I am grateful for the freedom
I am grateful for the freedom I still have.
Freedom comes with a wind; And you’re getting cold And you don’t feel your fingertips And you don’t feel your troubles And you don’t have to carry these thoughts Anymore These are just memories And the memories are lie
Freedom comes with a sea breeze;And you are shivering And you hate it But if you survive it You know for sure it was worse it You ...
eyes open; a visual poem
I work two jobs; but I split my mind between 6 different businesses, my family, creative projects, and general responsibilities. This poem comes from the tiny moments I’ve gathered in photos and combines them with a poem centered around the moments of peace I find myself most grateful for. I hope you enjoy a bit from my perspective. - Jose-Noel Rocha@mrfancyshoes
The original poem is the 9 ...
Like the oceanwith endless magic hidden beneath thesurfaceThose eyes are mosaics of sunset andsunriseAn everlasting golden hourImmersing a hidden forest under a meteorshowerThat smile is sunshine for your soulwith dimples sweet as birdsongand a warmth that feels likehome.
I am grateful for sound.
I am grateful for Sound Every click, swoosh, tap that rings my eardrumEvery intentional pluck of a string, Every accidental crash; I am grateful The pencil scratch that moves in a straight line the sound creates a picture Without seeing a single flash of light or image,Sound encapsulates this vivid sense of space and belongingYou can not just hear but feel, where y o u ar ...
i can't recall a feeling outside of our loveso i bathe in it routinelyin nights and on morningsi greet the water fondlylike a neighbor, or a judgethen slowly, submissivelymy impact is bracedmiles away, the sun flashes greenand for a second i spot remorse, wavingas it glimmers on the horizonand asks to kiss my nosein a manner so politely that it feels okay to say no,i won't go with her,even if i...
Abundantly meadowed, my childhood farm
Marked by cowslips, apple trees, -
Yellow hay, honey bees.
Hand painted by Wyeth, almost.
A time-kissed bathtub lay face down.
Claw feet saluted the sky-blue,
Nettle speckled was she (the queen of all bathtubs) -
Cheered on by a bindweed gentry
The wear and tear, rosy-brown
The wear and tear, a home?
Delicate rot hollowed out a face-hole,
I, a child of ...
I Am Free
Making your own decisions is celebratedWithout anyone considering the impact of choiceThe limits on choiceRestrictions society forces on usLimits we input upon ourselves,Sometimes just for show:To demonstrate our ability at self-compliance But what a boring life that causesJust because you can stay within strict lines and rules and regulationsDoesn’t mean you’re actually livingMore just missing...