Please, may I write?

Do you ever have a story?
Burning deep inside
screaming "help I must get out,
I must speak my mind!"

It's not that I don't welcome them
truly, though, I do,
a new come story is a happy thought
second only to you

But they always seem,
though they do not mean,
to come at the worst times
there's much to do and writing now
just isn't on my mind

Why can't I just spend all my life
writing till I'm gone
think of a more joyous thing
You can't, so just move on
I'll write and dream and window paint
I'll dance and sing and shout
I'll love and live and be myself
and ever do no wrong
for its hard to do a bad thing
when your mind is filled with good
so can't I write this story now?
Later I'll do the things I should.

Promise.

The 5 Minute Forecast

How does the weather change so fast?
Go from warm blue skies to gray?
Children who have just changed now
are told they cannot play
The bathers on the beaches
go fast for higher ground
and people in the streets
are madly running round
The weather was just happy now
all bright and clear as day
but suddenly its night time, how
it changes rapidly
we think we know where we are going
but when the skies change soon
be ready for a different path,
perhaps beneath the moon
No worries, child, have no fear
its just the silly weather
and really now, remember here
this wind will bring new weather.

a poorly written poem on a beautiful new story

I've never been a patient girl
my parents know that well
if there is something that I want
I'll make it happen now
the waiting game is not my best
Though I often have to play it
I wish I could have the best things now
and leave old age for the rest

I wish I could have more money
so I could go to school
I wish it didn't take clothes and food
to be considered cool
I wish I lived closer to you
but not outside my city
so lets just move the city too,
They'll appreciate new scenery.

I think I'd like to jump right now
to years that've yet to come
to future times and love and fun
that wait beyond the sun
I think you and I
should run away, just
pack some bags and run
I think we should go far from here
where our names are not yet known

I hope we make it through the years
of waiting for the day
when we won't be away any more,
when yours will be my name
some people think I'm crazy
and that they rightly must
for I've never been a girl whose
stories you could strictly trust

I've always loved a tale to tell
and often that I do
but I've never spun a single one
when it comes to you.
We made our own beginning
one I've never heard before
with cardboard swords and
flipping phones, did cupid teach you that?

Now for the middle and the end
will you help me write those too?
I'd like some love and laughter,
lets add adventure too!
Now you know I'm not a patient girl,
and a day spent writing is bliss
but you should know I'll meddle not,
for every moment in this story
is one I cannot miss

these four walls

four walls, so tall
so plain and usual
they used to be my home
whether white or blue or lavender of old
they always did contain me
my stuff inside
my body too,
it's where I laid my head
my life inside four solid walls
just another normal bed

but no more now,
not these four walls
though inside them I still dwell;
I'm living in a new home now
outside the walls which surround.

my love is in a small small town
in a land known for its red
rocks named by natives long ago,
that's where I rest my head.

my heart is the story books
placed up upon my shelves
though happily I visit those
which yet have proper selves.

my spirit soars from place to place
searching for the white
I never stop for anything
unless it feels just right

my body sits
on this old bed
many others it has supported
but me? not here, not now, not ever
have I lived where I reported

my eyes they travel on the lake
or to the shining lights
or shoot off into the endless space
in a moment, they just might

my fingers live around a pen
and resting on some paper
though I can say they'd rather be
wrapped around another's

my dreams reside in distant lands
where skies are often gray
with wind and water and people strange
I spend my drifting day

my feet they live in running shoes
or in those brand new heels
all they really care to know
is how going somewhere feels

my ears float off to wandering heights
melodies all my own
borrowed or created new
its on music notes they're home

my mind sits in a classroom
for people new and old and so
who sprinkle knowledge in the air,
for me, waiting, to collect it there

my soul it thrives in passion
in sights and sounds robust
it matters not where I find it
but to survive I must

these four walls
its where I am
and where I'm forever not
but these four walls
to call my own,
they're really all I've got
these four walls
right here and now,
might be where you find me
but listen close and don't forget
these walls do not contain me

to be

to be alive
to breathe and think
to walk and run
and dance

to be in love
to talk and write
to smile and kiss
hold hands

to be inspired
to dream and hope
to study and ponder
make plans

to do good things
to reach and aide
to hear and speak
be friends

to act yourself
to speak your mind
to shine out loud
strong stance

to know your soul
spend time alone
search your mind
and let it all out