Poetry

 

Poetry Spotlight:

I remember…

I remember a time when things were so much simpler.

Do you remember too?

A time where nothing really mattered, as we played.

Nothing was bad except maybe vegetables.

There was no prejudice, no judging, no hate towards others.

Just a time when we were so much wiser I believe.

Sure there were some things we didn’t understand and didn’t know.

But the large things in life were held close and we didn’t even need to know a lot to understand that.

I remember growing up with girls and boys of all races playing together and having fun.

I didn’t even think about judgment and prejudice until people told me about them and the difference between girls and boys.

None of that was in my head until someone mentioned it.

But if it never happened beforehand why bring it up?

There is no reason.

I remember a great time a time where we were care free and full of love for each other.

A time we did not know how hurt someone emotionally, mentally, physically.

A time of ignorance and yes it was bliss.

But its that same ignorance that as children gave us what we have now.

Understanding of everyone. Though we have forgotten it

Maybe it would have been better if we stayed ignorant.

We’ll never know but I keep it in mind when I talk and think to people to let my inner child in and really just talk and enjoy everyone. Males, females, dark, lights, it don’t matter.

The truth is it all came up in our lives when someone told us it was out there.

I remember when ignorance maybe was the best thing. Do you remember?

Alex M.

 

Colours Prompt- Shades & Hues

Grey

Grey is all I see; the world, the water, my life.
The grey zone seems so real; the story of my life.
The clouds become an endless sea of grey;
Becoming a storm of the ages.
Never becoming black, just a darker and darker grey.

I cant help but think its beautiful,
The grey becomes my solitude.
The only colour of aloneness, peacefulness.
To me, the grey seems to mean that I’m me, right?
Or does it mean that I’m totally alone.

No, grey is a good thing. It doesn’t let me know I’m dead.
It lets me know that I’ve found the happy medium in my life.
Grey also gives me faith in who I am.

 

Colors

Some think red.
Some think blue.
Some think colors that can even describe you.
Many think black.
Many think white.
Even though they are all or nil.
Some think sunset, but that’s a mix still.
So grab your crayons, go grab your pens.
And I will show you colors that never end.
White, red black and blue are colors that can reach you.
In heart, mind, and body too.
Draw some pictures.
Write on the wall.
Just make sure to clean them all.
Buy some at the store, go to the mall.
Or do what I do and think them all.
One by one and tie dye too.
Are ways to think the colors of you.

 

Red

It’s the fire burning in her eyes
Electricity coursing through his veins.
The passion, the love, the fury
That keeps up this constant change.
The colour in every single flag,
The flurry of pride in our hearts
The reminder of our roots- a hometown,
Reminiscent of where life really starts.
Warning signs that appear periodically
So you can re-evaluate your life.
Her cheeks, when complimented
Or in some sort of strife.
The meaning of his stalled expression
Revving the car because he simply can’t wait
Powerhouse, the vigilant
A symbol of strength, of love, of hate.

Purple

The sky isn’t black tonight.
The queen is wearing mauve
The sky is full of magic tonight
She has orchids in her hair
My fingers smudge the paper
Tracing pretty patterns from my plate
My fingers smear the blueberries
That’s when I know I’ve stayed too late
Grape juice just doesn’t taste right
When my cup, I find, is red
Grape juice won’t taste right
If my cup brings out the blue
I skip along past violets
They look funny there, growing from the ice
If and when I stop I see
My toes and fingers numb over and freeze

 

Blue

A somber face
A stricken mind
An empty space
Lost without you

~Emotions run deep~
The song in my heart
The rhythm in my step
This sound is the art
That fills my soul

~The music plays on~
Clear sky above
Ocean down below
Hidden like love
Nature’s canvas unveiled

~Beauty underneath~
Time at a stand still
The world at peace
Forever tranquil
Life’s blissful harmony

~Calm washes over~
Blue is the heart’s quiet pain
Blue is the rhythm of the soul
Blue is the beauty in the pouring rain
Blue is the peace that unites

~Blue surrounds~

 

Black

     It’s always the same process. Start Sunday, get erased Saturday. Sooner if you’re lucky… I mean, you’re already dead. Why bother with trying to revive yourself? Unless you never intended on actually dying… or was forced to play the Reaper’s Game of Death.
     Then there was that one time, because really? Having a person play for a month straight? Seriously, having someone purposely never, EVER, forgive you for the rest of their life is not fun. When I ask him about his intent of making the proxy he had chosen to take the place of the person he killed off.
He’s going to lie to me and say no.
He’s going to lie to make the person who I, the Manager, partnered up with last week.

     The girl sighed and powered down her laptop, making sure to save the progress first. Looking around the moderately empty room with nothing more than a passing glance, spots the time on the alarm clock sitting beside her like a loyal pet, always there, always reliable. There was nothing much to the rest of the place, clothes hanged neatly and put away. Different scarves folded on an open shelf, similar headphones and pairs of glasses resting on top of them.
     “Like I really need them…”
     There was a mirror facing the seeming late teen, resting on top of a desk standing without a chair. Makeup and hair accessories resting pretty and organized precisely on the desk, waiting to be used. A lone picture frame rests beside the hair straightener, a testament to a time when things could be classified as “normal” for the ones in the picture. The girl pauses and breaks the silence in the room.
     “Normal… is the wrong word for it… They…could never truly consider themselves ‘normal’ after that, meanwhile I never was…”
     The girl stares at the guy on the edge of the photograph; the resemblance is unmistakeable, like they were the same person. Another sigh and the girl walks over to the desk and begins to go through what seems to be a routine of sorts, checking for the smudges she knows will be from eyeliner. Stopping to lift the framed photo closer, nothing more is said as she leaves the room.
     “I write about the past, although no one knows that. As for me, looking how I look right now is only temporary. I’ll go back to looking like I did in the photo next Game…”
     The near absolute darkness becomes more visible with the room now empty. The only true sources of light coming from the alarm clock and the laptop, humming quietly in the silence.