Pray mantis writings

Richard McDonald By Richard McDonald, 13th Feb 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/3-o5hjzo/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

this poem saved me from a long writers block this is a true story while I was sitting in front of blank page and a Pray Mantis come to me and let him/her climb my hand and I started writing to this new friend of mine.

Pray mantis writings

Pray mantis writings

With a praymantice on my hand, rain falling softly, my puppy at my feet.
I cannot help wonder from how high the rain fall, does it hurt the ground?
Is pain a necessity for growth?
The pray mantises is dancing on my hand like an air hostess on a plain.
I wonder does he know if I was cruel he would be dead.
Does he know my hand killed so many objects beforehand?
Crumbling and destroying comes naturally to these loving fumblers.

Dear Mantises I am no branch I will not be able to feed you.
Traveling between my hands won’t get you home we love running and getting nowhere
I am only a treadmill.
Do you pray for me?
Because honestly my hands are clasped together, yet no words can be said.
I am only kneeling like a dormant church.
Are you in constant prayer or do you forget to?
I have been so busy I forget that my knees are meant to be bent.
Why do you trust me so much?
Do you get busy tell me what do we humans do wrong.
Do you know you saved me from a long road of writers block?
My hands they are wounded did you see?

I have asked you too much now and I know you will not answer me.
I do not understand you, you wonder of nature I cannot hear you whisper.
You might ask who I am well my new pen Pell honestly I do not know.
I am exceptionally well at finding beauty look I found you.
I tend to fall in love with beauty, so put your guard up, my lost fingers might love you.

I have never been able to keep those I love beautiful.

I tend to run in to hard, hug to long, look to deep, love mistakes too easily.
I am just particles of dust atoms of love. Bones trembling at the sight of beauty.
A sack of breathless skin when I see her.
Oh you do not know her yet I wish you could meet her.
I wish I could to.
Because then these poems would have a reader
These poems would have a listener
These poems would have a name.

I to wish I could blend in like a stick or leaf, or more like an echo and a heart.
Because I want to scream and bleed myself alive.
The sad thing is I know I am not alone.
There are others that’s walking, with fists closed gripping nothing so tight their hands bleed.
Walking holding their breath because letting go is too hard.
There is people trying to fit the mould, like an avalanche rolling together in to one big ball of disaster
Forgetting they are each unique snowflakes.

That reminds me of the rain and falling.
Does it hurt the ground?
Do we need pain to grow?
Is falling the way we learn to fly are we but rain drops waiting to be birds.
When do we grow wings?
I’d like to think we are trees constantly growing towards the sky
I’d like to think we are clouds learning to let go
I’d like to think we are the ocean feeding clouds.
I’d like to think we are rain sometimes falling but helping grass grow.

Dear Mantis I miss you
I wish you were here as I finish this poem that never ends.
Please keep praying.
Yours sincerely:
The trembling writer

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