A Poem: Shatter, Juggle, Human

Heya, blogosphere. Just a poem today.

It’s the same in the graphics and in the text, so it can be read either way — you can either read the graphics or scroll past them to the text. 🙂

Thanks for reading. ❤

dear everyone
i have let down:

i am sorry

for that email i didn’t reply to

for that book i said i would read
for you
and never
got around to reading

for that thing i said
i would do
and didn’t
do

for everything else
that i should be
sorry for

i’m sorry that i
am human
and fail
and have only time
limited
and that when life is hard
i sometimes
am too tired
to do
the thing
or that i put it
in a safe folder
in my brain
so safe
that it gets lost
and i cannot
find
it again

i’m sorry
that sometimes
when i’m juggling
a glass ball or million
that sometimes i
d
r
o
p
one
or several
and it (they) breaks (break)
and the broken pieces
are all i see
on the ground
even while i’m juggling
the ones
that are most important
(i hope)

and the shattered tasks
and wishes
and hopes
and wishing well
and meaning
good things
but being human
are broken & need to be
swept up
and started fresh
before my feet can
step
on shards of splintered intentions
and make me fall
and
d
r
o
p
all the others

i wish
i could be
like a robot
who can juggle them all
each
glittering glass ball of
life things & thoughts & dreams
wishes, promises, meanings
and would never
drop one
and would succeed
each time
and to always
get it right
each
time

but i think
a robot
would not feel
feel
feel
or stop
to look around
at the
reasons
to keep juggling
and a robot
is not
who i am
anyway

a robot does not
know
dreams
or people
or love or care
for people
and those are
reasons
to keep juggling

and so
i am sorry
but i hope that i
can keep on
juggling
the things that
matter
most
and i hope
that one of those is
your
thing

even if it has
to be
a new thing
not an old one
that i am still sorry
this not-robot
dropped
and lost
and felt
sorry for
for all these minutes & years & time
now to be
swept up & tidied away
in a safe folder
in my brain
so safe
that it gets lost
and i cannot
find
it again

so that i can move
forward
and juggle
and feel
for the right reasons
for dreams
and for people
like
you
again

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i can’t see where the road goes

I can’t see where the road goes
As through the trees it turns
Though deep inside my heart I feel
A world of wishes burns

But still I follow after
The path my feet must take
Where what awaits is surely more
Than words or wishes make

So show me where the road goes
Or teach me: know I must
Beyond horizons veiled, things are
Awaiting me through trust

A Writer’s Allegiance

A Writer’s Allegiance
by
Deborah O’Carroll

Oh, hear now, my pencil, I’ll sing you a song
You may not be short and you may not be long
Unlovely and stubby
All scratched up and grubby
Unsure if you’re square, round, fat, thin, right or wrong

Yet you are my pencil, and you I will use
Whenever a story does come from my muse
So true on the page
In good humor or rage
Yes you are the pencil I always will use

Yes pencil—oh wait now, I see something there
I see what it is and I can’t help but stare
A pen, smooth and black
I will be right back
As soon as I’ve looked at the pen, oh so fair

O pen, you could be very useful to me
And while you are with me the world you’ll see
As I write about mountains
And sweet silver fountains
To write with you always contented I’ll be

O beautiful pen, did I not speak quite true?
And happy together, me, paper and you
We get on so well
That nobody could tell
That our good companionship is very new

Pen, we’ll stick together—hold on, what is that?
A computer, you say, and that is a rat?
No, no, it’s a mouse
And it’s here in my house
A keyboard as well—and with that down I sat

Computer, how strange that we never did meet
I laughed as I typed and typed, such a great feat
You are my best friend
And you’ll be to the end
As all of my records together we’ll beat

Against a computer no thing can compare
A writing companion that truly is rare
So lovely are you
It is certainly true
Though you take up much room I never will care

Yes—oh, sorry, a moment, just give me a sec
From behind my ear, something fell on my neck
Why, you I do know
Could it really be so?
My pencil returned now, it’s vengeance to wreak

Apologies, pencil, to you I return
To stay with you always I promise I’ll learn
In fact I’ll show you
How much I do know you
For to me you are as the dirt to the fern

Oh, hear now, my pencil, I’ll sing you a song . . .

(repeat)