Overflowing Thoughts

All of Verdant's Writings (mostly free verse poetry)

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

lament of the h/lazy

when does it get better?

yesterday I lumbered through the streets

with vision ringed in purple and black,

and the kids, they asked questions

and their parents shook their heads at me

saying "please never become them"

and they never looked back

sure, believe that I'm high,

or a failure or some bum on a drug she chose

but when I tell you I've never felt lower

cause I've tried all the pills that are supposed to unclog my head

and I still wake up hazy and can't remember

my name or my face or anything important

and clocks still tick backwards ever slower

believe what you want

or what you have the heart to believe

but I'm sick and

so tired

of being sick and tired.

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Musings on Angels

Before I sleep as of late,

I've been wondering of the ether,

that and the tales and sayings

of many people inside my life and out.

I wonder,

Do angels ride atop ambulances

and play around hospital beds

hoping to bring friends home?

I imagine them trying on each others' halos

And seeing whose wings are bigger

or whose fly fastest

and then when all is said and done

and everything is said

they sleep in clover meadows

or bedighting clouds

and wait to play again.

I suppose, in a way,

I hope to chase the fleeting kidhood

that left me long ago

and find it once life ends.

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

That Death of a Home

I lie in pain amongst written words

And broken melodies.

Color once dripped from these fingertips

but now my lips bleed monochrome.

I have done everything to keep your attention

But you have moved on, that or I have

Finally overstayed my welcome,

either way, the spark is dead.

No matter what show I put on for you

In words or images or song

I cannot revive a fire with no kindling

and this one has been stamped out.

I tried and tried to hold your gaze

But weeks have come and gone

And too many weekends have been silent

and too many more SOS messages unheard.

"Forget me enough and I might go off and leave"

A selfish thought, even worse when said.

But I meant it and you still forgot

So it's time I bow out and wander off.

Goodbye to this home I had for a year

And may she born from the spark rest in peace

Because it was all so wonderful, all so beautiful

But all things end someday, right...?

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Mantra of the Sacrificial

Close your mouth, close your eyes.

Keep your tears all a disguise.

For the world has left you to crumble

And no one should hear your cries.

All your love now lack therof

Has all flown away like doves,

And they're all mauled by the dogs

Feathers scattered amongst blood.

Maybe one day, maybe someday

45 feet will take mistakes away

But until you lose your fear of pain

All will haunt you as you lay.

Go to sleep. Slumber deep.

Hope in dreamland that you keep.

Cause your friendship was a hassle

And you are better left to weep.

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Marigolds

The chill has come down from the northern sky

And the world outside drowses, near asleep

I wander amongst the browns and blues

As my heart dreams on of other hues

and locks away its warmth down somewhere deep.

The smell of winter hangs there above my head

I look up to a gray sky laden with snow

A cold gust cuts through me

But I've somewhere to be,

And a feeling in my chest begins to grow

The world soon is coated in a shower of white

Yet onward my stubborn feet continue to plod.

Something bright and yellow gold

Within my body is taking hold

And bursts through my mouth as I trod

Yellow petals like sunrays soon adorn the white ground

And my scarlet shines in between them so bright

The warmth of your company

Has lodged itself so deep within me

That marigolds have grown there seeking the light

I'm soon there beside you, my jacket is stained

And petals of gold trace my path in the storm

My chest squeezes so tightly

Though you only hold me lightly,

And as I swear I'm fine, I feel warm...

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Ardente

I was so used to ink black nights

With no sign of hope or light

That running throughout them

In them, and out them

was a fight I fought to survive.

The chill seeping into my fingertips,

My hands, my heart, my frozen lips

It's beginning to freeze me

And starting to ease me

Into malaise from anxiety.

But out of the nadir

There came you

Out of the stupor

There came truth.

Out of the sensory deprivation I lived in

Came your eyes that broke through the night

Came your voice that gave me second sight,

Came your hands that warmed me back to life.

The nights I fight through now seem less dark

The memory of your laughter is now a spark

The blaze inside's growing,

My fire is glowing

And you are the star I chase.

So when all is growing hyperborean

Call out for my name again.

All I want is your proximity

To warm every part of me

When my mind brings a snowstorm down.

And out of the daze

I see your smile

Out of the haze

Your hand, it beguiles.

Within your ardente I long to linger.

The soul's bleak winter breaks through to spring

Somehow you've given me everything.

A warmth, a reason, a song to sing.

[apoemaday]

“May we raise children who love the unloved things”

by Nicolette Sowder

May we raise children who love the unloved things–the dandelion, the worms and spiderlings. Children who sense the rose needs the thorn

& run into rainswept days the same way they turn towards sun…

And when they’re grown & someone has to speak for those who have no voice

may they draw upon that wilder bond, those days of tending tender things

and be the ones.

