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 gold...you 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...
...you were never, never more alive. And it was worth it.
Friday, November 29, 2013
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?
*****
Em8
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.
*****
Am1
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?"
*****
Artist
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.
*****
Em8
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.
*****
Am1
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?"
*****
Artist
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. :)
*****
Untitled
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.
*****
Em3
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.
*****
Em4
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.
*****
Shadow
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?
*****
Rummy
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.
*****
Untitled
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.
*****
Em3
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.
*****
Em4
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.
*****
Shadow
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?
*****
Rummy
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.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Wish in One Hand...
I wish that I could write the words to bring tears to her eyes
Or something that was beautiful and could make her pulse rise.
I wish that I could say the words to melt her lovely heart
Or say the words she wants to hear, that are keeping us apart.
She yearns for love I cannot give, though I wish I could quench that thirst
But...wish in one hand, shit in the other - and see which fills up first.
Or something that was beautiful and could make her pulse rise.
I wish that I could say the words to melt her lovely heart
Or say the words she wants to hear, that are keeping us apart.
She yearns for love I cannot give, though I wish I could quench that thirst
But...wish in one hand, shit in the other - and see which fills up first.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
WEST
That young gal there is a dreamer
you can see it in her pretty eyes.
And I'm certain that she'll do something...great
when her star begins to rise.
She has walked away from love and a life
that wasn't right for her, you see,
to complete the goals and pursue the dreams
that she's worked for desperately.
She's a laugher and a lover
a teacher and a friend
And we all will miss her very much
though this hardly is the end.
As she heads toward the horizon
I'll be sad to see her go
She woke up my silent, sleeping heart
and is a gal I'm glad to know.
And if you ever meet her, you'll know what I say is true
That she's a catch, one in a billion
and you'll be glad to know her, too.
you can see it in her pretty eyes.
And I'm certain that she'll do something...great
when her star begins to rise.
She has walked away from love and a life
that wasn't right for her, you see,
to complete the goals and pursue the dreams
that she's worked for desperately.
She's a laugher and a lover
a teacher and a friend
And we all will miss her very much
though this hardly is the end.
As she heads toward the horizon
I'll be sad to see her go
She woke up my silent, sleeping heart
and is a gal I'm glad to know.
And if you ever meet her, you'll know what I say is true
That she's a catch, one in a billion
and you'll be glad to know her, too.
The 100th Post (sort of)
So, this is technically post 100. What many of you probably don't realize is that right now I have about a dozen short stories, as well as a small novel, in the works. I had originally wanted to make this post either an excerpt from the novel or one of the stories that will be featured in the appendix of said novel. However, due to my work schedule and apparent ADHD, I don't actually have most of the stories done. Oops. Any other writers know what that's like? Yeah. You do.
Anyway, I've done a lot of other writing while I'm at my job and have been happy with most of it. As such, post 100 will be another mash-up of poetry and prose. It is somewhat amazing to me the things that inspire me and what I am inspired to write (the last poem in particular).
I hope you enjoy the post.
*****
Untitled
I don't know how many stars grace the sky
Or how many angels can dance on a pin.
I don't know how many roads a man must walk
Nor where a rainbow ends or begins.
But I know when I'm with you the stars shine more bright
and angels don't dance - they sing
When I walk next to you the world seems to slow, and time stops...
while we do our thing.
*****
River
Were all the stars in the sky combined
they would still fall short of her splendor
The moon shines full and bright on nights
just so everyone can see her
The fire light twinkles in her eyes
though it is dull compared to her smile
And happily at night I drift to sleep
just to dream of her for awhile.
*****
Angel on high
An angel come to earth from above
An ache in my heart is whispering "love"
Unnoticed this mere mortal
But will she take note if I make her chortle?
Her smile alone is divine
Could bringing her laughter make her mine?
Or will she pass me by,
an angel, just visiting, returned to on high?
*****
Artsy
Statues might well just crumble when you are near,
for they cannot compare.
And orchestral melodies are nothing to your voice,
mere noise upon the air.
No painter's brush can capture your glory,
none should venture to even start.
For when you were made the mold was broken-
you're God's greatest work of art..
*****
Ode to a Beautiful Sky
Clear and blue though the heavens may be
they seem pale when I compare
their cobalt hues to those beautiful eyes
with their most radiant stare.
