Annette Palmer

You think you know everything,

You turn a blind eye cause you've seen it all

And you can't handle it anymore.

But then just when you think 

You've got it under control,

Life throws you a curve ball

And you come to realize

That everything you've ever based your life on

Is nothing more than a mere joke,

A silly game, a way out to find a way in,

And the only place you've ever gone

Is the only place you've ever been.

I'm sorry for not noticing, for not paying attention, and for looking away when I should have known better. My prayers are with you. 

This started out as a little thought, that grew into a short poem about how I felt, and then was inspired further into something more.

Still Breathing

I've held my breath

And I've let it out so fast

I thought I'd never get it back

I've done it shallow

I've tried it deep

I've been lying down

And standing on my feet

Up and down and in between

I'm still breathing

I've survived heart breaks

And the minor mistakes

That everyone makes

And I've had the rug pulled

From beneath my feet

And I've stood there waiting

For someone to help me feel complete

I've been needing, bleeding

And hopelessly believing

Yeah, I'm still breathing

I've been down lower than low

I've been up higher than you know

I've had my good days, my bad days

My leave me alone, crazy daze ways

And I've seen the sun setting

Thinking it would never rise again

And then I've stood there watching

The sky as a new day began -

And I've seen it, heard it, done it all

Or so that's what we go around thinking

But really, we're just breathing

Still breathing.

Love me when I am weak

When I am down and sick

Love me when I make a mistake

And even more when I lose my faith

Love me when I cannot find my way

And even when I have no words to say

Love me when I lack the courage to forgive

And even deeper when I lose my will to live

Love me still, despite my silly games

And when it is sunny and if it rains

Love me strong and fierce, as only you can

Love me as thy woman or thy man.

I just love the way words have a way of sounding, like they’re singing to me in their very own sweet little voice. In my very best moments, those when I am especially brutal to any outside interruptions, I feel as though I am channeling one or more of the greats right through my mind and body. I can hear the voice of Emily Dickinson or Robert Frost. Shakespeare’s sonnets play like gentle notes in my fragile ears and I can just as easily float on them the way a leaf would in the wind. And then there’s that moment of release, a perfect stillness, when every organ in my body and every shift in the universe is in the exact balance that I need, and in that moment, life happens.

I love being a writer. I loved writing that just now. And if anyone is really wondering, yes, that is exactly how it feels when I write something I love.

This poem was written a while back during one of those moments when “life happened” to me.

Your Life

If someone handed you a book

And said this is your life,

Would you open it and look

At what's been written inside?

And once you get past

The baby-food covered grins,

Would you have the guts to sneak a peak

At what else your crazy life brings?

Would you want to know the moments

When you'll need your strength the most,

And would you really be surprised

That some things come at a higher cost?

Would you laugh at yourself

As you stumble along,

Making your mistakes and learning

What's right from wrong?

Could you read about the story of your life

All the while saying "that is so not me!"

And then look back years from now and say,

"I guess that's not who I thought I'd be."

  ... It’s one of those things that comes and goes. We often attribute its passing to someone else suddenly entering our lives and giving a new meaning to an old idea. The idea being that we are all intelligent, creative and unique individuals…like stars…no two are alike. Though it is all too often that we mere humans need to be reminded of that by others, and not just any other.

   There was a time in my life when Loneliness was my bestfriend. We shared meals. We woke up and went to bed together. We even cried and laughed at the same things. And although it has left me to dwell in the life of others for now, I cannot raise my nose in the air, for Loneliness is a faithful friend that returns at just a moment’s notice, however, uninvited it may be by its host.

   And so, this poem, though written at a time when Loneliness and I were practically inseparable, I now post it here for those souls to which it has since moved on to.

Lonely Star

There's a lonely star

In a sky of millions

And there's a lonely girl

In a land of billions

Where clouds cover

And shadows linger

Where mountains climb

And oceans whisper,

There's a lonely girl

Staring into the darkened sky

And there's a lonely star

Shining down nearby.

Sometimes I forget

That I'm living on borrowed time

And in those moments

Every minute is truly mine.

I'm not reaching to catch up

To something I cannot see

And time is not running out

Like it usually feels for me.

When every breath is only my own

And every heartbeat has a home

In those rare moments of mine,

I am finally one with time.

Sometimes I look upon your face

And I see you are there

As solid as the brick and mortar

Of the old home I grew up in

And I feel safe behind the locked

Gaze of you familiar blue eyes.

But then there are those times

When I look upon your face

And I know I see a stranger

Looking back at me in a daze

And your eyes are the swells

Brought on by a raging sea of gray

Shadowed from the light by the fog

That rolls in the month of May.

And everywhere else

Spring is around the corner

But to look in your eyes, if not to see

One would only wonder

For the stillness of past winter

Still fills your barren gaze

And as I sit here looking at your face,

Marveling at your eyes, like beacons

Lost in a darkening, gray sea

I wonder if when I look at you,

You are looking back at me.