The Self Help Books Living with me, poem (114/365)

Self books
Have made a home
On my table
They’re staring at me
And while they sound different
They all say the same thing
Live life
Don’t hide
Go for it
I eat my cereal
on the corner of the table
They have invaded
They stare at me
Pouting for me
To move
Pleading I live life
I kiss them all goodbye
And promise to
Make them proud
And the stacks of self help
On the coffee table
Look like sky scrapers
As I look back from
The door way
This is the last look
I promise
Till I have made
Some head way



The Tour Guide that Survives, Poem (102/365)


She uses a compass

she would use the stars

if she had to

and even if the stars dare not shine

she would be fine in the woods

for she knows how to live

for days at a time

Eating fruits from the cactus

Creating habitats from nothing

She is the tour guide

I always wanted to be

ready for anything

If I was tour guide

I probably wouldn’t be her

I don’t understand a compass

And while I know my  end  destination

a lot like life

I’m unsure of how to get there

The stars no matter

how beautiful and breathtaking they are

Are no help in getting me home

And I pace up and down

How many times I wished to be her

The tour guide with all the answers

The tour guide with no surprises

The tour guide that’s always on point

But it’s sad to think

She will never be Lost

She will never feel the exhilaration

of not being in control

She will never be shocked

to discover the beauty of

unmarked trail

There will be no innovation

And while I can’t

Look at stars,

And know fruits are good

Or all the facts of a Sequoia Tree

if I was  left in the woods

without a phone, without a map

I without doubt would  Survive 

Because I trust my gut

Because I’m a fighter

Because I’m the Tour Guide that Survives

Even when she’s unprepared for

the unexpected trail

that resides ahead

I am a compass