Sunday, March 2, 2014

ramblings at 02:00 EST

I may no longer say that I love you, but my mind and spirit suffer from those unspoken words. Not a day passes that I don't think about you, and I am plagued with sleepless nights. I feel wrecked, broken. I am bombarded by imaginings of just letting go, ending it all.


But that cannot, will not happen. For were I to die now, I would no longer be able to think.

Of you.

In my prayers I am thankful for you, and I place my faith in God. If he could bring you to me, another leaf on the wind from thousands of miles away, then he can do it again.

And with faith, hope, and charity, all things are possible.

Love is not enough. It must be forged in faith, tempered in hope.

Monday, February 24, 2014


I loved the way you lied to me
And I believed your every word
I knew your commitment wasn't real
But still trusted what I'd heard

You didn't love me, but I think
that, in part, you wanted to.
So I embraced the lies, the love
you claimed, and believed your
"I love you."

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Little Pills

Little pills to make me sleep
Little pills my soul to keep
Little pills to stop my dreams
Little pills to calm my screams
All these little pills I take
Hoping that I will not wake
Little pills to get me through
All the pain of losing you
Little pills that make me sleep
Little pills that my soul keep

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

when i finally go

author's note: right now i am so unhappy. have you ever felt like a total letdown? like the entire world would be better if you ceased to exist? that's how i feel right now. some of this is genuine sadness, but a big part of it is depression. and that can be difficult to handle. this is how i handle mine, but sometimes i feel like it isn't enough.

that frightens me.


no one will miss me
no one will know
no one will fret
when i finally go

my son he is strong
my family will show
all the strength that i lacked
when i finally go

what use have i been
hurting those that i love
was i ever good enough
when push came to shove

so how would i do it
would it be fast or slow
well i wouldn't, so there
i guess we'll never know

i hate how i'm feeling
but surely you know
that i'll be an old man
when i finally go

i'll have done what i planned
and some that i've not
i'll look back and be thankful
for this life that i've got

and if you were in it
i want you to know
i'll thank God for your presence
when i finally go

Friday, November 29, 2013

More Precious

I am writing this for me. However, it is dedicated to everyone. Whether you are dating or married, there will come a time when you won't be able to look into those eyes, or kiss those lips, or hold that hand (at least, on this plain of existence). So, before you get angry, before you say things you don't mean, before you feel jealousy or envy or the like, or get distracted by email, internet, or television, remember this. Remember that every moment matters.


When you know that there is an expiration date on a love that you hold in your heart, you watch the clock. Every second becomes diamonds and gold. More precious, in fact, because while you can always get more diamonds, more can't get more time.

As each grain of sand slips away through the hourglass, you learn to love with every piece of you. Every moment together is bliss. Every moment apart, agony.

Again, you watch the clock, waiting until the hour, the minute, the second that you will see their face again. You learn to listen, to speak softly, to not give in to anger. You learn what it means to really love someone.

Because when that final grain slips past, as you always knew it would; when the clock stops ticking, when you hold that hand in yours for the last time, the world slows down. You feel every last imperfection on that hand, every throb of the blood that flows within, every bit of warmth that will never be there again.

And as they walk away from you for the last time you will die a little inside, because while you held them close, kissed their lips, and looked into their eyes... were never, never more alive. And it was worth it.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

3 Poems and a Fairy Tale

Hi. The following are exactly what the title says. Not very creative, right? Still, I hope you enjoy them. One of the poems is in iambic pentameter (sort of), which I haven't done in ages. Am I still good at it? Does is matter?


The setting sun, a lovely view,
made more so when I'm next to you.
The city lights, they have their charms,
because you're cuddled in my arms.
A rainy day or storm-tossed sea?
It's all lovely when you're next to me.



I let you go and walked away, my dear,
because I knew not what else I should do.
My heart was racing from a sudden fear -
a fear brought on by how I felt for you.
And now I've slowed, I've stopped my foolish run
and ask aloud, "Oh no, what have I done?"



The ink is leaking from my pen
it smears the pages yet again
What shall I do for it is my last one
I cannot stop, the words are not yet done.
The ink is nearly empty now, oh no.
I must continue writing but how so?
Perhaps I'll spit and mix a little mud?
I know - I'll prick my thumb and write in blood!
HA-HA! Don't look at me as though I'm daft.
I'm an artist dedicated to my craft!


This story was inspired by me throwing a wood shaving into the fire out in the field. It glowed, looking like a small girl for a brief time. The story is rough, but I like it well enough.


The Little Ember Girl

One day, after throwing a large shaving of wood into the fire, a little ember girl appeared. She was bright red-orange and black, and she came from the glowing wood shaving.

She looked up at me, waved hello. I gave her my most charming smile and a slight nod of my head. She stood for a moment, making sure she held my attention. Then, to the rhythm of the juniper wood popping, she began to dance.

She twirled. She leaped about, hair showering tiny sparks. I wish I could describe the dance better, because it was beautiful, but my words fail me. The dance went on for quite some time, but soon the little ember girl began to slow. As she did so, I noticed that her red-orange glow began to dim. She was fading away.

