Second section of “Random Roads Of My Mind”
Author’s Note 1: Poems 19 through 21 were written while my family and I were on vacation, though only 19 has anything to do with the vacation.
Author’s Note 2: The fourth part of the five-part “numb” series and the first part of a seven-part series describing a fantasy world are both in this section.
Poem XII (012): Sad Bike
Today, I tried to accomplish something
but tech problems held me back.
Sometimes I plan to do something,
but I lose the ambition before I can.
Sometimes I forget the info I need,
sometimes it just won’t work.
Like a sentient bike that can’t get any traction, I’m always standing still.
It disheartens and frustrates me. I’m trapped. Where’s my love of life?
Poem XIII (013): Writer’s Block
Writer’s block is a frustrating pest
that puts a writer’s patience to the test.
Like a cement block in a cave
that makes a train conductor rant and rave.
It makes an energetic writer glare
and it makes a weary writer stare.
I wish I could just write another poem.
Oh, wait, I guess I just did!
Poem XIV (014): My Brain Is My Own Worst Enemy
I can’t hold on to everything in my brain long enough to look at it all at once and pick priorities.
If I’m not worried about one thing, I’m worried about another. I wish there were a soothing place I could escape to.
I can’t control my brain, can’t make it stop tensing up. I worry that it’ll never get better.
Poem XV (015): A Complaint About The Weather
The cold is quite unpleasant, and we get no snow in exchange.
We don’t get to sled or build snow sculptures, yet we still have to shiver and freeze.
My feet grow numb when I wait outside, but there’s no potential fun in exchange.
It kind of stinks, but it could me much worse. And I have worse problems to face.
Poem XVI (016): The Woods Of The Willow-Man
(first of seven poems in the collection describing a particular fantasy world)
Never walk in the Willow-Man’s woods in the danger of a quiet night.
Where no crickets chirp, no owls hoot, and nary a bird takes flight.
When you hear each footstep you make through its woods and the hour of night is late, know you could run into the Willow-Man, and be in for a horrible fate.
You can still spend the evening or a pleasant night taking a walk through the park, but don’t go into the nearby woods which sometimes glow in the dark.
I mustn’t dwell on what happens sometimes in those woods on a quiet night, lest I give my mind completely to a ghastly and terrible fright.
Poem XVII (017): Why Is My Brain Such A Jungle?
Every day my brain rolls from topic to topic.
It won’t stop rolling.
Every day my focus jumps between everything but what I need to be thinking about.
It never stops jumping.
Almost every day it’s quiet at my house, but it’s so loud in my head.
My mind will not sit still.
I feel lost.
I feel overwhelmed.
I feel frustrated.
Poem XVIII (018): Numb 4: The Struggle To Get Something Done
The pain in my head comes and goes.
A fog hangs over my mind.
I struggle to get something done, but my energy level is low.
I even struggle to write this poem, taking so many long pauses.
I bet it won’t be all that good when I’m done, but at least it’ll be something.
Something I managed to get done today, when I couldn’t do anything else.
I had not the brainpower to work on my fan fic, or anything in narrative format. Nor the energy to edit my video, which remains a dormant project again. But poems require so little thought; they’re simple and short and easy.
If only I were more like my sister, so disciplined and organized and wise.
She’s got her act together, uses her time well, and her priorities are what they should be.
Poem XIX (019): 18 Syllable Sentences About My First Day In Barcelona
Today we arrived in Spain, and my luggage was swallowed by the system.
When we got to the apartment, I partook in a long nap from jet lag.
I got up, still tired, ate to re-energize, and we went to park Park Güell.
My feet were sore and the right one was blistered, but the park was really cool. It had colorful tiles, strange architecture, and a dragon fountain.
Then I napped yet again, and then we had dinner, and I was quite content.
Poem XX (020): Nonsensical Poem
If I could take fight into the sky and see the gleebles that live inside………………..
I’d say to them “good afternoon”, and then I’d watch their objects swoon…………………..
I’d leap through fields of chocolate hay, where kingly airplanes tend to sway……………………
I’d scream with joy and wondrous fright, as dreamers leapt into the light to go somewhere and fly a kite and thus show off tremendous might……………………..
And then I’d visit the loo.
Poem XXI (021): The Retreating Mice
A sphere came rolling down the street, and lots of little scampering feet went running fast to the house to meet the leader of the rescue fleet.
Once in the house the mice would pray to be rescued by their god one day from the world where the sphere came every May and then they’d run out to the bay.
Once on boats they’d all set sail past sharks, octopi and the occasional whale and they’d never get to read their mail, be it internet or the kind called “snail”.
Poem XXII (022): More Whining About My Brain
Why do important things slip my mind till the last minute?
Why are the basics so hard?
I feel so very incompetent
I frustrate myself