Colors seem muted when you pass by
knowing that to shine bright
would be like drops of water used
in a wildfire fight.
No beauty compares to the shadow you cast
and kings would bow at your feet
while invalids would up and climb mountains
if your lovely eyes they could meet
*****
Em
Skin so fine and fair
like ivory in the summer sun
A smile bright as novas on a quiet, moonless night.
Beauty, rare and wonderful.
Deep, dark eyes gaze out across the desert plains,
like pools or wells they promise growth and abundance.
Like mountain springs, they glitter in the sun and promise life to
those who take a moment
to drink them in.
*****
Em2
Pink, full lips that speak softly of the world
around her.
A beautiful soul given form. To caress
her lovely cheek or allow my fingers
to swim
through the flowing river that is her hair,
or to get lost in those cavernous eyes...
eyes that hold, no doubt, a treasure beyond worth.
Such things would be bliss. Such bliss would be to truly
live.
*****
When I Come to You
I'll come to you while it's late at night,
sometimes while you're asleep
And take you far away from there
in silence...not a peep.
Sometimes I come while you are walking
Alone at a quiet part.
The time of day makes no difference for
when I come it is always dark.
I'll hold you when you're very young
or when old and in need of rest.
Nice to meet you, by the way. My name is
Azrael. But you folks
call me Death.
No need to fear when I come for you
or a loved one you hold dear.
For I've walked beside you since yo were born,
I have
always
been near.
Ready to take your pain away
when the time is finally right,
when you've suffered so much and cannot bear
to continue in your fight.
I may come in youth, in prime, or old age
I can promise this without fail -
I will bring you peacefully home, someday.
See you then.
Signed,
Azrael
Anyway, I've done a lot of other writing while I'm at my job and have been happy with most of it. As such, post 100 will be another mash-up of poetry and prose. It is somewhat amazing to me the things that inspire me and what I am inspired to write (the last poem in particular).
I hope you enjoy the post.
*****
Untitled
I don't know how many stars grace the sky
Or how many angels can dance on a pin.
I don't know how many roads a man must walk
Nor where a rainbow ends or begins.
But I know when I'm with you the stars shine more bright
and angels don't dance - they sing
When I walk next to you the world seems to slow, and time stops...
while we do our thing.
*****
River
Were all the stars in the sky combined
they would still fall short of her splendor
The moon shines full and bright on nights
just so everyone can see her
The fire light twinkles in her eyes
though it is dull compared to her smile
And happily at night I drift to sleep
just to dream of her for awhile.
*****
Angel on high
An angel come to earth from above
An ache in my heart is whispering "love"
Unnoticed this mere mortal
But will she take note if I make her chortle?
Her smile alone is divine
Could bringing her laughter make her mine?
Or will she pass me by,
an angel, just visiting, returned to on high?
*****
Artsy
Statues might well just crumble when you are near,
for they cannot compare.
And orchestral melodies are nothing to your voice,
mere noise upon the air.
No painter's brush can capture your glory,
none should venture to even start.
For when you were made the mold was broken-
you're God's greatest work of art..
*****
Ode to a Beautiful Sky
Clear and blue though the heavens may be
they seem pale when I compare
their cobalt hues to those beautiful eyes
with their most radiant stare.
Colors seem muted when you pass by
knowing that to shine bright
would be like drops of water used
in a wildfire fight.
No beauty compares to the shadow you cast
and kings would bow at your feet
while invalids would up and climb mountains
if your lovely eyes they could meet
*****
Em
Skin so fine and fair
like ivory in the summer sun
A smile bright as novas on a quiet, moonless night.
Beauty, rare and wonderful.
Deep, dark eyes gaze out across the desert plains,
like pools or wells they promise growth and abundance.
Like mountain springs, they glitter in the sun and promise life to
those who take a moment
to drink them in.
*****
Em2
Pink, full lips that speak softly of the world
around her.
A beautiful soul given form. To caress
her lovely cheek or allow my fingers
to swim
through the flowing river that is her hair,
or to get lost in those cavernous eyes...
eyes that hold, no doubt, a treasure beyond worth.
Such things would be bliss. Such bliss would be to truly
live.
*****
When I Come to You
I'll come to you while it's late at night,
sometimes while you're asleep
And take you far away from there
in silence...not a peep.
