I Will Succeed

I quit.
I just want to give up.
I tried my best and have failed, again.
Nothing ever works out.
I thought I was supposed to get wiser as I age.
I can’t do this anymore.
I’m so very tired.
I never learn my lesson.
There are no fairy tale endings.
I never have any luck or get any breaks.
I just want to go home and be by myself.
I’ve fallen short once again.
I feel like a shadow of my former self.
Always letting others down who are counting on me.
I tried my best and have failed, again.
I just want to give up.
I quit.

Everything will work out in the end.
I’m not perfect.
I am only human.
I can’t change the past and can only move forward.
I will make mistakes.
Even when I try my best, sometimes I will fall short.
It’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help.
I need to go easy on myself.
It’s not healthy to dwell on what I cannot change.
It’s alright to cry.
With a positive attitude, everything seems better.
I want to make a difference.
It’s hard to always put my best foot forward.
Sometimes I don’t say what I mean.
I am only human.
I’m not perfect.
Everything will work out in the end.

I will succeed.
I’m not done yet.
I’ve still got it.
I can accomplish whatever I set my mind to.
I am persistent and hungry.
I love challenges.
I know I can do this.
I am resilient and full of character.
Though I may occasionally appear weak, I am strong.
There is no quit in me.
The best is always yet to come.
When I fall down, I always get back up.
Failing does make me stronger.
I will rise to the occasion.
I’ve still got it.
I’m not done yet.
I will succeed.

Digging

Digging.

My childhood was spent digging.

At the beach, at the park, in the backyard, for scrabble tiles, and in between and under dirty and dusty popcorn kernels and ballpoint pen caps and lost teeth in the couch cushions.

I dug holes of various shapes and sizes using frustratingly flimsy plastic shovels, hands that quickly became cut and bruised and filthy, sticks and stones and broken bones and hired help.

These holes were tide pools, miniature civilizations for imaginary superheroes, houses of squirmy worms and wriggly bugs, and caves and caverns rife with hairy coins and sticky action figures from popular movies on the silver screen at a theatre near you.

Sand and dirt would fly as I dug to pass the time, because friends and acquaintances and those other kids who may someday become friends or acquaintances were doing it, because if I created a hole deep and wide enough I could hide there and escape or rent it out to some other kid who didn't have a hole of his own and I dug to dig, you dig?

Burrowing down creating crevices penetrating the planet, trying to finally get to Asia 'cause I was hungry for some take-out, looking for fossils and diamonds and buried bones to sell to dogs too worn out to excavate something to gnaw on themselves as well as other treasures from those who lived on this land before me.

My childhood was spent digging.

Digging.

Blister: A Poem of Love

This poem was created based on 5 words I received using a random word generator online. The word generator gave me lift, aroma, submarine, holiday and blister. After lots of thought, and wanting to explore the realm of poetry, I came up with this (I could have done without blister...)

"Lift me" she said when she wanted to dance elegantly by candle light.

"Lift me" he said when he was struggling and needed a hand so badly.

"Lift me" she said when she longed to be held and caressed just so.

"Lift me" he said when his spirits were low and only her smile could help.

The aroma of the soup they had made filled them with hope and warmth.

The aroma of the crackling fire filled them with happy memories of the past.

The aroma of the brewing coffee filled them with energy as the clock turned midnight.

The aroma of the perfume and cologne filled them with love and playfulness.

She lovingly and softly sang "Yellow Submarine" to wake him on a lazy Sunday morning.

He layered meats, cheeses and veggies for her constructing her favourite submarine sandwich.

She laughed and celebrated as she won the game of battleships when she sunk his final submarine.

He often pretended that he was a submarine stealthily invading her waters when they watched TV.

While on holiday, they youthfully swam and played in the ocean as if they were dolphins.
While on holiday, they ate juicy and sweet exotic fruit with reckless abandon.
While on holiday, they slept till noon enjoying the cool breeze of the wind on their faces.
While on holiday, they grew closer and even more in love as if under a spell.

She rubs ointment on his blister while reciting romantic poetry to complete the mood.
He sings "Blister in the Sun" at the top of his lungs which always makes her so happy.
She runs and runs after him for hours; never wanting to stop even when a blister forms.
He tells her stories about their future together, a love for all time, hoping their blister will never pop.

