Nightingale

I sang upon a nightingale,

I saw my words as they fell.

They tumbled with emotion felt.

As words collided and began to melt.

Like snowflakes for a moment’s sake.

Butter melting on a hot plate.

A soothing in my inner soul.

A mockingbird once more.

-OM

44.1

Raindrop

I watched a raindrop go drip drop.

As it tumbled from my rooftop.

It struggled with all it’s cares.

Through the wind I watched it fare.

I tried to watch a single one.

To figure out what it had won.

But each drop met one another.

A struggle shared as it fell asunder.

-OM

44.1

Scary times

I don’t care to speculate.

It’s scary times.

When you go to the store and all the shelves are almost bare.

When you sit and watch your stocks and 401K plummet.

I know some people have been through this before. It’s scary.

You get to view how immature society can still be. How we can act like animals. But also how we can still act like angels.

Acts of kindness seem to be rarer and rarer. It doesn’t take much to be kind. To do a favor, to help someone in need.

Even stopping your hand for a moment and taking a deep breath and realizing other people are worried sick. It doesn’t help to speculate and it doesn’t take much to be a human.

Let’s be kind.

-Opinionated Man

44.1

She

She sits upon a ledge,

I watch her heart beat from afar.

A perfect sunset, sitting Star.

My moment for a moment’s edge.

I hear her sigh, why does she sigh.

As a mile seems to pass by.

A tear breaks the moonlight.

Passing through my heart’s light.

And with her sigh, and with her cry.

She becomes a sunset before my eye.

-OM

44.1

Self

I saw it in the stars.

A mirror of a memory.

A hopeless wonder in disguise.

A shimmer of symmetry.

I could not want it any better.

Reminder of my inner self.

A picture perfect burning letter.

Of past promises and future wealth.

-OM

44.1

Gentle

Saturday, a gentle breeze, I feel it deep in me.

A summer breeze, can it be, peaceful misery.

Winter set, on summer set, waking up the mind.

Past times, of future times, a life on rewind.

Gently now, please gentle now, fingertips in the glade.

One finger then, not the middle again, let the passion fade.

Come swiftly back, please come back, back to our home.

Don’t leave me here, past memory clear, left all alone.

-OM

44.1