Sometimes I come while you are walking
Alone at a quiet part.
The time of day makes no difference for
when I come it is always dark.
I'll hold you when you're very young
or when old and in need of rest.
Nice to meet you, by the way. My name is
Azrael. But you folks
call me Death.
No need to fear when I come for you
or a loved one you hold dear.
For I've walked beside you since yo were born,
I have
always
been near.
Ready to take your pain away
when the time is finally right,
when you've suffered so much and cannot bear
to continue in your fight.
I may come in youth, in prime, or old age
I can promise this without fail -
I will bring you peacefully home, someday.
See you then.
Signed,
Azrael
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Palaces
Care to join me for an evening in my humble home,
where coyotes serenade you and the gentle winds moan?
I have a chandelier made from the stars in the night
We can dance in the ballroom
'neath the moon's pale light.
Here in my home the juniper grows
we can walk holding hands
while sand massages our toes.
In this beautiful Eden, where
the prickly pears bloom
we could entertain dozens,
we have plenty of room
And when our guests go home
or you're just weary from the night
you can curl up, warm beside me
in the fire's amber light
I'll wish you sweetest slumber
as I gaze into your eyes.
All the world will be a palace
when I have you at my side.
where coyotes serenade you and the gentle winds moan?
I have a chandelier made from the stars in the night
We can dance in the ballroom
'neath the moon's pale light.
Here in my home the juniper grows
we can walk holding hands
while sand massages our toes.
In this beautiful Eden, where
the prickly pears bloom
we could entertain dozens,
we have plenty of room
And when our guests go home
or you're just weary from the night
you can curl up, warm beside me
in the fire's amber light
I'll wish you sweetest slumber
as I gaze into your eyes.
All the world will be a palace
when I have you at my side.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Mirror's Glow
Author's Note: I'm not entirely sure about this one. It started out as one thing and seemed to become another. Also, the first four lines seem to throw it off for me, but I've included them because the poem wouldn't have come about had they never been written.
I suppose that, like much of the poetry out there, what it means to you will be different than what it means to me anyway, so I reckon I shouldn't be to concerned.On the plus side, because of my uncertainty, I managed to write another poem that is sort of a follow-up. It's included here, too.
And as always, comments are welcome. Enjoy.
*****
"Mirror's Glow"
A moonlit night
cold, cold air
the stars are bright
and something's there
Elusive being
what might you be
I hear you sing
but cannot see
so come to me
make yourself known
join me for tea
inside my home
we'll be good friends
we'll laugh and smile
let's play pretend
just for awhile
that you are me
and I am you
that we are free
and dreams come true
come take my hand
I won't let go
of my friend who stands
in the mirror's glow
for i am me
and you are you
and let's just be
let us be true
accept each other
and sort of brothers
in reflected places
on our mirror's faces
*****
"POV"
I got no idea what this poem really means.
Will it be different for you and different for me?
Is it about learning to love yourself?
Or is it entirely about something else?
An ode to dopplegangers, perhaps?
It could be anything. I won't get too attached.
For it is what it is, there's no wrong or right,
when it comes to poems written late, late at night.
I suppose that, like much of the poetry out there, what it means to you will be different than what it means to me anyway, so I reckon I shouldn't be to concerned.On the plus side, because of my uncertainty, I managed to write another poem that is sort of a follow-up. It's included here, too.
And as always, comments are welcome. Enjoy.
*****
"Mirror's Glow"
A moonlit night
cold, cold air
the stars are bright
and something's there
Elusive being
what might you be
I hear you sing
but cannot see
so come to me
make yourself known
join me for tea
inside my home
we'll be good friends
we'll laugh and smile
let's play pretend
just for awhile
that you are me
and I am you
that we are free
and dreams come true
come take my hand
I won't let go
of my friend who stands
in the mirror's glow
for i am me
and you are you
and let's just be
let us be true
accept each other
and sort of brothers
in reflected places
on our mirror's faces
*****
"POV"
I got no idea what this poem really means.
Will it be different for you and different for me?
Is it about learning to love yourself?
Or is it entirely about something else?
An ode to dopplegangers, perhaps?
It could be anything. I won't get too attached.
