silence is not golden
noise is king
you want me to be everyone
and to do everything
never stop
don't be still
don't let the fog clear from your mind
thumb twiddlers, vagabonds,
we'll have nothing to do with your kind
put on a show
keep dancing
let us see what you can do
'cause here there's no place for the poet
no, there's no place here for you
who just sits and lets time pass
who stares at the stars
and walks barefoot in the grass
who feels the wind
upon their face
for you, the poet, there is no place
a waste of time!
a waste of space!
a waste of time!
a waste of space!
you've got to live in the lines we've traced
for you, the poet, there is no place
30 Worthy
The chronicling of one woman's attempts at creating a lasting contribution to the world.
Friday, March 23, 2012
No Place for the Poet
Labels:
30 worthy,
blog,
Monica Dockery,
no place for the poet,
poems,
poetry,
space,
time
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Turn It On -- Another poem
my heart aches for the world today
but i'm too tired to feel
turn on the tv, turn up the music
turn on the Mac, the i-pad, the smartphone,
turn it all on
so that I can turn it all off
all this pain and suffering
all these lives lost
all these demons walking the earth
all these devilish deeds done to the innocent ones
they cry out
their eyes look for help
their mouths ask for mercy
their hands reach for love
but I cannot see them
I cannot hear
I cannot touch
because it is too much
so turn on the tv, turn up the music
turn on the Mac, the i-pad, the smartphone,
turn it all on
so that I can turn it all off
but i'm too tired to feel
turn on the tv, turn up the music
turn on the Mac, the i-pad, the smartphone,
turn it all on
so that I can turn it all off
all this pain and suffering
all these lives lost
all these demons walking the earth
all these devilish deeds done to the innocent ones
they cry out
their eyes look for help
their mouths ask for mercy
their hands reach for love
but I cannot see them
I cannot hear
I cannot touch
because it is too much
so turn on the tv, turn up the music
turn on the Mac, the i-pad, the smartphone,
turn it all on
so that I can turn it all off
Labels:
devilish deeds,
innocent ones,
love,
pain and suffering,
smartphone
Thursday, November 3, 2011
New Blog
Hello there. It has been a while since I've posted on this blog. I just wanted to make a quick announcement. I have been dedicating more of my time to my newest blog. I would still like to post my poems and anecdotes here from time to time,but most of my posting will be on the new site. If you'd like to check it out and/or follow me there, it is at www.monicadockery.wordpress.com. Thanks!
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Summer's Slumber
Today was such a beautiful, cool fall day and though I welcome the change in some ways, in others I wish the summer would never end. I love the sun and the warmth. I love the long days. So, I was inspired to write a "good-bye, but hope to see you again soon" note to summer today. Here it is:
the sun's light will leave us too soon tonight
allowing the dark to crowd in and forcing us to end our daily adventures two hours before we wish
bare, toasted-butter pecan skin turning to amber ale
its nakedness once boldly brandished, now hides under burnt-orange and lime green-yellow knit
the laughter of days spent in sand and surf, now an echo hidden in the brisk wind rushing through the pines
the heat, the haze, the hectic summer ways
now cool, now clear, now calm with blues and grays
and now the trees dress themselves in bouquets
of leaves red, orange, yellow, brown - the colors of summer at the beach
nature's reminder and promise that the seasons do repeat
and we will see summer's face once more
after the snow, after the rain
our feet will find the sand again
and we will shed the layers to soak it in
to soak it in so deep
until the fall, as before, returns to sing
the summer fast asleep
the sun's light will leave us too soon tonight
allowing the dark to crowd in and forcing us to end our daily adventures two hours before we wish
bare, toasted-butter pecan skin turning to amber ale
its nakedness once boldly brandished, now hides under burnt-orange and lime green-yellow knit
the laughter of days spent in sand and surf, now an echo hidden in the brisk wind rushing through the pines
the heat, the haze, the hectic summer ways
now cool, now clear, now calm with blues and grays
and now the trees dress themselves in bouquets
of leaves red, orange, yellow, brown - the colors of summer at the beach
nature's reminder and promise that the seasons do repeat
and we will see summer's face once more
after the snow, after the rain
our feet will find the sand again
and we will shed the layers to soak it in
to soak it in so deep
until the fall, as before, returns to sing
the summer fast asleep
Friday, August 12, 2011
August's first post
Something I wrote today while waiting for Isaiah's class to get out...
