Paperweight Poetry

I met you in the middle of a stream, Where I was thrashing and struggling, For I was simply and surely drowning, I didn't understand why you dove in, Maybe you just like the water too, I know that is why I had leapt in, A muscled hand streaking towards me, I didn't know what you were doing, As I convulsed in the tossing drifts of water, But the moment I saw your eyes, The same color as the grass I wanted to stand on, Instead of the blue I was imprisoned in, I quit, Fighting, Resisting, And wrangling, Flailing, And trying, I didn't give up, As I melted tenderly into the blue, I simply gave in, Into your eyes, that haven of green, And when I sunk down so far, That the water turned from blue to green, The color of your eyes, I realized something, That you were trying to save me, But you couldn't, And it doesn't matter, That you didn't save my body in whole, For in a dreamlike moment, Of only looking int...

When I press my nose to the glass, With rings of swollen breath melting, Across the window and vision's crevasse, I wonder if there's something that I am missing, For my mind tries to fill the picture, Of what's behind the glass as it fades, So what if through the gauzy mist of blur, My mind shows me what is normal to be displayed? And I am surely losing the magic of this life, For what if I missed baby rabbits being born, Or a spontaneous lover kissing his wife? And then those moments I do mourn, So I will not obscure the glass with my breaths, I will not blot out the world before my eyes, For if I do it now I may do it for every moment till my death, As I find, that what my mind does best is tell me lies. -anna sluder

You drained that deep oaken liquid straight down your throat,   You acted like you were burning from the inside out as you let out a wail,   Until finally the couch sunk beneath you but your soul seemed afloat,   As you laughed at me when I asked if you liked your ginger ale.     -anna sluder 

There is a time to be eloquent and speak with grace,   and times to ramble and rant in laughing drawls,   for words always seem to know their place,   whether it is to be spoken or for there to be no words at all.     -anna sluder 

  * i love the way it feels when someone makes you laugh, right after you have poured out all your sorrows into tears, for in one small giggle it can always seem to snap in half, the pain and grief you have stacked up over too many years.   *   -anna sluder 

His hands hold the imprints of every child he has lifted,   And every treasured soul he has carried back home,   Their precious names written on his palms instead,   Of the ugly sins they did and he has always known.     -anna sluder 

The sun murmured tenderly to the dawn,   Telling it to wake up, for it is a new day,   So the sun rays stretched its arms out to yawn,   And then rose up from its knees after it had prayed.   -anna sluder