Category Archives: Poetry

I love the sound of the rain

I love the sound of the rain,
Especially in the night,
It calms me,
And slightly alters my perceptions,
So instead of ingesting negativity,
I feel cleansed, and glad, and free,
Appreciating where I am and what I’ve got,
Not focusing on hindrances,
Fences,
That block my way,
Wish I could stay,
In this moment,
When it all feels good,
And there’s no pain,
No fight for acceptance,
No need to gain,
It’s quiet, and dark,
In the middle of the night,
Everything feels right,
And I love the rain.

I CRY

I cry,
For in this moment I feel sadness,
Then I cry anew,
For I know,
That in this sadness there is joy too.
For every single thing I’ve lost,
There’s something I’ve gained,
Every pain worked through,
I somehow grew,
Found the lesson that remained.
My journey long and varied,
The baggage carried,
Often weighed me down,
But digging in the dirt,
Healing the hurt,
Leaves me on solid ground,
Ever moving forward,
Though what toward,
I do not know,
But that’s okay,
Living in today,
Is the joy I’ve found,
So I cry,
For in this moment I feel sadness,
Then I cry anew,
For I know,
That in this sadness,
There is joy too.

Sweet Little One

I try not to think,
About her much.
How her fur was soft,
And warm to touch.
How she she slept,
Beside me in my bed,
And rubbed me,
With her little head.
I try not think,
Of my little one,
It hurts my heart.
Tears always come.
My darling cat,
No longer mine.
Sweet little one,
I left behind.
Have I vanished
From your memory?
Or do you try,
Not to think of me?

Natural End

Little ducklings swim behind,
In a single file line,
Little mother mallard duck,
But they’re running out of luck.
There were six and then just five.
Must be hard to stay alive.
For with every passing day,
One more duckling goes away.
There were five and then just four.
The other ones are seen no more.
So then in a shorter line,
Swim the ducklings from behind.
There were four and then just three.
But no trace that one could see.
Not a whisper of their song.
They’ve just vanished, simply gone.
There were three and then just two.
What’s a mother duck to do?
Mother Nature is so cruel,
Knows no right, nor wrong, nor rule.
There were two and then just one.
But they never can outrun,
Mother Nature, who’s so kind,
She left one duckling behind.

Little Bird Little Fish

Tiny little birdie,
Fallen from the elder tree.
Oh, come and see!
The little bird,
The dog just found,
Beneath the tree.
Tiny little birdie,
Go fly away! Be free!

Tiny little fishy,
Caught from the shiny sea.
Oh, come and see!
The little fish,
The boy just pulled,
Out of the sea.
Not so tiny fishy,
You were quite delishy.

EVEN THE BIRD WITH THE WOUNDED WING

Even the bird with the wounded wing,
Still can sing, still can sing,
Still has so much joy to bring,
Even the bird with the wounded wing,

Even the bird with the wounded wing,
Still can be a pretty thing,
Can still have my heart on a string,
Even the bird with the wounded wing,

Even the bird with the wounded wing,
Still can welcome in the spring,
Still can feel the winter’s sting,
Even the bird with the wounded wing,

Even the bird with the wounded wing,
Appreciates a golden ring,
Brings me hope on which to cling,
Even the bird with the wounded wing,

Absent

You never once,
Raised your voice to me.
Never belittled me,
Nor humiliated,
Nor hit me.
You never even seemed to get angry.
It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?
After ten years with an abuser,
I should be thrilled,
To never get yelled at,
Nor controlled.
But, you were the opposite,
Swing of the pendulum.
He was possessive.
You were simply unconcerned.
Devoid of all passion.
And despite all pain he gave me,
It was still better,
Than your indifference.