Hidden

It is hidden.
From the outside,
You can’t tell.
But from the inside,
Looking out,
You know it’s there.
How can something,
So small, so covered,
Be so destructive?
It will take you from us,
Make you leave us, and
There is nothing we can do to make it stop.
Just know this,
This one thing,
That wherever this,
Thing,
May take you,
Wherever you may go,
There will always,
Always,
Be someone here at home,
Who will miss you.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Migrations Haikus

Floating, falling leaves,
Brush the flying bird’s feathers,
On chilly autumn days.

Fly on, chirping bird,
Until you reach your haven
Beyond the mountains.

Flap your silent wings,
Owl of tall, shrouded pine trees.
Be wary, small bird.

White and cold moonlight,
Shows feathers on the hard ground.
The bird flies no more.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Even Her Brain Betrayed Her

Even her brain betrayed her,
Her thoughts do not make sense.
Her mind is full, yet empty,
And her words, a garbled mess.

Her mind has become worthless,
A lump of flesh in a shell of bone,
It left her to pursue its own fancies,
It left her screaming, and alone.

Even her brain betrayed her,
Made her muscles twitch and tighten,
Her fingers curl and arch themselves,
With no hope of release on the horizon.

Her mind has become worthless,
A mass of blood inside her head,
Sending mild electric signals,
Telling her what she’s done and said.

Even her brain betrayed her,
Causing images to appear.
Pictures that do not exist,
Make her eyes wet with tears.

Her mind has become worthless,
Lays a trail of scathing screams.
Lashing out at those who try to help,
And at those who invade her dreams.

Even her brain betrayed her,
Allowed her freedom beyond normality,
Escape from the prison of her malformed thoughts,
And to roam past all physical boundaries.

Her mind has become worthless,
Making her turn upon herself.
Clawing, scratching, biting her skin,
Leaving sanity high on its shelf.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

There He Sits

There he sits, eyes glazed over,
Unmoving, silent,
Not even a blink,
From his dull, unseeing eyes.

We do not know if he knows
What we say or do to help him
Through his silence,
Through his loneliness.

He never thanks us, or even says a word,
To acknowledge what we do.
He cannot let us know,
How much we really help.

Sometimes he will grunt,
But we know that it means nothing,
That it is only,
A trick of fate.

His wheelchair remains motionless,
He does not wish to move,
Or if he does,
How could we tell?

His skin is pale, hair lank,
He does not care to bathe.
He never sees a soul, why would he?
He has no one in this world.

His body has betrayed him,
Left him to fight this on his own,
He drools,
Because he has nothing better to do.

There he sits, day in and out,
Unmoving, alone,
Not even a blink,
From his dull, unseeing eyes.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Oh, Cat

Oh, cat,
I envy you,
For your careless play.
When the most important thing to you,
Is what you will eat tonight.

Oh, cat,
I envy you,
For your silent paws.
Padding around on cat errands,
About the house.

Oh, cat,
I envy you,
For your simple pleasures.
Like laying on a sun-warmed floor,
Or feeling a hand run down your back.

Oh, cat,
I envy you,
For your playful leaps,
About the rooms of your home.
Chasing dust motes or batting at string.

Oh, cat,
How I envy you,
For your ignorance.
You don’t know envy,
And in this you are free.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

The One by the Wall

She is the one who sits by the wall,
lips blood-red,
she wants to be dead,
She thinks she can hear the call.

She is the one with the knife in her hand,
points it at her chest,
for eternal rest,
her hourglass runs out of sand.

She is the one with the glassy blank stare,
eyes of ice blue,
looking at you,
Touch her only if you dare.

She is the one who has nothing left,
long gone are they,
with nothing to say,
they left her bereft.

She is the one, the one by the wall,
pale freezing skin;
she can't hear the din,
as her heart strives to answer the call.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Stars

Scattered like glass,
Across a velvet sky,
Float through the night,
Broken and falling,
Sleepily crawling,
Going towards the light.

Spread out like sand,
Along black beaches,
Fly through the air,
Speed ever more quickly,
Though some are pale, sickly,
They fall through the night’s tears.

Shining as diamonds,
Hidden in dark rock,
Fade from my sight,
Out comes the sun,
Day has begun,
The stars do not try to fight.

