Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

Nicely Unexpected

12 January 2012

 

Nicely Unexpected

 

With eyes wide open, my heart can believe

that even love lost can be found again.

I have always worn my heart on my sleeve

because I refuse to ever pretend.

I say what I think and feel what I feel,

that even love lost can be found again.

When I keep trying to find what is real,

love can be an unexpected surprise.

I say what I think and feel what I feel,

something loneliness will not compromise!

I am who I am, so love me that way,

love can be an unexpected surprise

when it is more than just the words we say.

I will always give all I have to give.

I am who I am, so love me that way,

I don’t know any other way to live –

with eyes wide open my heart can believe

I will always give all I have to give,

I will always wear my heart on my sleeve.

12 January, 2012 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

Papier Mache

29 December 2011

Papier Mache

 

I long to hear what you silently say,

to fall into your eyes, to find your soul

like mine’s as fragile as papier-mâché.

To plumb the depths I fear I can’t control

I would risk letting you in, if I could

fall into your eyes and find my soul,

but I doubt I’ll ever be understood.

I’m comfortable with silence, even though

I would risk letting you in if I could

get as much as I would like to bestow.

In a world that’s never quiet at all,

I’m comfortable with silence. Even though

loneliness never ceases it’s sad call,

perhaps there is another quiet heart

in a world that’s never quiet at all.

I wish for something more, not just a part,

I long to hear what you silently say.

Perhaps there is another quiet heart

like mine, as fragile as papier-mâché.

29 December, 2011 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

Blindsided

24 November 2011

Blindsided

 

Instantaneously, or so it seems,

we are caught off guard by a sudden shift.

Why must reality be so extreme?

 

Maybe not seeing it coming’s a gift?

Although the signs have been there all along,

we are caught off guard by a sudden shift

 

and must accept that we are not that strong.

These fears we’ve managed to pretend weren’t real,

although the signs have been there all along,

 

can no longer be ignored or concealed.

Consequences of choices must be met,

these fears we’ve managed to pretend weren’t real,

 

often are an unavoidable debt.

Life teaches us, most often the hard way,

consequences of choices must be met.

 

I shouldn’t be surprised what comes my way.

Instantaneously, or so it seems,

life teaches us most often the hard way.

Why must reality be so extreme?

24 November, 2011 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

a moment of self pity

03 November 2011

A moment of self-pity

 

Is there really someone for everyone?

You’ll have to excuse my skepticism,

But I am convinced I will die alone.

Please don’t tell me I built my own prison,

And I just haven’t met the one for me.

You’ll have to excuse my skepticism,

I look at life realistically.

I must love myself to love another,

And I just haven’t met the one for me.

Spare me the pain of trying to discover

If it’s worth all the trouble after all.

I must love myself to love another

But I settle when my loneliness calls.

As complicated as love tries to seem,

Is it worth all the trouble after all?

I have my doubts I will ever believe

That there’s really someone for everyone,

As complicated as love tries to seem.

I am convinced I will just die alone.

3 November, 2011 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

Missionary

21 November 2009

Missionary

 

amidst the busyness of living I can’t forget

to pay closer attention to the little things

running on and on without any regrets

 

true freedom consists of more than just having wings

I have one goal: learn something new every day,

to pay closer attention to the little things

 

with patience and gentleness I turn this wet clay

shaping, molding, creating my own vision true

I have one goal: learn something new every day

 

I now believe the best way out is always through

for the journey matters, not the destination

shaping, molding, creating my own vision true

 

an inner process, of thoughtful contemplation

the quiet, restorative solitude I need

for the journey matters, not the destination

 

I will learn to fly, I will remember to breathe

amidst the busyness of living I can’t forget

the quiet, restorative solitude I need

running on and on without any regrets

21 November, 2009 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment