I want to write a story
A story of the mundane things
Yet whenever I picked up my pen,
I can hear their voices

One say, that it is the painful voice of others
Recorded in my mind, as my anxiety
Replays it so that I won't continue
Say, is my story worthless?

As I'm shaking, kept erasing the words
I can't help myself but to keep writing
These mundane stories, this free poem
For I believe, there's no such thing as vain

For one, this is beauty
For others , this is insignificant
Isn't everything so nonsense?
That one sees it so differently

Say, my friend, is my view not in your taste?
If acceptance and rejection is the measure of my work's worth,
Then let me tell you, I am a writer
And as such, I'll keep writing

On the last page, a question lingers around,
A little gem for the reading crowd.
“Look up at the sky,” the book does implore,
And you start to ponder what you read before.

“Has the sheep eaten the flower?” you ask yourself,
A cosmic riddle, revealing itself.
For in this thought, the universe sways,
And shifts our view in wondrous ways.

If the flower still stands - proud and untouched,
Is the sheep’s hunger forever unhushed?
Would it dream of petals, soft and sweet,
While munching on grass beneath its feet?

But if the bloom has met its fleecy fate,
Is the prince’s planet now desolate?
Would stars shine dimmer in the night,
Mourning the loss of that floral light?

No grown-up sees why this matters so,
But children understand the question’s glow.
In pondering sheep and flora’s dance,
We glimpse the magic of happenstance.

Perhaps in asking, we become more wise,
Seeing the world through children’s eyes.
For in life’s garden, strange and vast,
It’s wonder, not logic, that truly lasts.

So gaze at the heavens, mind roaming free,
Imagine the possibilities you might see.
But watch out for a question, horrific, yet deep:
What if the flower ate the sheep?



Who am I?
It’s life’s greatest question.
Life’s biggest quest.
We go through life with this feeling.
The feeling of needing to know
But not fully knowing what we are missing.
People become anxious,
Anxious of not knowing their purpose.
They become scared,
Scared they will never know.
But the reality is,
Life’s beauty is in the unknown.
The journey of finding your purpose.
So enjoy it.
Enjoy the unknown.
Enjoy the mystery.
Because in the end,
Whether big or small,
You make an impact on this world.

Haiku - I Love You
How can I love you
More and more every day
That is the only way

Haiku – What’s Good
I don’t know what’s good
I only know what I like
Maybe you like it

Haiku – Question
I had an answer
What question did you ask me
Can you tell me now

Haiku – Bring the Light
If the night is dark
Will the sun still bring the light
Where will the stars hide

Haiku – Old Poet
Maybe an old man
Might still learn some old tricks yet
An old poet writes

"Who are you?" life asked me.
"A fighter," I answered.
"Who are you?" life asked me.
"A kind soul," I answered.
"Who are you?" life asked me.
"A child of God," I replied.
Life no longer asks me this question,
because I have finally found the only answer that I shall ever need.
I no longer awaken in the stillness of night, with a question lingering on my lips.  

-Rhia Clay

A weighted question.
A right answer,
And a true answer.

I would say-
I’m doing great.
I have friends and family.
I have a home.
I have security.

But honestly?
I’m doing horrible.

My mind creates demons-
Ones I can’t face, even in daylight.

The simple joys of childhood are no more.
My friends are fading.
My family hurts me-
Words slicing deep into my heart.

I have a broken home.
Only half my family ever there.

I feel alone.
I feel scared.
The allure of death
Waits at every corner.

Life is desolate.
My heart, my brain, my soul-
They just can’t take it anymore.

But I will never answer honestly.
“I’m doing great”