Lowly grasslands filter muddied water
Hearts of steel rusted there...
Stomping through meadows meant for spring
Flowerbeds stunted by winter-snow.
Darkened valleys not meant for wandering
Is where the lonely wait.
Not used to a loss for words
Searching through billowy clouds
For more metaphors to explain the grief
Our wounded hearts gush openly
Dragged through valleys, meadows, and muddied water
Destiny and fate laughing boldly, without fear at our expense.
I want to scream at your heart
Blame you for not trying
Tell you how much blood you've drawn
Let you drown in the silted mire.
Watch you taste your hate.
And feed you the angst you despise
Opposite those wants
Is the softer side - the savior side
My heart also weakened at the sound of you
Edges of my spirit have reached capacity
Blushing at places I never should have gone
Crossed connections move blindly
Savor what is in front of you
Wade gingerly through the meadow
Seasons change the landscape
Scars will show where wounds once bled
Love will replace the hateful taste of the present
And your despair will turn to hope
~Blue
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Mostly what you'll find here is a conglomeration of my writes. While I don't consider myself a poet, I do consider myself somewhat an artistic painter of words....there's a difference. Poets are God-like - I just throw words around like a child with finger paint. Sometimes it's really great, and other times only my friends like it! I write because I have to, I share because I'm encouraged to, and I hope that in the end it is a reflection of everything good in me.
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