PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

If…

By jfarrell

   (in regards to Rudyard Kipling’s masterpiece)

If…

You’re still standing, after all this time;

After all these many battles and defeats;

If…

When they rub salt in your wounds,

You can lick it out and spit it back at them;

If….

When they kick your legs from under you, you get up;

Because you’re too stupid to stay down;

If…

If only life had been nicer;

Seaside and ice cream;

Hugs and kisses from mum and dad

But…

But a lot of things;

And none of them matter

After all this time.

If…

If you can’t get even, get drunk;

So drunk, how much it hurts don’t matter;

If…

You’re sleeping ‘out’ tonight;

Keep warm, it’s gonna be a cold one;

If…

I, we, all cared more,

And life was very different from what it is;

If….

John Lennon invited us to imagine;

And we could all imagine that dream enough to share it.

What if….?

Have you ever seen a light

Streaking through the sky

Imagined it was someone’s life

That just came streaming by

And when the light had faded

Did it make you question why

We were put here on this earth

And then, left here to die

Did you ever see a lightning strike

Felt the tremors from its thunder

Imagined it had pierced a heart

And ripped it all asunder

For such a force to manifest

Did it set your mind to wonder

Was our life, meant to be

Or was it, just a blunder

Did you ever see a rainbow

See its beauty arching high

Imagined life, was still worth living

Without, the reason why

BOEMS by JA 674    

I just want to be

With the night.

Quietly write.

Just float in space,

And feel misplaced.

Weightlessly fly.

Gather letters and words,

Sounds that taste like rain.

Voicelessly sing.

Carefully calculate

Senselessness.

Condense the expansion.

Melt it into an ice cube

And swallow it whole.

Shut in the out.

Turn on the dark,

Greet each subtle whimsy,

As I dangle from the edge

Of a crescent moon.

...and swoon

I want to be with the night.

Alright?

I want you to beat me with a bat.

I want you to break my bones.

You have to take a limb,

A dominant one, obviously.

I want to be hospitalized for months,

And when I'm deemed "healed"

I want it to be obvious

That I struggle daily

With the loss of a part of me

I thought I could always rely on.

I want to go to work

And act like everything is okay,

But lose my job anyway,

Because my performance, just isn't the same.

I want to fall,

And need your hand to get back up.

I want you to see on the outside-

The debilitation I feel inside,

So you can understand

And with heart instead of hand

Help me to my feet again.

Imagine a world full of,

Mercy, friendship and love,

No matter how far you see, how near,

Humanity is there smiling everywhere.

Imagine a world full of good friends,

When in need the Almighty sends,

A place where poverty and starvation are like aliens,

Totally unknown to the citizens.

Imagine a world where equality has its home,

Resting on the lap of peace in its evergreen kingdom.

With my feet on the ground,

And my heart gently landing,

To my utter surprise,

I've embraced understanding.

While I was refusing to risk

What it takes to believe,

You graciously lent me

Your eyes to perceive.

I can only imagine

Imaginings exist,

It is you that imagines

There's something I missed

Ashes turn to angels
When I walk alone,
And the fallen beauties
Sing to me
A song of
Bitter
Sorrow.

Ashes turn to angels
When I close my eyes,
And their broken spirits
Speak to me
Of regrets and
Painful
Goodbyes.

The painted world
Is where I long to be.
The written world
Is what I long to see.
The creative world
Is what I must find.
But I can't escape
This state of mind.

Zoning out,
I can't hear you,
Don't want to,
You jabber on and on
About facts I don't need to know,
Why can't we just sit?
Admire the crystal snow,
Seek the unseen treasure,
The sweet morning scent,
Find that simple pleasure.

The world is spinning backwards,
The sun sets in the east,
But the clocks keep going,
Round and round,
That sickening, ticking sound,
The sound that means we still have time,
The sound that means life's sweet chime
And death's cold grasp.
Yet no one can hear
Your choking rasp.

Why can't I live
In the painted world?
The world of colours
And magnificent wonders,
The world without pollution
Or pain,
The world with no death,
Doesn't pour when it rains.

Where is the painted world?
Does it lie in the sky?
Where the clouds dance,
And the birds fly?

I don't know if it's there,
Though I can't wonder why.
Is it not human nature
To hope and imagine
There's a place where another world lies?

The painted world
Is where I long to be.
The written world
Is what I long to see.
The creative world
Is what I must find,
But I just can't escape
This state of mind,
Because I know,
I know,
There's no such thing
As a utopia,

Not in life,

But I can dream.