The Nae Times: Poetry

Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

4.16.2011

Flowers Across the Way

They whistle in the wind, and bask in the sun.
Some vibrant, some so graceful, I gaze because it’s fun.
I’ve seen them there before, my gaze sometimes tired.
I’ve looked away, a coward scared of what I desired.

But now my eyes are fixed, swaying not at all.
As I exude a plan toward them; savvy, smart, and small.
It needn’t be complex, for they are just across the way.
It needn’t be too simple, for I’m human still today.

I mustn’t turn sideways; then my gaze will not be firm.
I mustn’t play by ear; encouraging courage to squirm.
I mustn’t run too quickly; I could lose my brawny traction.
I mustn’t sneak upon them; I’ll be inept of satisfaction.

No, I must take each step as steady as I took the other.
I must keep my heart and mind in sync with one another.
I must breathe in deep, letting breath out as needed.
I must keep my dream in sight, until by flowers I am greeted.

by Lisa Jenae Steed
Copyright ©2011

2.09.2009

The Love Factor

Up with the steady sun, pastels in the sky; One hand on my forehead and over one eye. A morning that's just paralell to the rest. My mind's almost bored but there's glee in my chest.

I sleep without hunger for another day's prod; Acting feign and amiss over facts that are odd. I see the meaning of life, forlornly inconspicuous. And all its residuals even surreptitious.

It's a common and overwheming query. One has no choice but to live on theory. Lack of decision can lead to pandemonium. So I made time for a personal symposium.

Up with the lovely sun, clouds kiss the sky.

My enthusiasm renders me awake and shy.

A morning, luckily, paralell to the rest.

My mind is clear and there's glee in my chest.

I wake without hunger of different situation. Happy with my loved ones and daily meditation. The meaning of love, comforting and undoubted. And all its residuals beautifully unshrouded.

1.08.2009

Wake up to Satisfaction

Wake up, coffee cup,

no coffee, herbal tea.

Morning sounds,

hope abounds.

Another day just loving to be free.

Work now, some how,

still uppity, so consciously.

Productive sounds,

success abounds.

The day moves on so gracefully.

Fitness time, health sublime,

no company, just me.

Aggressive sounds,

devotion abounds.

I wish I could tell the world I'm happy.

No television, no inquisition,

just conformity, a delicacy.

Sincere sounds,

love abounds.

My satisfaction comes with friends and family.

Only She

He can run his fingers through her vibrant, brown hair.

He can tell he will love her anyway and anywhere.

He can buy her flowers and whisper pretty nothings.

He can strip his clothes and buy her diamond rings.

He can yell to her he loves her, time and time again.

He can write to her sweet notes, with his signature pen

He can search her eyes, and make her feel so giddy.

He can remedy the way, she once felt so pretty!

But nothing he could do even willingly

Would help this little girl know that it is downright silly

To feel ugly and ashamed, sad and refrained

As she compares herself to others in pure disdain.

The only one 'can change that is her, and only she

Could teach herself that she is beautiful and free.

Misery

Who ever said being alone was lonely?

Proof of that, I cannot see.

I feel like all eyes are turned away from me.

But, how can I be lonely when I'm with misery?

They same time heals the crier's heart. . .

But they never said when that time would start.

How can I rely on something I cannot see?

Is love partnered with misery?

Sometimes

Sometimes things just don't add up.

Sometimes they never amount.

Sometimes the sky really does fall down.

And hits just after you look up!

Sometimes the pain just stays forever.

Sometimes promises aren't real.

Sometimes the deck really is rigged.

And the others let you think you're clever.

Sometimes the bridge is destined to break.

Sometimes the bird won't get the worm.

Sometimes refs don't see the play.

And the real just turns out to be fake.

Sometimes you can't depend on a heart.

Sometimes ALL the grass is yellow.

Sometimes friends will let you frown.

And hope is decieved by human art.

