What if
All that was,
Is,
And will be
Is constant?
What if it has all
Already happened
And is happening
Continuously,
Right now,
But each of us is only capable
Of consciously knowing
One spot at a time.
yesterday – some poems, photos and thoughts.
Seeing a place where I spend all my time from above or the outside, really shows me just how small and insignificant I am. I am just a speck. But if every speck is insignificant and I am a speck in a cluster of insignificances, yet together we are significant…
am I really insignificant at all?
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Messages in bottles – A poem
Just the sight
Of these ominous oceans
Gives me the feeling
That these rocking motions
Are actually
Living in my heart
And my stomach.
The eye – A poem
I feel as if I am standing in the eye of a storm
With the eurhythmics of the swirling wind
Shouting in my ears a melody that could only be
Comparable to the sound of ghosts
Howling through my chimneys.
Every second of me – A poem
I would try to forget your touch But could never bring myself To burn the memories I knew I would one day learn to treasure. I am a scrapbook Of everyone’s touches Everyone’s words; compliments Or confidence crushers I am a mix tape Of the songs I sing in the shower And the ones that…
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I wish I could live constantly in the frozen moments of mornings – some photos from yesterday.
I wish I could constantly live in just mornings and evenings. Mornings are so quiet and peaceful. Fresh. They haven’t yet had the chance to dry out in the sun.
Read MoreThere was something, and this was it. – A poem
I’m stuck In the nagging nudges Of the night As they pace in the dark And tell me to write. But tonight Nothing seems right. I feel no urge For scribbles Under flashlight. I feel the time ticking As the night’s nags Are tickling The underneath of my feet. I haven’t tried to sleep Because…
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The girl in the red coat – A poem
I will be the girl in the red coat.
Read MoreDancing On My Own – A poem
I know I’ve always been a poem, Looking for a voice to make me a song. But in my search across the oceans I’ve never found one that belongs. All their singing did was drown my words But now that I’m alone, I’ve realised it’s my own voice that is perfect, And now I’m dancing…
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Can Ghosts Die?
There are some places I’ll never go back to. Not because they meant nothing to me, or because they are not worthy of my revisit, but because they meant too much. Because they hold memories of a person who has left my body. A me who is no longer. A me who helped build the…
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Lauren Kathleen 