Picture-perfect dawn,
On the canvas of clouds,
Reach out if you dare,
Look up at the sunrise,
Watch as the bird flies,
Softly, without a care.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Blood

Shining red like wet rose petals,
It glistens on the wall,
It covers me like a blanket,
I lick it off of my lips.
Salty, like ocean air,
White faces all around me,
The faces of the dead.
Blood on them too,
And on the floor,
And the dagger in my hand.
Shimmer in the moonlight,
Scarlet like the dying sun,
Blood.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

The Butterfly

(this one is for you, Megan :))

Fragile wings,
How do they support,
The butterfly,
As it floats,
Through gentle breezes?

Curled antennae,
Waving in the wind.
The butterfly,
Can sense all
That goes on around it.

Tiny body,
crawls along,
That butterfly,
On butterfly errands,
Simple beauty.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Spirit

Spirit, waft among the dead,
Calling out to those who seek it,
Spirit, letting death go to its head,
Lure them close and take them away.
Spirit, haunting its former realm,
Do not let them see you,
Spirit, destroying peace and calm,
Don’t let them sneak a glimpse,
Spirit, let your death not part
You from those who seek you still,
Spirit, without soul or heart,
And yet they want you back.
Spirit, will you taunt them by returning?
Why dangle hope in their faces?
Spirit, though you are still yearning,
Don’t give in to the light.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

You

I long to forget,
That look on your face.
When you told me,
That I was a disgrace.

I need to forget,
The pain in your eyes.
When you told me,
It was time for goodbyes.

I want to forget,
The sound of the bells.
When you told me,
You had someone else.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Fury

Blinding, ripping, terror, fury,
Swirling like a great snow flurry.
Dancing like a writhing flame,
Will you play this horrid game?
Give in to the burning anger
Pay no heed to looming danger,
Lift your wings and take your flight,
Off to find another fight.
Someday you will have to pay
For the pain you brought this day.
These thoughts fly from your dark mind,
Your thinking’s of a different kind.
Listening not to wary warnings,
You just go on with your goring.
Burning fury deep inside
You used to try, to try and hide.
But the fury burned you through
You say no, but this is true.
You are lost to all of us
And soon your heart will start to rust.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Trapped in Paradise

I am trapped in heaven.
You wonder how one can be trapped,
In Paradise,
But if it is indeed Paradise
Why isn’t there a way out?
I beg and plead,
To no avail
My heaven has become
My Hell.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Leather-Bound Fear

She walked into the small bookstore,
Looking to make her dull life more.
She stalked about, didn’t want to go home,
Until she found the perfect tome.
The dusty shelves stood in dim light,
Making you squint to see the sight,
Of books stacked high upon the wood,
Hidden beneath that twilight hood.
The woman prowled the quiet shop,
Seeking a book to make her drop.
The book that would make her heart pound,
Until imagination ran aground.
Her eyes lit on a timeworn book,
Whispering to her, ‘Take a look’
She whisked it off the shelf to see
If this book held secrecy.
She opened up the leather cover,
To see what she could discover,
And simply fell into the page,
Onto a moor of heather and sage.
Alone on a hill, the book had fallen down,
Onto the cold, hard, dirty gray ground.
The woman collapsed into a heap,
Thinking to wake up, if she were asleep.
But the moor was all too real,
To escape would be futile.
Or so she thought, until she found
The old book lying on the ground.
She wanted to return so much,
Yet the book twitched upon her touch.
It opened to the middle exact,
And spoke in a voice both stony and cracked.
“I am the Book of your Worst Fears,”
“The Book of danger, death, and leers,”
“Open me to see your soul,”
“To see what lies in you, untold.”
“I can not be destroyed, you see,
“For I have history within me.”
“Many men have sought me out,
“To see what fear was all about,”
“They found me; yes they did, all right,”
“And I gave them quite a fright.”
“For inside my leather shell,”
“I know you surprisingly well.”
This monologue was frightening,
To the woman it was enlightening.
She said, “How do you know what lies,
In my heart, it should surprise,
All who long to see my mind,
It should be mine to keep or hide!”
“Indeed it should,” answered the voice,
“And you deserve to have that choice,”
“You seem different than ones before,
“Who always seemed to ignore,
“That you can’t hide what’s in your head,
“I can read you, like I once was read.”
“So how can I get home?” she asked,
Dreading the answer to be unmasked.
“There is a way, though I must warn,
“That many before you have been mourned,
“Although their fate remains unknown,
“It’s almost certain that they have flown,
“To the land that awaits us all,
“Once we have heard the final call.”
“Please tell me how to leave this place!”
The woman cried, red in the face,
“I’ve never wanted anything more,
“Then to leave this place and walk through the door,
“Back to my home I love so much,
“I’ve never wanted more to be touched,
“By another human hand,
“I’m amazed that there’s no-one in this land!”
“And there you have it,” said the book,
Silencing her without a look.
“That is the only way to go back,
“When you’ve found out what it is you lack.
“You never were alone, not once,
“So that’s what haunts your consciousness,”
“You have now found out what you fear,
“And balanced it with what you hold near.”
With that, the book relaxed its spine,
The pages flew open, and in no time,
The woman was back in that dusty store,
Holding the book that fought its own war.
Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes,
She let out her breath in an enormous sigh.
And she walked to the counter, still holding the tome,
That she would purchase before she went home.
And as she walked out of that dingy old place,
She swore that she heard a muffled “Thanks.”

