The Simplest Moments
It’s the simplest moments that get me the most.
The brief “hi” in the hallways or even a kind smile tossed in my direction
that make me feel like I’m at the top of a drop tower about to plummet to the ground
and that fill my heart with warmth
Simultaneously.
At being recognized
My presence acknowledged.
It only takes a few words
to make me incredibly happy.
The thrill of finally being noticed
Her smile that lights up her features finally for me
A plausible attempt at conversation making the familiar swooping sensation return to my stomach.
Inexplicable happiness carrying me through the next class
the hopeful knowledge that maybe I’m not just another shy nobody.
A grin or casual greeting might be nothing to someone else
but to me it’s something.
Something I will remember for longer than the fleeting moment it occurs
An affirmation to tell me that I’m not completely invisible in this world.
The Year in a Box
This is the way it was told to me:
Evelyn was just turned fifteen when, on a lovely April morning, she and her two younger sisters were allowed a Saturday diversion from their chores... a picnic. They cleared a spot beneath a pecan tree in the front yard to spread a blanket. The trees were in bloom. The azaleas soon would be. The sun was warm again, the wind soft.
Pearl made light. Susannah laughed. Evelyn bided the time, enjoying a rest. Life on the farm was hard. She was the oldest, but Evelyn understood the younger girls’ childish desires to play. She even joined in, strumming her guitar before giving blessings for the food in the basket, for her sisters on the blanket, as well as blessings for their mother in the house, and their father in the fields. The girls unwrapped their simple meal of cornbread and butter from its cotton napkins.
He trotted down from the Hatley side of the farm’s road. He road bareback, shoeless and shirtless, his skin still pale with winter. He drew rein when he saw them, wheeling his horse from the road and right up to the girls' blanket. The ground beneath Evelyn shook when the animal stomped a heavy foot, and blew through its nostrils. She was a tad frightened. The rider saved his longest look for her. She had never been wanted. It was a new feeling, but rich.
”Hi.”
She would have mounted behind him then and there, had he asked. She would have ridden away with him, but done right these things take a little more time.
When he was gone the younger girls looked wide-eyed at their sister. Evelyn was the smart one, the mature one. What had happened seemed out of her character, but nothing had happened, had it? Oh no, they all three knew it, as surely as they knew there was a God, “something” had most definitely happened. But what?
”That,” Evelyn stated unabashedly, “was the most beautiful boy I have ever seen.” Her siblings were struck dumb.
When he returned it was appropriately, in shirt and shoes. They were married within weeks, and were with child within months. They had only three years together as husband and wife. Two of those three years he spent in the war, Italy, while she raised their baby alone. He would never return.
It would be even sadder, the story, but for that one year, the one they spent together.
She called it, “that year with him” when she would talk about it, but she rarely would. The sweet, warm memories became painful when spoken aloud, so they stayed inside, tied away from curious ears with pink and blue ribbons. Everyone assumed it had been a bad time for her, and an ungodly one, but no, it had not been that. It had not been that at all.
It had been a year of music and laughter. A year of guilt free passions and unrestrained lusts, but it was never ungodly, that year. In fact, she had felt closer to God than ever before. It was over quickly, but her year would have to be enough, wouldn’t it, as it was all the time given them? When the daughter grew to ask questions about the Daddy she never knew, Evelyn shrugged them off. “That was a long time ago Punkin’, now go fetch the milk.”
But she kept the letters, Evelyn did, and the postcards. She kept the pictures, and the guitar, and the harmonica. She kept them in a box along with her memories, where she seldom loosened the ribbons that held it tight. There was little time for him anymore. There was little time for memories of happiness, or love. There was little time for that year in the box.
There was little time at all, Evelyn knew, what with the factory work, and a young one at home. What time was left should be spent with the living. After all, a woman needed more than a box, and so did a child.
Heavy to a Warmth
Everything is heavy
Uncomfortably warm
Drained
Some of us still have jackets on
I don’t know why
My veins feel like they are being filled with lava
Smooth, feverous, and so, so heavy
My thoughts are muddled
They always are
Right?
I know the girl in front of me
She’s sweet and kind
Motivative, supportive, but wearied
Her head lowers every minute that passes
The guy to the right of me is also a friend
He’s clever and has a sharp tongue but exhausted
Exaggerated scribbles cover his page
Insomnia has always plagued us both
The boy behind me I also know
Not well like the others,
But I do know him
He plays soccer & has a girlfriend
He also plays the guitar
The pencil he’s holding droops
Conversation pops up through the class
It never stays long
The default is heavy, heavy silence
But we appreciate it nonetheless
A reminder of those alive around us
A song plays through my headphones
The beat is different
It’s a song from my childhood
I forgot the name the minute I walked into the classroom
I forgot my name too
My leg sways back and forth
Not to any rhythm except to the thoughts in my head
Eleven minutes left
But time never has any real meaning
At least to us
Someone walks past me
Stifling a yawn
The breeze that follows is the same temperature as the sodden air
It never really changes
Every thought is numb and slow
It might have to do with the whole not sleeping thing
Or maybe because I haven’t had food today
But that’s neither here nor there
I trace my veins lightly with a pen
They are large and green
It bugs me that they don’t match my left hand
Those are tiny and purple
Never beating fast enough for this world
My glasses fall off so I put them back on
This repetition will follow us forever
Eternally
Perpetually
A bell rings somewhere
People move
I don’t
I’m not sure why
But I know I’m supposed to leave
For somewhere else
My head drops lower
I don’t hear the music anymore
The earbuds are gone
My glasses too
I hear my Chromebook closing in front of me
A sweet familiar voice asks me a question
I’m not sure what question though
I open my eyes and I see the face of the person I trust most
A friend doesn’t even begin to cover it
She’s crouching next to me
I don’t think she goes to this class
No one else is here
No one ever is
Why is she here?
