Posted in life, original

Slaves of Time

Living life at the sound of the alarm clock

Waiting for it to go

I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to be

But then I find myself asking

Until when?

Until when do we have to be slaves of time?

©Maria Michaela

Posted in love, original

Who Loved You?

Do you recall the time you fell?

Fell hard but felt well?

Do you remember the time you felt great,

For being loved so much it covered all the hate?

When was the time, when you never felt blue?

And who, who was it that loved you?

Posted in friendship, life, original

The Bough Breaks

One can only tolerate so much

Even if he hides within their bunch

He knows he can’t take much of the punches

The strong can only hold out for so long

When he bends and breaks

And loses all senses

He is lost, a rogue

A shadow of what once was

 

I will not let him break

I will mend him

I will do whatever it takes

For no one should face this alone

Posted in love, original

When You Tease

I avoided the conversation,

Denied myself

And tried not to give in

I kept holding back

And told them nothing

I kept mum

Silent as a whisper

But then you started to tease

And I can’t help but loosen my grip

Don’t tease me and make me fall for nothing

Because I’m ready to give you my all

Posted in original

When Monday Never Came

People were wondering what could have happened

For some strange reason, Monday never came.

 

Tuesday was present, jubilant as ever

Waving here and there, welcoming a wonderful day

“Good day! Good day!”, it just kept saying

 

Thursday was looking ’round

Surprised to see so many gathered

It didn’t stay long and left in a hurry

Shouting, “Friday’s almost here!”

 

Sunday peeped but changed its mind

Instead, out came Saturday looking a little dazed.

It walked slowly, talked slurred

Could not walk a straight line

It held a coffee mug on one hand

And merely smiled at the onlookers

 

Wednesday was grand,

he kept shaking people’s hand

It was as if he won the election

“Middle of the week!”, he exclaimed

“You’re almost there.”

 

Now, Sunday was shy so outgoing Friday came out with it

They held hands and stood in the middle of the crowd

“Where is Monday?”, the people asked

Sunday replied, “well, he always comes right after me, so he may be coming anytime soon.”

“He always comes before me, I’m sure he’s just around”, was Friday’s reply.

 

On and on the week came and went

But Monday was nowhere to be found

It was as if he disappeared or just didn’t make a sound

“Manic Monday will surely come”, the people kept on saying

But it would seem it won’t be anytime soon

As Monday never came

Posted in original

When Death Came Knocking

When death came knocking at my door, I thought that I was ready

I thought that I would be able to face him head on

He knocked and knocked and knocked again

But I cowered in fear

I shook and I was frightened. I yelled for him to go away

Yet, he never did

He knocked even harder and called out my name

I was even more frightened!

I said I wasn’t ready, I said I didn’t want to go

And then I realized something

No one is ever ready, we are all but humans

When death knocked for the Nth time

My whole body was shaking, trembling

The knocking stopped, and the door burst open

Here was death in front of me

No black robe or scythe

His faace was plain, it wasn’t a skull but a full human-like face

He was looking down at me…..smiling

 

He said,

“People never welcome me when I come.

They fear not me but what would become of them

after this life. I find it peculiar since they know

that it’s inevitable. They often say that they’re not ready.

Always clinging to worldly possessions, or is it that

they’re afraid that the place they’ll go is not up there but somewhere below? ”

He was silent for a moment and just stared at me

And then I asked, “Is it my time?”

He replied, “I am just a messenger. I only come when I am told.

I know not when your time will be, but it will come someday.”

He continued on and told me it was not my time, yet.

He was merely visiting.

He reminded me that if I kept my faith, did good deeds

and believed in God, there was nothing to fear.

 

I cannot say for certain, that after his visit

I will be ready for him once the time comes.

However, he taught me a lot and I think I won’t be as scared

When he comes again on that day, whenever it  is,

I think I’ll offer him a cup of coffee.

Posted in original

Not When

I know not when this world will end

or when the sky will lose its blue

I know not when the stars won’t twinkle

but I will always love you

 

I know not when the birds won’t sing

or when the grass will grow no longer

I know not when the earth will stop turning

but my love for you will ever be stronger

 

I know not when the sun will stop shining

or when the leaves will never fall

I know not when my last breath is

but I’ll be there when you call

 

So until the end of time

even if words won’t rhyme

I will love you,

always

Posted in love, original

When You Think Of Me

When you think of me, I hope you think of sunshine

Of rain on a land on drought

Or of the stars to light your dark night sky

 

When you think of me, I hope you remember your happiest moments

Your unforgettable experiences

And the dreams that you want to reach

 

When you think of me, I hope you think of your favorite food

Your favorite color, shirt, movie, cartoon

Sum up all your favorites and it will equal to one word…..me

 

When you think of me, I hope you remember the girl in college

The one you rarely noticed

The one who felt strongly for you

 

When you think of me, if you could even remember me

If by chance I cross your mind

I hope you remember my name, my face

and I hope you think of me often, until

Posted in original

We Are All Numbered

When days are numbered what will become of me?

of you, of him and her?

when the salt of the earth has reached the fire

above and below the clever never-ending

and what they call endless finally ends

 

Lost for words to express what cannot be described

as it slowly creeps through the undaunted floorboards

the ones that creak and wither

when the light of day has dropped dead

to its knees; bowing with sadness and yet

maybe with relief

 

I cannot echo what is not heard or seen

when the silence has drowned the very foundation

of the ground we are standing on

As we approach that stage whether we know it or not

ready we must be to face the next stage

for we know not what happens after

when days are numbered