.

purged . . .

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

t

h

e

.

pages

passed

.

a

n

d

.

purged . . .

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

t

h

e

.

pages

passed

.

a

n

d

.

purged . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

the

years

just

burned

.

a

n

d

.

blurred . . .

.

.

.

 ~ the

years

just

burned

.

a

n

d

.

blurred . . .

.

.

.

along

.

w

i

t

h

.

that

urge . . .

.

.

.

 ~ along

.

w

i

t

h

.

that

urge . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

that

whisper

.

l

e

f

t

.

unheard.

Reflection: This was a popular romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in April of 2020 as a reflection on missed romantic opportunities. I had so many of those earlier in my life and they would taunt and haunt me. I would always beat myself up about them – telling myself that I should have said something, or that I should have done something but didn’t. It took a while for me to overcome my shyness in that respect.

I played the song “I’m Not in Love” by 10cc repeatedly at low volume in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

☆°▪︎ A MOMENT MOVED ▪︎°☆

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

moment,

when

.

t

h

e

.

music

.

o

f

.

youth . . .

.

.

.

danced

.

w

i

t

h

.

two

.

i

n

.

tune . . .

.

.

.

 ~ when

.

t

h

e

.

mad,

martini

moon

came

.

i

n

t

o

.

bloom . . .

.

.

.

i

n

the

rush

.

o

f

.

the

raving

roar

.

o

f

.

that

flickering,

spinning

room . . .

.

.

.

when

anything

.

t

o

o

.

good

.

t

o

.

be

true,

happened

.

t

o

o

.

soon . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

almost

knew

just

what

.

t

o

.

do . . .

.

.

.

 ~ it

almost

knew,

just

what

.

t

o

.

do . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

the

moment

moved . . .

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

t

h

e

.

moment

moved . . .

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

the

magic

.

o

f

.

the

mood . . .

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

moment . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

then

.

i

t

.

was

gone . . .

.

.

.

 ~ gone

with

.

t

h

e

.

summer

song . . .

.

.

.

 ~ gone

with

.

t

h

e

.

dreaming

dawn . . .

.

.

.

 ~ gone

with

.

t

h

e

.

awkward

rights

.

a

n

d

.

wrongs . . .

.

.

.

all

night

long . . .

.

.

.

on,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

on,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

on,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

on . . .

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

moment . . .

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

moment . . .

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

moment . . .

.

.

.

t

h

a

t

moved

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

magic

.

o

f

.

the

mood . . .

.

.

.

It

moved . . .

.

.

.

It

moved . . .

.

.

.

It

moved . . .

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

the

magic

.

o

f

.

the

mood . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

I

almost

knew . . .

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

I

.

.

almost

knew . . .

.

.

.

just

what

.

t

o

.

do.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem I wrote back in April of 2020 where the contemplator looks back on the short-lived magic of young but awkward romances experienced in the days of youth – and ponders whether anything as wondrous might ever be experienced again. I played the excellent song “Strange Magic” by E.L.O. in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

☆°▪︎ THIS COVID-19 ▪︎°☆

All

across

.

t

h

e

.

land

.

o

f

.

the

free . . .

.

.

.

 ~ all

across

.

t

h

e

.

land

.

o

f

.

the

self-serving . . .

.

.

.

there

.

w

a

s

.

a

certainty . . .

.

.

.

 ~ there

.

w

a

s

.

a

certainty . . .

.

.

.

t

h

a

t

there

would

be

.

n

o

.

need

.

f

o

r

.

worry . . .

.

.

.

 ~ no

need

.

f

o

r

.

worry

.

i

n

.

the

land

.

o

f

.

the

free . . .

.

.

.

i

n

the

land

.

o

f

.

the

self-serving . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

it

would

.

b

e

.

gone

.

b

y

.

spring . . .

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

i

t

.

would

.

b

e

.

gone

.

b

y

.

spring . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

such

words

.

f

e

l

l

.

so

sweetly,

upon

.

t

h

e

.

armies

discreetly

never

seen . . .

