Poetry

I want to go back to that simpler time,

Where we ran through fields and played in dirt,

When we had an abundance of freedom, a million open moments,

Here's what makes

the music magic:

"Hit a wall".

He means get softer

dramatically

this has always helped me get it.

"Put the beat inside your body".

To minimize foot tapping

is more of a creek,

covered in yellow leaves and rotting branches 

that staunch the flow like a bandage over blood.

The river in the woods

probably used to rush

like its brothers farther north, shrieking

ywp is my 

s 
  a
     v 
        i 
           o 
               r 

// bumblebee//honeybee//honey//sweet as nectar//you are beautiful//in every way//

Each stanza is its own word. The first letter of each line is a different letter of the word. It is an acrostic poem.

Lots of different words

Accisamus:

an ironic rhetorical device, in which one feigns indifference, or makes a pretense of refusing something one desires.

We all fall.

Sometimes fast, sometimes blind-

The wind roaring past pieces of our mind.

The world tilts, and gravity wins,

But the story doesn't end where it begins. 

I come here to

express myself

semi-anonymously,

but freely

and happily.

My laptop is

bombarded with

tabs, one of which

is YWP.

Always.

I may not

write a poem

Throwing stones in glass houses

Makes cracks that can be removed

Taken down and restored

But that does not mean there was no damage to begin with.

we shall overcome,

we shall overcome,

we shall overcome one day 

and as the crowd sings

with the exception of a few dogs and a unicorn, 

You matter.

Not in a pastel poster sort of way. Not in a science teacher’s dad-joke shirt sort of way.

In a rain drop sort of way.

The rain drops don’t need to be there

Not all of them

For it to be raining.