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Today's poetry showcase:

"May we raise children who love the unloved things" by Nicolette Sowder

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Insomniac's Apology

It's such a weird feeling

Being up all night long

Watching the sun rise and then,

Having your body decide

"Hey, time to sleep now"

And of course you follow it

Because what else can you do?

I'm doing my best

But sleep, it evades me constantly

Like a rabbit fleeing the hunter,

Or a pack of rats, scattering upon being seen.

I'm sorry, it's nothing I can control

No amount of Melatonin can ease it.

No soft beds nor fluffy pillows can ease

What your body has already said no to

So in lieu of sleep, in replacement of dreams

I'll fight for your serenity, for your sake

I'll be sure you have good dreams,

Because I will fight all you worry about

That come to haunt you come midnight

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Arisen

Do not call me a saint

For the suffering I've endured

Do not say I grew from it

Because all I grew was resentment

What did not kill me

Left battle scars never to heal over.

I am no Phoenix,

I did not rise above the flame.

I survived...

but I only survived.

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Alter ego

3000 voices beneath a dead sun

3000 faces blended all into one.

I have forgotten my own eyes in the frenzy

And can no longer search, lest the clamoring ends me.

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Indirect reverie

I'm not sure what day it was

When you found me

and you took my hand and

let me plunge into you.

But time passes as it's want to do

and on Wednesday morning at 5am

I scroll through my head the same way

I scroll through my YouTube history

looking for you but either too lazy

or not brave enough to search for you

and the twisting in my stomach

born from nervousness and excitement

multiplied a thousand times over

hurts so bad

but oh God

how I revel in it;

not you

but thoughts of you.

[storybookprincess]

suddenly remembered this poem as i was making breakfast this morning & frantically googled “poem remembered to buy eggs?????????” & somehow managed to find it & it utterly knocked the wind out of me just as much as when i first read it

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Another poetry showcase with a breathtaking view of depression and recovery: Kait Rokowski's "A Good Day".

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

"God Bless America"

I see it on every bumper sticker,

Every wooden sign

in country home decor.

But there is nothing here

worth blessing.

What are we supposed to bless?

The ignorant politicians,

who eschew facts and their

duty as leaders

for points in a popularity contest

that no one watches

or wins?

The corrupted police force,

unwilling to protect anything

but their pride

and their warped ideology?

Must I bless the fact

That my adopted cousin

whom has no one else with her;

whom is alone at the state capital,

must see her people mistreated?

Must I bless

The horrific reality

That my best friend must wake up

Every morning to see

Paramedics kneeled in cuffs,

innocents with fire

caught in their eyelashes,

His people wounded en masse,

and then watch the antagonists,

the blues, every last one,

go free?

God bless America,

they say.

But this is no country

worth blessing.

Not like this.

Not anymore.

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

A cottagecore nursery rhyme

(A tribute to both my love of all things lovely and cottagecore related, and my love of nursery rhymes)

1 is the jar of honey to top my breakfast bread 🍯

2 are the pair of bluebirds winging 'round my head. 🐦

3 are the rabbit family I saw early today, 🐇

And 4 are the garden carrots for them I put away. 🥕

5 are the strawberries, ruby red and sweet, 🍓

and 6 are the daisies white, dancing at my feet. 🌼

7 are the yarns I bought, with every color bright, 🧶

8 are the books piled up beside my bed at night. 📖

9 are the frogs in the pond, croaking dulcet tunes, 🐸

and 10 are the fireflies, playing under the moon. 🌙

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

Touch

Touch me.

My skin craves you.

Put your hands on my shoulders

Look into my eyes,

and speak to me sincerely.

Interlace your fingers betwixt mine

and let our palms embrace.

Put one hand on my hip and

hold the other one tight;

let me show you how to dance.

I want to be near you,

head on your chest,

listening to your breath

until it soothes me to sleep.

I want to feel that electric current

Rippling between us,

In our veins,

Completing our heart bound circuits.

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

🍎 A Love Poem for the Applin Line 🍏

Flapple is tart, and Appletun is sweet

But Applin's no apple I'd want to eat

Applins aren't snacks, that I'm sure of,

as an Applin is an apple made only for love.

[wordsfromthepaintbrush]

A canary and a burning world

Through a crystal screen,

Pictures are swimming,

One by one and yet hundreds by hundreds.

A canary sits in her cage and

watches the fires stalking,

eating all they can lick, gobbling

seared forest and pan fried bush

in a frenzied need to satiate

burning stomachs.

Eagles, once seemingly mighty

and benevolent

now seem cruel,

waging war on kestrels,

the collateral damage killing

passing sparrows

until there's a country's worth of carrion left.

The canary sees it.

The canary knows.

The world

is

b u r n i n g.