For it is what it is, there's no wrong or right,
when it comes to poems written late, late at night.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Little Lies
Author's Note: It's funny where inspiration can come frome. Even funnier what you'll be inspired to write. This came from a very snowy morning. At 3AM I awoke to about 3 inches of powder on the ground. By noon we had almost a foot.
I'm not sure where this poem comes from. Most of what I write is about me or how I'm feeling. This one isn't. It just came out.
The last two lines were added when I was rewriting it. I thought it made the poem feel more complete, but now I'm not sure that I like them being there at all. Something about the tone of them seems off. I've included them, nonetheless, italicized.
If you read this, let me know what you think about the last two lines (or the poem in general). Feedback is nice.
*****
The earth, wrapped up, in a blanket of white
That silently fell from the heavens last night
With blues and greys, quiet and cold
The world filled with little white lies that she told
Blue like the eyes that looked into his own
Grey like the morning when he knew she was gone
Quiet like their home after she went away
Cold like his heart, which she left that way
Lies that she spoke that he didn't quite see
Lies spoken of a love, never meant to be
Now he falls silent into winter's womb
He'll lay there 'til covered in an icy, white tomb
I'm not sure where this poem comes from. Most of what I write is about me or how I'm feeling. This one isn't. It just came out.
The last two lines were added when I was rewriting it. I thought it made the poem feel more complete, but now I'm not sure that I like them being there at all. Something about the tone of them seems off. I've included them, nonetheless, italicized.
If you read this, let me know what you think about the last two lines (or the poem in general). Feedback is nice.
*****
The earth, wrapped up, in a blanket of white
That silently fell from the heavens last night
With blues and greys, quiet and cold
The world filled with little white lies that she told
Blue like the eyes that looked into his own
Grey like the morning when he knew she was gone
Quiet like their home after she went away
Cold like his heart, which she left that way
Lies that she spoke that he didn't quite see
Lies spoken of a love, never meant to be
Now he falls silent into winter's womb
He'll lay there 'til covered in an icy, white tomb
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
On Valentine's Day
Author's Note: If you read the last post, well, hopefully this will help make you feel less awful. Or stop shaking your head at me.
It was written for someone who popped into my head as a pretty great gal. I do not have a Valentine this year, which I think might actually be a first for me, but that's alright.
I hope you enjoy it.
*****
I would have sent you daffodils
but hope this will do instead
for my favorite flower pales, it seems
to the beauty you possess
A box of chocolates or Hallmark card
could have made their way to you
Yet the chocolates couldn't be as sweet
Nor would the card be true
For cards they speak of love and such
or would say, "Oh please, be mine!"
But I'm not in love, nor could I claim
Ownership of one so fine
Your quiet strength and gentle laugh
the subtle way you smile
Make birds go quiet and nature pause
to admire you for awhile
So who am I? Well, I'm just me
who thought of you today
I don't need to be your Valentine,
only wanted to have my say.
It was written for someone who popped into my head as a pretty great gal. I do not have a Valentine this year, which I think might actually be a first for me, but that's alright.
I hope you enjoy it.
*****
I would have sent you daffodils
but hope this will do instead
for my favorite flower pales, it seems
to the beauty you possess
A box of chocolates or Hallmark card
could have made their way to you
Yet the chocolates couldn't be as sweet
Nor would the card be true
For cards they speak of love and such
or would say, "Oh please, be mine!"
But I'm not in love, nor could I claim
Ownership of one so fine
Your quiet strength and gentle laugh
the subtle way you smile
Make birds go quiet and nature pause
to admire you for awhile
So who am I? Well, I'm just me
who thought of you today
I don't need to be your Valentine,
only wanted to have my say.
68
Author's Note: The following was written just after the previous poem "Deer in the Headlights". We were eating really yummy pie and listening to a rap artist who calls himself "Tyga". His lyrics are great (smell the sarcasm). Anyway, I decided to try my hand at writing a really, REALLY innappropriate rap. I think I succeeded.
The following is quite vulgar. Keep in mind that it was written as a sort of joke, so if you don't have a sense of humor, please skip this one. It IS demeaning to women. Though...if Ludacris wanted to flesh it out (ha - flesh it out) that would be super cool. Then again, he could do much better.
