Is it better fitting in or
Is it better standing out?
They cannot change me;
My will is too strong.
A stranger in a strange land.
Losing self makes land no less strange.
Losing self makes them no less strange.
I will be me.
I must be me.
…
Only me.
I found this poem on an old scrap of paper. I must’ve written it years ago. I can’t even remember why I wrote it now. The reasons can’t have been that important.
Chug chug chug
Here comes the train
I’m not getting on
I just sit here, watching
people … faces… going places…
What’s your story?
This man is reading a book
He has a pipe in his hand
But he glances at the sign
NO SMOKING
He sighs, and reads, and tries to learn…
This teen is laughing with her friends
Seven of them, going to a party
One shows a photo
O.M.G.
They laugh; they ask her…
This woman has two children
A pretty daughter; a snot-nosed son
The children fight over something
MUM!
She sighs, and looks out the window, and wonders…
What’s your story?
W.K.
He left me
Just like that
Out of the blue
“Hi there! Bye there!”
“I have someone new!”
What was I thinking
When I loved him?
He cared not for me -
He was only for “him”
I may be alone
But I am not beat
For as of today
His pants have no seat
He cut up my heart
I cut something of his
For I call it justice
In a world such as this
I’m looking for a treasure.
I’m looking for a clue.
My muse always escapes me.
I don’t know what to do.
I look on my computer,
but there is nothing there.
I look in books, in videos.
I don’t know what is where.
What is it I lost?
What do I hope to find?
I’m looking for an answer to
the questions in my mind.
But there too, I’ve looked and
it’s no longer in my mind.
Inspiration runs from me.
I think I’ve lost my mind.
The question now is missing too.
So what am I to do?
I need another question.
The hunt begins anew.
W.K.
A flower in the springtime
A moonlit kiss in June
A feeling of completeness
When I am there with you
A little bit of loneliness
A longing to return
A hollow void surrounds me
When I am not with you
Another splash of colour
Like fireworks in June
Another flower blossoms
When I come back to you
W.K.
I remember…
There was a mountain… way back when
and a fountain…
and bells…
All around lay motes of silver…
floating… falling…
and bells…
And the fountain gave birth to a river…
bubbling forth…
and bells…
The river was fresh, clear, and I drank deep.
And then I knew.
…
I can never return there again.
The soft chime of the bells -
I can never hear that again.
Water has made my life serene.
but no bells
W.K.