The Itsy Bitsy Spider . . .when the rains are a comin'

walls
by: the iHope Poet

little baby spider
I see climbin up the wall,
the rains will be a comin'
and she doesn't want to fall.

the higher she can climb it
takes her closer to escape,
to the safety of the edges
where the floods can't wash away.

if she stops to catch a breather,
or decides to hang on tight,
when the thunder clouds start striking,
she'll be bound to slip and die.

so the little baby spider
tries her hardest not to fall,
barely clinging as she rises,
up this fateful, narrow wall. . .

via

call me sissy, coward, afraid of the risks . . . it just seems like, the sooner you start to take it slow, the sooner it all falls apart.

or as soon as you slow down, life runs into you from behind.

It's Autumn Time . . .

Thirsty

By: the iHope Poet

Orange, orange, everywhere. Orange in the blaze of the October sun on my skin, in the striking shade of the fat pumpkin at my side. Orange in the rich folds of the flower petals and the dry crunch of the leaves on the ground.

All around, I see the fire.

The flames of late fall are as brilliant as ever, defined by their distinct colors (of golds, burgundies, indigos and emeralds) and crisp breath; as their cold heat burns away the old news of spring and summer.

While the earth succumbs to the wild dance of Autumn, the cerulean sky watches curiously from above; and the wind tickles it’s unperturbed surface, arousing a keen sense of longing to take part in this marvelous shift of nature. And yet, far aloft, the limits of the ragged blue atmosphere remain, barren of all clouds, which were mercilessly scorched away in the slicing heat of the harvest day.

And so, the exhausted heavens thirst. Not as the flowers do for subtle showers from white, billowy tendrils of cloud. But for the rumbling blacks and grays and ashen haze to come rolling in, and relieve that tension of unfulfilled change in the air; to shock those final traces of life out of the mountains, the trees, and the thin, coarse dirt.

Yes, the sky dreams; it yearns to settle the chills and the sleep, and regrets of lost time, deep into the soil where the roots of all things lie raw and wilted; simply by making it rain.

Who's Inside?

Me
By: the iHope Poet

via

Scared of the chances,
Waiting for ashes
to prove that I burned out
the devil I see.
Woke up next morning,
felt something stirring. I
found it alive, and
I found it me.

Lazy Now...

Regret it Bald

By: the iHope Poet

"I'll trade a feather

for a worm,

A simple plan,"

Assumed the bird.

A plan to let him sit and rest . . 

But one day, bald, 

Live to regret.

via

I'll Miss You

tomorrow
By: the iHope Poet

tomorrow you'll be gone
please, remember why you're leaving,
don't forget that you are serving,
don't forget you're purpose, there.

via

tomorrow I won't see you
and I'll wish that you were here,
but I'll keep in mind you're mission,
that you're out to persevere.

tomorrow I will miss you
and my heart will break in two,
so be careful, and successful --
you can change, but please, stay true!

tomorrow you won't be here
but I know you have to go.
I just hope you won't forget me
when the world becomes your home.

when Hoping can't help

via

    Time to Turn Away
    By: the iHope Poet
    You're dreaming, but you know
    that your eyes should still be open.
    Sleeping, but it's true
    that you need to stay awake.
    You're walking, looking back,
    but you have to keep on running,
    for Hoping just won't do
    when it's time to turn away.

Accepting

Natural Man
By: the iHope Poet

It's Hard to love a demon,

via

but Can You love yourself?
the natural light shines brighter
sitting on the darkest shelf.

"is dust a guilt or virtue?
is shame an act of sin?
perhaps the gloom will fade away
by letting shadows in. . ."

A Demon has no glory,
it Is Not Heaven Bound.
yet even the most wayward heart can,
with pure light, be found.

touché

living is learning and

loving is giving and

fixing is trying to live

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Contradict Me

When You Need Fixing
By: the iHope Poet

What If
You get what you need
and not what you want?
Doesn't that hurt worse?
Maybe you survived
in the end,
But did you truly live?

via

Because you tried your best
and you got what you earned.
But love,
love is not deserved.
Love is a wish simply granted,
freely given.

So I'll fix you, yes,
but first, please suffer.
Suffer so that the reality of being
put back together
is clearer to you.

And the difference between
working to earn
and hoping to get,
is a fixed truth in your mind.

Note: this is a double take on the touching lyrics of Fix You by Coldplay