Category: Poetry

Why Not? When Someone Asks Why?

Published on by Ann’s Aliens2 Comments

Why not feel good?
Good is full of opportunities
Aches and pains can’t hold
In the face of something to do
Something to think about
Something to lose yourself in
Something to meditate with,

No, feeling good is a state of mind
Over body
Over disagreements
Over insurance
Over money
Over grumpy old men and women

Just a foot into the cheerful
Just an inch into the hope
Just a meter into a nap
With warm toast and a drink
A show to laugh at
A game to win.

My son gave me a Harper’s hero cap.
A donation to children
Who don’t get to play
Who have blinders on their futures.
He hopes to change that
To give them a place to be happy kids.
He knows he’s blessed
With so much energy and life.

My son said if Harper met
Me, he would be inspired
That I haven’t quit,
That my tears are reserved
For other times and other ways.
He thinks I am a hero,
But I am not.

I’m a woman who knows
That nothing is over
Until we take that last breath
And I won’t take that last breath
Until I have finished my book,
My stitching,
My dreaming,
My Century of life lived well.

The Road

Published on by Ann’s Aliens3 Comments

I was breathless when I finished this,
Breathless and filled with awe
Walking beside you to the music,
To the Grip of the Invisible
Whose voice rose inside yours.
Gasping, I followed you to the end
Of the road, to the moment before
Where your eyes closed
And your story began. The ship.
I tip my hat at the collection box for tips.

Drunkard

Published on by Ann’s Aliens1 Comment

I watched you,
Your gin swilled with lime,
Just before you work,
Just before you open that door.
Just before you drive.
I used to talk to you.
Deep talks, listening ears,
Listening to your promises,
To your future dreams,
To your fight between good and evil.
Listen, boy!
I saw the bottles mount up
I saw them empty
Cigarette ashes coating
Your mother’s furniture.
I saw you ignore responsibility
As you spread your empties and partials
In places you had no right
To contaminate.
I used to believe you,
But now I know you are a drunk
In search of an opportunity
To wile away hours uselessly.
You blame the economy
For not being a hero…
You had your chance.
You dropped out of everything.
Sweat means only that your pearl
Skin glistens.
So you blame, so you dive into bottles
That drink from you.

Rain

Published on by Ann’s AliensLeave a comment

There is a quality to rain,
When your heart is low,
When the desire to breathe
Wanes and the tides of death
Want to intervene.
We forget the lost ones;
The ones with no hope,
With no love,
With no dreams left.
It takes so little to hold on,
To give a hug to a stranger.
Needs to be fulfilled.
But empty time fills the hopeless.
Change is not inevitable,
The void of contact into that dark hole
In the center of my heart
Overwhelms and ties my hands,
But the water calls.
Water for cleansing,
For growth.
How I wish for a storm!

Coffee and Baristas

Published on by Ann’s Aliens7 Comments

Barista, oh thou who
Serves the ambrosia of the gods,
Bring me that potion,
That heavenly anointment
Of caffeine and coffee beans
Steeped and encouraged
To bring the life to my world.
Bring me coffee, barista.
Bring me the strength to
Face the day with guile,
Awareness, and compassion.
Coffee, oh the beverage
of the millions, handed to me
By the expertise of one
Who knows that morning
Has arrived.

Blue

Published on by Ann’s Aliens4 Comments

Heaven knows.

We lost the race,

Lost the blue ribbon

But looking up there was blue

In the sky to share,

 

Enough for all, I thought.

But they took their ball

And went home anyway,

I kept the sky to share with those

Who needed blue.

Whitewash

Published on by Ann’s Aliens1 Comment

As a little girl,
She read a book where whitewashing was done on walls and fences.
She pretended to be Tom
Swishing and brushing to put a shine
Where the fence was between
The neighbors.
Swish, splash, she turned her head
Looking for missed spots in the surface.

As a woman,
She worked long hours for a firm
That asked her to clean up
After their long day of dealings,
So she bent over her computer
Editing the to and from
The up and down
She washed the pages clean of color
Transposed them into a harmless key.

As an ancient one,
She sat and snipped her luscious
Thread, using the rainbow
Stitching and splicing
Ribbons created of long colored
Memories that never
Were just as they were remembered.
She thought of her paint brushes,
Dry and gone, from when she ran out of white paint.



			
		

	
	



			
				



			

			
				
			
		

	
	

		
		
After School and the Bullies

				

			Published on  by Ann’s Aliens4 Comments		

			



			


			
She

Was Small

And filled with

Doubt.      Dread

Filled         Time in

Classes         Where she

Watched           Learned about

Why she               Felt so different

From the                 Other children who

Played with              Dolls, makeup and boys

While she                      Read about Asia and war

She stitched                     Herself into a painting

Dressed in                        Red laughing at the camera

Her book                                Children who Shared and went

Hungry                                     And while the playground ran then

Emptied until                            Only bullies were left to invite her upon

The slide                                           And they tipped her over the side to lay

Mocked. Waking                                 to the Dark, as they walked away laughing,


Formless and bloody in a puddle, next to the slide.


Please help in the fight against bullying on our playgrounds, in our schools and on the internet. Take a stand for those who are different. Thanks.


			
		

	
	



			
				



			

			
				
			
		

	
	

		
		
E is Not Empty

				

			Published on  by Ann’s Aliens2 Comments		

			



			


			
I won’t scribble you away,

Nor toss your soul.

Not leave you faceless

Alone,

Or tormented

By a blank page.

I see you

Trending,

Launching with joy

At your clutched letter.

A publisher

Of humanity

Wanting to find your

Joy, your footstep

That will take you into eternity

With other poets who await you.


(Written for a StormcloudKitten)


			
		

	
	



			
				



	
	

		
		
The Old Woman’s Song

				

			Published on  by Ann’s Aliens2 Comments		

			



			


			
trouble in trouble city,

we all know the words,

lifting our heads up,

watching the sky singing,

old songs which never die,

left my innocence behind,

brought my wisdom with my chair,

a book upon each knee,

trouble in trouble city,

will catch an ear pulling from me


 


@2016 AnnWJWhite