Tuesday, November 30, 2010

A Mirrored Look

I looked up, to see him there
Not twenty-paces beyond my stare
Hidden in a crowd
With all the other blank faces.

Him blinking twice, was all it took
Drinking in, then shrinking from my look
I reached out, and I reeled him in
With a piercing stare and my glaring hook.

Wrapped around my little finger
He tangled in the air
I thought I’d wait…
and make him linger -
Just because he thought,
that I would never find him,
while he was standing,
looking in my stare.

A crying boy, with a withered grin
In the market, by the square
But twenty-paces looking on
That’s where I saw him,
just standing there.

In the window, with a glare
A little peek and a haunting stare
It was him - he was waiting
Hidden in a crowd
With all the other blank faces.
Just waiting for me…
to stare, into the pain of window
A mirrored look, he drew me in
with a piercing stare and my own
….glaring hook.

A Heavy Chest

A heavy chest
I cannot breathe
with this weight
this weight on me.

So heavy, but you just
don’t take the time to see
all these bricks
piling on top....

One, by one, by one... by one
heavier, with every single
crushing brick.

Every breath, I take – so thick
Air filled with straw and mud
clogging me – each breath
a resounding thud.

Listen to the air expel,
what’s left, is nothing
nothing left to tell.

You’re crushing me
I cannot breathe
if I could only take a sip
a resuscitating moment
sucked between my lips.

A heavy chest, of bricks
on me...

Monday, November 29, 2010

Raining Room

Standing, in the middle,
of her raining room,
thoughts fall,
like droplets of life,
crashing to her floor.

A thunderous wave
these emotions, of
the moment and her day
as she is swept
into the sea…
and away.

On bent knees,
tumbling, in the breeze
of life, upon this very floor
… of strife.

Her sails set, full of wind
but dragging her
this life, has been.

As water flows,
beneath her,
soaked within the core,
lying in this puddle - crying,
not willing anymore.

dried and dead
tears upon tiers
piled too high to shed.

This woman of the ages
with smiling face above
drowning on the heels of man,
while standing,
at the water’s edge.

She puddles in her thoughts
…. and life.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

15-Stories Down

Before I knew, I was looking up
from 15-stories down
I sat still, upon the cold hard ground
and frowned - unsure, what I had found…within.

I clapped my hands, no echo heard
what a hollow sound, was that
then I heard, a little peep, of a murmur…
or a cry; then I realized…. It was only I,
from 15-stories down.

Do I frown, or cry, or say my goodbyes
for surely, I must have sinned…
but where do I…begin?

Was it one or two or five…; I’m still alive
maybe, seven, nine or ten…
hmm, that’s it, always thinking within.
Dammit all, it must have been…
eleven, twelve…where did I sin.

But here I sit, without a clue,
unsure of what to do…
the only thing, is to find a step or two
Hell, that’s what I’ll do…
I’ll find a way, from here,
all the way back to you
from 15-stories down.

On the way up, I wondered if it’s true,
Well sure, I’m always thinking from within…
But did I, did I really sin?
I guess it doesn’t matter now, as I have
a beautiful place, with a balcony and a view.

Monday, November 15, 2010

I Wince

I wince, when I think of her sadness like a
throbbing pain of a deep sliver embedded
within me, I quiver, shake with each ache
she feels.

I endure her pain, with an intense fever, which
burns my very heart, singeing my passion and
blackens my mood.

I can’t control it; this is how I feel. Her depth
within me, is so deep so entrenched, that I must
trudge through what crosses she must bear.

Do you understand this, can you feel this - my
passion of her despair. Can you see this love -
this love on a different level, beyond the years
of life? Can you even imagine…

Imagine my heart; imagine her pain of life, her
days of thought and breath. Now throw this ball
of unimaginable pain and fury into the air, let it
glow in its madness…

Let the fire from within her, build, bursting in
tears. This heavy ball, which is driven from her
and into my chest…, weighing upon my heart,
burning into my helpless being, my useless
words - as they cannot help her. Then imagine
how I feel, how I feel…how I feel.