Once so pristine, not one ding or chip to be seen anywhere
Made of the purest gold I walked tall and I walked bold
As it sat perfectly atop my head
But not today
today it is broken with
Smudges on the surface
It is bent and leans to one side
Even a good shine could not hide
The fatal flaw
And so I am left with a choice
Do I go on wearing it and live in denile
Protesting all the while anyone who dares to say it has lost it's royal glory
Do I try to bargain, hoping that my purse holds enough half-truths and empty vanities to purchase another
No, neither is enough
For if I choose the first, I will lose my thirst for life, wearied by the energy spent on trying to make the square fit into the circle
If it is the second I choose, I still will lose for there is no guarantee that the replacement will not fall prey to the same fate as it's predecessor
So....what to do
Ah...yes....now I see
A better choice, a number three
Leave my head bare and learn to love having nothing there
to pull, tug, rub on the skin
Nothing to weigh me down
Yes, I'll be light as a feather
When I am brave enough to weather
the rest of my life without a crown
Once so pristine, not one ding or chip to be seen anywhere
Made of the purest gold I walked tall and I walked bold
As it sat perfectly atop my head
But not today
today it is broken with
Smudges on the surface
It is bent and leans to one side
Even a good shine could not hide
The fatal flaw
And so I am left with a choice
Do I go on wearing it and live in denile
Protesting all the while anyone who dares to say it has lost it's royal glory
Do I try to bargain, hoping that my purse holds enough half-truths and empty vanities to purchase another
No, neither is enough
For if I choose the first, I will lose my thirst for life, wearied by the energy spent on trying to make the square fit into the circle
If it is the second I choose, I still will lose for there is no guarantee that the replacement will not fall prey to the same fate as it's predecessor
So....what to do
Ah...yes....now I see
A better choice, a number three
Leave my head bare and learn to love having nothing there
to pull, tug, rub on the skin
Nothing to weigh me down
Yes, I'll be light as a feather
When I am brave enough to weather
the rest of my life without a crown
Thursday, July 14, 2011
The Race
Each in our own row
We wear our colors with pride
And run in anticipation of the culmination of a lifetime of events
One team coasting with ease as if the breeze was only meant to blow behind their backs
The rest of us lag behind, as if our shoelaces were tied at birth
At the start of it all
But we didn't fall
We have found a way to run with our feet bound together
Closing in on the lead, but each time we come close ...a trip
A stone....a pebble in the shoe
But all race on
Because we are here, we must
Until the dust covers more than just our feet
Or until the ancient sun grows weary of giving us it's heat
We wear our colors with pride
And run in anticipation of the culmination of a lifetime of events
One team coasting with ease as if the breeze was only meant to blow behind their backs
The rest of us lag behind, as if our shoelaces were tied at birth
At the start of it all
But we didn't fall
We have found a way to run with our feet bound together
Closing in on the lead, but each time we come close ...a trip
A stone....a pebble in the shoe
But all race on
Because we are here, we must
Until the dust covers more than just our feet
Or until the ancient sun grows weary of giving us it's heat
Saturday, June 25, 2011
American Dream
There is no rest for the weary
day turns into night
night turns into day
we are zombies, us all
walking through the streets with our breath sagging, our knuckles raw
from pounding against the steel of your vault
dark circles like swirls of smoke around our eyes
you've got us looking like raccoons
in a world run by buffoons
no prospects
no respect
so do we reject
the dream you've been selling?
dream
I wish I could
my eyes try and try
but my mind knows
if I rest I die
cause that's the way u made the game
and so I spend each day the same
watching my blacks turn grays
until I forge a new path out of the haze
and when I do
I will see what you didn't want me to see
that I don't need you... NO!...
you are the one who needs me
so there it is--now it is clear
why you spin the way you do,
why you got our hands stuck like glue
to the metal of the machine
but I wash my hands clean of the dream you are selling
instead I will blaze my own trail
one where you have not set me up to fail
and I will be the first
if I don't lose my thirst
if I don't let my eyes win
if I don't let the doubt in
if I don't hear you say
I cannot go that way
if I keep my mind clear
Then will MY dream be here
and, then, I will laugh at the sleep i lost
and how much of my life it cost
trying so hard to break into you
because I never even needed to
Labels:
american dream,
dreams,
entrepreneurship,
lack of sleep
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