A Kite, A Sheep, And A Road Trip

Crimson Kite

A crimson kite on a silver string
Dances off upon the breeze.
A yellow tail drifts behind
Like a curlicue design.
Dipping, wafting, waving farewell,
Taking all the secrets to tell.
In indigo nights, with no light,
The crimson kite now takes flight.
Tail waving, string unwound,
Like a soul newly unbound,
Wandering across the sky
Until the gentle wind has died,
Rendering the playful kite
Sleepful in the peaceful night.

Black Sheep Brigand

Vagrant one,
Thief in the night,
Quick-stealing vagabond boy.
Tricksy one,
Clever and light,
Quick-jumping bright-eyed boy.
Through the forest,
Through the trees,
You steal like the thief you are.
To the lake,
To the shore,
You set out to sail so far.
New world,
Same life,
Old thieving, stealing ways.
Same grin,
Same smirk,
Same madly dashing days.
Lone wolf,
Black sheep,
Wayward, wordless child.
Sweet thoughts,
Sweet smiles,
Dark hair, tangled, wild.
Treehouse high,
Hideout cries,
Under roots so wizened.
Hiding now,
Laughing loud,
Thieving black sheep brigand.

Road Redundant

Road redundant,
Ever grey,
Surrounded by a sea of green.
Masts of trees,
And sails of leaves,
As above hum strings
Of electricity.
Lines upon road,
White and yellow,
Break in half the
Road redundant.
End unseen
Across the sea.
The waves of green,
The sails of leaves,
Clouds shadow softly
Upon the road redundant.
And rain begins to speckle
The pockmarked pavement.
Rainbow sheen
Glitters green,
Similar to sea
Surrounding me
Upon this road redundant.

I Am Here

The sun sets out upon the ocean,
As I stand on this mountaintop.
Cliff’s edge beckons, I inch forward,
Looking down, I am terrified of the drop.

Seeing the massiveness of this mountain,
I ponder how very minuscule am I,
And suddenly I feel my heart break sharply,
And my nothingness I realize.

I cannot do it all myself,
I cannot conquer every foe.
I cannot change the way the world works,
At least not on my own.

No one really hears my voice,
No one really knows my face.
I realize my tininess
In this massive mountain place.

Bruises show above my heart,
And pain fills up my chest.
I must now learn how better to live,
And destroy this helplessness.

I stand on my toes on the edge of this cliff,
And promise in ways sincere,
I’ll change the world one day, but now
I scream to the world “I am here!”

Purpose

Only a very precious few
Know what purpose hey are here for.
I, among them, know that I
Am to write things yet unwritten before.

There are those who never find
The end of their life’s searching.
But among them not am I,
With poetry I’m bursting.

Born to write through my old soul,
I know this is my calling.
Born to weave my silent words
Of love and angels falling.

©The Wild Poesy, 2012-2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

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A Kite, A Sheep, And A Road Trip

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