Poems: By Molly M. H.

Cloudy Sky

Dreams, whispers, sighs
All are floating by
On the grass I lie
Watching the cloudy sky.

The clouds are
Sighing, sighing
Never stopping
I am
Wishing, wishing
Always dreaming

Among trials and troubles I find
Solace in the sky so kind
Easing my anxious mind
Dissolving the problems which bind

Me by watching the cloudy sky
The clouds always drifting by
Slowly, slowly, plodding on
I find an example to rely on

The clouds are
Persevering
Never stopping
I am
Persevering
Never stopping

Dreams, whispers, sighs
All are floating by
On the grass I lie
Watching the cloudy sky.

Why Me?

I step up to the plate.
The pitch comes. I swing too late.
The second pitch approaches. I try to hit it and
Instead the ball hits my hand.

My hand lights on fire
Burning, burning, crumbling
I stumble over to the dugout
Walking, walking, mumbling.

“The ball – inside – hit my thumb”
I stammer – my hand’s going numb.
“Want me to bat?” asks the next batter.
I say no, I’ll keep going and do better.

I get a hit, but am thrown out at first.
That’s the least of it – the pain is worse.
I play for one more inning.
Then I go home – with my team losing.

In the car I scream
Shrieking, shrieking, crying.
My thumb is searing hot
Hurting, always hurting.

I get X-rays, and they show a crack.
“It might take six weeks for the bone to heal back.”
That’s what Mom says. But I can’t let May just go by!
“What about my piano recital? What about softball?” I cry.

“You’ll miss it for the rest of the year.”
“I wish the break would disappear.
Oh, please, why? Why me?”
“We’ve all asked that, Molly.”

For two more weeks the splint stays on
Finally then it will be gone.
I’m still going to my recital,
Because the thumb parts are not vital.

I still don’t know the answer to “why me?”
But as all things happen for a reason,
I’m sure eventually I’ll see
Why I broke my thumb during softball season.

Keys of Sorrow

Frustration, anxiety, a storm of worry,
Twisting and turning through my head.
Through it all, I hear “We’ve got to hurry.”
Numbly I obey what Dad just said.

I get in the car, absentmindedly fingering
My piece on the soft, worn front seat.
The smooth ivory keys with notes lingering
Let out my life when on the keys my fingers beat.

This is piano – my joy, my hobby;
My greatest delight, also my fear.
I step into the lobby.
Plush chairs, diamond chandelier.

I smooth down my dress and walk into the room.
On the high mahogany stage sits my instrument,
Yet not mine. Dark, polished, perfect, frightening, it looms
Over me while up to it I’m sent

By some force, some invisible power.
Somehow I know I’ll be okay.
I take a deep breath and manage not to cower
Before the instrument on which my fingers lay.

I press the first note, Middle C.
All the rest suddenly follows.
My fingers fly openly and free
Across the keys which before were filled with sorrows.

Before I know it away goes the nervousness.
I play the last note; it quivers in the air.
And I know those keys of sorrow held happiness,
Because at that moment, everything I needed was there.

Note: This poem is fiction. I have never played in a lobby with a diamond chandelier, though I can always hope.

Speak Out

Beaten down, tried time after time,
I know the sigh I’ve heard is mine
I will always give no sign
That I am tired of their lying.

But when the words become this wrong
What can I do but come undone?
What can I do but raise my voice?
Is there any other choice?

What I’ve learned is no matter how quiet
You are, sometimes for them to hear
You have to be very, very loud
And that means that you have to speak out.

Try it someday, see what happens;
See if one of them will listen;
When you cry all the time, give them a sign;
That’s how I know the smile I feel is mine.

You and What Army?

You better watch your step
Cause you know I am a redhead
Who’s calling me a snob
While saying you think I’m horrible
Just because of my choices

And I know I’m young
And I know I’m a redhead
And that means I’m daring
And that means I’m bold

And it felt so good
To say those things
Even though I guess it was pretty mean
But look what you’ve done to me
You say you’ll pay me back
You and what army?

I have people at my side
I have people at my back
You and your petty clique can try
To beat us but we’ll beat you back

Cause haven’t you heard
The good guy always wins
And haven’t you heard
This time I’m the good guy

So you and your petty clique can try
To pay me back for what you’ve done
Look what you’ve done to me
You say that you will pay me back
You and what army?

Well how are you doing now
You’re getting beaten down
By my army of people who care
My army that will always be there

And it felt so good
To say those things
Even though I guess it was pretty mean
But look at what you’ve done to me
You say you’ll pay me back
You and what army?