Poems by L. Murphy

Poems by L. Murphy

UP IN AGE, BUT TENDER LOOKS BY SIGHT Getting up there but not yet on the Hill, another day counts as an added one for my scale of getting older, weighing my thoughts on looks, on other people’s expressions when they look at me. So I thought compliments are good— hear it almost every day: how cute my eyes are, my skin color, etc. It lifts me up when I’m most vulnerable at times, but most cannot tell. I guess it’s up in age, but tender looks by sight. I feel sunshine in my heart. My walk has laughter in it. When I move forward, heads turn to see or guess how much sugar is stirring in my yams. Could be up in age, but tender looks by sight. I remove my way of thinking about somebody else’s looks when the years are slowly appearing on mine, but not as quickly as others. I use what the earth has to offer and my higher power to preserve my looks— to be tender as I age gracefully. Look at me. Then you’ll see. ME AGAINST ME

get out of my way, Self!

Speaking to myself. Why? Well, I know me so well and it’s tearing me apart.

get out of my way, Self!

Again speaking to myself. Why? Well, I’m not following my own advice anymore. Too many distractions— people, places, and of course, things seem to always get in the picture. Well, my picture perfect world that I live in and won’t allow anybody to get in—okay? Once again I say,

Get out of my way, Self!

It’s just me against me and only me. I have to make the first move on how things should be or go in my life. Right? I know I can do it! I know I can. Lord, can you help?

I STOOD BEFORE THEM SPEECHLESS

A day of judgment— to be free or to flee like a runaway slave within my mind Words to me won’t die of cold by listening to authority’s statements which cut like a knife into my heart making bloodless feelings that my brain takes— an overwhelming pressure that scares the hell out of me. I remember its dark glittering eyes down to this day. Slowly, after awhile, I started to enjoy this game of cat and mouse— racing to get the cheese. But after that, I started fearing words pushing me like a crowded train at rush hour going and coming toward no direction. The position that I was in: I stood before them speechless, thinking about how this word from this point could put me in isolation for months or release me ‘til our paths meet again. The air is thick and I’m drenched in sweat from the nervousness of attractive words. A ROOM FULL OF CURTAINS

I enter a room, dark, yet colorless. My eyes focus on what is visible to the naked eye and what is not. Curtains, curtains. All around me. No matter where I turn, there I am, staring at— What? Curtains. In a room full of Curtains.

I go through one, then another, and another— and still I feel as though I’m in the same place… Where I was in the beginning. Hmmm… It’s funny. Something tells me that this has to do with my life. These curtains are the many situations in my life. Many ups and downs, many ins and outs, but I’ll get through it somehow. And when I do, be afraid. Be very, very afraid.