Original Poems

a hundred-weight of dreams

a hundred-weight of dreams inside
a thousand-weight of fears;
some scattered days of hope within
and dozen months of tears —

a dread that’s born of emptiness,
a questioning of worth:
a plague of such anxiety
as rends the very earth.

the colors of accomplishment,
ineptitude, or both;
the tearing sound that signifies
both injury and growth —

the hotel with its silence, or
the spotlight with its cheers —
a hundred-weight of dreams inside
a thousand-weight
of fears


© Andriy Bezuglov | Dreamstime.com – Redhead girl with wet hair sits in the bath full of water with m

Original Poems

Interlace 2

Under control is not tied down.
Choices made belong to us:
Explanations are not owed,
There’s no reason to discuss

How we choose to live our life.
Keep your confidence, and soul:
Choose the ties and braids you make,
Keep your reasons yours,

And whole

Original Poems

Interlace 1

I would defend your honor, if I could:

There’s now a pressure on my eyes,
That makes my vision blurry;

And send benighted temper, with its hood,

As lately, I would realize,
It’s dangerous to scurry –

To where it never bothers you again –

As constantly, mortality
Surrounds, and I’m aware:

And be a guard for you among all men

The unimpaired finality
That’s always looming there

Original Poems

Token

what is your truth? what have you seen
when no one else was there to see?
is there a lonely spot of road
that's made from you or maybe me?

you knew one in the wintertime
when walls were painted with despair
and no place that you went preferred
to anywhere
or everywhere

what is your plot? your character? 
  your theme?
why do you linger over post, 
  or meme,
or stare at empty screens and wait 
  for words?
or dream of flight, while sealing out 
  the birds?

the lonesome road of wintertime
the isolated way;
the habits that are character,
the token we must pay
to see while we have eyes to see,
and not to look away:
for humankind is horrible
past what mere words can say.

our eyes look down,
the raptors coil above:
it's only love that is our hope,
and all our hope must be
in only
love
Original Poems

One Day Soon

One day soon, you’ll see the sun,
And it will not be leaving;
One day soon, you’ll find some time
For something else than grieving.

One day soon, a fondest hope
Will be within achieving —
Yes, one day soon, you’ll find it, love,
If you can keep

Believing

Original Poems

The Moon Came Down to Comfort Her —

The moon came down to comfort her,
To stroke her hair and make her tea —
The stars lined up to sing a song
And free her from her misery

The sunset left it’s curtains up
To shield her from her fading fears:
The moon came down to comfort her,
And wipe away her tears.

She read a book when just a girl
About a man up in the moon;
She looked up for him every night,
But with the years, became immune

To humanizing inert things.
But then life came unraveled:
Across a thousand heartaches, she
Had lately, sorely traveled —

A summer of insanity,
Of words and actions questioned:
Despair was closing in, until
The feeling somehow lessened —

The moon came down to comfort her,
To stroke her hair and make her tea —
The stars lined up to sing a song
And free her from her misery

The sunset left it’s curtains up
To shade her from her fading fears:
The moon came down to comfort her,
And wipe away
Her tears


Picture credit : © Songdech Moonta | Dreamstime.com – Dead Tree At Sunset

Original Poems

The Music of Emptiness

We have known the music of emptiness,
and truth be told,
at times, we have sought it.

Times when we seek,
not to make sense of it all,
but to accept the senselessness
and vanity that comprises much
of life.

This is not sadness,
it is a hollowness:
this us not despair,
it is more like
resignation —

But it is also
a type of detoxification,
an emptying out
to allow for the possibility

of refilling.

Original Poems

The Fading Path Back Home

If wishes could our dreams make true,
I’d walk the fading path back home
And see the very best of you
Beside a sunset polychrome

But years come in, and like the tide
They bear away our wishes late,
To leave an emptiness inside
That is our burden and our fate

For much that was, no longer is,
And much we feared has come to be;
Until the day that just to wish
Becomes a part of history —

But that day is not here, just yet.
The waves are restless, topped with foam,
And I will not forsake, forget
The love that lights
The fading path
Back home