*****
You do me
I'll owe you one
Though I need to get going
as soon as you're done
I'm sobering up
You don't look so good
Staring at your face
I'm losing my wood
Hurry up, bitch, and whiten your teeth
It's gettin' pretty late and I'm lookin' to leave
Here's a number; not mine. I don't want you to call
Besides, how you gonna talk if you're suckin' on balls
Don't start lookin' upset, don't you try to hate
It's just the way that I roll, bitch, we call it "68"
The following is quite vulgar. Keep in mind that it was written as a sort of joke, so if you don't have a sense of humor, please skip this one. It IS demeaning to women. Though...if Ludacris wanted to flesh it out (ha - flesh it out) that would be super cool. Then again, he could do much better.
*****
You do me
I'll owe you one
Though I need to get going
as soon as you're done
I'm sobering up
You don't look so good
Staring at your face
I'm losing my wood
Hurry up, bitch, and whiten your teeth
It's gettin' pretty late and I'm lookin' to leave
Here's a number; not mine. I don't want you to call
Besides, how you gonna talk if you're suckin' on balls
Don't start lookin' upset, don't you try to hate
It's just the way that I roll, bitch, we call it "68"
Deer in the Headlights
Author's Note: So...I hit a couple deer the other night while I was going to a friend's house for pie. I'd never done that before (hit a deer, not eat pie) and I hope to never do so again. It definitely spiked my pulse and blood pressure, plus, I just felt kind of shitty about it. Anyway, to process it I wrote a poem. Enjoy!
*****
Time slows down,
my music stops.
They seem frozen there in time.
My truck was never meant to stop
or turn upon a dime.
The tires screech,
my knick-knacks fly.
I veer hard to the right.
Trying to avoid a herd
of deer racing in fright.
I'm sideways now.
I'm off the road.
I feel my tires slide.
I see the terror in her eyes,
she slams into the side.
Another in the front,
in her eyes I see dread.
Then hear the "THUMP" as my light
makes contact with her head.
With time slowed down
I saw them both,
I'm unsure what to do.
All I wanted was some fucking pie!
I didn't want to slam into...
deer.
*****
Time slows down,
my music stops.
They seem frozen there in time.
My truck was never meant to stop
or turn upon a dime.
The tires screech,
my knick-knacks fly.
I veer hard to the right.
Trying to avoid a herd
of deer racing in fright.
I'm sideways now.
I'm off the road.
I feel my tires slide.
I see the terror in her eyes,
she slams into the side.
Another in the front,
in her eyes I see dread.
Then hear the "THUMP" as my light
makes contact with her head.
With time slowed down
I saw them both,
I'm unsure what to do.
All I wanted was some fucking pie!
I didn't want to slam into...
deer.
Angels Die
The water running red with blood
a broken body in the mud
Remnants of tattered wings were there
an angel, fallen from the air
When the hubris of man reaches dizzying height
It ends an angel's quiet flight
When man hates life and wears a frown
it brings the angels crashing down
When human dreams exceed the sky
the angels die.
a broken body in the mud
Remnants of tattered wings were there
an angel, fallen from the air
When the hubris of man reaches dizzying height
It ends an angel's quiet flight
When man hates life and wears a frown
it brings the angels crashing down
When human dreams exceed the sky
the angels die.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Letting Down a Friend
I couldn't say what I wanted to say
Instead I let you walk away
The irritation was in your voice
I guess I must have made the wrong choice
But how I say it matters to me
because you matter, don't you see
I'm trying to extract foot from mouth
but fear our friendship may have gone South
It started with a phonecall from Ouray
When I didn't say what I wanted to say
Instead I let you walk away
The irritation was in your voice
I guess I must have made the wrong choice
But how I say it matters to me
because you matter, don't you see
I'm trying to extract foot from mouth
but fear our friendship may have gone South
It started with a phonecall from Ouray
When I didn't say what I wanted to say
Crusade
This one has been stewing for a few hours now. It think I'm happy with it, and it's dedicated to anyone that's had to stiffen their upper lip.
*****
I have another shadow that no one wants to see.
It hides inside the darkness, just waiting there for me
to lower my guard and take down my wall,
that it may trip me up, make me stumble. Fall.
Speaking to me inside dream and nightmare
asking dark questions and laying me bare,
this shadow is tenacious and attacks all my sense.
The burden it casts upon me is immense.
An angel took my hand, a lovely bringer of the light
But her wings, they were not strong enough, and she could not take flight.
