The Drum

The Drum

It is when I stop caring
That I once again hear the drum
Patta-tat-tatta-rat-pat-pat
Unsteady
                   Softly
                                 Feeling
I can see in colour

                                 Breathing

And I hear it fade to gray.
I’m here now
I’m waiting
But you’re still looking
For that white picket fence.

That Road Not Taken

That Road Not Taken

Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood
One claims the fun
One claims the play
The other provides insight
The other incites delay
One is righteous
One is evil
Which is the one less trodden on?
I’m over this metaphor.
I choose what I want.
I’m taking this path.
No-one can tell me it’s wrong.
This is the path I choose.
Two roads diverged?
One mind diverged
When I find peace with myself
The decision is easy
No more conflict rests within me
The Road Not Taken
Strays far from me
I will not worry
And I do not regret.
That Road Not Taken?
Out of sight
Out of mind.

Poetic Wednesday: Things of Darkness

Why did light
To darkness run?

Even the sun
Hides itself in night.

Thinking she is alone,
The moon flatters herself.

Stars try to pierce through
The blanket of night.

Clouds do their best
To rob the stars’ light.

The creatures of the night
Clothe themselves in our fear.

They are but shadows that
The sun refuses to reveal.

Some things of darkness
Are better left unseen.

©2015 The Glitter Aficionado

Poetic Wednesday: The Leaf

The Leaf

When the leaf
First felt sunlight,
She spread her wings
To embrace the warmth.

As she grew
Larger and stronger,
She communed with her siblings,
Breathing gently.

Together,
They did their duty,
Clothing the tree
In majestic beauty.

Soft winds did blow
Causing the leaf
And her neighbors
To sway and dance.

On stormy occasions,
The branches would shake,
Discharging all those
Weaker than the rest.

The leaf watched with sadness
As one by one,
Her neighbors lost their grip
And slipped off into the wind.

The breezes changed
And so did the colors
Of the leaf and her
Many sisters and brothers.

They lost the strength;
They lost the will;
To remain on the branches
Of the tree.

But the leaf
Knew her duty,
And would not leave
The tree to shiver nakedly.

While relinquishing his hold,
“Why do you stay?”
Her last neighbor asked
One cold autumn evening.

Without letting her answer,
“Look at you!
There is no purpose!”
He cried as he fell.

But before she could speak
And provide a viable answer
Her last neighbor
Was already at the bottom.

The leaf could not
See herself,
As her neighbor
Had commanded.

But judging by her lost friends,
She knew she was not
The spry green beauty
She once was.

The tree had no-one
But her now,
And obstinately,
She refused to let go.

She shivered through
The winter months,
Snow clumping against her,
Trying to pull her down.

She shook it off
Carefully,
With the little strength
She had left.

In decay,
She wondered if maybe,
She should have followed
All of her neighbors and friends.

Barely there,
She could not clothe the
Tree on her own,
Especially in such disarray.

The loneliness that
Had swept in long before
Encouraged her to
Just move on.

Just as she was about
To release her
Final hold on her branch,
She noticed something.

Tiny buds of many hues,
Cluttered all over
The tree’s many branches
Had begun to grow.

The happiness
Of the leaf
Truly knew
No bounds.

Letting go with
A final breath,
She knew the tree
Was in safe hands.

Finally,
After all this time,
The noble leaf,
Did fall.

©2015 The Glitter Aficionado

Poetic Wednesday: A Pile of Rubble

A Pile of Rubble

When the house began to crumble,
No-one made a rumble.

When the foundation itself did shake,
Not one person did quake.

They were told to it to tend,
But not a hand did they lend.

They ignored the shingle,
That fell as they mingled.

They masked the mold in the basement,
By spraying heavily a lovely scent.

If dirt was visible on the floors,
They simply closed the doors.

When the roof began to leak,
They claimed they’d fix it within a week.

The ivy that grasped at the column,
Was a poison they decided to welcome.

As the paint peeled off the walls,
They simply watched it fall.

All the colors began to fade,
So they said the fads were these new shades.

All the undone necessary upkeep,
Was not because they were cheap.

To them it was just a bit of a pother
To ever give any of it a bother.

But then they felt the rubble,
Falling close to their stubble.

They saw the roof collapse,
And could only let out a gasp.

The scurried to build it up,
But their only tools were spoons and cups.

They realized they had no skill,
As with flooding waters, their house did fill.

They finally noticed as the house did crumble,
Because it did take quite a tumble.

Their prayers and will to mend were too late,
And the house succumbed to its dire fate.

They could do nothing but feel remorse,
And speak of regret until their voices were hoarse.

They had to leave the place,
And find a new space.

But they would never find anything
Comparable to the beauty of which the original house did sing.

One day, children would come to play,
“This is quite a mess!” they’d say.

For them the hideous sight,
Was a playpen full of hidden delight.

But in the shambles, danger did abound,
So parents called them back to be safe and sound.

The house had no owner to call its own,
And it couldn’t even enjoy the light the children has shone.

There had never been anything holding back,
All the decay from its attack.

Where a once majestic house did stand,
Lies a pile of rubble not quite so grand.

Poetic Wednesday: The Candles

The Candles

Billions of candles
By the shore
Flickering brightly
Nothing more.

Sometimes I wonder
How life would be
Were one to blow out
That one that is me?

What would the other
Candles say
To see that this one
Had gone away?

I’m afraid that
I’ll just never know
Not really wanting it
To happen so.

I might just sit
And dim the light
Hoping that alone
Will provide insight.

I would never remove
The light forever as
There is much to do;
Life is an endeavor.

What I really need
And what I desire
Is that the flame
Rages like a fire.

I want it to be open
To breathe in oxygen
So it burns freely
Spirited once again.

Poetic Wednesday: The River

The River

Infamous —
The glistening water flows.
 

Dangerous —
The rapids are exposed.
 

Beautiful —
It shimmers in the night.
 

Curious —
The people stop to stare.
 

Incredulous —
“Why! It’s only a creek!” some cry.
 

Stupefied —
“No, it’s quite magnificent,” some sigh.
 

Greedily —
Some want to own the land.
 

Horrified —
Some stop and take a stand.
 

Mysterious —
For depending on the propinquity,
And the observing personality,
The River is never the same.

©2015 The Glitter Aficionado

Once again, this poem is up for interpretation. I’d love to hear what you think, so leave a comment and let me know! 🙂

The Mask: A short poem

This is a little poem I just came up with. I hope you enjoy it!

The Mask

The Mask is alive,
It knows no bounds.
It preys on fear,
And also imagination.

For some —
It’s a welcome asset.
For others —
It’s meant to be kept secret.

The Mask goes
By many names.
Some call it Deception.
Some christen it Art.

The Mask provides escape.
The Mask provides disguise.
It can hide
What’s truly deep inside.

But the Mask can also showcase
Someone’s beautiful creative mind.

The Mask knows no emotion,
Other than the glee,
It obtains from stripping clean
Regularity.

The Mask is a token
Of the life we choose to live.
A choice we will make,
Will the Mask we take?

Right or wrong?
Benevolent or foul?
In this case,
The lines are quite blurred.

Though it wants to say,
It isn’t so,
The Mask knows,
In the end,
You are the only one,
Who can decide.

One thing I love about poetry is the fact that it can often be interpreted multiple ways. I do know, as the author, what my original meaning was meant to be, but even as I wrote it, I thought of what I felt was a better way to see it. So, I’d rather hear what you guys think! Leave a comment to let me know your interpretation of The Mask.