Life Boat

Cracking through the sunlight

Of criticism’s dawn.

But wait, turn your light on-

Through the dim mist of that mind

Tiresome, sore, war-torn,

Perspective

You throw around like careless pennies,

Into the water but they don’t sink-

They drown,

Like me, but I’m still holding my breath,

For what’s left-

Hungry eyes peering up through murky depths.

A life boat couldn’t come sooner.

-N.B.

Fire

Time you are a fickle beast.

Life you are a short-

cake, too quickly swallowed.

Tick, tick, away of my tomorrows,

Long hand, short.

No sugar to sweeten my heart’s sorrows.

No seasons to mix,

As I struggle to warm this cool stove,

And leave barren leaves undressed,

Like this naked soul,

And hopeless dreams lacking zest.

 

But, who are you, who whisks breath into my flattened chest?

And stirs life into my hidden desires?

One flame was all I required.

One flame will suffice.

Until I light my own paths

And spark my own fire.

-N.B.

When Small Men Fall

Small men will fall,

short of their expectations.

Their onset of pride,

brewing, like the storm in their eyes.

Lies they will spout,

out of spiteful, little mouths.

Small men will break,

under the pressure they seek.

When their greed is uncovered,

smothered in apathetic promises,

concocted with spiteful little minds.

 

Small men will fade,

like the shadows in the night,

like thunder come sunlight.

No light-

-ning shall transpire-

here, where smoke filled mouths will never tire.

 

Small men, you will fall

like autumn leaves when November breaks.

Lest you let your pride be what winter takes,

And shake the dust off long closed eyes.

For a wiseman, reborn in Spring,

Will watch in awe,

As women rise.

-N.B.

 

 

Broken

I do not expect you to understand.

Every time you bear witness to my tears, I feel ashamed.

You see, every time I go back, this wound tears apart, never healed,

A fresh cut, bright red, only stings.

I scurry to piece together my bandaged, broken wings.

This hole, I have yet to fill,

Will swallow me whole.

I am numb to the world around me,

Because up until now, I have not reckoned,

When my vulnerabilities beckoned,

For me to try, For me to heal.

Around me, I never wanted this to revolve.

With me, I only wanted to deal,

And resolve,

My broken heart.

And, no, I do not need your guilt.

This plight is blameless,

If my tears are shameless.

What I need is you to tell me, “It will all be okay,”

What I need is your promise that there is a better way.

-N.B.

Outside

Outside I am:

Watching as they smile,

Listening as they laugh,

Sitting as they dance.

Looking away when they look back,

Glass walls holds me hostage.

But inside, I:

Press my face up to the view,

Of the people I once knew,

All reasons aside,

Let history slide,

Away from this room,

Away from this crowd,

Of blood like mine.

Wishing I was someone else,

Someone forgiven,

Someone brave,

Someone, unafraid,

Of wearing the dress,

Despite your brothers unsolicited shame.

Of dancing a mess,

Despite your body unwilling to be anything but tame.

For love of fun,

For connections and bonds,

For a string of familiarity I could never knit,

For a friendship spark from a candle never lit.

I sit here wishing, hoping, dreaming,

Of a life where I was in,

With those whom I love.

Of a life where I was one

With the laughter around me.

But instead I am me,

Solo girl on this whirlwind ride.

Face pressed against the glass,

Looking in, from the outside.

-N.B.

A Poem A Day Keeps the Doctor Away

(The mental doctor that is)

The Squirrel & The Fox

“I suppose I should write. I should really write something down,” said the sad fox to the lonely squirrel.

“I find that it is best to write in times so grey,” the squirrel returned.

“I think myself a lion, at times of brave display”

“Me thinks you’re just a coward, who likes to laugh and play,”

“Or, perhaps, I am a bird, flying free beneath the clouds!”

“Or, perhaps, your head is dense and heavy, and your wings are made of shrouds.”

“Dear squirrel, dost thou mock me? With lines so dry and grey?”

“Dear sir, why I would never, your mind doth carry you away. Oh my friend, I know your plight and I shall aid you in this quest! I can rid you of your riddles, and form a key to all your locks.”

“Dear squirrel, pray, you help me! Can thou free me from this box?”

“My dear friend, hear me closely. Your fur is brown and short, your eyes are dark and wide, your paws are sharp with daggers. Dear sir, you are a fox.”

-N.B.