Tag: poems

Original Works

If You Were a Book

maymargaret

If you were a book,

What kind would you be? 

Would you be a best seller,

Would I come by you for free?

Would I read you cover to cover,

Or peruse you casually in a park?

Would I still be reading you beneath the lamp light after dark?

Are you a comedy, drama,

Or something in between?

Would your imagery stay with me,

Or flicker away like a dream?

Do you use your own perspective,

Or a friend’s?

Is your font friendly?

How does it end?

If I were to see you in a store,

Waiting on the shelf,

Would I walk by?

Or would I pry

Your pages open hungrily for more,

Your epilogue offering clarity,

The story becoming clear,

Would I fear

What you have to say?

Uncategorized

Until Then

maymargaret

The day I retire 

My hearts first desire

Maybe then I’ll miss you.

When my mind stops aching

When my heart is done breaking

That day, I’ll miss you.

The first night I lie

And not wish he was by my side

That is the night i’ll miss you

After his voice ceases

And my obsession crumbles to pieces

After that, I will miss you.

When I notice the blue

In your eyes is a brighter hue

That is the moment I will start to miss you

When you are long gone, and I am alone

With my memories, photographs, a dead number on my phone,

Already, I will be missing you.

When his ghost abandons its embrace,

And yours takes its place.

I won’t be missing him. I’ll be missing you

Original Works

Art

maymargaret

I will not die for my art

Does that offend?

Does my noncommittal attitude bend

You out of shape?

Are your words richer than mine,

Is your mind more inclined

To weep at the illustrious beauty of rhyme

Am I pretentious?

You proclaim me to be

You see

A soul trying to lift herself higher,

And you sneer

At the tears in her sleepless eyes

The pain in her sighs 

As she paints to realise

The dreams behind those haunted eyes

Alive and absent of sense

Condensed with colours for you to see

Me

I am the artist you seek

Words paint and a canvas of mind

Designed with no intention

to offend or praise

But you raise your voice for us all to hear

The fear plain 

As your insults rain on my ears

And you proclaim that the artist must die for her art. 

You cry, there is no blood in her ink.

But I think,

Art must breathe life.

If strife is your brush,

The lush green around will fail to catch your attention.

Original Works, Uncategorized

Experience

maymargaret

Are you here for me

Or for you?

Are we destined to dance 

In this imitation of romance?

Why do I write on your behalf?

Why do I give your voice tone,

Is it sympathy?

Is it longing?

Are you the only love I knew

That would hurt as it grew

Into something you would not reflect

As months and years passed

And yet

You come back.

A word on a screen,

An innocuous greet

In the seat

Of my mind I ready for this whirlwind,

It will only end in tears

Your fickle mind, soaked in the remains of expired memories

Curled ashes on the floor

I wish I didn’t love you anymore

I wish you would stay

I want you to stay

If only for a second, an hour, a day

Would be too much

You are my story book.

I think from afar 

And there you are,

So close.

We are meant to be 

I know this I tell myself this

I feel it yes it must be true

Late night texts 

It must be me you want

A love grown from old seeds

Dust in the ground

Why are we keeping it alive?

Original Works, Uncategorized

I Am

maymargaret

I am nothing.

Nothing is I

Doesn’t make sense, does it?

To occupy a space

To make a lasting impression beneath your feet

And say those words as breeze bends around you

Everything is something

Nothing is something with everything in it

If I am nothing,

What does that say?

I am still a daughter

A niece

A granddaughter

A friend 

A colleague 

A lover

A memory.

Or is that too vague?

Am I too much in other eyes?

I don’t sell much, but I’m a painter

Cats may make more pleasant sounds, but I’m a singer

A writer I am and the words are my own

Rough as they are they come from me alone

Music comes in a wordless tune,

But it is mine.

And that is everything.