Water Heater Bill

Water Heater Bill lived on a hill,

He never had friends around.

He live up so high and since they can't fly.

They were too lazy to leave low ground.

This hurt his feelings and made him sad.

Are friends supposed to be this bad?

He questioned and asked but no answer came.

He toiled and sneered and wallowed in shame.

Then one day he saw this gorgeous girl.

She was beautiful and tall, and her hair had curl.

He saw that she lived on another hill too,

He could see her from his incredible view.

She looked lonely every single day.

But he could hear her play from miles away.

He thought of her often and spied on her too.

Thank goodness for the things binoculars can do!

This girl was fantastic, this girl was neat!

So he opened his door and moved his feet.

He ran and walked but mostly jogged

Til he reached this dame who lived in a lodge.

He knocked on the door to her great surprise.

And you could see the excitement in both of their eyes.

Nervous and trembling he said Hello.

She smiled and asked "are you from below?"

With just a small twitch and a sweaty palm too,

He said "no no, I live up just like you.

"He pointed to home, from which he had came.

And looked back upon that happy dame.

He asked her, her name very quiet and still.

She said "I'm Chauni, are you Water heater Bill?"

"Why yes I am he!" he said with a grin.

May I come back another day- to visit you again?

She said "please do, whenever you wish. . .

I'll show you my guitar and songs about fish.

"Why he slapped his knee and yelped "yippee"

"I've got a date with a gal who thinks great of me!"

She giggled a little and gave him a hug.

She said "Thanks for visiting, you're one fly thug!"

They hung out a lot and had so much fun.

And now, often think back to the day it begun.

Now they have twenty kids and one on the way.

And they live on the same hill FAR, FAR away!

Premonition

He sits there week after week.

Second row and to the right.

With a tattered shirt and shoes.

Well within the speaker's sight.

He never sits near anyone else.

And no one ever sits by him.

I've noticed he still comments though.

Mostly out of turn and on a whim.

The look in his face is so abstruse.

His heart is hard to hear.

His footsteps are far apart to me.

His waddle hard to mirror.

No one ever walks beside him.

No one sits with him in class.

Yet he says 'Hi' to passers by.

As he weaves through the mass.

I can tell he's searching.

I can see it in his pattern.

He's looking for a end, a break;

Some oil for the lantern.

He's working hard to search for it.

He's straining all his comfort.

He comes and sits every Sunday.

To show only God his effort.

I only hope, if I hit that point;

I act with such conviction.

He seems so confident and strong.

With a hopeful premonition.

12.25.2008

Steed Fam

This is one of the gifts I gave my parents for Christmas this year (2008), the best thing I written in a while. . . enjoy!

Open the red front door

and you’ll hear noise for sure,

there’s toddlers playing in the entry

and teenagers looking through the pantry,

Mom is talking on the phone

and all 7 kids happily spending time at home;

reading and writing what they may,

guiding one another through the day,

with laughs and giggles,

fonching and wiggles,

board games and electronics,

through the kitchen Tara frolics.

Beau’s trying to sell a candy bar

to Greg in their messy room,

Aaron and Lisa playing a game

with a golf ball and a broom.

Bri and Chandra shut the door

to turn up Bryan Adams a little more,

and a hard working Dad

just laying in his bed,

while has middle child removes his shoes

so he can rest his head.

Mama just said bye

to the relative on the phone,

so she can cuddle up

to the man who’s finally home.

And slowly but surely,

all 7 trickle in,

to sit upon that sleep comfort bed

that Mom and Dad are in.

Some of us are falling off,

some of us are hogging space,

many of us are overlapping,

Beau’s nasty feet are in my face.

But I’m happy as a clam

with the whole Fam dam,

just basking in the moment

as time ticks upon the clock,

I’ll keep it in my heart,

protect it with a lock;

then I’ll write about it in 20 years

and stick it on a note. . .

give it to the parents,

who inspired what I wrote.