Poetry

The Coaster of life

by A. L. Standlee

My world crashing and caving in

reaching up high from within.

Taking all I have not to give in

refusing to ride life’s coaster once again.

Going up then flying down

picking up speed before the ground.

Slinging you from side to side

not know which way to ride.

Reaching up with all you have

not giving into life’s grab.

Pushing, pulling back at you

fighting your way through.

Round and round, up and down

never staying on solid ground.

Being flung from side to side

grabbing anything so you can hid.

Once you find him through the light

you will see just how to fight,

On your knees with hands up high

is the only way you can fly,

On the coaster of life.

Copyright © 2014 by A.L. Standlee
All rights reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the owner/publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

 

A Writers Struggle

by A. L. Standlee

Sounds of a million voices all screaming to get out

Not one louder than the other.

Clawing itching to escape.

Fighting with the silence that consumes my hand.

The verses are all jumbled and variegated,

as they tussle to become as one.

Why can’t I acquire one to make sense?

I feel as if I am standing on the top of a mountain yelling so no one can hear.

For if they heard me what would they say?

I put the pen on the page but nothing appears.

My hands shake silently as if blending in with the declarations fighting to come out.

All I get is snowy stairs of the sheet of paper eyeing back at me.

Should I crumple it up and throw it away?

When all I think when I get up is; where the pen and the page to silence these expressions for that day?

But all these words are just untrained pigments.

Waiting to be tamed.

I am meant to do this to struggle with words.

To stand alone lost in my head fighting with these voices

And what they want to be said.

Copyright © 2015 by A.L. Standlee
All rights reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the owner/publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

 

Outside the lines

by A. L. Standlee

Forced outside the lines,

By the weaving of the vines.

Silent words for silent ears,

Leaves those with silent tears.

Not being heard when spoken out loud,

Only echoes of lost communications left linger in the crowd.

Being heard by Indifferent ears,

No response but by muted years.

Differing words so they can’t be heard,

Opposite our worlds as there stirred.

Being seen by a filtered lens,

Not beaning seen as who I am.

Forever outside the line I’ll be,

For those are lines you created for me.

Copyright © 2015 by A.L. Standlee
All rights reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the owner/publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

 

To Go Away

by A. L. Standlee

To go off the grid, get far away
Leave this place and technology a stray.
To be bitched at and told what to do
Is not something I want to listen to.
To be alone without a care
Be by myself without them there.
For this would be total relaxation
Not having to deal with their dramatization.
“He did this” and “she said that”
“Oh and can you believe that they owe me that?”
Calm and peace is what I desire
Which can’t be achieved living in this fire.
Constant attacking from every which way
Drains my soul as if it was beaning flayed.
Getting my rage and frustration out on paper
Gives my focus a nice taper.
Being far away in my mind
Lost in this world and of time.
Having a pen and the paper by my side
Cleans me deep while I hide.

Copyright © 2015 by A.L. Standlee
All rights reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the owner/publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

 

BEING SET FREE

by A. L. Standlee

A world full of Constricting fear

As the container tightens with

No room to breath Or move inside.

Struggling to see clear through the glass from within.

The glass that mirrors their every move mocking me as I’m being

pulled tighter from outside in.

Like thread locked trees holding their ground in a storm.

The body is muted by unsympathetic voices

As it struggles to exists.

Beaning seized from the hands of this world

As the soul slips into the vast of the realm of this life.

Inner words scared to be released.

Scared of what this world will say and what they won’t.

The glass always reflecting the light that shines

Searching for a way in.

Light as bright as the sun rising in the morning but always

Consuming the darkness of the eve.

Light like fire reflecting on the glass but not consuming it

As it dances awaiting an entrance.

Braking through the container that houses the chains as

Light can now radiate through,

As the world grabs harder than ever

Trying to pull back for fear of losing.

Fear of losing another soul from within their container.

For this light is the way, the truth

Light full of hope, love and joy.

For this light has washed away who I was and

The confinement of the container is no more for

My soul now found its eternal home.

Copyright © 2015 by A.L. Standlee
All rights reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the owner/publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

 

Mask

Hiding behind a mask

Like a clown in disguise.

Trying to hold back the anger so strong form inside.

Behind this face

I can’t even be me

The mask holds me in

Never letting me be free.

Hiding behind a mask

With no way out.

As the world outside blends to gray

Blurring the line

That says this is not okay.

Behind this face

I can’t even be me

The mask holds me in

Never letting me be free.

Hiding behind a mask

Looking out as they are looking in

Not ever seeing who I really am.

Behind this face

I can’t even be me

The mask holds me in

Never letting me be free.

Ripping off the mask

Stepping outside the darkness

Refusing to hide

Behind this face

I can be me

Ripping the mask off

Setting me free.

Copyright © 2015 by A.L. Standlee
All rights reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the owner/publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

 03/20/2016

Your daughter
By A.L. Standlee

You were supposed to protect me.
Protect me from people like you.
The ones who would leave me
And show me love that’s untrue.
You should have stayed with me as I grew,
coaching my games and loving me through and through.

Protecting me from getting hurt
And kicking the boy’s butts when they flirt.
Walking me down the aisle, to a man that I chose.
This man of which you should have said yes or no.

But protecting me you did not.
For you were never there,
leaving me, which always felt unfair.
It took what felt like my whole life,
to learn how to not care.

I loved you then and I love you now,
the whole world can never tell me how, not to.
For these are feelings I have fought,
For all my life and cannot change
for God loves you and I the same.

After finally meeting you, all I understood
was now that I’m in adulthood,
you were never there, for reasons
that weren’t unfair.

God was protecting me from things you never did,
he was there when you seemed like you didn’t care.
Protecting me from things you would have said or did,
keeping me away, safe and hid.

I do forgive you for the decisions you made.
For I was blessed to find a man,
who protects me from people who don’t care
and from those like you,
who were never really there.

A man who helped me move past all this pain.
Fixing a broken daughter who never had her father.
Turning her into a mother,
teaching her how to truly love another.
Showing her what it means to be a husband and a father.
But I take the most pride and honor in the man I’m raising,
who is kind, caring and astonishingly amazing.
For he will be an awesome father, unlike like you were
to me-your daughter.

Copyright © 2016 by A.L. Standlee
All rights reserved. This poem or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the owner/publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

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