Stuck in a divide

Sometimes time away
does us a bit of good
when we’re made to feel sad
or misunderstood.

Rejection is hard,
but being misread is worse;
makes me feel like
my insides might burst.

Sometimes the world
gets me so down,
but then there’s that one friend
who can turn it around.

And thank goodness for the days
when we’re given a little lift;
the burdens get so heavy
as we begin to sort and sift.

I always start to wonder
why warm fuzzies are so fleeting;
I suppose it just depends
on those who you’ve been greeting.

One friend can be a blessing,
but then another can be a curse;
I guess being without anyone
would probably be the worst.

I think we need the right balance
and to be careful who we let inside
because one wrong decision
and then we’re stuck in a divide.

© 2022 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-dock-lake-outdoors-person-1868559/

Write me a poem…

Write me a poem
Express what you will
It doesn’t have to rhyme
Just tell me how you feel

It can be candid or cryptic
Full of love or even hate
Just tell me how you’re doing
I’ll give no debate

The things that you write
Won’t be judged by me
Just say what you want
And set yourself free

Let your words flow easily
Pour them on a page
You might find it helpful
To empty some rage

Whatever spills out
Must come from deep within
And don’t get so frustrated
That you throw them in the bin

Every word matters
The good and the bad
Sometimes this is the only way
To empty all the sad

So please take your time
And tell me how you feel
Be it positive or negative
It’s the only way to heal

You’ll be relieved to have unburdened
What’s been clinging to your soul
It’s the only good way
To feeling happy and whole

© 2022 Michelle Cook


 

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sunset-rope-swing-girl-silhouette-5737120/

She rests…

She rests along the horizon,
easily seen from the thirsty shore,
and with a face like an angel,
she could never be ignored.

Her body is ever-changing
as she basks in the summer sun,
and her golden peaks glisten
while her vistas promise fun.

She lays in silent stillness;
never a tremor does she sigh.
The world tramples upon her,
though she never questions why.

She often cries a flood of tears;
still, her strength does prevail,
and even though she’s antiquated,
her beauty never fails.

Nestled comfortably in the earth,
she’s withstood the test of time,
and even though some mar her face,
she still beckons them to climb.

She’s served as a place of renewal
and become a much-needed haven;
she even shares her home
with all the raptors and the ravens.

Exquisite in her gilded grandeur,
layered with the etchings of the past,
her purpose is apparent,
and her glory was made to last.

© 2022 Michelle Cook

Do you ever send whispers on the wind?

Do you ever try to send whispers on the wind,
and if you do, what do you say?
Are your murmurs pleasant and cheery,
or do they come out more cold and gray?

What if everyone sent messages on the wind;
do you think we’d all feel more heard?
Imagine a chance to say all you want
and never be deferred.

I often wonder if our soft soliloquies
do sometimes make it to their intended;
to be able to pour out our hearts without reproach
seems like it would be quite splendid.

Confrontation can be so intimidating;
I often wish others could just feel my words.
Spoken sentimentalities drifting on the wind,
is it really all that absurd?

© 2022 Michelle Cook

Superficial

Like a geyser, I gush,
spurting my rage,
but it’s all underneath,
turmoil engaged.

From the top of my head
to the bottom of my feet,
the swells of unrest
continue to heat.

The storm grows stronger,
destruction in its wake.
Still, I try to breathe calmly,
fearing I might break.

And nobody ever knows
the misery I endure;
It’s all just a façade,
a superficial blur.

© 2022 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/grief-woman-cry-destruction-pain-5501796/