Poetry2ponder's Blog

“So much to do (one day)” by Trevor Witt

So much to do,
I need a pen,
And a laptop,
And a notebook, and a binder,
To write a list, an essay,
To organize my thoughts,
To learn how to compartmentalize,
To sift through the unsorted information,
So I could determine its importance.

Underpaid, working for free,
For my dreams, for me,
Because I cannot bear
To give up, on my small corner
Of the paradise in my mind,
I must renew and refresh the dream,
Pruning dead leaves, and fighting off pests,
Watering my soul until joy sprouts like a weed.

Every single day,
Every, single, day,
I fight – to improve,
To break old patterns,
Depression, suicidal thoughts,
Negative self-talk – the words “I can’t”.

Those words stand before me like massive gates, blocking my entrance to Heaven.

Those words stare at my eyes, breaking into my soul, and turning my rock-hard will to sand.

Those words always want to fight me, telling me I’m not good enough – I’m weak.

I can’t bear to let “I can’t” win.
I can’t go on giving up.

I can’t do it — yet.

I can’t do it — now.
But one day, I will.

One day,
One day is not enough.
But one day, taking one step,
Plus one day, taking another step,
Plus one more day, ad infinitum,
One day – on repeat – to build something new –
One day is all I need.

“Falling asleep with the words driveling out” by Trevor Witt

Falling asleep with the words driveling out,
Like slobber from an open mouth with closed eyes,
With my pen in hand and my notebook on my lap,
I crumble like a cookie left out for too long —
The last one in the box.

Waiting for my brain to catch up,
To send the signals that I need,
To send myself to reset, to rest,
But I reject and delete those messages,
Refusing to take that journey away from my work.

“The Grief of a Father” by Trevor Witt – dedicated to Brittney Griner

I wish this pain upon no one,
Haven’t seen my daughter in four months,
Don’t know when – or if – I will see her again,
A prisoner of a madman, Russia’s Il Duce,
She has been held in a cell, as a pawn,
By this war criminal judoka, who fancies himself a chessmaster,
To avoid war, they’ll let my little girl suffer.
To avoid direct confrontation, they’ll let tens of thousands die.
But you cannot avoid me; my love is constant.
You cannot hide; my wrath knows no limits.
If you kidnap my daughter,
I shall kidnap your officers.
If you shell my towns,
We will burn your barracks.
If you starve us,
We will pile our lifeless bodies
Upon your gardens and in your cities.
We will find you, when this war is over,
On any corner of this earth, in any cave.

G-d does not sleep.
Nor will I.

“My selfish prayer” by Trevor Witt

My selfish prayer asks for your love,
My selfish heart obsesses over my desire.
My giving, living soul seeks your happiness.
My larger self gives space for your larger self.

I wish to be the tree growing beside your tree,
Not the bird eating your fruit.

“A long day” by Trevor Witt

Lunch breaks in the car,
Taking a 10 to pay a bill,
Buying frozen pizza for dinner,
Too tired to cook,
Too broke to think about saving(s),
I’m going to enjoy my bourbon and my stout.
I’m going to give it my all — letting it all hang out.

Eight hours of work,
Three hours of side hustle,
Two hours of a hobby,
Another hour of a second side hustle,
And a one and a half hour commute.

And friends and family.

It’s been a long day this year.