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A year older, a year wiser

A wisdom always in the making
Nourished by experience
Vitaminized by failures
Strengthened by aspirations
Built on the foundation of hope!

Year after year
Brick after brick
Wiser
Cemented by determination
Watered by dreams
Cracked by blows
Repaired by a mason
Working round the clock
Anointing healing!

Get up man.

You are a year older
But a year wiser


And the fruits of this wisdom
Often unseen
Oftener unknown
Ripen inside
And then no more just yours
Scatter in the surround
Beget nurseries of wisdom
Building, vitaminizing, strengthening
Repairing healing
Your foundation
Your hope!
reprise of a write that seems to me always in the making
I will wait for the day
The day I can see you smile
I wait to hear our endless talks
Wait to hear you for awhile
Early in the morning, I am missing you
I just wish that I had you beside me
So that we could just talk endlessly
I will wait
For the day you are here
We will go on our date
And let our worries disappear
I will wait, for that moment that hug
When I look into your eyes, just glance
I will take away your coffee mug
When I grab you by the waist and pull you close, just dance
I will wait.
Good morning Angel
It is complete
I am done.
3658 words later I am done.
No matter the quality I am done.
Wasn't it always taught quantity over quality?
No? Well it is in the case of a 3000 word essay.
I will save my quality for shameless poetry written under the cool reflection of the stars
For the wave of rhythm that turns my feet into wings of freedom
For the all consuming beat found in Mother Nature's skin
In her rivers
In the silant cedars whom stand watch under a snowy veil
I will save my quality for creativity
And Love.
I will save my quality for dancers feet and watery paints under the moonlight
I will save my quality for the love of life
No more lost sleep over abhorrent essays
That are expected to be born from no structure
No. I am done with my essay
No. I will not re read the terrible word ***** I have exploded onto the pages
No. I do not want to touch, smell, or see my essay ever again
And if I should come to a point in my life
Where loathsomely long essays are required
I shall write more poetry to book end
my traumatic experience with beauty.
(c) 2016. Jess Treijs. All Rights Reserved.
To travel, working hard to help others
*never returning to the place I once called home
Her eyes are almost dead,
Struggling to get out of bed.
As she begins to dress,
In the mirror she sees a mess.

There’s so much she can do,
But there’s also nothing to do.
Nothing at all gets done,
She clutches her head as it spun.
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