Why must a dream deferred explode?
What is so wrong with a raisin,
sticky sweet in an oatmeal cookie?
Where, my children, are the band-aids?
I will fix your sores and kiss them better
with the syrupy sweet sugar of love I will
lift your burdens so they do not sag beneath you.
I believe in different Hughes of color as a
rainbow spreads and melts from one pigment to
another so might we dissipate from old dreams to new.
(c) Lauren Otheim – 2010
She put them on, one leg at a time
Feeling the power surge through her body
Unconquerable and dressed to kill
Topped off with a pair of heels
Step through the door of the club
Click-clack Clickety-clack Click-clack
(that’s her heels in case you forgot she was wearing them)
Her head held high above the world
Sitting down at the bar she felt eyes
So many eyes looking at her
Glancing around she sees her insignificance
Uncomfortable, uneasy
She laughs with her friends
Talking about all the unimportant things
A night out for fun, to erase the memories in her head
She smiles at a stranger across the room
The questions cloud her mind
And she almost forgets to breathe
She forgets where she is clouded and claustrophobic
Refocuses on the smile from across the room
Why am I here? a wave
My life is up in smoke, a joke
I don’t know what I want, a walk
I am so confused. an introduction
I want to forget
“You know,” he says, “I think I have the same pair of skinny jeans.”
(c) Lauren Otheim – 2010
I procrastinate. Sigh. I am so good at procrastinating.
It is the only thing I can not do, and still be good at.
It’s a paradox. And I have always liked paradoxes. Does that make me one?
But mostly I’ve always wanted to be an enigma.
I’m not quite sure why, which is quite enigmatic in itself.
Maybe it’s because I bounce around from productivity
to complete
asdfasdfasdfasdfasdfadsfasdfasdinactivity.
Maybe.
Maybe it’s because I often find myself putting off the things I want to do.
It’s as if they scare me. But why?
If I want to do them, why?
Why? Why? Why? Why? WHY?
Oh the questions of the universe.
Writing. What sets me free from everyday boredom. What gives me wings.
I can be anything I want. It supports everything.
Including the fear of failure.
(c) Lauren Otheim – 2010
laurenmichelleotheim
Poetry of the Soul 