Numbed by "I Don't Care"
My senses wonder how to find peace
among company not familiar
with the lightest touch.
Even though I have written down
everything of which I dream.
My words are not heralded
by the new age the same
because a pebble
means more to them
than a beautiful sunset's beams.
The youngest
seem to rise inside the walls
with no names,
disguised as sparkling diamonds
known as hope.
I must beware of their winds
as they can overwhelm
the very air I cradle and for which I fight.
Or, I may find my Heaven
has become absent
and that I have given up everything
I know to be right.
I could look straight through the glass
and hear the strangest voices ever
from my reality.
And, I would want to know
what lies at the bottom,
posing as flowers for my hair.
Still, I find there are wrinkles in my climate
painted on the panes of life,
numbed by “I don't care”.
If I tried to escape or perhaps fight
for what I believe,
would I be considered shallow?
Could I still feel the appeal of peace
or would I want to cover my heart in sleep?
So, I watch the schemes
of those not familiar with the lightest touch
then watch them drink the wine
of what they reap.
among company not familiar
with the lightest touch.
Even though I have written down
everything of which I dream.
My words are not heralded
by the new age the same
because a pebble
means more to them
than a beautiful sunset's beams.
The youngest
seem to rise inside the walls
with no names,
disguised as sparkling diamonds
known as hope.
I must beware of their winds
as they can overwhelm
the very air I cradle and for which I fight.
Or, I may find my Heaven
has become absent
and that I have given up everything
I know to be right.
I could look straight through the glass
and hear the strangest voices ever
from my reality.
And, I would want to know
what lies at the bottom,
posing as flowers for my hair.
Still, I find there are wrinkles in my climate
painted on the panes of life,
numbed by “I don't care”.
If I tried to escape or perhaps fight
for what I believe,
would I be considered shallow?
Could I still feel the appeal of peace
or would I want to cover my heart in sleep?
So, I watch the schemes
of those not familiar with the lightest touch
then watch them drink the wine
of what they reap.
Copyright @2012 - Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
...and written by a heart full of passion and hope like a true poet! This is heartfelt and beautiful Neva!!
ReplyDeleteDear Neva,
ReplyDeleteI hear you. It is so difficult in life to know what to do. I have seen my best intentions turned inside out into horrible monsters that never could be conceived in my wildest dreams. So one wonders whether people are calm enough to be gentle with life and give things a chance. And I know what you mean about seeing the rush of life all around us. Why does that seem to work for others. Perhaps it doesn't and we just can't see that.
You poem was greatly enjoyed.
My very best regards,
Rick Puetter
Yes i do not know whether to fear for or be proud of those young ones inside the walls. What they will become when they realize they have to get cut and formed to become sparkly.
ReplyDelete