"I'm sorry," she said, fleeing, and left me alone
to battle the shadow, once more, on my own.
"No matter," I said, as I willed myself strong.
"I could use the mental workout. It's been my fight all along."
The war has always been there, with its clamor and din.
It's been raging for ages, and it's one I will win.
*****
I have another shadow that no one wants to see.
It hides inside the darkness, just waiting there for me
to lower my guard and take down my wall,
that it may trip me up, make me stumble. Fall.
Speaking to me inside dream and nightmare
asking dark questions and laying me bare,
this shadow is tenacious and attacks all my sense.
The burden it casts upon me is immense.
An angel took my hand, a lovely bringer of the light
But her wings, they were not strong enough, and she could not take flight.
"I'm sorry," she said, fleeing, and left me alone
to battle the shadow, once more, on my own.
"No matter," I said, as I willed myself strong.
"I could use the mental workout. It's been my fight all along."
The war has always been there, with its clamor and din.
It's been raging for ages, and it's one I will win.
Dreams Take Flight
It's been awhile.
*****
I want someone to hold
A heart to kiss my soul
A hand to grasp mine tightly
To keep it warm. Daily. Nightly.
I'm good with being on my own
But it'd be nice to have a home
and someone I can come home to.
And I'm left wondering if it might be you.
*****
Oranges, reds, and violets paint the sky
The clouds roll in, then pass me by
A single star it twinkles there
Alone, I'm waiting in the cold, cold air.
Take my hand and come with me.
Open my heart and help me to see,
all the colors of the quiet night,
and join me as our dreams take flight.
*****
I want someone to hold
A heart to kiss my soul
A hand to grasp mine tightly
To keep it warm. Daily. Nightly.
I'm good with being on my own
But it'd be nice to have a home
and someone I can come home to.
And I'm left wondering if it might be you.
*****
Oranges, reds, and violets paint the sky
The clouds roll in, then pass me by
A single star it twinkles there
Alone, I'm waiting in the cold, cold air.
Take my hand and come with me.
Open my heart and help me to see,
all the colors of the quiet night,
and join me as our dreams take flight.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Walls
Author's note: I'm not sure I like this one. Then again, my page does say there will be mixed results. Feel free to let me know what you think.
*****
*****
Walls of stone protected
Safe from being rejected
Impenetrable was the fortress
Impervious to harm
Walls of stone came down
Against the wishes of the crown
Exposed to great duress
Willingly disarmed
Walls are broken now
The king's head slowly bows
His subjects are a mess
He failed them in this test
Safe from being rejected
Impenetrable was the fortress
Impervious to harm
Against the wishes of the crown
Exposed to great duress
Willingly disarmed
The king's head slowly bows
His subjects are a mess
He failed them in this test
Friday, January 4, 2013
Like It
Author's note: I wrote the following awhile ago in the field, after meeting someone whose company I greatly enjoy. After much thought, and letting the little voice have its say, I decided to tell it to shut its yap and let me enjoy this feeling that I thought was gone.
Sometimes, I hate to say, it pays to listen to the little voice. Still, I think it was worth it. And at least I'll always have my old muse.
*****
My heart skips a beat when you are near and my pulse races. I feel my skin grow warm in your presence and I hear myself think, "Is this something new?"
And then "he" reminds me. The voice that knows me best. It reminds me of who I am and what is meant to be.
"No," he says. "No."
It is simple and painful, but it's the truth. And while I feel elation, deep down in my heart, I know that the voice is right.
I am not meant for this. I am not deserving of some of life's little joys: the smell of sweet hair, the touch of a soft hand, the warmth of lips that match up with mine.
I will be alone.
And I will learn to like it.
Sometimes, I hate to say, it pays to listen to the little voice. Still, I think it was worth it. And at least I'll always have my old muse.
*****
My heart skips a beat when you are near and my pulse races. I feel my skin grow warm in your presence and I hear myself think, "Is this something new?"
And then "he" reminds me. The voice that knows me best. It reminds me of who I am and what is meant to be.
"No," he says. "No."
It is simple and painful, but it's the truth. And while I feel elation, deep down in my heart, I know that the voice is right.
I am not meant for this. I am not deserving of some of life's little joys: the smell of sweet hair, the touch of a soft hand, the warmth of lips that match up with mine.
I will be alone.
And I will learn to like it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)