His Shirt Was So Tight

He chopped wood outside all of the day,
Heavily invested in making "them" pay,
To sound more "street" started calling himself Tre,
Accidentally glued his hands together when he started to pray,
To win a girl's heart, he put on a play,
And eats muffins with gusto.

He longingly looks up at the stars,
Stores all sorts of odd things in a collection of jars,
Often spends the night crying after hitting the bars,
Left with a huge pile of sand after extracting the tars,
Got a job as a pirate with really great "Yaaaarrrr"s,
And goes to the store every Friday.

He got a new job tenderizing some beef,
When he was little he lost his front "teef",
Got horribly itchy for caressing the wrong leaf,
Once ran away from home to go live on the reef,
Needs to drink a litre of OJ just to feel some relief,
And wears his socks when he showers.

He spent the whole holidays playing the game,
Felt pretty annoyed when he received only 9 minutes of fame,
Lived the first four years of his life without a first name,
Wrongly believes any wild animal can be tame,
Won the first prize for being the most lame,
And has an excuse if you need one.

He uses only designer soap to clean his white towels,
Wrote a short story using only some vowels,
Is known around town as the man with the scowls,
Draws concerned looks from all for his collection of fowls,
When dating a new girl gets excited and howls,
And eats his oatmeal with sugar.

He had a weird dream where he got a lot fatter,
When given a choice, opts for the latter,
Hates his wife's pancakes, but gulps down the batter,
Wrote a beautiful song featuring teeth all a chatter,
While he prefers hugs, his mom was a patter,
And wrinkles his nose like a bunny.

He looked really good because his shirt was so tight,
Broke up with his girlfriend because of that bite,
Walks around looking sad because a dog ate his kite,
Afraid he'll grow fangs when day turns to night,
Painted his body to make his skin actually white,
And washes his car in the rain.

He lost his job at the factory when he barked like some dogs,
In a search for a princess he kissed all the frogs,
To satisfy his vanity he goes for lots of jogs,
Considers himself European because he wears wooden clogs,
Made a Morse code pattern using all the beach logs,
And wears his hair in a 'fro.

He made the crowd laugh when he told that rude joke,
Almost got himself gored because of a poke,
Spent the night staring at his sister until she awoke,
Tried a new treatment engulfed in thick smoke,
Gave away his bank savings to make himself broke,
And kicked the ball in his yard.

He has so much invested in finding that cure,
Refuses to eat anything less than 99% pure,
After the trip to Arabia, can't get enough myrrh,
Envious of bears mostly cause of their thick coat of fur,
Never catches a fish, as he eats the lure,
And quietly toasts some bread.

He thought he'd get smarter by reading that book,
Gets all of the parts, because he got "the look"
When someone bores him he gives them the hook,
Can't play chess; cares to much for the rook,
Served everyone raw food as he never learned to cook,
And rolls his eyes at the moon.

He scrubbed and he scrubbed to get rid of the blood,
Bought lots of canned food to prepare for the flood,
Got a bad rash cause he used the wrong mud,
To fit in with the cows, started chewing some cud,
Screwed in all 1000 lightbulbs in search of the dud,
And eats celery for the fibre.

He got kicked out of the gang because told the police,
Broke his ring finger when he high-fived his niece,
Lost his new place when he misread the lease,
Can't tell the different between some swans and some geese,
Brought the house down by using some fruit as his piece,
And hems his own pants in the summer.

He only writes poems that are very deep,
Mistook the tree for his neighbour when nearly asleep,
Refuses to buy some more wax; the price is too steep,
Walks all around the town in search of noses to beep,
Embarrassingly attracted to Little Bo Peep,
And brushes his hair every morning.

He came home from work and ate all the fish,
Set as his goal, to be served on a dish,
Revealed his true colours when granted his wish,
Only buys new pants that make a loud swish,
Made his dad proud when he bought that knish,
And rubs his seashell for good luck.

He lost all his friends for not ceasing to tickle,
Constantly on the loookout for new foods to pickle,
Won't eat the second-rate caviar as he is fickle
Wouldn't hug the girl at the fair for only a nickle,
Went all the way to Russia to purchase a sickle,
And clicks his heels when excited.