.

.

.

marching

.

t

h

e

.

disease

.

f

r

o

m

.

across

.

t

h

e

.

seas . . .

.

.

.

city,

.

b

y

.

city,

.

b

y

.

city . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

street,

.

b

y

.

street,

.

b

y

.

street . . .

.

.

.

 ~ this

Covid-19 . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

now . . .

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

now . . .

.

.

.

with

.

s

o

.

many

suffering,

.

a

n

d

.

crying,

.

a

n

d

.

dying . . .

.

.

.

what

does

.

i

t

.

mean?

.

.

.

what

does

.

i

t

.

really

mean?

.

.

.

 ~ this

Covid-19 . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

each,

.

a

n

d

.

all,

.

a

n

d

.

every

member

.

o

f

.

those

select

societies

.

o

f

.

bickering

teams

.

a

n

d

.

self-serving

deceit . . .

.

.

.

.

complacency . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

conceit . . .

.

.

.

refusing

.

t

o

.

believe,

.

a

n

d

.

taking

.

t

o

.

the

streets . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

screaming:

“It’s my economy!”

“So set me free!”

.

.

.

“It’s my economy!”

“So give me liberty!”

.

.

.

because

.

i

f

.

you

don’t . . .

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

i

f

.

you

don’t . . .

.

.

.

I

will

still

.

d

o

.

as

I

please!

.

.

.

 ~ I

will

still

.

d

o

.

as

I

please!

.

.

.

f

o

r

I

will

still

.

b

e

.

having

.

m

y

.

parties!

.

.

.

a

n

d

I

will

still

.

b

e

.

engaging

.

i

n

.

my

social

activities!

.

.

.

a

n

d

I

will

still

.

b

e

.

freely

drinking

.

a

n

d

.

dancing

.

i

n

.

the

streets!

.

.

.

a

n

d

there’s

nothing . . .

.

.

.

 ~ no,

there’s

nothing

which

.

c

a

n

.

stop

me!

.

.

.

 ~ no,

nothing

which

.

c

a

n

.

stop

me!

.

.

.

 ~ not

even

.

y

o

u

r

.

decrees!

.

.

.

 ~ not

even

.

y

o

u

r

.

Covid-19!

.

.

.

s

o

the

cold

.

a

n

d

.

the

cruel,

defiant

absurdities

refused

.

t

o

.

take

heed,

even

though

minds

could

clearly

think . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

even

though

eyes

could

plainly

see

.

t

h

a

t

.

each

.

a

n

d

.

every

liberty

could

plant

.

t

h

a

t

.

seed . . .

.

.

.

 ~ could

plant

.

t

h

a

t

.

deadly

seed

.

o

f

.

doom,

.

a

n

d

.

disease,

.

a

n

d

.

dread,

.

a

n

d

.

defeat . . .

.

.

.

day,

after

day,

after

day,

after

day . . .

.

.

.

week,

after

week,

after

week,

after

week . . .

.

.

.

beat,

after

beat,

after

beat,

after

beat . . .

.

.

.

 ~ this

Covid-19 . . .

.

.

.

So,

what

will

.

t

h

e

.

final

reading

be

.

o

n

.

each

.

o

f

.

these

obscenities?

.

.

.

What

will

.

t

h

e

.

final

reading

.

b

e

.

when

.

t

h

e

y

.

become

.

o

u

r

.

history?

.

.

.

What

will

.

b

e

.

the

final

read?

.

.

.

What

will

.

b

e

.

the

final

read?

.

.

.

What

will

.

b

e

.

the

final

read?

.

.

.

Will

.

i

t

.

be

one

.

o

f

.

cruelty?

.

.

.

Will

.

i

t

.

be

one

.

o

f

.

murder?

.

.

.

Will

.

i

t

.

be

one

.

o

f

.

atrocity,

.

d

o

.

you

think?

.

.

.

defeat,

after

each

.

a

n

d

.

every

crushing

defeat . . .

.

.

.

