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Tag Archives: poetry

Go Where There Is No Map

Go where there is no map.
Venture bravely into the
Lands that are yet unknown.
There be monsters, aye, but
There be heroes to slay them.

Go where there is no map.
Wander beyond the familiar
And find the strange and new.
You cannot be lost somewhere
If no one knows the way.

Go where there is no map.
Journey there on your own,
Or with a good friend.
You may be uncertain, aye,
But courage will find you.

Go where there is no map.
Stray from the paths you
Have known since your youth.
Adventure awaits everyone
If they start looking for it.

Go where there is no map.
Take whatever transportation
You find. Feet, bike, jet, train.
The only way to experience
This world is to see it.

Go where there is no map.
Flee the mundane and go
Where your heart takes you.
It is better than any cartographer’s
Work in your life’s quest.

Go where there is no map.
Leave footprints where none
Have ever been, nor will be again.
Blaze your trail and you
Will not be forgotten.

Go where there is no map.
The world you know is
Changing, and it will never cease.
Be willing to make mistakes
On each new road.

Go where there is no map.
No street sign, no satellite.
Be bold and do not falter.
This place is new, beginning
Here is the only thing to do.

Go where there is no map.
Take courage from all you
See and do. Become yourself.
With every dawn, you’ll see
New opportunities.

Go where there is no map.
Venture bravely into the
Lands that are yet unknown.
There be monsters, aye, but
Now you are the hero.

Tonight

“Tonight”

Tonight I floated away from
The world, and I gazed at
The sky, and I watched
The stars fall. Alone in the
Dark, cool in the fading of
Summer. “This must be what
It’s like to watch the end of
The world when you’ve lost
Your reason to care,” I told
Myself. “The skies are falling
But there’s no reason to
Fear it.” And so I watched
For a while longer, until
The waters grew cold and
My eyes grew tired and
The hour grew late.

Footsteps

“Footsteps”

These are my last steps through these halls.
This is the last night that I will spend not
Roaming, but monitoring, patrolling them.

New voices now echo forth from the doors,
And new faces, mysterious and unknown,
Peer around the corners. My time is ending.

It’s time for a new generation to take my place.
I can’t believe that my turn is over, but it’s
Time to pass the torch. Turn in my keys, clock out.

I’ve done my time, as it were. Served my sentence
And then some. I’ve been here for far too long,
Unchanging. It’s time to be like water, fluid.

These are my last days in the world that I forged.
This was a place that, once upon a time, provided
Me with the protection and stability that I sought.

I was desperate then, but I am stronger now.
Now I will seek love, freedom, and change rather
Than certainty. There are some things that are better.

Empty hallways will fill again, just as they do each
Year, an annual event that never ceases to amaze.
My part in the growth is done, my exit is stage left.

Updates

I’ve finally gotten around to updating the Microfiction page again. Over a dozen short stories have been added to the list under Writing Challenges, and five new poems are now linked under the Poetry heading as well. These pieces are all here on the blog, but it’s very nice to get them organized. Feel free to check it out. Revisit old favorites, and find new stories you might have missed!

Life

“Life”

 

With a gentle whisper
It begins.
With a building roar
It continues.
With a deafening silence
It stops.

Rainy Days

“I know,” he whispered.
“I wanted to kiss you
In it. But there will be
Other rainy days.”

Blackout Poetry

Last month (actually just last week) we invited teens at our library to take part in creating blackout poetry. We provided pages from books that were due to be recycled and encouraged teens to leave only the words they wanted to be read. This led to some really brilliant pieces of art, and so I decided to craft my own as well. Enjoy!

One recycled book page + One Sharpie = Genius!

One recycled book page + One Sharpie = Genius!

Gravity

Today’s post is a poem I wrote a few years ago, originally for a poetry slam. I consider it the single best piece I wrote during my college career, and so I thought that National Poetry Month was the perfect time to share it with my current audience. This is “Gravity.”

Gravity is a bitch, but I let her have her way with me anyway.

She tries to keep me in bed every morning. I guess she likes

To keep me down, constantly. I’ve known since she first gave me her number

That it would be like this (it’s 6.67×1011, by the way—Somehow I’m

Feeling like she hasn’t been getting those texts I’ve been trying to

Send to her). I think it’s a doomed relationship, but she’ll never let me go.

I don’t even remember how long it’s been since I met her. I think I’ve

Known deep down that we’ll never be apart for long.

I suppose that her embrace is comforting.

Being too far from it can be disorienting. It’s a strange sensation.

Like I’m weightless—nothing without her touch.

It’s been a very strange relationship.

She said that she likes long walks on the beach,

But every time we’ve tried to go,

The tides come in. I don’t know what that’s all about.

She says it’s all relative.

I’m a nerd, and she knows it, but she still stays.

Some part of me hopes that she always will.

I think I’d probably fly off hurtling into space

If she ever left. It would be the breakup felt

By everyone around the world,

Even the people who don’t know me.

They’d all feel it. They’d all know.

What would they do if they found

Out? If they knew that I was the one who’d

Pushed her away? I think that they’d find

Me fairly repulsive. Yet somehow, I doubt

That they’d be in any position to do anything

About it at that point.

So I stay in this loveless relationship,

More out of the convenience of it than

Anything. It’s better for all of us that

Way, isn’t it? I mean, despite my feelings,

The attraction is oddly irresistible.

I’ll always be hers. It’s almost a crushing

Feeling of inevitability. Oh well. I’m stuck with her.

 

Gravity.

 

 

 

That bitch.

Eternity

“Eternity”

 

For the briefest of eternities,
I am lost in dream, open meadows
The likes of which I’ve never known
In the Waking lie before me, green
And lush and full of new lives.
But I blink into wakefulness
And the dream is gone, naught but
A fleeting memory captured
In a poem.

The End of Winter

“The End of Winter”

Streetlamps on the far shore flicker in
And out of view as the snow accumulates
On the slick surface of the lake.

Moonlight filters through the dancing clouds,
Catching the flash of a fox’s tail
Vanishing into a trimmed hedge.

Embers glow in the fireplace, a dying
Reminder of the warmth we shared
Not an hour ago, now lost.