She Loves to Eat Bowlfuls of Rice

She wears a lot of different shades of green,
Spent her weekend creatively inserting an "I" into team,
Alternates her dinner choices between too fatty and too lean,
Forced her boyfriend to give her his spleen,
Decides when and where to be mean,
And always enjoys her afternoon apple.

She loves to eat bowlfuls of rice,
Puts aside time each night combing for lice,
Answers every question asked of her with "no dice",
Is a lover of grips, especially the vise,
Has vivid dreams as the leader of a colony of mice,
And loves watching the 6 pm news.

She learned to sail on a partially submerged boat,
Has a deep, verging on unhealthy, respect for her goat,
Paid a large fine to the city for digging that moat,
Occasionally wears nothing under her big furry coat,
Would be considered a great pianist if songs had only one note,
And is excited by standing in the rain.

She confusingly refers to her car as a jet,
Charges her father lots of interest on his humongous debt,
Was conceived as a result of her mom losing a bet,
Often rubs against her dog just wanting a pet,
Wrote a quality research paper but got it all wet,
And bounces on her sofa like a child.

She often awakes with a tick and a frown,
Walks alone in the darkness wearing a wedding gown,
When she throws it, she throws it down,
Often mixes up what's a city and what's a town,
Unrelentingly bullied her brother into becoming a clown,
And washes her shirts inside out.

She loves oh so much to hear herself talk,
Won a year's supply of industrial strength caulk,
Hurt the umpire's feelings for calling that balk,
Once slapped herself all night with a celery stalk,
Refers to running as a really fast walk,
And kisses her nose in the mirror.

She often stares up at the moon,
Breaks out her best dance move always around noon,
When asked when she'll be done in the shower she always says "soon",
Aspires to be an ice-skating goon,
Plans to go far, far away sometime, perhaps around June,
And swings so her feet touch the tree.

She spent her summers away at "the camp",
Keeps things painfully bright with the use of a lamp,
When it is wet, she prefers to call things just slightly damp,
Bought a comically-large, reserved-for-special-occasions, red-and-blue stamp,
Replaced all of the stairs in her house with a slippery ramp,
And occasionally sips her milk slowly.

She sprinkles the counter daily with flour,
Never does any activity for exactly one hour,
Always tells anyone who will listen that she "got the power",
As a girl, never built even one single block tower,
Lost the competition when her baked lemon cookies were WAY too sour,
And sings to herself in the mornings.

She responds promptly to the ring of a bell,
Lives according to the rule "don't ask, don't tell",
Believes there is no such thing as too much hair gel,
Always wondered what is up with the farmer in the dell,
To teach herself a lesson, she spent a week in a cell,
And scratches her back when it itches.

She greedily invented all of those hidden fees,
Imagines she is being rightfully chased by killer bees,
Once sang the national anthem with a really harsh wheeze,
On a dare once ate a bowl full of flees,
Sent Santa to the hospital for too tight a squeeze,
And bites her lip when she is nervous.

She lounges at leisure in a kiddie pool,
Balances precariously for hours on top of a stool,
Canvases the streets challenging all comers to duel,
Scorched her mouth on her dinner and soothed it with some raspberry fool,
In the school play she's a typecasted ghoul,
And wears her baseball hat sideways.

She is considered just this side of crazy,

Calls her eye "relaxed"; doesn't like lazy,

Called off the wedding when given a rose not a daisy,

After that weekend in Vegas changed her name briefly to Maisy,

Cleans her glasses only when things start to look hazy,

And dances in front of her mirror.

She was born as the child in the middle,

Broke her violin when she told it was only a fiddle,

Spent a month in silence solving that riddle,

Wishes she could rapidly think of more synonyms for little,

Burnt herself badly when she sat on the griddle,

And takes out books from the library.

She enjoys one or two a tropical drink,
Had an inexplicable desire to melt the ice rink,
Took a poorly-timed break from the surgery to think,
Once lost her job for an inadvertent wink,
Envious of pigs for looking so pink,
And colours outside of the lines.

She is on the lookout for vegetables to mash,
Will change her mind for the right amount of cash,
Proudly shows off her dark purple rash,
Once knocked a guy out when she bat her eyelash
Upstaged her best friend at her birthday party bash,
And smiles for nothing at breakfast.