I cannot feel my anything.
I am paralyzed.
I cannot move my toes.
I cannot feel my nose.

My eyes search darkness blindly.
My hands are frozen.
My legs do not respond.
What are these invisible bonds?

I cannot sort my thoughts out.
I am so confused.
Only feel a broken heart,
Jagged pieces not rejoining.


 

Another day, indistinguishable from Night,
Which crept along at a dreadful pace,
And cast shadows over everything—
Distorting everybody’s face.

I could not tell the good from bad,
Everything turned to ash at sight—
My senses dulled, no sweet or sad—
Just numbing fear along my spine.

Then a golden glow surrounded me,
Filling abhorrent vacancy—
Blinded eyes could once again see,
I felt myself now soaring, free—

Yet sweet freedom, too good to last,
Took flight, and became distant past—
It seemed some angel’s halo had
Simply been claimed by gravity.

Another day which could be night,
No sense of what is wrong or right,
Yet still a trace of good remains—
Shining between the bars, a ray.

Once upon a meadow green,
Something occurred which was not seen.
A mysterious tale, I assure you,
Was created under a sky of blue.
A strange event took place one day,
But what exactly happened I will not say---
For what else do you need to know
Than that a tale can't be told in prose,
If it was really meant to be
Conveyed through simple poetry;
Alas, I lack the words to tell this tale,
However imagination works when words fail.
 

(Read this column first)                                                                                (Read this column second...it's every other word )
                                                                                                         
Do you really know everything which is worthy of recongnition?                You know which worthy recongnition matters most.
What matters the most?                                                                     
                                                                                                            
Are you sure? Are you certain? Free of all possible doubts?                      You are certain of possible challenges. 
Challenges: many.                                                                             

The snow fell, drifting down to the ground from
The blue sky to the frozen land below.

The bells rung, expresssing joyous song.
The people lit candles, which burned for long.

The people danced, and ate wonderful food.
The people sung, and exclaimed gratitude.

The people came together happily.
The people talked, and children romped freely.

The snow fell, burying the frozen land.
The people celebrated, warmed by community.
 

A ship lost far out on the sea
Where dark clouds stretch for Eternity,
And gusts of wind blow it about---
For this ship, no one safe gives a thought.

A sheep which strayed too far from the herd
In a meadow which seemed pleasant enough,
Though meadows small stretch far, long out
When one is left without a friend.

A person who is excluded
When people care not about their thoughts,
When they can't be "cool", they are cast out---
And the most important ideas drown.


 

The snowflakes fell, thin crystal structures,
and piled upon each other, lacing
tree boughs, rooftops, the ground, my lashes.
 
I exhaled a lingering, cold mist,
and trudged with heavy boots through fallen snow
which crunched, a ravishing sound to hear.
 
I made my way across my backyard
and crossed the fallen fence into the woods,
making a path beside the frozen creek.

I suddenly stopped, and then bent down
and pressed my ear to the top of the ice;
I heard the gurgling of water.

I trudged back in the dark to the door,
teeth chattering as I entered the house
and yanked off my boots and winter coat.

I sipped a warm drink, then went to bed
and lay there in the dark, reliving the day.
Shivers of pleasure crept through me.
 
The snowflakes fell; they kept falling through
dawn, and midday, and dusk, and dark night,

An interesting idea
Comes from the strangest place,
From a child or memory,
Or thoughts, or need of haste,

I usually get ideas
Really quite randomly,
I do not know why my brain works
In this annoying way,

Have you ever been eating lunch
When your brain starts to write?
Have you ever thought of something
Just midway through the night?

An interesting idea
Comes at a queer time,
But I think it is worth the wait,
For it will be sublime.

The snowflakes fell, thin crystal structures,
And piled upon each other, lacing
Tree boughs, rooftops, the ground, my lashes.
 
I exhaled a lingering, cold mist,
And trudged with heavy boots through fallen snow
Which crunched; a ravishing sound to hear.
 
I made my way across my backward
And crossed the fallen fence into the woods,
Making a path beside the frozen creek.

I suddenly stopped, and then bent down
And pressed my ear to the top of the ice;
I heard the gurgling of water.

I trugded back in the dark to the door,
Teeth chattering as I entered the house
And yanked off my boots and winter coat.

I sipped a warm drink, then went to bed
And layed there in the dark, reliving the
Day. Shivers of pleasure crept through me.

The snowflakes fell; they kept falling through
Dawn, and midday, and dusk, and dark night,

Somewhere, there is a land of ice and frost,
Which glints and glimmers in the rays of sun—
However its magic may soon be lost,
As years of pollution can’t be undone.
Cold, slick, and hard, the ice is now melting;
 We are on a man-made slippery slope—
Polar bears float away on ice, looking
Back—eventually, they give up all hope.
A dreamworld of wonder, and snow, and ice
Is shattered by our dreams—not needs, but wants;
No number of words will simply suffice
In changing if the Arctic melts or not.
We must take action; save the ice quickly—
Or it will be gone for Eternity.