 ~ this

Covid-19.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in April of 2020 when witnessing the beginnings of the Covid-19 pandemic unfold. I played the song “We Work the Black Seam” by Sting repeatedly at low volume in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

☆°▪︎ BURNING, BURNING BLUE ▪︎°☆

Nothing

.

a

n

d

.

no

one . . .

.

.

.

 ~ the

.

w

a

y

.

I

feel

.

w

i

t

h

.

you . . .

.

.

.

 ~ nothing

.

a

n

d

.

no

one . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

that

bitter,

brooding

brew . . .

.

.

.

 ~ that

bitter,

brooding

brew . . .

.

.

.

burning,

burning

blue . . .

.

.

.

burning,

burning

blue . . .

.

.

.

i

n

a

place

.

w

h

e

r

e

,

nothing

moves . . .

.

.

.

 ~ in

.

a

place

.

w

h

e

r

e

.

nothing

soothes . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

it’s

nothing

.

a

n

d

.

no

one . . .

.

.

.

 ~ the

.

w

a

y

.

I

feel

.

w

i

t

h

.

you . . .

.

.

.

 ~ nothing

.

a

n

d

.

no

one . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

that

bitter,

brooding

brew . . .

.

.

.

 ~ that

bitter,

brooding

brew,

consuming

through,

.

a

n

d

.

through,

.

a

n

d

.

through . . .

.

.

.

burning,

burning

blue.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in Feb of 2020 where the affected party reflects on a life consumed by temptations and addictions – a life full of emptiness and nothingness. The opening verse came to me and the rest of the poem pretty much wrote itself from that. I played the songs “Tangerine” by Led Zeppelin and “Yesterday was Hard on All of Us” by Fink repeatedly at low volume in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to these songs at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

☆°▪︎ THE SOMEDAY PLACE ▪︎°☆

When

I

dreamed

.

o

f

.

the

someday

place,

there

.

w

a

s

.

nothing

.

i

n

.

my

way . . .

.

.

.

When

I

dreamed

.

o

f

.

the

someday

place,

there

were

.

n

o

.

barricades . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

it

always

became

.

a

.

weightless

gain . . .

.

.

.

 ~ a

weightless

gain

.

o

f

.

glorious

grace . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

a

great

escape

.

f

o

r

.

better

days . . .

.

.

.

 ~ a

great

escape

.

f

o

r

.

better

days . . .

.

.

.

sometime . . .

.

.

.

someway . . .

.

.

.

somewhere . . .

.

.

.

someday . . .

.

.

.

far

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

o

f

.

wait . . .

.

.

.

when

I

could

.

s

e

e

.

everything

.

s

o

.

clearly . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

perceive

everything

.

s

o

.

dearly . . .

.

.

.

 ~ I

could

perceive

everything

.

s

o

.

dearly . . .

.

.

.

when

I

would

dream,

dream,

dream,

away . . .

.

.

.

a

l

l

those

dancing

days

.

o

f

.

wait . . .

.

.

.

 ~ all

those

dancing

days

.

o

f

.

wait . . .

.

.

.

when

I

.

.

would

dream . . .

.

.

.

 ~ when

I

.

.

would

dream

.

s

o

.

freely . . .

.

.

.

o

f

the

someday

place.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem I wrote back in Feb of 2020 where the contemplator looks back on a past filled with magic, dreams, and boundless adventure where he or she seemingly lived a wondrous life without boundaries – and ponders whether something similar might ever be experienced again. I played the haunting gem of a song “Chariot” by Beach House in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

☆°▪︎ A MILLION MILES BEHIND (WHEN DAYLIGHT SMILED) ▪︎°☆

The

family

picnic

.

b

y

.

the

waterway

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

fade . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

when

I

.

.

close

.

m

y

.

eyes

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

drift

away,

.

a

n

d

.

affectionately

gaze

.

a

t

.

that

pristine

place . . .

.

.

.

 ~ that

pristine

place,

where

.

t

h

e

.

beetles

.

a

n

d

.

bumblebees

played . . .

.

.

