Sometimes a poet's muse
                            comes

          e
        r
   ­       r   a
               t  
               i c
              a
             l
               ly



like     a
           puzzle
                           s  c  a  t  t  e  r  r  e  d
on
          the            marble
            
        of
                      his
                               imagination
    

       then
                   he
picks
              his     quill
with

                 his
                          witty
hands
                      
and arranges
his  thoughts
into a poem.

Volatile
A bitter taste left in my veins by the years of oppression
Afraid to love or trust
Uncomfortable constantly, consistently
Life's flourishing flowers bloom beyond my reach
I'll never get there, too stuck, too scattered
The world is someone else's oyster and I am their pearl prisoner
Afraid to touch or run
Nothing but bad luck to those who fall
I should just stay away
Volatile

I know I should most likely be
Doing something else...
However, I can't help myself
This  is* what I want to do right now.
Wait. What was I talking about?
****. I don't even know.  
Should we be talking about you?
Because I just feel so selfish for
Hogging the conversation,
Disrupting the silence
With nonsense.
With random facts I read somewhere
With the weather reports that are. . .
. . . . . . .
****. I'm doing it again.
I'm sorry. . . . . . . .
Was I staring off just now?
I couldn't help but think about
How the pattern on that gentleman's shirt
Looked just like my grandmother's couch!
I wonder if it also smells like moth *****...?
Um, yeah. Salad sounds great for lunch,
How is your dog doing?

i am capable of anything
because I am a woman
and the blood in my veins
is centuries old
one part iron, two parts *magic

A broken soul
Never knowing which way to go
Constantly being cut to the bone
With edges honed
Cutting up a life force
That went so horribly off course

No one can love the shattered
Their broken pieces are to tattered
Get to close they **** and splatter
No place to step they are to scattered

One that lives a life in shards
Will never, ever put down thier guard
So they live a life alone
Love ever fleeting, or never known

Sadly only love can heal, it's what their needing
As they sit there hollowed eyed and bleeding

All scattered around
Some lined up
Some thrown around
Sandals and tennis shoes
Flats and flip-flops
Big shoes and tiny shoes
Showing the busy life
Of  family
Coming and going

Truths seem to come
along, lies find out
reasons to creep over.
The same way.
Did and done,
keep it all and leave it
with no explanation.

Take the whole not loosen up,
by distraction fall in line
until closely all is scattered.
Moments aren't things
but things like them plain fully
are what hands have got
to pave the void of rhymes.

Dry skies against the wall
my shoulders too,
must run a mile
and keep the distance
from where I'm just too far gone.

It's scary
How it feels
Like to be
A leaf
Once you've fallen
At the ground
A light frail leaf
With no chance to fight
The strong tempest

It's scary
How the wind
Will be able
To blow you far
Away where you
Won't be found
Lost and floating,
wanting to rest
(But you can't)

he was born an angel
lights upon his face
rose petals covered him
eyes sparkled with love

dreamed about flying
when he saw his brothers' wings
all smiles of excitement
oh precious wings
he muttered

he woke up the next day
everyone was lying down
on the floor
no flying no more

      the wings was scattered

the sadness can be seen
in his eyes, until now

I've lost my pieces,
they're scattered all around
I've lost my pieces,
and they're nowhere to be found

I've stopped looking,
there's no point wishing...*

å   æ  ä

*could someone piece me back again?