Friendship Poems

Songs and Poems
By Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

"Darkness"

Uneven ... the glow
a glow ... supposed
a tool shown to mystery guests
and traveling pests.
Unraveled in harvested moons
your tunes
wrestled tunes
yet oh ... my captured wounds.
I wrap them around cellophane hearts
a tour ... be proud
somehow lost in a crowd
glasses high
toast to the note-cards
that sort out my mind against hypocrisies
I sort out my mind ... in the end

PS
There are days of unregistered rhymes
and they seem to be advancing upon undying darkness

"What changes us?"

What makes us decide 'one day'.... that 'this day' we will do better?

'This day' we will smile on everything as if we were seeing it for the first time.
'This day' we will take time out for our own selves.
'This day' we will climb that emotional mountain that seemed inconceivable 'yesterday'.
'This day' we 'will' do what we had only 'hoped' we would do 'before'.

'This day' we will FLY.

BE PROUD!

"Now"

I seem to have new pathways to assemble.
The steam reaches out and irons out the discontentment of time.
I step past memories and longings and reach out.
Life is unclear
impossible to be real.
Days go by and I find myself in a new reality,
a reality of happy.
You lend me the fragrance of freedom,
the air of pause,
in the water and substance there is a tranquility I have never known.
My soldier of old,
my lament,
I am always so afraid they'll take you from me.
I dare not completely touch today
or sleep and find you gone,
and learn you have never been with me at all.
So I smile on the pathway
maneuver my continence.
I cannot live in the shadow of regret
and not see what is right there in front of me.
This spirit being now and present, not meant to be over analyzed.
There are doors belonging to freedom
and they all have special handles.
I can decorate them, understand them, hold them, charm them,
or let them go.

"Tiny Remains"

Unconnected thoughts that ring in much decay,
where the survivors scramble and tears never end.
Emotions run high and moods decide,
generosity is a cure for strangers,
but you and I..... divide into equal parts,
and squabble over tiny remains.

"Sunsets"

She travels with magic on a mystical ride.
She walks in the moonlight
and covers my mind.
She travels the road down past the pines,
where the mist meets the morning
'fore the river turns ice.