Anxiety

It creeps when not in need
It reads out many things to me.
It has been wanting to subside
Call out deeper and deeper inside.
I am not a butterfly
I am just a small tree,
Which has roots deep within
The soil I stand beneath.
I read out to me
I read out to them all.
I am scared of the rise
As I am equally of the fall.
To have written to me
To have passed through me,
My courage has taken its toll
To the destiny of me.
I beg for some comfort
I plead for vicinity
To the oasis in the jungle
To the leopard behind the tree.
They walk in hand in hand
Leave a scratch on my brand
They dig deeper within
Manage to reach below the skin.
My fear does not subside
Now it is not just inside.
I write to set it free
I wander around the tree
The tree now is outside of me
As a bird I want it free.
I sit, I peck, I pluck
I was meant to sit atop.
The tree looks up at me
I think this is its destiny.
They who had left a scratch
Had taught not to attach,
Now when it is ready
It refuses to host the birdie.
This one not willing to peck
Just build a nest for its eggs.
The tree soon violently rose
Detached its roots
So the bird could not dose
On its branches and build
A haven for her own guild.

The elephant in the room

I remember the letter he sent to me
I remember the slight knock on the door
I remember the hollow sound from before.
I remember waiting on the grounds
Sitting as a car pulled up after the next
I remember asking for him.
I remember continuously looking around.
I remember nothing was found.
Sitting next to the door
I leaned against its sturdy frame
I closed my eyes and drifted in sleep.
When came she to take me away.
Cradle me in her arms to sleep.

I slept peaceful in her bed,
But to the memories of the letter awake.
I look around and under my pillow
I run about to the swing
I look under and above.
I run to the toy train,
Did it have a paper signed "with love"?
No sign of it at all I see.
I stop looking all around
I repress memories of things found.

No more knocks and hollow sounds
The letter that never arrived
The car that stopped before my door
Taken me in and then for a ride
The driver had changed masks as before.
I remember the letter he never sent me.
I remember for she had written in too
Every letter I remember
Was addressed in the same lettering blue.

I remember the letter she sent me
I remember the slight knock on the door
I remember the paper that slipped through
I remember it said,
"I didn't know what else to do."

Mine

They were never mine.
They were barbarians
They were ancient Romans
They were fanatic fascists
They were the rulers
Where I was the men.
The women I wasn't
For it was written
In the history of counting
Not to go below 10.
I wore a craft
I had learnt it at home
I hid the number 8
I had printed within.
I was beautiful
Those were days of glory
Men ain't beautiful
I was taken to theory.
I was the written
The conquered 4
I was the zenith
Behind that closed door.
I was taken to be a slave
I was beaten even today.
I wrote this on the wall
Please let me go
All I knew was
He would have his go.
Within and without
Over and above
Between the beyond
I knew no love.
I stared in the blackness
Not of the room alone
My insides weep
Every time i close the door.
I was not hiding
I was not scared
I was just insane
For none was fare.
I left the door unlocked
That other night
And as the light put off
I leapt from sight.
I left through a route
Not known by some
I left no tracks
For there was none.

Towards the Bygone

The repressed fear of gratitude
Slowly creeps in
Accredited with solidarity
And the serenity of the kin.
The time of a century
Has moved towards
The need of the throws
Of incalculable love.
The doors to the present
Stood behind the wall
Breeding heroes
And some known trolls.
He lugged and lived
In the time of chivalry
Coy as a cat
His skin was on a tree.
Put out to dry
And hung waist down
She made it impossible
To weave the crown.
The growth around it
Was slowly fading
The green was more
Towards grey bleeding.
She used a red
Against the blue sky
And still the clouds bled,
Bled the earth dry.
The heart then opened
To the one ignored
Thoughts revolving
Around that tiny door.
To pry it open
Each needed a tool
Chosen at random
It refused to brood.
He chose to walk down
The flight of stairs;
He chose to keep
The humming bee.
She fed on the sound
She broke the water bank,
Soon the home flooded
While both sat and drank.

Basking in The Sun 2

     *the customary meaning in form

Basking in the Sun

A piece, which took its time

Elastic, I pulled the ends apart
I spread it very very thin.
It changed its form for me.
Form, I disliked it deeply
I kept pulling the ends apart,
I even pulled at the edge.
Edge, It gave way for me,
I kept pushing and pulling.
I removed bits and pieces.
Pieces, of my life sprinkled
I had to keep picking them
I had to count each one.
One, the number of days
I spend before each sound
Tweaking with a thought.
Thought, I should let it be
Not hover over it like a wasp
I should really set it free.
Free, my spirit feels true
Intact with the past, present
The future stands in fear.
Fear, of love and being loved
A chance stood again
But I still pulled at love.
Love, the elastic I had kept
With me for so very long.
Elastic, that had changed form.