More Redacted Poems

An eye for beautiful drops esnesnon (read it backwards) hope i smiled i was always a mystery i was always a mystery2 i will believe too Imagination just be you just nine Mistakes Monster on faith and pleasure on thinking and fairy tales pains of the light passion remains sensations sliver speech still gold Stories time where

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For Love Of The Game

For Love Of The Game


Hurriedly,

she walks in

out of the cold air and

sits down on the dusty,

wooden floor

sliding her sock-covered

feet

into her new,

bright yellow

shoes.


Smiling,

she greets old friends

that she hasn’t seen

since last summer.


Together,

they walk to the middle

of the basketball court

but

they aren’t there

to play basketball.


They are there–

balls at their feet,

mouths curled up into grins–

to play futsal,

a form of

the most universal sport

in the world.


Other girls arrive

and the coach

splits everyone up

into

two teams.


 

The girl jogs

to claim her position,

but not before sharing

a knowing look with

her friend–

who is,

of course,

on the other team.


 

Soon the room

grows quiet

but for the sound

of panting breath,

feet pounding on the ground,

the ball skidding on the floor,

and the occasional

exclamation of encouragement

from one teammate

to another.


 

All of their worries are forgotten

as they play,

as they play for

love of the game.


 

The girl feels free

as her ponytail whips

with the motion of her body;

running,

running for the ball.


 

They play for awhile

and once their hearts are full,

full of freedom

and friendship

and futsal…

they leave,

the court suddenly silent again

silent but for the girl,

who turns one last time

to savor the game in her mind–

to store it until seven days are over,

until she will come back

to play

once again.

Fleeting Puzzles

Fleeting Puzzles


Fleeting Puzzles


An early-morning chill returned,

still in the afternoon air.

It appeared they had been sleeping—

a pile of children huddled together, all

riddled by tiny flecks of glowing dreams.


A glimpse of light found its way inside

to see which face was hidden under the pillow.

A child rose from the floor still closing their eyes

and the chatter of thoughts inside their head

gradually wilted away.


Dreams are fleeting puzzles,

and we collect the pieces

we can put together.

Don’t Forget Them

Congratulations
you did it
you accomplished your goal
something you have been
working so hard for

 

You did it
you did it
you
you
you

 

But sometimes
we get too caught up
in these words
“You”
“Me”
“I”

 

Sometimes we forget
“Them”
“They”
U s

 

Sometimes we forget
that we couldn’t have
accomplished our goal
by        o u r s e l v e s

 

T h e y     helped us
t h e y      played an important role
t h e y      deserve a little credit

 

Don’t forget them

What Are You Afraid Of?

what are you afraid of

What Are You Afraid Of?


But surely we will guide their steps,

and we will wish and hope,

until finally they have been persuaded

that there is no more danger

and all is peaceful and settled in the world.


Then, thrilling answers will be decided

so quietly, in such soft yet penetrating

tears of truth.


A world with nothing in it but peace, love, and freedom!

How marvelous it would be! How magnificent and glorious!

How great, how supreme!


Everyday, special moments wish to see you.

What are you afraid of?


Created by page 332 of Allen Drury’s The Hill of Summer