Poetry2ponder's Blog

“Seeing the stars (we small creatures)” by Trevor Witt

Seeing the stars shine at night, I
Feel wonder, and fear, loneliness, and connection,
Like my eyes meeting yours for the first time,
Like watching the flame of a candle flicker,
Like watching the waves crash into the shore,
Again and again, like heartbreak and heartbeats,
The consistency of the stars, the pattern
Follows us, night after night, unperturbed by humans,
But for some reason, smiles upon us, a guide for our days.

Oh Universe!
You are vast – an immeasurable vacuum,
You are mysterious – an unknowable sum,
You are funny – as we small creatures are your parts.

“Grateful December 2022” by Trevor Witt

Siblings who tickle and torture, with embarrassing stories,
Parents who listen and empathize when things don’t go well,
Friends from farms, community-made,
And friendships from school, older than a decade,
Storm clouds and rainbows, and the cold winter air,
Laughter and tears and emotions laid bare,
I am grateful for all these and more,
Looking forward to what next year has in store.

“An ocean of gratitude (through your leaves)” by Trevor Witt

The rains came when they were meant to come.
The sun broke through the clouds at the right time.
The flowers bloomed in their season.
The caterpillar became a butterfly at its own pace.
_

An ocean of gratitude touches my shores,
Every time I recall the fact that we have met.

A smile graces my lips,
Every time I ponder your face.

I am in love with your shadow,
And I am in awe of your sunlight.

The tenderness you show warms me,
Like a child’s blanky on a cold night.

And the strength you embody is like the foundation
Of a home, stable, enduring, and safe.

The moon and the stars shine more brightly when I am next to you.
And yet all of the suns in the universe pale in comparison to your brilliance.

My roots have been blessed to grow next to yours,
And to share the breeze which flows through your leaves.

“My worth is not transactional” by Trevor Witt

My worth is not transactional,
I do not charge my friends to hear their troubles.

My worth is not transactional,
I do not love my parents only for their food.

My worth is not transactional,
I do not learn for any brain but my own.

My worth is not transactional,
I do not work for you solely because you pay.

I have agency, you ignorant fool.
I have choices to make.

My worth is determined by what I choose,
What I choose to put my energy into.
What I choose to labor at,
What I choose to learn,
And what I choose to love.

My worth is not transactional.

“I got fired again” by Trevor Witt

I got fired again –
Not laid off – fired,
For the second time in my thirty-five years,
For some stupid reasons, but I still blame myself,
Just like I did with the end of my last relationship.

Letting go hurts,
And hanging on doesn’t feel much better.

It was not working anyway,
And I was on the verge of quitting.
Now, I move forward,
With my own dreams,
On my own terms.

I am grateful for the opportunity,
To learn what I can do better,

And to prove my doubters wrong.

“The blue tarp” by Trevor Witt

On a cold, sunny winter day,
A blue tarp lay on the grass in the park,
As I walked around, I passed it once,
Wondering if there was a person underneath,

Were they alive?
If they were dead,
Who would find them?
Would their family be notified?
How long would their body lay waiting?

I tried to suppress these thoughts.
But what if they were not dead, only dying?
I resolved to go up to the tarp,
Afraid of what I might find,

Standing about two feet away,
I asked, “Are you okay?”

Then, I moved on.

“No grand finale (he smiled)” by Trevor Witt

There was no grand finale,
No show with a standing ovation,
Only a walking bassline, and a soft snare,
He hummed the melody,
A phrase too sacred to speak,
And he was too scared to sing.

But he made music,
In the quiet room,
And on the peaceful balcony,
For the ghosts of yesterday,
And for the children of tomorrow,
And for the birds chirping in the trees,
And for the creek, where the frogs croak.

And he smiled.

“I am crying two years later” by Trevor Witt

I am crying two years later,
Still in pain, still raw,
Still unable to trust,
Unwilling to enter a new chapter,

I am still distraught.
Your words ripped my pages.
Your sentences broke my bones.
Your tears tore my heart.

Are you happy now?
Leaving me in the rubbish pile,
I thought you might return.
How stupid am I?

A discarded book.

“Depression (I want to drink it all away)” by Trevor Witt

I want to drink it all away,
But that’s not healthy –
They tell me, it’s not good for
My wallet, my liver —
As if I ask to live.

Melodramatic cries for help aside,
I am doing fine,
Deluding myself,
I miss having a companion.
I feel all alone, in rooms full of friends.

Am I crazy?
Maybe a bit.

But maybe I’m just human.

“I almost forget” by Trevor Witt

I almost forget to breathe,
When I dwell on (or in) the past,
I am taken to a realm of regret,

And when I yearn too much for the future,
I travel to the womb of worry,
And I almost forget to breathe.

Yet when I am present,
My lungs inhale and exhale,
And the melodrama of my madness

Washes away like footprints in the sand,
As the ocean air breathes me in.

“Have you ever walked through the grocery store, hungry?” by Trevor Witt

Have you ever walked,
Through the grocery store, hungry?
Have you seen aisles and aisles of food,
When you have no money in your bank account,
And only debt – a plastic card – to feed yourself?
With only a plastic card telling you that you can eat?

While people living in their cars in the parking lot,
Talk amongst themselves and struggle to keep warm.

Have you ever walked through the grocery store, hungry?
With only debt to feed yourself? While strangers sleep in tents?

“Pretending we have grown” by Trevor Witt

We belong to the land,
We belong to G-d,
We are simply seedlings,
Planted long ago,
By the Infinite Mystery,
Whose imagination lies beyond the dreams of our dreams,
Yet whose reality touches us daily and whose love envelops us.

We are squatters,
Pretending we own,
We are tribesmen,
Pretending we have grown.
Yet we reach for that star,
Far beyond the grasp of a newborn babe,
For something greater than the limits of our minds, the slave.

“Last place doesn’t eat” by Trevor Witt

Last place doesn’t eat.
They will get no shoes for their feet.
In this rat race, you have to pick up the pace.
There is no housing for people in last place.
You need to sprint, to strive, to jump, and to dive.
It doesn’t matter if you’re hungry! You must work to stay alive!

This competition is brutal.
The landlords are not noble, but feudal.
Favors for friends and a few crumbs for foes,
There is no one to one to soften the blows.
Whether you are evicted, convicted, or restricted,
You must accept the injuries inflicted.

After all, you came in last,
And pride cometh before a fall.
And you are to blame for your caste.

“Into the wild sea” by Trevor Witt

Lost brain, left brain,
Creativity drained,
Not enough sleep,
A common theme,
Disturbed sleep, interrupted dreams.

Too much to do,
Slow, I feel slow,
But maybe I need to,
To slow down, and
Breathe.

Deep breaths,
Deep dives,
Into the wild sea,
An ocean, an expanse,
Far from land, calm and tempestuous.

Breathe,
Let the wind fill your lungs,
Let it guide your sails,
Give it room to move,
Keep yourself balanced,

As you rock with the waves.