Poem for a Rainy Day

Rainy day

It’s quiet

Quite quiet

But the song on my radio

Is humming soft and sweet

Tomorrow is gray

Yesterday was black

But today is just a day

And so I’ll push it all away

Push it back

Trouble of tomorrow

It’s got enough of its own

And so does today

All in all

I can’t complain

Ukulele twangs

I listen and hear

And all the things I think

Just want to disappear

But life goes on

And I still love you.

How much longer?

  The prisoner glanced up at the clock.

  An hour and thirty-six minutes left. He thought hungrily. He was so close to freedom, so close to escape….so close to the rest of his life. He could almost feel the cold round latch of the door in his palm, taste the sweet pure air beyond the thick walls.

   But in the cell, things were getting worse, and the clock seemed frozen, so slow had its halting tick-tocks grown. The prisoner fidgeted, trying to crouch further into the shadows of the corner. His cell mates were still at it. He hid his face, looking out again. The clock hadn’t moved. Would it never move? Would time cease to exist?

  He pulled his collar up over his face. Only a little longer.
 But time was growing slower.

The Stranger

 The professor’s voice made me cringe, and hate myself for doing so. But I couldn’t stop. That voice! Its craggy vibrations peeled through my ears, scraping their walls with every word until I felt sick.

 

  Stop, stop, stop talking! All your words mean nothing anyway.

 
His eyelids drooped and his heavy jowls sagged. And his words ran on, and on….and on.

 

  Enough? No. Still more. I sighed and slouched back in my seat. How long would this take. I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as I glanced over my shoulder at the clock on the wall. A nameless young man two rows back raised his eyebrow at me and looked over at the clock himself. He turned back to me and echoed my sigh, shrugging. I was surprised to see a grownup act like that. Normally their true feelings hid in a forest of politeness.

I dared to smile back at the man, and then grudgingly faced the front again. I passed the time with imaginings about him, for I’d never seen the young man before, and strangers were rare in Waynesboro.

  Maybe he was an international spy. Or an angel.

 

I spun tale after tail in my mind as the professor droned on. At last the meeting ended, and my mother nudged me to my feet. I cast a glance back again, but the stranger was gone.

Hide

 

Hide

Hide in the shadows of my happiness

Smile

Nod

Wave to them and never stop laughing

Hide

Hide in the shadows of my happiness

Smile

Nod

Repeat forever

Forever

Never stop

Never let them see

Never relent

Always hidden

Always free

Don't Look

I stare into the mirror and I’m afraid.

 
 I used to sigh and wish for impossible things.

Then came the day when impossible became possible, and discontent turned to confidence, confidence to realization, realization to horror, and horror to dust.

 
I’m done with dreams, and solitude is my only friend.

Why? Ask my enemy in the mirror. She’ll tell you if you look into her eyes. Or mine.

 
They’ll tell you at a glance, but by the time you look up again you won’t remember what they said.
By then it will be too late for you.

 



You’ll be mine.

Blair frowned. She slammed her book shut and flung it against the wall, creating a deafening crash which echoed all through the house. Thankful that her mother wasn’t there to hear it, Blair grimaced. She took a few deep breaths, closed her eyes, and clutched her hands into tight fists.

 Nothing helped. She was still angry.

Blair took a pillow and pounded it with both fists, even daring to let out a few childish screams.

  “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” She yelled, tears of anger smarting in her eyes.

Mr. Tickles looked at her disapprovingly from the chair, his white whiskers gleaming in the lamplight. Blair glared at him. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re a cat. You don’t have to learn this crap.” She tossed the smushed pillow against the wall and flopped down on the bed. “Oh, Tickles, I’m so selfish. Why do I complain about algebra when I have everything in life I ever wanted?” She dropped her face into her hands wearily. “I know I shouldn’t be this way. Learning is supposed to be a privilege, this great opportunity. I’m learning. I even have good grades right now. So why do I still feel so useless?”

Mr. Tickles was not overwrought with sympathy. He flicked his tail and turned his back on her. Cats were no help. Neither were dogs. Neither were friends, parents, or brothers. Blair glanced at the Book on her shelf, knowing it was too long since she’d read it. Oh well. It could wait a little longer. She turned back to her algebra two book, the pages now crinkles and even drearier looking.

  She read the problem over again. And again. It was gibberish, too foreign for her to understand. Blair scrawled out the last two answers, fairly confident that they were wrong, and slammed the book shut a second time that night, dreaming of a day when a missing math assignment would no longer haunt her.

DOGGY

________

                 |

                 |

                 |________

                                   |

                                   |

                                   | ________

                                                     |

                                                     |                          \_____/^\>        DOGGY!!!! 

                                                     |                          |          |     

                                                     ()((()()()(()(()))()))((()))(())())(())((())())(((()))(())())))()()

     don't ask me why.... but I have nothing to say today. So I made a doggy. I hate doggies. My doggy ate my diary. Stupid doggy....