Organized Ramblings

 

A collection of various poems by Kate Emrich

April 29, 2017

 

 

 

7 Ways of Looking at a Tree

 

I

Home is where the heart is

And here there are many hearts

And many homes

 

II

Tiny raindrops collect

And drip

Drop

On the wide leaves

And the ground beneath

 

III

A vast network of roots

Reaches just as far below

As its branches reach above

We may be walking on her

And not even know

 

IV

She gives food to many

With the selflessness of a mother

Even though they are not her kin

 

V

Necessary for creation

Of goods taken for granted

We walk on her

Build with her

And saw her in half

Over and over

 

VI

As much as we need her

We want other things more

And saw her off

Leaving her to fall

The earth weeps

 

VII

She is everything

But to us humans, she is seen as no necessity

Apparently

Though we may need her the most

 

 

What’s Inside a Heart

 

Whatever is inside the heart

Must be more than blood and veins

The inside must be ambitious

And determined

To keep pumping for so long

For what may be no real reason

 

Where the will to keep pulsing,

The origin

To keep our bodies moving comes from?

One can speculate, or point to science

Perhaps its vessel is what inspires it

Perhaps it lives vicariously

And feeds off of outward sensations

Of its home

 

It may be the truest

And strongest tale of devotion

To keep pumping

No matter what

 

Perhaps it is why people say

that it is simply love that is within the heart

 

 

Anxiety

 

A hurricane

The skies darken in my head

never simply a small rain shower

with just a few drops of worry

The skies darken in my head

Yet another night of torrential thoughts

with just a few drops of worry

I could carry on unscathed

Yet another night of torrential thoughts

plagues my existence, and holds me hostage

I could carry on unscathed

If it weren’t for the hurricane

 

 

Wildflower

 

I love the way he looks at me, as if I am a wildflower, beautiful and bold, true to my instincts and hopes and dreams, and the way that he does not stop me when I lose myself in aimless wanderings and dreams, but instead, holds my hands in his, and slowly, surely, tells me, that there is nothing in the world I cannot be, it is only me stopping myself. And I know this - that my lack of pursuit of these dreams is my only shortcoming - but in the end, it will be okay, because I am a wildflower, and wild I must be.