She saw sadness in my eyes. Sadness at losing something so beautiful. She saw, and shook her head. She did not want me to be said for she had been able to dance for me. She had danced, and I saw. I saw, and that is what all little ember girls wish for - to dance and be seen (because for many, their dance goes unnoticed). And it warmed my heart.

And as she faded away, she smiled at me and waved goodbye.

"Goodbye," I whispered.

So the next time you are seated around a fire, be sure to pay attention to the little embers, for if you look really close, they might just dance for you. And it will warm your heart, too.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Getting it right

Sometimes we set out to right something that just never quite sounds right. Edit after edit, and still...something is off. Some of these are like that. Hopefully they will make some sense to you. If not, well...TS. :)



I cannot describe beauty, nor can I picture it in my mind. When I try, my words fail me. Perhaps that is how I know you are beautiful. After all, can words to justice to a perfect sunset or describe an eagle floating silent in the clouds? Can mere imagination capture sunlight as it dances on th eedge of a waterfall, or a lonely wolf silouhetted against the pale moon...singing songs to his lost love?

No, not truly. For when they try, mo matter how true the words, no matter how vivid the imagination, something is lost.

So while I can neither describe, nor picture beauty, I know I have seen it. I know this because I have seen your face. I have no words to describe it and I cannot imagine it when I close my eyes. Beauty, therefore, is a sense of loss and feeling lost. And were I never able to look into your hazel eyes again, lost is what I truly would be.

See what I mean? I had a real thought there. It sounded great in my head, but it still doesn't quite sound right when I write it. But are you at least picking up what I'm putting down? Smell what I'm stepping in? Gittin' what I'm spittin'? (That last one was a stretch, huh?)

Maybe these next ones will be more clear.



She leans against the wooded frame, seated, eyes pouring over the pages of a book. In one hand she holds a cloth, and in what seems like slow motion, that hand gently dabs. The cloth, dampened with water, cools her skin, and while she may be hot, uncomfortable, her countenance appears otherwise.

There is a peace in her movements. A peace that washes over me like a wave of calm; her presence is like music to me. Her voice, an opiate. Her face like that of an angel; simple, perfection. Beautiful. (Through no fault of her own.)

In merely looking upon her I experience joy and peace, and all feels right in my world.



Your voice is like a willow blowing in the gentle breeze. It is the sound of raindrops falling lightly upon a roof at night. Your voice is the sound of the ocean, sneaking little kisses upon the shore. Your voice is faery songs and children's laughter, a lover's sigh and whispered I love yous in the dark. Your quiet, little voice can break stone and melt iron. It is calm and tempestuous, yin and yang.

Your voice is that which I want to hear for all my days. But like an echo, your voice will slowly fade from my ears.

I will not regret having heard it.


Good Morning

Warm morning sun, cool summer air
awake me to my darling, fair.

Her sleeping eyes, soft dreaming smile...
I count my blessings for awhile.

The warmth of the sunlight soon will wake her
and in my arms I'll gently take her.

Awoken is my lover, fair
I lay, transfixed by her sweet stare.


When the Morning Dreams it Dreams of You

By starlight of the morning
In sight of fading moon
My arm I place around your waist
While gazing next to you

Orion's Belt and little clusters
of stars look down, it's true
Much like myself they sought to see
That most beautiful of views

And while your eyes are drinking them in,
a smile on your sweet lips,
the heavens fall asleep, reciprocating
and time is slowly slips.

The sky grows light and the stars are gone
like a fleet, ephemeral dream
And you've faded, too, for I am once more
All alone, it seems


I don't know what to say about this next one. It works if you read it right. I suggest reading it as thought you've been drinking and are trying to sing a toast of sorts. Or stay up late and do the same thing. That's what I did.


Good morning, Mother Moon
Good morning, Father Sun
the evening is over
the day has begun.

What sort of adventure awaits at my door?
Good or bad? Or just better than before?

To both of you I raise my coffee cup
And I wish both of you well
What the future brings, oh, who can say?
Only time will tell.

But I'm sure that it's swell.


That last line is classic.



My shadow standing all alone
the sun rises at my back
my shadow standing all alone
I pause and ponder that

My shadow fades in the setting sun
now I understand it clear
My shadow fades in the setting sun
and you're not longer here


The sun goes down over mist soaked mountains,
clouds start to blaze orange, yellow, and red.
My mind it wanders to thoughts of beauty
when suddenly, there, you're in my head.

That alabaster smile, your porcelain skin,
hands I long to hold in my own -
I reach for you and find thin air,
for I am here alone.

Once, perhaps, we could have been.
That chance faded like the sun.
Or maybe I'm kidding myself again -
a chance? Did I ever have one?



I have a straight, now three of a kind
and you eye your cards in thought.
You're strategizing to win the game,
but I don't care if I win or not

You place four aces, then call out "rummy!"
You've done it now - well played
That flash of smile on your face is worth it
even losing can make my day.

I write the scores, you hand me your cards
It's my deal...but was that just a sign?
You offered your cards, looked straight into my eyes,
And let your hand gently linger in mine.

You held the aces and all the faces
you've reached 1000 points now, it's done.
I shared a smile, held a look, and I held your touch
Be honest, here, we both know who won.