.

humming

.

a

n

d

.

strumming

away

.

a

l

l

.

hours

.

o

f

.

the

day . . .

.

.

.

 ~ that

pristine

place,

where

page,

after

page,

after

page,

after

page . . .

.

.

.

you

could

.

n

o

t

.

only

bathe

.

i

n

.

the

peace

.

o

r

.

just

simply

be . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

breathe,

breathe,

breathe . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

feel,

feel,

feel . . .

.

.

.

the

green,

green,

green . . .

.

.

.

o

f

the

grasslands

beneath

.

y

o

u

r

.

feet . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

for

miles,

.

a

n

d

.

miles,

.

a

n

d

.

miles . . .

.

.

.

t

h

e

daylight

smiled . . .

.

.

.

 ~ the

daylight

smiled

.

s

o

.

bright . . .

.

.

.

so

wide . . .

.

.

.

a

l

l

across

.

t

h

e

.

springtime . . .

.

.

.

 ~ all

across

.

t

h

e

.

springtime . . .

.

.

.

where

.

e

v

e

n

.

time

.

w

a

s

.

kind . . .

.

.

.

 ~ where

.

e

v

e

n

.

time

.

w

a

s

.

kind . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

everyone . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

everything . . .

.

.

.

w

a

s

nice,

.

a

n

d

.

fun,

.

a

n

d

.

fine

all

.

t

h

e

.

while . . .

.

.

.

 ~ all

.

t

h

e

.

while . . .

.

.

.

beneath

.

t

h

e

.

dancing

rays

.

o

f

.

that

joy-hopping,

poetic

day . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

that

.

w

a

s

.

yesterday . . .

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

that

.

w

a

s

.

yesterday . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

today,

.

t

h

e

.

colors

.

o

f

.

the

day

carry

.

s

u

c

h

.

weight . . .

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

so

much

.

a

n

d

.

so

many,

heavy

shades

.

o

f

.

gray . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

the

day,

to

day,

to

day . . .

.

.

.

n

o

w

creates

such

.

a

.

bitter

taste . . .

.

.

.

compared

.

t

o

.

that

pristine,

poetic

place

.

b

y

.

the

waterway . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

everyone

.

a

n

d

.

everything

.

h

a

s

.

changed . . .

.

.

.

s

o

even

though

.

I

.

m

a

y

.

never

see . . .

.

.

.

o

r

feel . . .

.

.

.

o

r

breathe . . .

.

.

.

that

place

again . . .

.

.

.

the

family

picnic

.

b

y

.

the

waterway

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

fade . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

when

I

close

.

m

y

.

eyes,

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

drift

away,

.

a

n

d

.

affectionately

gaze

.

a

t

.

that

pristine

place . . .

.

.

.

 ~ that

pristine

place,

.

.

a

million

miles

behind . . .

.

.

.

 ~ a

million


miles

behind,

.

b

a

c

k

.

when

time

.

w

a

s

.

kind . . .

.

.

.

 ~ back

when

time

.

w

a

s

.

kind . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

daylight

smiled

.

a

l

l

.

the

while.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem I wrote back in Feb of 2020 where the contemplator looks back on a special, warming, youthful day in the past with those he or she loved, cherished, and appreciated – and wonders whether he will ever experience anything like it again. I played a wonderful song I had heard for the very first time and immediately loved: “Kids” by Current Joy. I played this song in the background at low volume to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it. It wasn’t the lyrics of the song but the sound which inspired me to write the poem. The sound painted a fresh, soothing scene of a sweet, green, serene spring to me. So, I wrote the poem in reflection of that.

☆°▪︎ A PLACE WITHOUT A NAME ▪︎°☆

The

currents

flow

.

.

.

b

u

t

I

move

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

undertow . . .

.

.

.

 ~ I

move

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

undertow . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

wonder

where

.

m

y

.

life

might

go . . .

.

.

.

f

o

r

although

.

I

.

know

.

I

.

a

m

.

lost

.

a

n

d

.

alone,

.

.

m

y

.

