Sometimes, we just have poopie days; nothing is wrong, I just find myself anxious and whatever again… pay no mind. I wrote a poem though!
Bound by burdens,
Bored by boundaries,
I worry about floors and things.
I worry about lives and rings,
I worry too much.
All I see is new to me,
Unreal to me,
Too far from me.
All I feel is sinking appeal
To a thoughtless, heartless beast.
Burdened and beaten day after day,
I try and search for a different way,
But my own worry holds me,
I am chained to always remain,
In my cycle of indecisiveness.
Blinded by blackness
Burdened by boredom,
I halfheartedly search for truth
I make small tears and split fine hairs,
And convince myself I’ll find it.
Still unsure of a lot of things,
Anxious about what futures bring,
I lose sight of the mundane,
I can’t feel the air that’s everywhere,
And I constantly feel without.
A burden to bear
Is my life where,
I fruitlessly bumble about.
It’s sadder than sad,
And it makes me mad,
That I can’t, don’t, or won’t pull out
But the fact is,
That right now,
I honestly just don’t know how.
Alright, I know, I know, that sounds a little depressing, but seriously, writing poems is cathartic… don’t we all feel better? Anyways… hope everyone else is having a kick ass Tuesday.
Duane! Yes, we all have those days. Sometimes they linger even. Just step back and take a deep breath. Write on your blog…oops, you did that already. Take a walk, clear your head. Listen to music. Write a poem…ooops, you did that already. …I think you’ll be just fine. (((HUGS)))
Hi. I miss you.
Oh I definitely have those days and probably too often.
Hope your poopie day gets better, Duane!
Oooh, Duane darling,
I have a poopie day every day, maybe it’s something to do with this bloody weather, dear. I’ve written a poem here to cheer you up. O.K, darling? It’s called “Brokeback Mountain”. Ready, dear?
Brokeback Montain
I run my loving fingers
Through his tousled hair-
Wild finches darting from his golden wheat field…
I look deep into his eyes-
Blue sky kissing high summer
Over Brokeback Mountain…
Under the lonesome night sky,
By the mountain campfire,
I can see the sweat on his forehead,
The embers glow over his stubble blue…
I can feel the heat rising
From the forest of his arms’ hairs
And his hissing ’snake’
Under my loving touch…
I can feel the warm soil
In his torso’s fields-
Rippling valleys across and down,
Upon where my head rests now…
For darling Duane, the one and only, on his poopie day.
Loved Columbus’ poem. You should have a haiku contest.
Duane,
Sorry you are having a Moody type of day. I’m sending you a ((hug)) and a :>)
I understand your feelings in the most instinctive way. I to have the same longing to find and the need to belong and do.
It has been too long since we talked - I’ll be in touch soon…love ya!!!
I love your Poopy Poem.
Hope you’re day is looking up!
*hug*
Duane, I love the poem! I hope you’re feeling better today!
Thanks everyone… I feel better now; it is just one of those things, you know? Thanks to everyone that gave me hugs and well wishes! Muwah!