I wince, because that is all I can do. I wince,
because I want to feel her pain, I want to take it
away…I want to take it all away.

If I could die on this day, knowing that she
would be free for life - I would die… I would
take all her pain, and wrap it in my arms, hold it
as tight as I could, and suffer with a smile on my

Some may say, that is too much, who can bear
such madness, such love, such passion. I say
too little, too late; my job, my love for her, is to
suffer, and hers is to love…and to love freely.

I want to wince, I need to wince; this is all I can
offer her, I can only give her my heart, as my
words have no real meaning, but my heart is for
life - this life I can offer.

This life, I wince for her.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

I Remember Them

Hell rising from the sea, with
churning swells of bellies and steel beasts
spewing raging storms of heat
piercing cries of overlord beseeched.

They ran the beaches with pounding feet
friends left, not but three feet,
amongst the frothy deep, of the channel sea.

Left to prepare the landings of despair,
as the heavens weep; all this bleeding life on
foreign streets, so very far from home…
as mothers sent their boys, no choices left, they
faltered, falling to their knees, thinking - stop
this bloody madness… please.

Up the Scheldt, to flooded lands, boots wet,
muck of mind, with drowning sorrow not
knowing what they would find.
These men of yesteryears, fought struggles, for
the hearts…, of those people they never knew,
with their tears, muddy on their cheeks, and
like them on their minds… and souls.

Trudging on, not so very long ago, they made
a difference, which we now know; and I
remember them!

I remember them.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Close my eyes

Draw the bow across my heart
with dancing fingers
sliding strings alive, my ears
lovingly abide.

I sit and close my eyes
listening to the tunes
just off to my side
floating through the air,
removing my despair.

A gentle voice, a soothing choice
of notes…, which filter across my way
worries, sliding off, dissipating
like dew on a summer morning day.

To quietly sit, not to fidget or fit
no mental strategies or wit
but a single moment for me
to wash away all my worries and
chaos of the day
just to sit and listen for a bit…

So draw the bow across and sing
use your dancing fingers
to gentle pry apart
those withered strings upon my heart
to make my ears come alive and lovingly abide
as you wash away my worries
while I sit and close my eyes.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

They don’t know

This is not truly a poem of sorts (in the sense that I am more of a traditionalist - sort of (smile)), but more a group of words expressing some feelings.
Have you ever lost a love
perhaps a friend or two
ever-felt despair…
so deep and dark; it’s true
they don’t know; it could be you.

Ever think that you’ll never recover.
Ever think that you are the forgotten
person in a long line of lost souls; it’s true
they don’t know; it could be you.

Have you ever done a job so deep
and outside the norm of society,
just because you believe in our society…
to the point your life and those lives of your family
will and in most cases be forever changed
yet you do that job, because others wont
and you do it with pride; it’s true
they don’t know; it could be you..

That’s what we do - that’s what I did,
that’s what I live; it’s true
they don’t know; it could be you..

Eyes Washed Out

Did you hear what I said?
Imagine that instead
A coffee, a bagel, and a life
How did your day begin
How did mine end.

Picture perfect night
stars in sky, clear as day
then a brush, painted white
across my sight - a haze
fog, deep and thick
eyes washed out
thinking I’d be sick.

Unsure of the enormity
stood lurching, back and forth
grasping to steady life
thinking quickly, left or right
… unsure what I would find
but knew
best get out of sight
best I get this right.

Then I feel a prickle…
at the base of my hairline
going all the way down
…to my spine.
Knowing then, that life had changed
forever, in a day -
I’d never be the same.

Did you hear what I said?

Then a brush, painted white
across my sight - a haze
fog, deep and thick
forever, in a day -
I’d never be the same, with
my eyes washed out
walking through life in a daze.