Keys

Here’s another installment in the Irene Latham iconic images poetry! Tyhara Tyrell is another one of my lovely and talented students who chose this striking image and wondered about the significance and symbolism of keys.

What do your keys unlock?
do they unlock anything at all?
or do you simply like their antique jingle?
why do you have so many?
must you compartmentalize all aspects of your life

into separate boxes…?

are they tangible expressions of the secrets that you keep?
are they there to comfort your fingers when you feel lost?
do they reassure you of yourself

to know you hold the key,
the answers,
the truth,
knowing that they are yours
to share,
to never be used if so you choose,
to never be touched

by any other fingers other than your own.
They are yours.
your secrets,
and you don’t owe us any answers.
You don’t owe us any keys.

-Tyhara Tyrell

Check out my other creative student, Darlyze’s, poem “Woman Enough” and other creative works here on Books & Coffee!

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A Day Late

So, I’m not much of a poet, but occasionally I’ll try my hand at it. I thought I would share this poem that I wrote some years ago when I was in a pretty bad slump. I’m sharing this in response to the Daily Post prompt “Gone” because it’s all about missed opportunities and all those great things that are no longer available.

A Day Late 

second-guessing, full of doubt

i’m the one who just missed out.

always get there when it’s done

“oh! you just missed the fun!”

what’s new to me, they knew back when.

I’m ready! now, they’re gone again.

my nose in a book, life passed me by.

What good are words when I die?

“such promise she had,” or so they’ll say

success never came my way.

perhaps it was to keep me humble

that God allowed me to stumble

along…blind as a mole,

comfy in my little hole.

perhaps I had too much pride

hidden deep down inside

whatever.  It’s safe down here, out of sight

i think I’ll stay… it’s quite alright

who needs sunshine? shadows are fine

no crowd to please, to wine or dine

so what, the life I wanted never came?

i overslept and missed the game!

thinking, studying…not fool-hardy

yet messed around and missed the party!

my nose to the window glass,

i long for fame that another has.

i am here, though no one knows

pressing shirts and washing clothes

a hero to my children now

‘til they figure out just how

little I have really done

how few the accolades I’ve won

they’ll go far, do more, excel!

and I’ll be there to wish them well.

success just wasn’t meant for me.

my promise I’ve passed on—they’ll be

everything I never was.

since doubt and worry kept me back

focused on my loss and lack,

when I finally got ready to play

the night had o’ertaken the day

but, of course! you know, i’m just the sort

to get there late…and a dollar short

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