Poetry2ponder's Blog

“Recovery” by Trevor Witt

In the warmth of the Los Angeles Spring,
Sitting in the shade in my car,
In the parking lot of the park,
In Eagle Rock, nestled in the hills,
I am tired, exhausted by worries,
Learning to “not give a fuck” about “giving a fuck”.

Their judgements,
That I overthink, or talk to much,
Or that I worry and apologize needlessly,
Have no bearing on my happiness.
And maybe, just maybe,
I am the one making the judgements,
I am the one faulting myself,
Projecting judgment instead of compassion.

Get over yourself –
Outside of your shell –
There is a world,
In which you are
An integral part.

“I remember crying (we moved away)” by Trevor Witt

I remember crying;
It was my fault
That the private school
Costed so much.

I remember crying;
It was my fault
That my parents couldn’t pay
Their mortgage and we had to
Move into a hotel for a bit.

I remember crying;
It was my fault
That I had to tell my friends
I might not be back next year
Or the year after.

I remember losing touch with friends
We moved away from —
Before social media —
And my parents suggested I write letters
But I didn’t know what to say
And I didn’t have their addresses
And I did not put in the effort.

And that was my fault.
And I remember crying.

“The sounds of the birds” by Trevor Witt

The sounds of the birds,
Chirping, tweeting, singing,
Gossiping about us,
Professing their love of the sky,
Creating poems about flowers and trees,
And odes to worms and seeds and small rodents,
Delight my ear and dance in my mind,
Bringing me a joy that no other animal may find.

I am a listener,
And the birds are my band.

“Becoming Me” by Trevor Witt

I did not set out to be born,
I was not conceived with a charted course,
I am an explorer — crossing oceans of unknowns,
I am learning every day, and will never be “full grown”.

“My first time” by Trevor Witt

My first time,
It was awkward,
I was nervous,
Scared of judgment,
Feeling naked,
Even before baring myself,
I yearned for connection, trust,
Wanted, to let my guard down,
To share vulnerability,

And then I started reading my poem.

“Wasted worries (That’s okay)” by Trevor Witt

Wasted worries,
Time I will never get back,
I was afraid.
But it would be okay — either way.
Anxious, muy nerviosa,
C’est la vie; that’s life.
It happens — not always how we want,
But we go on, breathing in, and out,
Like the beat of ocean waves,
Or the pulse of a quasar.

We just are.
We just are.

–

Turn it off,
Put it to sleep,
Your restless mind,
Your aimless stress,
Overwhelming you,
With too many minute problems,
Nuisances, little tasks,
Adding up to a giant snowball,
Stop catastrophizing.

If the avalanche hits you,

It hits you.

–

Stop beating yourself up,
There are plenty of other people
Who will, gladly, do it for you.
Forgive yourself, while you put in the work,
You deserve to heal. You deserve to feel whole.

–

I don’t know what I’m doing,
But I am doing it,
And I am learning,
And that’s okay.

“Waiting for you (it isn’t today)” by Trevor Witt

Waiting for you,
To take off your pants,
To hop into bed with me,
To cuddle and kiss,
To giggle beneath the blankets,

I long to be between your thighs,
To feel your legs caressing mine,
To slide up your body,
To run my fingers through your black hair,
To cry with you after a hard day,

I am dead inside now,
Slowly, I stir, like a zombie,
Whose corpse moves,
Without passion, without brains,
A lifeless, soulless doll.

But I am trying to move on,
Attempting to heal,
Like the cells of skin, around a scar,
I will forget you one day.

But it isn’t today.

“Your smile shines like a sunrise” by Trevor Witt

Your smile shines like a sunrise,
And with every goodbye,
The sun drifts behind the mountains,
And under the sea, and I am left,
In the moonlight, reflecting on a reflection
Of your face, watching the waves
Of emotions, of gratitude and awe,
Loneliness, and yearning to see you again.

“Skipping Meals” by Trevor Witt

Skipping meals,
Empty stomach,
Two dollars in my bank account,
One hundred and twenty in my pocket,
But I need gas,
For a whole week,
And I will need dinner,
For a whole week,
And I need to save some,

In case of an emergency.

“Coffee, Music, Love” by Trevor Witt

Coffee is my sustenance.
Music is my religion.
My soul is love.

“Imagine everyone naked (Before G-d)” by Trevor Witt

Imagine everyone naked,
What’s the big deal?
We are animals,
Roaming the earth in our shells,
Clothing our insecurities in costumes,
Customs and habits and societal mores.

We want more,
To deny our fragility,
To understand our frailty,
To defy our limitations,

“To go where no man has gone before”.

We are curious critters,
Wanting to see new lands,
To meet new people,
To try new things.
We do not want

To get old.

We want to eat,
To grow,
To have sex,
Sometimes, to reproduce.

We want love,
And faith, hope and comfort.
We fear our nakedness,

As we stand bare,
Before G-d.

“Las flores or dead end” by Trevor Witt

Las flores or dead end?
I turn to Las Flores,
And walk next to these tiny beings,
Full of soothing greens and poignant oranges.
Cute brown critters scurry up the trees,
As I approach slowly, cautiously, the ducks,
Hazy yellow sunlight and slightly smoggy blues,
Parade in the park, gifting me comforting hues.

Slivers of sunlight reach through the trees,
Greeting us before they gradually depart,

Goodbye is temporary,
As we sleep beneath the stars.

“Finding G-d” by Trevor Witt

Finding G-d,
In a duck,
In the pink flowers growing on vines,
Wrapped around the trellis,
Adjacent to the cafe,
In the suburban sprawl,
Amongst the trees,
In the roses and birds of paradise,
That flourish around my condo complex,

While I feel my struggles –
Of rent, traffic tickets, low income, and loneliness –

G-d is all around –
In me – in every cell consuming oxygen,
Transferring electrons, in a chain of reactions,
We can never comprehend the beauty,
Of the Mystery within and without,
Holding us tightly, and letting us flounder.
Instead, we embrace the awe,
As we float amongst the stars.

“Not exactly abandoned” by Trevor Witt

Not exactly abandoned,
Just left alone,
Some deep insecurity is triggered,
And my eyes well up.

Plans change.
It’s not that unusual,
Maybe’s are not yeses.
When no one is in charge,
No one feels responsible.

Commitments might conflict,
People double book themselves,

They change their minds.

It’s not as though I never flaked.
It’s not personal.

Everyone, every one,
Has their own shit to deal with.

“Finding a point on a curve” by Trevor Witt

Finding a point on a curve,
We accept that there is a curve,
A graph made up of points,
We assume the motion or change
Of the curve is not entirely continuous,
But can be broken up into discrete moments,
Time can be fractionalized, rather than irrationalized.
If you see my point,
You may miss my trajectory,
And yet the waves are only one aspect
Of the Ocean of Infinity.

We have a Planck length’s understanding
Of billions of light years of Existence.