Poetry

The Passanger On The First Seat!

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I saw zen in a corner, waved at it and it answered me. Woke up one morning, teeth grinning all the way to Neptune, smile ready with its own parking space and flag, hair style screaming Doolly Parton, hollering I am here. Dressed to the nines, spirit running through the beautiful leaf-peeping red, yellow and orange pigments autumn canvas that is self, I hit the street. Radiant aroma reading bouquet of roses permeated the air. Mood, a tale for the ages moment written in stone living in a mansion, switched flags at the track. Flashlights of wisdom, makeshift of charisma and puree of dotted blunders thrown in a basket delivered to the massive carved wooden door, loving every butterfly that graced the air that I breathe. Grateful for the open field and luggage of yesterday, an accidental passanger, I hopped on the moving train, taking the first seat, on the right hand side, enjoying the ride on the caravan of possibilities that is tomorrow.

And quietly I sit…

© Angela Aguiar

The Railroad

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Searching for that vibe, energy, IT, the will as life begins to slowly shift into gear, one puzzle at time, piece by piece with precision of a welder. Yesterday it isn’t but tomorrow it will with old habits lingering still, reconstructing we are, with new set of wills in toe. Some souls have rebranded, transformed, molded into their perfect beings but others, right back at yeah is being served on the platter, untapped water, menu of the corroded restaurant left untouched by the tornado, as many failed to grasp the route of the ride they are on. Monday grove mood it is, riding the boat parade of the week railroad we are on, a meeting of the minds carted in a scribbled murky piece of wood, still yet to be tamed.

© Angela Aguiar

The Anchor in The Limitless Water

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Good times don’t last neither bad times. Like drops of rain, it comes in buckets; sometimes sporadically and others, one continuous line of giving and misgivings. It feels like the end, the world closing in, grabbing you by the ankles, an earthquake of helplessness but it is not; just the universe waving at you. A slap in the face. A speed bump. A semicolon in your carefully catered uninterrupted life to say; hello I am here, can you see me?!
Indeed.
Dust off that dapper jacket, your gentleman stylish shoes and put it on. Walk up to the street and start trekking. Unmindful of the itinerary, brisk wind blowing at you, the acoustic sound of sand and gravel naked to the untrained ear whispers the pitch perfect noise companion; keep going it says, towards the ship in the far away land. Never fear but mutate. Never waver but stand firm. Never question but smile in gratitude. Make new adventure as twisted as imperfect lines it may come to be, rattled by uncollected evidence, never mind it; craft The stories. Be the anchor in the limitless water, a catalyst to the ship selling, to life as it is, for the living. Keep striving!

© Angela Aguiar