poetry, word doodles and other writing stuff
they are both the same type to tree
growing next to one another
in the same spot
one has all the leaves out
the other just started
we all have our own pace
we all walk a different path
be gentle
be kind
to one another and to yourself
Winter’s blossoms
Skeletal beauty
Snow–white as bones
Memory and promise of life
Mourning
Time lost
Opportunities lost
My heart breaks
Every day
Watching you wait
I worry
Every day
That the sadness will take over
Engulf you too much
I am sad
For them
I know how no dad feels like
The echo is still painful
The border between
The three of you
Isn’t permanent
But it might as well be
The Mexican wall
Is her manipulation
As intangible as the other narcissist’s dream
But solid and prohibiting
All the same
They are lost on the other side
With no way to cross
Their covert and overt attempts
Scrambled
Under a gaslight burning so much oxigen
They can’t breathe anymore
Meanwhile you try to build wings
With duct tape so old it won’t hold anymore
Meanwhile you try to build a bridge
But the Lego bricks are brittle
Meanwhile you try to make a door
But the rusty hinges are jammed
You never know if they know
Off your attempts to scale the wall
You never know if they think
You abandoned them
That’s what’s on the propaganda channels
All day
All night
No matter how often they try to change the channel
They do not see your pain
They do not see your grief
They do not see your sadness
They do not see your broken hopes
The radio is too loud
There is some advertisement in-between the propaganda
Positive reinforcement with expensive presents
The media output is relentless
The words are vile
They cannot hear you hammer
They cannot hear you cry
If I could
I would
In my own words
If you could hear
I would tell
In my own words
If you could feel empathy
I would make the effort
In my own words
If you actually could feel
Anything but hate
My words would be worthwhile
In my own words
Silence is what you hear
In my own words
Silence is what you feel
In my own words
Silence is what you fear
My silent words are worthwhile
I am fire and brimstone
I am thunder and lightning
I am the sharp edge of a katana
In postmodernist shackles of implausibility
I am volcano
I am whirlwind
I am warrior
I am your nightmares’ nightmare
I am beyond bounds
I run along the milky way
For a morning jog
I am primal scream
I am hurricane
I am hunter
I am chaos
I am creation
I am the unploughed field
The potential waiting
IT IS UP TO YOU
If the plants growing in the field
Are sweetcorn or thorns
If it rains blood
Or warm gentle drops nurture your soul
IT IS UP TO YOU
WHAT YOU SoW
Do you sow your fears?
Do you sow your nightmares?
OR
Do you sow your hopes and dreams with love?
vintage dreams
of white fenced suburbs
pastels everywhere
in the garden
on the walls
vanilla life
suffocating nightmare
of monotony
the neighbour’s dog barked too loudly
you have no where to go
no where to be
you are lost
somewhere in your half-acre plot
Poetry by Nathalie 