Are….no...am I okay?
Her face looks concerned
She’s asking another question
This time I can understand it
No, I’m not feeling okay
I think I shake my head
She sits on the floor next to me
I close my eyes again
My teacher asks her a question
It sounds muffled and bleak
Not sure what it’s asking though
She laughs it off
Her laugh is so sweet
I hear music again
A soft voice singing
“Si tu n'étais pas là”
An English voice singing French words to a French song
The irony is always lost on me
The warmness around me
Is sweet now
Not heavy like it once was
I close my eyes again
And feel warmth
--
This is an old poem about the same lovely person from the Yellow poem, who I am unfortunately still in love with. I suffer from several disabilities, the big one being chronic neurological pain, and depression, which leads to me being fatigued, and feeling heavy. This poem starts off in my algebra class which was right before my lunch and walks through my observations of people around me, and then to slowly falling asleep, and my dear best friend finding me and convincing the teacher to leave me alone, and then singing sweetly.
Real Love
I always wondered if I would experience a One True Love. As a younger man, I believed I found my One True Love, only to be hit in the face with the reality that I had not found it. Many years have passed and I now believe that True Love, may not exist for me, however I feel fortunate to have experienced Real Love.
It is strange how life's twists and turns take us from what we thought our lives would be to what they really are. Careers, failed relationships, and the loss of friends, continuoulsy push us into different directions. For me, I long for someone I can not have. My life's turns have put me in a place that seems almost impossible to get out of. How can I break the trust of the people that rely on me so that I may have a shot at the happiness I have longed for? Why can't I just be happy with what I have and who I am with?
I have always believed, things happen for a reason, although we may not know what those reasons are and may never know. I have a special someone in my life. Someone that I think of constantly. We have daily conversations but rarely see each other. It is nice to know there is someone that misses me, and someone that is genuinely happy when they hear my voice, or read my words. We both have seperate lives and commitments but there is an understanding and a longing for each other. Somehow, I am able to go to work, go home, keep my responsibilities, but in my heart, and in my mind, I am with the one person that melts me with a smile. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can smell her hair and feel her against me. I think the longing, pain, happiness, and comfort, is what Real Love is supposed to feel like. With that love, there is a different love I have for those I take care of. Even though I can not be with the one that is in my heart, I am still experiencing love. I guess that all lends to the quagmire of what Love really is.
Importance Of Love
Spread love. Hug the people you care about and make sure they know that you care and appreciate them. Make it known to your friends and family that you love them, because tomorrow is never promised. Family is my love of importance and without them, I would never know the importance of love.
Alternate Realm Of Love
Awakening in a place that’s odly formiliar, yet not quite where you were before.
Am I real, can anyone see me? I panick! I run screaming, can anyone hear me
but my cries are ignorned!
How did I get here? Where is this place? I’m invisible here, no one sees my face.
The weight and thickness of the air overwhelms me to the core.
I have ventured to the place where nightmares are stored! This alternate realm,
is it in my mind? I seem to be trapped and there’s no sense of time.
Oh, please someone hear me! I know I’m not alone! Caught on the other side
of the veil and no way to get back home.
As I awaken to my new reality of an altered life, I see I was not in another realm
at all, people choose to ignore my cries.
No one can save me because no one can see, noone will hear me because they
do not believe I’m me!
I am no longer me I’m sad to say, but I was diagnosed with an illness stealing
all that I love away. Myself, and the people in my life one by one disapeared, tossed
out, left out and shoved away. All due to an illness no one wants to see because
they “just don’t know what to say!” I am not caught up in an alternate reality afterall,
it’s very real but there’s no on to care to catch my fall! I suppose this is the place
where nightmares are stored, trapped in a hell all alone with no love or support.
What is really on the other side of the veil? The people that live there might actually care!
This reality is full of unbelief, lack of compassion and love. We will never be free
until we can rise above. Rise above the stereotypes, judgements and stigmatisms
we as humans do not understand. It would save a lot of lives if others would try
to understand! It’s not in our heads and we aren’t making things up; we just need
a helping hand and to once again feel loved!
#LymeDiseaseAwareness
#Believeus
#LoveaLymie
#WeArePeopleToo
Cutesy!
There once was the cutest little kitty , named Kiki.
Everyone always told her how adorable she was.
Her eyes blinked stars every time she was given a compliment. This went on, and on, until too many compliments came ringing her door bell everyday.
She no longer blinked stars out of her eyes when she became aware that every compliment giver was only telling her something nice so that they could join in at the most important Kiki Kitty Parade.
To give her a compliment was the only way to receive a ticket to the celebration.
Her door bell never stopped ringing.
Pretty soon, there were compliments knocking at the window. All hours of the night, her phone would chime with compliments arriving as text messages. She couldn’t take it any more.
The day of the big Parade, she watched as hundreds of compliment givers, carrying Star balloons, passed by her house. Not one compliment came to her house all day. She watched as a gigantic paper Kitty Head was placed on top of a Golden float. She grew horrified when all sorts of Kittens lined up as contestants in the Kiki Look- a-Like #1 Fan Contest. She listened to the imposters give Thank You speeches for every compliment they were given. None of the contestants blinked stars. None of the contestants looked like her. She fled her house, and ran up to the gates; demanding to be let in. But, she had no ticket.
The End.