Saturday, January 29, 2011

"Readers, my favorite poet, Billy Collins. Billy Collins, my readers."

“It seems only yesterday I used to believe
There was nothing under my skin but light.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.”
~Billy Collins-“On Turning Ten”

“We are all so foolish…
So damn foolish,
We have become beautiful without even knowing it.”
~Billy Collins-“Nightclub”

“I think what I am really saying is that language is better than reality…”
~Billy Collins-“Bathtub Families”

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

"God's Silence"- A Poem

“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

But what If I don’t want to give it to him?

What if instead, I keep it for myself and walk among the living?
Is that selfish?
If everyone is giving God their souls, what can he possibly be doing with them?
Making them dance like puppets?
Or stacking them like inventory?
What about having them mingle with each other at a never-ending party in a grand heavenly ballroom?

Maybe they are tiny things, our souls.
So tiny, that before God goes to sleep; he just puts them in a little wooden box,
Under his bed,
To drown out the noise,
Just for once.
So he can have one single moment of


Monday, January 24, 2011

"Fragile"- A Poem


How fragile we are
Our hearts like glass
For people to throw stones at.

How fragile we are
Our skin like paper
Anyone able to come along and rip it to shreds

How fragile we are
We sing like canaries
But when our air comes short, we stop suddenly.

How fragile we are
To suspect nothing in the darkness
But soon a shadow comes out and makes us disappear like dust.

How fragile we are
To sit on a bench and watch the people cross by
And feel as small as an ant in a forest of grass.

How fragile we are
When our emotions swirl
We crack inside like eggshells.

How strong we are
To believe we aren’t fragile.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Weekly Challenge

*Hold your vision of peace clearly in your mind each day.*

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

My everlasting best-friends

I had a revelation the other day.
It was about words, and how no matter what anybody ever says or does to me,
They are mine.

They are mine to keep.
They are mine to hold.
They are mine to carry around on a scrap piece of notebook paper, hidden from the world in my pocket. No one can see them, but they are there.

They are mine to recite over and over in my head until I know I will never forget them, because I put them neatly into the file folders of my mind.

They are mine to savor like a frosty ice-cream cone on a humid summer day, and they are mine to feel sweet and fresh on my tongue.

They are my company on bitter winter nights, to cuddle up with like a teddy bear, and to make me feel warm inside again.

They never die like a plant or get old like clothes.

They stay, like faithful friends, and they are there to catch me when I fall.