Harness the Wind

Oh don’t we think ourselves grand?

We fly through the sky while others are on land.

Aren’t we fine? That we’ve made a road,

A passage in the sky that breaks the mold.

We have harnessed the wind to carry our race,

To keep up with our increasingly greater haste.

And now we worship man with his incredible mind,

Who an ingenious air-machine did design.

Say he’s now able to control the air.

But wind is wind and has always been there.

So tell me now, who can harness the wind?

Tell when storms will strike or tornadoes spin?

Indeed the weatherman, you say.

Yes he can predict, but not harness in any way!

So why do the scientists behind airplanes and motors,

Win admiration and titles of heroes?

While geniuses perhaps and inventors for sure,

It’s like they’ve stopped at an uphill without searching for more.

For if I studied science and the movement of air,

About shapes and dynamics I would not care!

Because if I realized what was behind this vast invisible force,

Our puny helpless human minds would seem coarse.

Because if science was my calling, and wind was my game,

I would bring the Force behind it to greater fame.

Explaining that my tiny mind has simply found,

A way to ride the enormous powers that without our human help still abound.

That I haven’t the intelligence or brain to understand,

The incredible design behind the properties of wind.

So I would make known to the world,

The Creator of wind would surely be heard!

But sadly our human minds are so small,

Think only of the this , of the here, of the now.

So forget the big picture, throw ‘creation’ out the door.

Because if we can be famous now, why consider more?

If we could analyze our definition and description of ‘success,’

The  amount of ‘me’’s in it would make a great mess.

Those mixed with ‘self’ and ‘fortune’ and ‘renown,’

Should make even the smallest of thinkers frown.

But when it comes down to it, we’re selfish and narrow,

And covetous thoughts run in our very marrow.

“If I were famous, I wouldn’t ruin my life.”

“If I were rich I’d try to end all strife.”

No doubt if we ever reach that vaguely promising goal,

Gone will be our resolve and our sanity in whole.

(Except for a few, I am told,

Who to their beliefs do strongly hold.)

So what has this to do with harnessing the wind?

This story I’m telling of man’s general whim?

Simply to prove a point:

We are not in control.

That each day we’re falling into a disgustingly small hole,

Where we claim that man’s small mind can achieve,

Any small notion our equally simple brains will believe.

We fail to look at the big pictures of things,

We see only the clouds on an infinite horizon.

We claim to harness the wind,

When in fact we cannot even harness our sin.

And the world will continue to spin and spin,

When instead of the haystack, we look at the pin.

The Imagination Jungle

My story is lost in the jungles of my mind,
Where no person may venture of the 'realistic' kind.

It's a place covered in vines and prickles and thorns,
Where leaves and flowers form when ideas are born.
There are caves and chasms and a towering volcano,
Where new stories bubble and pop and boil,
Until they're thoroughly mulled over and ready to explode,
As a brand new story just burning to be told.

And don't be alarmed when skeletons you find,
In a deep ravine or dangling from a vine.
Those are the stories that didn't quite make it,
With plots or characters that just didn't fit.

But let me tell you, the animals that parade around,
From whom all the poetry and music abound,
Are truly a beautiful sight to be behold,
In the Imagination Jungles that never grow old.

And aha! I have found it! Buried in a tree,
That idea I filed away is finally free.
Now I can get to work and my little jungle I'll leave.
Only to return when I'm in dire need,
Of a story, a poem, a little excitement.
Or just to entertain myself when other thoughts grow silent.

African Sky

As I stood under the African sky,
With all those stars glistening and glowing
in places strange to my eyes,
I realized the nothingness the smallness of me,
The tiny piece of plankton in a wide open sea.

And I wondered how on earth I was in this far place,
And how oh how I would finish this race.
Was it true that only a few weeks ago,
I was only a normal person in a normal home?
It was an eternity ago that I slept in a bed,
That I straightened my hair or stepped in a mall.

But you know? I'm so much happier
With my skirt and my boots
Than I ever could have been
With my cellphone and tunes!

The feeling of helping people and loving them too,
Makes me wish our return date was not so soon.
And I just hope and pray that I left my mark.
That I left my little light in that ominous dark.
And suddenly this sky doesn't seem so different.
Because we're all here together and we're all on a mission.

And whether here or home we will live like we are,
those messengers and teachers still following a star.
And that beautiful African sky's now a comfort,
Of here and of home and the miles in between,
And the harvest and stories that are yet to be seen.

An Epitaph to Days Gone By

Oh the glory of former days, of those times engraved in my mind.

Oh the thoughts of people I loved, I shall not leave behind.
Worlds of colors, times of wonders, dusty roads I tread,
Why didn't I realize beauty of the moment in the tangled up thoughts of my head?


When the storms didn't blow, when the ocean was calm, when the sky was the color of gold,
When I thought diamonds grew on trees, when my friends were the fairies, when I had not yet grown old.
Oh was the time of knowing naught, wanting naught, feeling naught,
When I stood tall with no shame at all, I rose to the very top.


.

Rainy Days

Drip, drop, drip, drop,

The rainstorm comes to an end.

Pit, pat, pit, pat,

Beautiful messages they send.

Watching the raindrops race down the window,

I feel so pensive like a medieval scholar.

Difficult question about life come and go,

While the window before me becomes ever smaller.

The smell of wet earth turns into the smell of a battle,

You are the warrior dressed in fine armor.

And I am the princess locked in a castle,

                Your mission is chivalry and power and honor.

Then there’s the boom, the boom of thunder,

                The geese fly away in a hurried flight,

And I take aim for I am the hunter,

                And the boom was a rifle fired at my right.

My eyes become heavy and suddenly I’m flying,

                On the back of an eagle in the middle of a storm.

I’m hurt, I’m injured, I may even be dying,

                So I need a doctor and a refuge to keep me from harm.

Light flashes before me in a zigzagged pattern,

                Teleportation is what comes to mind.

Now I’m living in a world that is post-modern,

                Soon I’ll board a spaceship a new world to find.

I sigh deeply as the window comes into view,

                It’s the light at the end of a diamond-studded tunnel.

My imagination runs wild when I have nothing to do,

                But watch droplets run races straight into a puddle.

Drip, drop, drip, drop,

The rainstorm comes to an end.

Pit, pat, pit, pat,

Beautiful messages they send.

Rumors

Just found this poem I wrote in around 2010. Enjoy!

RUMORS by Keila Pieters (a nonsense poem)

In a far off galaxy of gothic galore,

Three kangaroos came tapping at a tiny door.

Twas black and dreary and dark and gray,

But they didn’t want to just walk away.

For here lived the hermit in tranquility,

With his strange concoctions that none could see.

Rumor had it that this strange little man,

Had found a way to mix sky with sand!

It was said that he used this smashing discovery,

To destroy the whole of the world, properly.

And all of Lithstorium (for such the planet was called)

To all of this newness was strangely appalled.

So in went the Roos to see if rumor was true,

And if it was so, oh what could they do?

The first went in readying his camera,

And found the old hermit eating a banana.

Starting up again!

So I've been off to a bad start this year 2013. I've actually written no poetry!! Crazy no? In the midst of writing a 5 book series and another independent novel, I haven't really had time to dedicate to poetry. But I'm going to start up again. My goal now is to post two poems a month (except for June and July when I'll be traveling). So keep a look out for some new original poetry coming your way :)
~Keila