I’m walking in the rain.

I usually don’t like walking in the rain.

But tonight I need to try something new.

I need to wash it all out.

I really hope this works.

I tell myself I’ll keep walking until it does.

But a little piece of me is scared I’ll be walking forever.

Where do all my thoughts go?

Can they roll into the street drains like the rain drops do?

Can they fall off the the tree like autumn leaves do?

Maybe if I keep walking in the rain they will.

I pray that by the time I return to my house these thoughts will have bloomed into something beautiful.

Rather than turn into something hideous like they have done all day.

But for now.

I’m walking in the rain.

Please leave your sad days.

Please act your age.

I know it’s hard to forget,

but there’s nothing for you to regret.

Stop staring into the open and seeing illusions.

You’re making up false conclusions.

Go to the mirror,

everything will become clearer.

Stop holding on so tight.

Soon everything will become right.

In the meantime, everything is going to be alright.

Sit outside and stare at the flowers. Leave feeling empowered.

What happened in between sitting to stare at the flowers, and leaving empowered?

That’s between you and God.

Your shadow is just a shadow.

It’s completely shallow.

It’s not your heart, it’s not your soul.

You are you in whole.

This evening, I am grateful for the birds’ company. 

Their evening songs are quite welcoming, 

even though they were not intended for my pleasure.

I am grateful that these birds in the trees above me sing,

whether someone comes to listen or not.

Perhaps they sing this same tune every evening.

Maybe if I were an ornithologist, I would care to find this out. 

But at the moment, I am not.

Rather, I am suddenly a very aware human on my porch outside. 

Still, the birds don’t mind whether I am aware or not.

Their songs will continue both day and night. 

I see a broken tree limb dangling some distance before me. 

I gaze at the clouds passing above me.

Now, the clouds rain down the lightest drops of water.

These clouds are uninterested in my smudged writing due to their rain.

Nature does not care.

Nature does not mind.

All it does is move with time. 

Yet I am grateful for its company this evening. 

Oh, my sweet dear, look at these exquisite curtains!
Oh no, am I expressing too much emotion?
It’s just that I simply cannot contain my excitement over these divine curtains!
I have never beheld such tangible beauty.
Their hues of blue could make any dull, ill-lit room dazzle.
Its pulpy velvet is nearly too great for a touch to bear!
Why my dear, we must have them imported at once.
They shall hang handsomely in the drawing room.
Oh no, not that drawing room.
The drawing room next to the child’s sleeping quarters.
Yes, yes.
Oh, how lovely!

[My mother died while birthing me.
My daughter died aged three.
My first husband left me.
But what does it matter?
I have no more hopes left to shatter.
I paint my life with a thin layer of gold. Yes, I will do this til I am past old.]

The winter lasts so long.
Nothing more than just plodding along.
I rarely desire to sing your song.
Then, with the blink of an eye,
the sky is blue again,
the wind has calmed.
Ah, yes spring, you are so welcome here!  
I hold you so dear.
Oh, to be held in that blessed sphere.
You bring renewal, you bring peace.
You make those hopeless, cold days cease .
You bring reason to sing,
yes, you, my beloved spring.
But you leave as quickly as you come.
Now I will be held under the summer’s sun.

out of nowhere
a wrenching of the heart
a beating glare

out of nowhere
a pointing and laughing 
a disgusted stare

out of nowhere 
a wandering of the soul
a fit of prayer

out of nowhere 
a questioning of self 
an unwelcome affair

out of nowhere
a kick while you're down
with seemingly no reason left to care

out of nowhere
an unexpected betrayal
with too much to declare

out of nowhere
an emptying of pocket
with nothing left to share

out of nowhere
a hopeful word
a reason to not despair

out of nowhere
an unexpected friend
someone kind and fair

out of nowhere 
a sunny day
a reason to give thanks in the rare

out of nowhere
life hurts, life takes
life gives, life makes
out of nowhere
but out of somewhere
out of somewhere purposeful,
life always gives, even when it takes. 

“Revolution”

“No taxation without representation!”
They chant, for a nobler generation.
All while risking demoralization on hopes that they will establish a new nation that prides itself on free association and accurate representation of its population.

We start out strong, only for it to be a long, treacherous fight song.
Death is looming in the air
the patriot’s hope lingers into despair.
I dedicate myself to this noble cause of freedom!
What happened to the fire of passion I once so boldly believed in?

The sun shines brightly, the grass is green.
The spring season is unaware of the impending battle scene,
the perfect sight for a dying boy of fifteen.
I see my brother die in the blood stained sky!
O, the agony of his empty eyes,
haunts me til the day I die!
Limbs being amputated, faces mutilated.

I see my son fight valiantly,
only to breathe his last at the hand of brutality.
Sons of liberty,
you have led me only to misery!

Why must the battlefield seem so enticing?
At first glance it seems quite inviting
when all you know is surviving at the hands of a king who is wringing and writhing.

I step out onto my front porch and see the light of cannon fire in the summer’s night.
All we wanted was to shed light
on this oppression.
A noble cause hurts, kills
A noble cause shoots, spills
blood of the innocent.
Is my reasoning for this more reasonable than yours?
Death is steadily knocking on the fighters’ doors.

I have God on my side, simple as that.
Faith is the answer for the purpose of combat.
His name is validation, nothing more.
God’s name won’t put us to shame, but my façade of faith will.
What happens when we wake up and realize
that His name was only a disguise?
A disguise for man’s thirst for power.
What will become of me in the judgement hour?

Am I now numb to the grips of death?
Am I deaf to the ringing of the dying screaming?
Am I blind to the blood pouring bodies?
Buzzing, humming, summoning
of all those who sense the coming.

The battle drum beats for one last time.
“Don’t tread on me”
Serves as an ominous sign.
The rolling Virginian fields
offer up a place for the royalty to yield. Frenchman and patriots alike, all serving alongside in this fight. All are singing along, to victory’s glorious end song.

I thank God for this land,
now a representation of time’s inevitable hand.  
I pray to God that it may never have to see the works of the devil again.
A momentary breath,
then it is time to begin.

Thank you for checking out my poetry! My hope is that these poems will inspire you, and that you learn something new in the process. I typically write about history, life experiences, and day to day life.