Burn the flowers
Tear and rend the card
Throw the package
Drop the ring
Yell into the phone
Let the fists fly
Disappointment and frustration
Profound loss and grief
Vengful anger and cutting words
Lover's rage and sorrow
Sit in the kitchen sobbing
Slamming head into cabinets
Sorrowful gulps of drink
Sleep a nightmarish slumber
Steeped in pain and heart break
Full of emotion
all turbulance
all unsettled
all unresolved
all questions unanswered
Note: this an old poem I found tucked away from years ago, 8/10/04 10:47 am
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Poem: Shadows
Oh, Light of Life,
Slayer of all things that frighten me,
Chase away these shadows of fear,
Free my golden wings that I may take flight once again.
Slayer of all things that frighten me,
Chase away these shadows of fear,
Free my golden wings that I may take flight once again.
Poem: I remember.
I remember who I used to be.
And Passion swells again.
I taste art.
I smell form.
I touch sound.
I see beauty again.
Passion swells again
And the line is drawn.
Last steps up and out.
Last stumbles forward.
Last reach for the next completeness.
At last my heart moves again.
She.
And Passion swells again.
I taste art.
I smell form.
I touch sound.
I see beauty again.
Passion swells again
And the line is drawn.
Last steps up and out.
Last stumbles forward.
Last reach for the next completeness.
At last my heart moves again.
She.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Poem: The Fragile Calm
How long to hold my tongue?
How long to bare someone else's cross?
How long to curb my feelings for the sake of someone else?
How long to service the ill, the lonely, the needy, the mislead and betrayed, and the forsaken?
How long do I give my life away to create The Fragile Calm?
How long to bare someone else's cross?
How long to curb my feelings for the sake of someone else?
How long to service the ill, the lonely, the needy, the mislead and betrayed, and the forsaken?
How long do I give my life away to create The Fragile Calm?
Poem: Green Thorns
The deep green, the hook and the sharpened ends lay in wait, eager to snare less aware tissues.
Poem: Flesh To Stone
Feather by feather they fall.
Too much stress upon borrowed wings and borrowed time,
Too much heat circling so close to the fire.
Not enough care given, not enough attention shared, not enough focus spared.
Feather by feather they fall.
I stand again, wholly human, not more than I am.
I have to re-earn my special status...
And I fear I have left too much debris to make the journey.
Feather by feather they fall,
Until there are no more.
I stand about to fly, to lift away to mystic destinations,
my feet far to heavy to lift away.
I feel stone tears begin to escape yet only well up in the corner of my eyes.
And, as the wind blows away the feathers of my past,
Slipping my uniqueness into the unknown abyss,
I feel unshed tears turning flesh to stone.
Too much stress upon borrowed wings and borrowed time,
Too much heat circling so close to the fire.
Not enough care given, not enough attention shared, not enough focus spared.
Feather by feather they fall.
I stand again, wholly human, not more than I am.
I have to re-earn my special status...
And I fear I have left too much debris to make the journey.
Feather by feather they fall,
Until there are no more.
I stand about to fly, to lift away to mystic destinations,
my feet far to heavy to lift away.
I feel stone tears begin to escape yet only well up in the corner of my eyes.
And, as the wind blows away the feathers of my past,
Slipping my uniqueness into the unknown abyss,
I feel unshed tears turning flesh to stone.
Poem: Where is My Love?
Where is My Love?
Have I passed her by already?
Did she leave upon knowing me
Or has she yet to discover me?
Where is My Love?
Have I passed her by already?
Did she leave upon knowing me
Or has she yet to discover me?
Where is My Love?
Poem: Nine Stones
Nine stones mark the way.
Nine travelers before me.
Rounded and gray,
That are stacked against The Wind and The Dark.
Nice stones point the way,
Not to home I have been to,
But to the home I have yet to discover.
Nine travelers before me.
Rounded and gray,
That are stacked against The Wind and The Dark.
Nice stones point the way,
Not to home I have been to,
But to the home I have yet to discover.
Poem: The Dreams Return
The dreams have returned again.
I see the occasional color in select scenes,
though mostly black and white.
I feel the chill of evil lurking in shadow
and the clairvoyance of dark deeds.
I was lured into the trap I couldn't escape,
and then discovered as I yearned to be away.
I found my past twisted into slivers of my presence.
But I found no future there.
I have no constant companion in these dreams,
each contains a new person that fades or terminates before the dream is over.
The dreams have returned again.
Where are my radiant, precious and uplifting dreams?
I see the occasional color in select scenes,
though mostly black and white.
I feel the chill of evil lurking in shadow
and the clairvoyance of dark deeds.
I was lured into the trap I couldn't escape,
and then discovered as I yearned to be away.
I found my past twisted into slivers of my presence.
But I found no future there.
I have no constant companion in these dreams,
each contains a new person that fades or terminates before the dream is over.
The dreams have returned again.
Where are my radiant, precious and uplifting dreams?
Poem: Disconnected Hearts
Unplugged, frayed line.
I know it feels; I feel the sadness returning.
The casual grace of a woman's smile,
The warmth of her hand upon mine,
The joy of her presence,
I hunger for these again.
Still fixed in my mind, for the heart does not forget so easily,
the struggle, the frustration and finally surrender of past loves.
I have healed enough I think.
I stoke the furnace with hope,
I peel away the fortifications,
I remove the glazed stares, honed to a humanizing focus.
All that is left...
Is to take action.
To move to the center and receive the opportunities to find the right woman.
All that is left is to take action.
I know it feels; I feel the sadness returning.
The casual grace of a woman's smile,
The warmth of her hand upon mine,
The joy of her presence,
I hunger for these again.
Still fixed in my mind, for the heart does not forget so easily,
the struggle, the frustration and finally surrender of past loves.
I have healed enough I think.
I stoke the furnace with hope,
I peel away the fortifications,
I remove the glazed stares, honed to a humanizing focus.
All that is left...
Is to take action.
To move to the center and receive the opportunities to find the right woman.
All that is left is to take action.
Poem: Hollow
Another sleepless night.
She was here again.
I didn't want her to stay but she didn't leave.
I didn't turn her away but I wanted to.
I didn't want her in my bed again but she desired to be there.
I didn't lie about the others but she stayed anyway.
(Honesty fails me again.)
I didn't love her but I was with her.
And, when she left, I was hollow again.
I do not miss her.
Sex isn't the start nor end of anything.
It's not love. It's not love.
Sex isn't love, slow to learn.
Now the trap is sprung and I feel hollow again.
She was here again.
I didn't want her to stay but she didn't leave.
I didn't turn her away but I wanted to.
I didn't want her in my bed again but she desired to be there.
I didn't lie about the others but she stayed anyway.
(Honesty fails me again.)
I didn't love her but I was with her.
And, when she left, I was hollow again.
I do not miss her.
Sex isn't the start nor end of anything.
It's not love. It's not love.
Sex isn't love, slow to learn.
Now the trap is sprung and I feel hollow again.
Poem: A Blade of Grass
Dawn, then twilight; the dew collects on a blade of grass. A single drop at the loped-over tip end of a wide grass blade dangles sweet and quiet the morning hues.
As the sun slowly slips from it's other journeys into these skies, a golden shower of light, winding through the trees and meadows, finds it way to a drop of dew at the ends of a blade of grass.
As the sun slowly slips from it's other journeys into these skies, a golden shower of light, winding through the trees and meadows, finds it way to a drop of dew at the ends of a blade of grass.
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