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

RoseDeath: The Third of the Rose Trilogy

The rose that was once in full bloom,
Is now on its way to the lonely tomb.
Its petals are falling one by one,
As it turns its face from the sun.

Winter comes quickly, that it knows,
The leaves will so fall from the rose.
The wind shrieks its simple tune,
As the petals fall in the light of the moon.

If that flower had tears, surely they would fall,
From the stem that used to rise so tall.
The shriveled leaves have sealed their fate,
They almost are at Heaven’s Gate.

The withering rose will soon be gone
It will not be here, come dawn.
The rose’s life hangs by a thread,
When morning comes, it will be dead.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

RoseLife: The Second of the Rose Trilogy

Although the rose does not last long,
It always sings the same pretty song.
The scarlet petals wave in the breeze,
Red among the buzzing bees.

The rose’s leaves are curled and green,
They go well with this lovely scene,
The meadow’s grass flows like a stream,
It is like some beautiful dream.

Because the rose is so short-lived,
It does not know the joy it gives,
To everyone who treads this place,
It brings bliss to every face.

Sadly, this rose cannot remain,
And it will die in the first heavy rain.
But this story does not end in gloom,
For in the spring, another will bloom.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

RoseBirth: The First of the Rose Trilogy

A seed buried far beneath the snow,
It knows naught but a single foe.
That blanket of crystals, blindingly white,
Pulls the rope of the noose tight.

It only need last a few more days,
Before it is warmed by the sun’s spring rays,
Warmth will make the snows disappear,
And the chirping of birds the seed will hear.

When it hears the calls of birds so shrill,
Then its petals will uncurl.
It will raise its head from the damp ground,
And the moon will wax, get full and round.

Then the rose will let off seeds of its own
And off they will go, safe but alone.
They’ll continue the cycle began years before,
Another mere page in the book of Earth’s lore.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Timeless

Time, what is it?
I feel no movement of the centuries,
No changing of the seasons.
I am Timeless.
I feel no river of years
I feel no stream of age
I feel no time brush past my fingers.
I am Timeless.
I’ve lived forever,
And will never die.
I can’t hear the rush of days go by
I don’t know what it’s like to touch flying months.
Eons and eras go by in the time a second would take.
This feeling of Timelessness,
Is all I have ever known,
And all I ever will.
For I,
Am Timeless.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Forgotten

Did you forget me?

Am I simply to wait,
Until you come home?
Did you leave me for bait?
Will you continue to roam?

What shall I do,
If you leave me alone?
Shall I start anew?
Or sit here and moan?

I wish that you’d return
I feel so rotten.
I feel I’ve been burned,
Or maybe, forgotten.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Burning

My heart is on fire.
Your burning eyes pierce me,
And I can feel your fiery soul.
Your hand touches mine,
And I feel your burning mind.
My flaming heart beats faster
And I lean forward to you.
And that one word,
That dreadful word,
Was like the icy flood of a river
Dousing my fire.
‘Goodbye.’

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

Relaxation

The gentle croon of lapping waves
Upon the golden sands,
Lulls me into relaxation.

The lovely sound of falling water
Like liquid diamonds, flowing,
Lulls me away.

The sigh of breezes through the trees
Waving, back and forth,
Makes me happy.

The movement of teardrops
Crawling down your face,
Lulls me too.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman

I am an Individual

Does it scare you that I’m different?
Does it make you angry that I don’t do what you do?
Why?
Aren’t all entitled to their own thing?
Whatever happened to ‘To each his own’?
Do I frighten you with my strangeness?
Then leave me alone.

Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Norman