LIFE (A COLLECTION)
POEMS ABOUT LIFE. ALL POEMS UNDER THIS SUBJECT ARE ON THIS PAGE. NEW POEMS WILL BE ADDED TO THE TOP OF THIS PAGE AS THEY ARE WRITTEN. THESE POEMS WILL BE PART OF COLLECTION FOR A BOOK WRITTEN BY MICHELLE SHARKEY
THE PAPER
The paper calls me
Magnetic pen in my hand
Sailing over sheets from trees
Words are my wind
Waves of emotions
For you to see
Hypnotic intentions
You see me and mine
Bubbling up to the surface
Floating in our minds
I set the path
You tug the boom
I wrote this poem
Alone in my room
Away we go
Sailing the sheets
Together our minds meet
You create from my creation
And we have formed this poem
Its yours to feel
And yours to reel
Hooking the lines
Made by a string of phrases
Swimming to meaning
As you go through your day
Setting your sight
Inward to your heart
When you read
That is your part
Dancing on the surface
Journeying though the depth
Our time together on this page
We part when you turn
Or you change
But the words are the same
And the next explorer
Sails too
Different from you
Still with me
With a path of their own
And with room to grow
As I groom to roam
Through the waters of words
And fonts of fortunate phrases
All on the paper
THE WRITER
One writes to heal
One writes to feel real
One writes to be seen
One writes to only be
One writes to find a voice
One writes to show a choice
One writes as a dance
One writes as romance
A melody of melancholy
Or a concert of concertedness
A symphony of selfhood
Or a chorus of charisma
Beats of bereavement
Or lyrics of love
The songs change
But the soul remains
The writer is open
As the music meanders
The notes coming together
In movements like mountains
Rising up
Beyond the heavens
Touching the hands
Emboldening the hearts
Of those that hear the playlist
THE WONDER
Little baby
Wiggling in my arms
Loving the wonder
And awe of you
Precious and perfect
My love cannot be bound
Or stifled
Or contained
Your eyes closed
To the world ahead of you
But my love prepares you
For your life
I am guided to guide you
By my love
Sacred and pure
The part of me that you carry
Will always be
The part of you that I hold
Will last forever
Thank you for choosing me
To be your Mother
WILD AND FREE
Walking wild and free
On the path that was set by me
Set for me my foot hits the ground.
The beauty of the swamps surround
Me
Present
Sun
Jolly friend
Setting the light
Beautiful warmth
My daily partner
Always there for me
Shining through the darkness
THE MASK
The first masks we wear are those we receive from others
Some how
Some way
Something
Places a mask onto our face
Imbedded into our soul
In our youth we shudder to think
That we accepted these masks
We break them
Free from the chains we see entangled by
The like labrats we reach for another mask
Through the maze
We run
Grasping each mask that looks different from the first
We embellish it
We play
Different roles
But all the same
Masked
Then we add a costume
And a wardrobe of costumes
Juggling out personality
Like a clown
The masks grows
The costumes become permanent
Like the ones my mother wore
Like the ones my father wore
Covering up everything else
Unrecognizable from the self
Overtaken by shadows upon shadows
Reality is gone
Completely
Castle
The queen inside her castle
She sat upon a throne
The kids obeyed her rule
The servants bowed at her feet
She directed orders
Everything was as
Right as it could be
She built a moat
Surrounded by a forest
Over the mountain
And toward the coast
An island castle
Where she protected everyone
From nothing it seemed
All of the precautions
And the anxious rules
Kept her closed off
For safety
And security
She made sure not to let anyone in
The bussing around her
But no one to talk to
No one to comfort her
No one to make her smile
Alone on a throne
She built her solitude
Turned love away
Only because she was afraid
Of a monster she created
In her mind
So in the cold castle she resides
Living on only because she is still alive
Imprisoned by her thoughts
In which she is forever caught
The castle of chains
Bound to the fear
Created in her brian
Forever enslaved
By herself
PANDEMIC HANDS
Moments between hands
Lockets of memories
Lessons of life
Palm reading in real time
Pandemic hands
Hands in a flurry
Hurried hands
A slaughter of safety
The practice of sorrow
Grieving hands
Losses that slipped right through our fingers
Small hands
Typing away for online classes
Holding a cap and gown for a graduation
That is cancelled or postponed
Can life be postponed while our hands have no rest?
Gloved hands
A doctor’s search for a cure
Gardener’s hands
Deep in the soil of a Victory Garden
Nurse Hands
Holding patients’ to tame their fear
Entangled fingers comfort the weary
Worn and exhausted
Washing hands
As worry drains down into the ground
Taken by the Earth, filtered
I hold in my hand
A gift small and symbolic to celebrate
The birthday of a friend
Happy to be here another year
Another day, another minute
Worker hands
Full of cuts
Extra hours of labor
To make up his family’s losses
Protective with love
Strong hands
Warm and heroic
Surrounding me
When ware are down
Hands have power in a slight squeexe
Pandemic hands
Hands of volunteers
Hands of helpers
Teams of hands
Hands like life’s breath
Hands that build together
With mine
Hands intertwined
Love Spreads Faster than Pandemics
You’re a Rock
Rolling
Steady
Magical
Grounded
He Got Sober
He got sober
And told a stranger
He didn’t know why he told her
Maybe her soothing nature
Maybe just because she would listen
And her smile was genuine
120 days
He changed his ways
He found himself again
He remembers what he likes
Hobbies and shows
Trips he wants to go on
And his lost old friends
That are no longer lost
He called his brother that morning
After thirty years of drinking
After all that time not thinking
That he would ever be sober
But that day he was ready
And his brother made the arrangements
Picked him up
Dropped him off
His sober life began
Life began again
He got his first tattoo
A cathartic new addiction
As a reminder
Of his strength
And the life he left behind
Renewed faith in God
A contract with himself
To heal
A tattoo as a reward
And something to show the stranger
As he’s feeling proud
Because he knows where he was
And where he is
He knows where he’s going
And that he’s going to stay sober
Tired of this Mess
Working hard
Tight spaces
The ones that he’s too big for
Running wires
Trapped in a wall
Cutting holes
Fiberglass scratching the skin
Grabbing the screw gun again
Putting on the faceplate
A radar on a center console
Night vision on a yacht
Captains and crew
Don’t make the money he does
Anniversary 43
Of his life with the sea
And the vessels
All just a hassle
He never liked them much
Is a nice way to put it
The military taught him
And the factory years
Practically brought him to tears
But he did it then
And did it longer
And does it
And doesn’t stop
He declares every day
He’s too old
Yet he stays
For his kids
And the apprentice
A single mom he took on
He brings them along
And shows them the way
So much knowledge
He will take to his grave
And he says he is too old for this mess
But he wires the boats
And the owners are happy
Making his kids’ the money
Doesn’t take a brown dime
So his work isn’t complete
He’s got his competition beat
He doesn’t let the money make the man
Humble and understanding
Always lending a hand
Helping moms and children
With all of life’s demands
He’s too old for this B.S.
But he will do it until he lays his head down
Because work keeps the breath
The heart pumping
The mind sharp
The hands nimble
And he keeps it up
Even if he’s too old for this
Money Doesn’t Count
Cash is king
Or so they say
And make it to be
But it means nothing
Cash for rent
Cash for the car
Cash for food
But my credit is crap
Thanks to cash
But I have no debt
Thanks to cash
And yet it all means nothing
And none of it matters
And it can’t come with you
It doesn’t help your hurt you
It just is
Paper