A Glass Door // A Poem
My life is like a glass door.
I can see the other side.
It's sunny & green & lush.
It's everything I wanted it to be
& it's forgotten everything I loathe.
But this glass door is just that.
A glass door.
A barrier.
A clear wall.
I can visualize, imagine, think & ponder
but I can't get to the other side.
If I am a plant,
I must bloom where I'm rooted.
But I don't wish to be rooted here.
By Carmen Varner
I can see the other side.
It's sunny & green & lush.
It's everything I wanted it to be
& it's forgotten everything I loathe.
But this glass door is just that.
A glass door.
A barrier.
A clear wall.
I can visualize, imagine, think & ponder
but I can't get to the other side.
If I am a plant,
I must bloom where I'm rooted.
But I don't wish to be rooted here.
By Carmen Varner
Fall Becomes Winter // A Poem About Autumn Festivities
i can't wait for crisp cool nights
& christmas lights
& scarves & fuzzy socks,
for films & tea & holding hands
& never ending fun,
for foggy mornings & rainy days
until the year is done,
for pumpkin pie & cinnamon
& all those tasty eats,
for costumes & candy
& spooky trick or treats.
for me, i love this time of year
it's the happiness, the love
& that overall sense of cheer.
i better not blink too fast
because i don't want it to end
but it never seems to last.
By Carmen Varner
& christmas lights
& scarves & fuzzy socks,
for films & tea & holding hands
& never ending fun,
for foggy mornings & rainy days
until the year is done,
for pumpkin pie & cinnamon
& all those tasty eats,
for costumes & candy
& spooky trick or treats.
for me, i love this time of year
it's the happiness, the love
& that overall sense of cheer.
i better not blink too fast
because i don't want it to end
but it never seems to last.
By Carmen Varner
Back to the Light
There was a time when life was a nightmare
& nightmares followed my dreams.
Reality was a horror,
a mess,
like me.
And then there you were.
You followed me into the dark abyss,
which I desperately tried to escape,
and brought me back to the light.
By Carmen Varner
& nightmares followed my dreams.
Reality was a horror,
a mess,
like me.
And then there you were.
You followed me into the dark abyss,
which I desperately tried to escape,
and brought me back to the light.
By Carmen Varner
Your Thoughtful Kiss
I never knew that the touch of your callused hand
would feel so gentle against my freckled, sun kissed skin.
And your thoughtful kiss upon my forehead
speaks volumes about the adoration within the chambers of your heart.
It's not a beating box of blood vessels
but a testament to your commitment.
I knew you & you knew me
but now we know each other wholly.
The monotony of a Monday morning vanishes instantaneously
the moment I receive your message.
There should never be a night when we don't sleep side by side,
but life never goes according to one's wishes.
Tonight, I shall rest my head against my pillow solely.
The only trace of you is
the memories in my mind,
the photos on my phone,
the smell of your laundry detergent on the sweater you lent me.
You're rarely with me
but I wish you were.
By Carmen Varner
would feel so gentle against my freckled, sun kissed skin.
And your thoughtful kiss upon my forehead
speaks volumes about the adoration within the chambers of your heart.
It's not a beating box of blood vessels
but a testament to your commitment.
I knew you & you knew me
but now we know each other wholly.
The monotony of a Monday morning vanishes instantaneously
the moment I receive your message.
There should never be a night when we don't sleep side by side,
but life never goes according to one's wishes.
Tonight, I shall rest my head against my pillow solely.
The only trace of you is
the memories in my mind,
the photos on my phone,
the smell of your laundry detergent on the sweater you lent me.
You're rarely with me
but I wish you were.
By Carmen Varner
The bougainvillea or the bag
What am I doing and where do I go? I can choose between the bougainvillea or the bag. The conflict within my cerebral cortex may be permanent. I prepare for the constant battle between what I strive for and what I settle for. But beauty endures throughout. At first glance, the eye spots the faded fuchsia bougainvillea. She extends her arms through the fence, showing off her parched pale pink petals. Her allure is undeniable. The empty plastic bag sadly billows by the fence. Despite my desire for the bougainvillea, I must first throw away the bag. Of course beauty seems like the most valid option, but the plastic bag might contain a lesson or two.
The morning hustle and bustle
The morning hustle and bustle has officially begun. The drones line up one after another to get their daily fueling. Like gas powers a car, caffeine powers the people. They look fatigued. Her eyes are puffy. His eyes are half open. These people appear dead, out of sorts, dazed and confused. Perhaps sleep is not something these addicts have experienced. She orders dirty chai tea latte with two extra shots of espresso and four pumps of hazelnut syrup. He orders an iced vanilla coffee. I witness these behaviors because I am the scientist, watching my experiment to see how it unfolds. Will my hypothesis come true or will I have to account for variables? I don't appreciate the price of that $4 specialty drink that I could make infinitely better. After all, I too used to be a barista. I order a regular coffee but add chocolate. The poor gal's mocha. The barista didn't call "Carmen" as I expected. She instead yelled, "coffee with mocha." I add some half and half, a dash of vanilla, cinnamon, cocoa and nutmeg. Yeah, why not? I like to take risks. I can make my own specialty drink thankyouverymuch. I had originally purchased this coffee as a crutch, to support my lack of sleep from a late night with my lover. But by the time the concoction caresses my lips, I've already awakened. Just as the morning glory opens up for the dewy dawn, my mind has revived. At this point, my consumerism allows me a critically acclaimed spot in the cafe so I can have a spot to type ferociously. So here I am. At least it's Tuesday.
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