WOUNDED WORDS

You need to do this
It would be better if you
...did it my way
My way, well, I don't know
I'm still figuring it out
....along the way

Ways,days, leave me dazed
With confusion, illusion, and conclusions
....that never pan out
But I want you to listen
I have important things to say
....I'm a poet, for goodness sake

Words, like perfectly formed turds
Still stink when they are delivered
....no matter how tightly wound
A wounded wound, makes a distinguished sound
On the piano of the heart
....like a weighted string
                    B  R  e
                                a
                                   k
                                      ing.....trying to take on one more note
The pressure of holding it together
Giving way...to the thud, of words
.....pianos float notes...not words
The beauty of rhythm and flow, gone
The whipping of the string, finally free
....to make noise in the air
             with WHOever is there
                   daring to care
                       for the broken great.

Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-30-2018

Note: Fear communications are so damaging...just had to walk away. Also, it's a wounded (injury) wound (past tense of wind...ahhh...words make me silly with joy).

ELUL EVIDENCED

Once, an old man sat at a bar
Seemingly, alone in the woods
The Falls were just over there
Above all of his shunned shoulds of good

Too great to enter into regret
He suckered anger instead
Justifying all his words and deeds
It was right how he LED
...his life

He kept his back to the river
His bed was dry and parched
The river refused to come near
The fort where hatred marched

His drink left him thirsty
His life drew a line in the sand
Here sits a washed up professional
Who can't face the River like a man
...and conquer

A wind blew up, against his ear
And whispered,"Turn around,"
All the fears that hemmed him in
Arose and begin to surround

"You can not hold her
She is liquid, fierce like a lion
She will maul you, eat you for dinner
And cover the place where your body is lyin'
...on the bed of stone

If you think you are forgotten...now
With her, your existence is erased
Forget being humiliated
You will be debased

May your eyes never behold
The Way the rivers runs
Stay where it is safe and lonely
And your life's work is done
....for the record"

The wind became a pressing
Deep within the seat of his soul
Even if he perished in his find
At least he would finally know

The power of his fears
And the freedom of perfect sight
With all the courage life had dragged to this spot
He turned....to see light...flash...then night
....thud, something fell

He saw a baby, but the river
Rushed to cover perception
New life is in the River
From infertility to conception

He jumped off his stool
And plunged into the deepest part
To retrieve the infant he saw
But in the process, he lost his heart
....to LOVE

Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-05-2018

POSH PRETENSE

If I stripped you of your garments
And gave you my rags to wear
Would you feel the fear and anguish
Of thinking I care

If I took away your high position
And brought you to my estate
Would you believe that I think
You are no longer an educated great

If a storm blew down your house
And leveled the playing field
Would you think I uttered a prayer
That held the sickle to wield

....such destruction

If I took away your friends
And left you with empty connection
Would you think I am the reason
For such unanimous rejection 

If I left you bare, naked and hungry
On the street to live or die
Would you choose to believe
That LOVE would never cry

....a single tear

What you don't know, is that I am,
Already at the place you still fear
The only difference is that POSH PRETENSE
Pushed me away, when LOVE drew me near

Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-02-2018