.

future

travels . . .

.

.

.

 My

future

travels . . .

.

.

.

t

o

a

place

without

a

name . . .

.

.

.

o

n

a

train

without

rails . . .

.

.

.

o

n

a

ship

without

sails . . .

.

.

.

o

n

a

plane . . .

.

.

.

 ~ on

.

a

.

plane

.

i

t

.

strays,

.

a

n

d

.

races,

.

a

n

d

.

strays . . .

.

.

.

without

.

a

.

way

.

t

o

.

navigate . . .

.

.

.

s

o

although

.

I

.

know,

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

lost

.

a

n

d

.

alone . . .

.

.

.

my

future,

.

i

t

.

travels . . .

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

.

.

.

train,

after

train,

after

train . . .

.

.

.

wave,

after

wave,

after

wave . . .

.

.

.

plane,

after

plane,

after

plane . . .

.

.

.

day,

after

day,

after

day,

after

day . . .

.

.

.

whether

wind,

.

o

r

.

flame,

.

o

r

.

shine,

.

o

r

.

rain,

.

o

r

.

snow,

.

o

r

.

hail,

.

o

r

.

earthquake,

.

o

r

.

hurricane . . .

.

.

.

 ~ my

future,

.

i

t

.

travels,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

will

.

n

o

t

.

wait . . .

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

.

.

.

t

o

a

place

without

a

name.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in Jan of 2020 where the affected party exerts little control over his or her life and just goes with the flow to nowhere. Because even if you essentially do nothing – the future will arrive. I played the wonderful song “Harbour” by Moby in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

☆°▪︎ THE SHADE OF WATERCOLOR RAIN ▪︎°☆

I

lied

today . . .

.

.

.

i

n

the

usual

place . . .

.

.

.

i

n

the

usual

way . . .

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

the

usual

shame . . .

.

.

.

I

lied

today . . .

.

.

.

I

told

.

y

o

u

.

I

.

would

change . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

that

I

.

.

would

find

.

a

way

.

t

o

.

not

be

.

t

h

e

.

same . . .

.

.

.

~ I

would

find

a

way . . .

.

.

.

~ I

would

find

a

way . . .

.

.

.

t

o

change . . .

.

.

.

b

u

t

the

vibrant

color

parades

which

remain

.

s

o

.

full

.

o

f

.

hope

throughout

.

t

h

e

.

days,

always

seem

.

t

o

.

bathe

.

i

n

.

the

shade . . .

.

.

~ they

always

seem

.

t

o

.

bathe

.

i

n

.

the
shade

.

o

f

.

watercolor

rain . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

by

.

t

h

e

.

time

.

.

I

awake

.

t

o

.

daybreak . . .

.

.

~ yes,

by

.

t

h

e

.

time

I

awake . . .

.

.

.

I

find

myself

unchanged . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

rearranged . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

in

the

.

s

a

m

e

.

place

again . . .

.

.

.

swimming

.

i

n

.

the

gray . . .

.

.

.

swimming

.

i

n

.

the

gray . . .

.

.

.

a

n

d

even

though

.

m

y

.

life

might

seem

.

t

o

.

only

.

b

e

.

drifting . . .

.

.

.

well,

.

a

t

.

least

I’m

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

swimming . . .

.

.

.

~ at

least

I’m

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

swimming . . .

.

.

.

s

o

I

lied

today . . .

.

.

.

I

lied

today . . .

.

.

.

I

lied

today . . .

.

.

.

i

n

the

usual

place . . .

.

.

.

i

n

the

usual

way . . .

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

the

usual

shame . . .

.

.

.

I

lied

today.

Reflection: This was a popular personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in December of 2019. The opening line: “I lied today… in the usual place… in the usual way…” came to me in the beginning moments and the poem wrote itself from that opening line. I’m sure many who have dealt with significant personal struggles – their own or those of people close to them – will be able to relate to this poem.

I played the song “Why” by Annie Lennox in the background at low volume to create the “moodset” for this poem. The song really seemed to fit. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.