Little Bird

Little Bird, Little Bird
Sitting on tree branch
Tweeting all the night long
Why do you sing of sorrow?
Why do you sing of sadness?

Little Bird, Little Bird
Hidden in the shrub
Why does your song speak of pain?
Why does your song speak of loneliness?

Little Bird, Little Bird
Way above my head
Why do your songs bring me tears
Why do your songs bring me sorrow?

Little Human, Little Human
Standing all alone
My songs are made for you

Little Human, Little Human
Sitting in the corner
You hear what is in your soul

I sing of the hurt you hold deep within
I sing of the loneliness you will not admit
I sing of the pain of the loss you feel

I sing so that you can hear
What you cannot say
To hear that you are not alone

I sing so that you know
That you can say what is within
That the pain will pass

Little Human, Little Human
Hold a little longer
Stay true a little more

Little Human, Little Human
One day things will change

On that day you will hear me sing
Of the joy you found
Of the peace you hold
Of the friend you make

Little Human, Little Human
You are cared for
You are seen
You are not forgotten

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Monday Stories

Every storm begins with a drop of rain
Every journey takes a step
Every tale a single word
So stories are told
And legends begin

A while back I started writing stories to see if people liked what I wrote. Part of it was to see if anyone would read what I wrote. A test whether it was worth an attempt to write a story. However, I found myself slaving away to meet my Monday deadline. Between that drive to meet the deadline and the sudden increase at work, I felt burned out and tired.

Since then I have returned to posting a new poem whenever work allowed me.

For a while, I thought about giving up blogging and writing altogether. I saw it mostly as something I did for fun and for myself. I was also getting tired of going in cycles where I would post regularly then go through spans of posting nothing.

But lately, three of my friends have been encouraging me to finish a novel and get it published. So I stand once more and I am going to commit to writing a blog. Not only that but also start using Instagram to document and to build a fanbase.

I am not sure whether I will be successful or not but I do know this:

If I don’t try, I will never succeed.

Thankful

Turkeys are cooking
Families traveling
Snow is falling
And Christmas lights a’glowing

We count our blessings
Remembering the good things
Be they large or small
And giving thanks for all

But not all enjoy this season
Some have no reason
Some huddle beneath bridges
Some hide from relatives

When you pray and give thanks
Spare a moment and give a thought
To all those who are without
To all who are hurting now

Still

The morning breaks silent and still
Rows upon rows of men stand still
Their spears gleam in the light
Like a thousand lamps
Their shields polished silver and bright

The day gains strength
Rows upon rows of men prepare
Their hands grip weapons and shields
Ten thousand men stand ready
Ten thousand men stand still

A terrible horn is heard
Than the ground begins to shake
Out of darkness they come
A steady beat of feet against earth
Out of the darkness come men
Out of the darkness comes the enemy
Bronze shield form a living wall
A forest of spears follows

A terrible sight to behold
An army greater than had thought
On and on they pour through
Ten thousand men at the front
With many more following still
Hearts are shaken
And knees tremble at that sight

One man rides before the silver host
“Stand your ground!” He cries

Today we fight not for our own
but for our families
Today we fight not for our king
But for our love ones
Today we stand and defend

With a roar the silver legion cries
A wall of silver forms agains the wall of bronze
Silent in resolve
Weapons made ready
The silver host stands still
As the enemy marches on

Ten thousand feet
Five thousand feet
Three thousand feet
One thousand feet

Friday Thoughts: Fog


Fog.

To adults, a dangerous hazard while driving or walking about late at night.

To kids, a wonder of walking through a cloud.

To movie makers, a key element for suspense.

Fog is often used or seen as something supernatural or spooky. The harbinger of the monster’s arrival or the warning of some character’s death. In reality, fog can hide dangers in driving or hiking. Obscuring familiar landmarks while hiding holes or drop offs. Some people don’t like it.

But I rather like the fog, not for the thrill factor but fog changes things.

Fog strikes me almost like an artist painting over a photo. It warps familiar landscapes and scatters light in a strange way. People appear and vanish only a few feet away.

By walking through thick fog, one can easily see how fog was seen as doorways to another world. Maybe they still are. Not the magical or mystical doors of the ancient eras but the mysteries and wonders for artists and writers.

orange streets lights along a paved road in the early morning