Outside of my window
the morning begins with
a growl gears and
motors and even monsters
moving to and fro
all on some mission
surely to conquer something
besides the serenity of
this dawn which they
already have and of
which they will soon
depart already aimed at
someone else’s peacefulness and
I will be left
like those emerging from
the root cellar or
bomb shelter wide eyed
knowing what used to
be is no more
and no longer more
Author: Harlan Didrickson
I first started writing this blog as a way to refocus my thinking after a debilitating mental breakdown in 2008. Having been educated in writing, I had hoped that my love for words would have left a trail for me to follow and, well, here we are.
TractorCart
There are some days
when everyone seems happy
and interested and welcoming
and then well then
there are some others
when the whole world
seems to be falling
apart as though a
lynch pin wiggled its
way free sending tractor
in one direction and
cart careening into another
which do you attempt
to halt that which
has direction or that
which has absolutely none
I’d let the tractor
go for it will
find its rut and
carry merrily on unaware
I’d chase the cart
for it doesn’t know
where it ever belongs
now on its own
unhitched from the tractor
The cart is up
for one hell of
an adventure I’d say
TodayAnyDay
There are some days
when you simply shine
like river rocks paving
a cold mountain stream
and then there are
others when you’re frequently
overlooked like dirty
snow piled onto corners
frozen in place avoided
and one day disappear
as though never even
there I wonder why
for am I not
the same I go
out me every day
every day the same
I guess people are
fickle never knowing what
they want if anything
if ever any day
Sex&Love
Why is sex sought
but love is found
When things are sought
they do get found
but what is found
is usually far less
than what was expected
When things blossom naturally
organically when things
are noticed stumbled across
then the one seeking
is hardly ever the
one who eventually finds
Candle
I’m not a boomerang
or even a canyon
nor even return postage
I don’t share myself
with others hoping for
any kind of return
What goes out stays
out like a candle
that once brightened those
closest to it that
led others to its
light and even those
farthest away might see
its flicker and think
There is something else
besides me in darkness
