Poetry

Waiting, Wanting, Needing

She dances gracefully

on the wisps

of non-existent memories

in my heart,

spurred on by music box melodies

of songs yet to be written.

I want and I beg

for her to leave,

to trod on the worn-out

welcome mat

on her way out,

but the thought of her leaving

hurts me in another, yet familiar, way.

My head bobs,

my foot taps.

Some pollution of ignorance

still travels through

my veins.

It wants her to go

but

I need her

to stay.

Poetry

back in time

if i could go back in time

to take back those words i said

in haste

then i would ask for forgiveness

in light of my mistakes

with remorse and all alacrity and

with apology and action, still vulnerable,

because love is still

and it’s always there

as it’s the past’s and future’s present

from one soul to another

in patience, in kindness, in selflessness

to love more each day, your love being

the only thing i’d want . . .

if i could go back in time

Poetry

Say So

Where are you?

Have you made camp

near lakes and rivers

of the bitter tears you’ve shed?

Are you trapped inside

your head again?

Are you suspended

in the humid air

of deep breaths and sighs

trying to land?

Are you landlocked

in the past

and trying to fly?

I can’t rescue you

but here’s my hand

to grab onto,

a shoulder for leaning,

an ear to hear,

a candle burning–

I’ll look for you

if you wish,

if you say so.

Poetry

Looking at the Clouds of Rain

The clouds on the horizon look

like snow capped mountains,

something I haven’t seen

in a decade or so.

Their shape is implanted

in my brain.

These clouds are real

but they are not mountains.

The mountains seldom change.

Right? Right?

Perhaps I’ll see them again

one day

if the clouds don’t drown me first–

I know they’re still there.

Poetry

Breaking the Ice

It’s not that I don’t care

but that

even the languages

we all share in these poetic words

are delicate mirrors

into ourselves and others–

it serves a purpose, let’s us see within,

but it’s imperfect, not quite accurate,

and the slightest disturbance

can shatter it into deadly shards.

It’s not that I don’t care

but that

I get excited to share my imperfect words

and break the thin ice instead.

Poetry

Intimate Definition

I’m cautious using certain words

when crafting poems

since I have heard repeatedly

how great of a “love poem”

a certain piece is.

But friend,

aren’t they all love poems?

Who ever set in stone

that each one was and had to be

one of romantic love?

Are we not allowed friendship

in this vale of tears?

Are we not able to enjoy

the company of others

without the burning of flesh?

Aren’t all poems about love and lost love?

You can change its meaning

but it will not change;

love or leave

the intimate definitions.

Poetry

Rock Song

Would you help me, my friend?

I’ve had quite enough

for I’m stuck in between

the diamonds and rough.

I could have asked you

to give me a hand

but in fear I declined

since you’d understand.

Please help me, I beg you,

my pride to efface

for I’m stuck in between

this rock and hard place

Poetry

One More Chapter

You hid between the lines

of an open book, a quick read

yet one which requires time

and patience to begin

to understand.

Such writing once frustrated me

but each new line

my eyes trace over

fills me with awe and wonder.

It’s something new, different, nice.

You’re a new story

hid in plain sight of the classics

and I can do little else

unless I read one more chapter.