~Mark Schutter ©2015
Show some love to Laura and Tamara who put in a lot of hard work putting this collection together and support some amazing poets and people. You might even read a poem by me included in the journal!
Originally posted on The Reverie:
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Reblogging my poetry submission for Hastywords #BeReal project > This Mask. Be sure to check out all the #BeReal posts on Hasty’s site and show some love!
Originally posted on hastywords:
My #BeReal guest today is Mark Schutter
I have known Mark for over a year and he writes beautiful poetry. He even sent me a first verse once and we took turns writing this poem CEMETARY VISIONS.
Today he used his poetic skill to write about being real. Thank you Mark for this submission.
I stare into the mirror and what do I see looking intently back at me?
There behind this mask, living inside I see the mysterious eyes, of an imposter who is me.
The eternal fight rages ever on to be who I was created to be.
The striking war thunders in my brain to be real and the truth only believe.
Could I be more than this mask I wear?
More than what I allow you and others to see?
I hide inside forcing smiles and veiled laughter.
So all must be well you…
View original 486 more words
I captured my memories of you,
and placed them inside a glass jar.
Holding it close and so none could dare escape,
I screwed on the lid twisting it as tightly as I could.
Like the fireflies we had captured when we were young,
each memory flew innocently around inside the jar.
Upon rising the next morn I came to find,
each memory was dead from lack of air.
Nothing was left and utter despair filled my heart.
I resolved that I could and would do better,
so eagerly I set about capturing more.
Into the glass jar I placed each one and again
screwed down the lid, this time tighter than before.
Believing I had learned a hard lesson in life,
I punched holes in the top so air would enter in,
believing the memories would now never die.
I watched them flutter so happily about,
which brought an ever present smile to my face.
Until, eventually I dozed in this contented place.
Waking many hours later in the early evening.
I looked for the memories to remind me of you
but the jar I held was now empty and cold.
Unscrewing the lid I could find nothing there.
I sighed deeply, realizing that the holes must have
been too big, allowing each memory to escape.
I could not ever hold them I thought,
as I sat clasping the jar with clenched fists.
The evening began to fade as the dark curtain
of night began to fall covering the land.
My hands still gripped tightly to the empty jar,
my heart void of anything, feeling nothing.
The darkness smothered the forgotten light of day.
Finally, I dared to move and looking up over my head,
I was astounded by the sight before me.
A million twinkling lights, each a memory of you
shone white hot against the dark canvas of night.
As the memories flooded back in wave after wave,
I distinctly and clearly remembered this one.
How we ran and laughed capturing fireflies,
without a care in the world; when we were young.
~Mark Schutter ©2015