Awe Striking(May 3, 2011)

Awe Striking
May 3, 2011

The whispers of the dark,
they begin to creep in,
they are shadows,
they are shades,
of strongly blackened gray.

The burning of the light,
they start to seep in,
they are beams,
they are glowing,
of harshly bright white.

The blending in between,
that mess with your head,
the things you see,
the magic they have,
just a trick of the eye.

So beautiful and shocking,
the view of the might awe striking,
the creative castle,
the collected shore,
just blows the mind even more.

Art is Here(April 7, 2011)

Art is Here
April 7, 2011

The painted floor,
the dark shade on the wall,
the dripping oil,
that painting of awe.

The color bright,
that makes your eyes blink in fright,
the damaged scene,
that looks so clean.

The yellowed hall,
that begins it all,
the door to blue,
the one next to you.

The doubled stripes,
strokes of light,
that cover the cloth,
the picnic basket.

Drip,
and splat,
there is an orange cat,
right there sitting in a hat.

Art is here.
Colored and shared.
Not knowing sometimes,
what exactly is there.

BOOM,
fire and ice.
Mixed mediums of time.
They dry alright.

Just tilt your head,
squint one eye.
It’s really an elephant,
or maybe a candle lit table.

Mud(April 3, 2011)

Mud
April 3, 2011

gray dark sky,
and sun lit morn,
oh how the seasons go,
and the days flow.

you know where you are,
it’s all that you see,
like you’re stuck in mud,
you can’t find solid land.

left,
right,
hit a brick wall.

no where to see,
a new place to be,
because life is scrambled,
like an egg,
and you can’t see all the puzzle pieces.

the water is high,
you can’t breathe,
so overwhelmed in the middle of the sea.

the growing trees,
that mark the time,
the rings in the core,
count the days.

footprints from the mud,
drag on,
as the clock tells time,
and the road is fine.

Orchestrate My Heart(March 15, 2011)

Orchestrate My Heart
March 15, 2011

Orchestrate my heart,
let it sing,
play loud in your ears,
may it never cease.

Orchestrate my heart,
tie it with strings,
hold on to the notes
that form the words.

Orchestrate my heart,
each little beat,
make it yours to last,
don’t stop the piece.

Even if you stop listening,
it’ll continue to play,
you can’t pause this song,
it just beats on.

My friends I love you,
you are the inspiration,
to me,
for my orchestrating heart.

Time(March 11, 2011)

Time
March 11, 2011

Time passes slower than your heart,
slower than you could imagine,
when all you want is for time to hop.

Skip to a different time,
ahead of now,
after tomorrow.

Time should go fast,
like sleep,
it should feel like a snap.

But time is odd,
even when you think it’s slow,
you blink and yesterday goes.

So you wish yesterday didn’t seem like an hour,
and the days had never faded,
if only time was a snail.

Then you’d have more time,
to enjoy the day,
the one you wanted to quicken away.

Just a Dream(March 9, 2011)

Just a Dream
March 9, 2011

When the lights dim,
in the little room,
the tiny dream begins to seem,
so real in it’s blurred shapes,
that feel so there,
in front of your eyes,
so close you could never die.
When the clouds move,
from the shinning sphere,
the birds sing so loud,
the colors appear in a swirl,
so together it’s not true,
and the tile on the ground,
so smooth like a river’s rocky floor.
When the night is covered with sparkles,
the fear of someone chasing,
and running turns into flight,
to get anywhere near,
the thing you want,
the goal ahead,
far from the thing behind you,
chasing you,
the getaway.
When the lights come bright,
and the room becomes here,
you never left your bed,
the adventures around the world,
were just in your head,
felt so close,
so out of this world,
the confusion,
was it real,
or was it just a dream?

Story of my Life(November 23, 2009)

I found this with all my other poems.. I like it and don't know why I never posted it.

Story of my Life
November 23, 2009

Story of my life,
never being tall enough to ride this ride.
Stuck watching from the ground,
or the same old roller coaster ride.

Story of my life,
seeing your face,
then turn around it wasn't real.

You not here,
story of my life.

My life story isn't complete,
it isn't something that is laid out like a book.
If it were a book then there are words unwritten,
and a million pages missing.

Story of my life is not perfect.
It will never be written.
It is too complicated to explain.

The story of my life,
is my friends,
the ones here and gone.

Short story,
I ran out of paint,
Music can only help so much.