Scarred

Each word, scarred my skin
as lips turned to knives
and sharpened tongues
bore deep –
tearing past the surface
revealing life - - -
oozing pain.

Each word, scarred the page
as letters tore the fibers
and black ink
seeped –
from a tarnished heart.

Each word, scarred the day
like bloody stains –
on memories……
as once warm hands
which wrote of love –
turned cold.

 

 

Angels Don’t Need Wings

Do your wings
weigh you down
have you found the earth
solid feet_____ on ground
and wiped away the clouds
of a blurry vision ……
this unexpected view
which now shows
your mirrored-self –
where no wings…..
can be found –
but there is a freedom
when the mind
begins to fly –
this reality, which soars
when your heart
absorbs the truth
with a fuel, unlike the rest –
the burning knowledge
this wisdom in the stars
that angels don’t need wings
they only need a heart –
to exist.

 

Impressions

Have you ever look behind
to see what impressions….
you have left.

Were they imprinted
deeply and defined –
or were they raised
waiting for the wind.

Did you see a row of hearts
stretched beyond the eye –
or nothing…… but salty grains
of tears,,,,,, long fallen.

Have you ever kissed the dawn
or spoken to the night –
held the hand of love
said hello to friends.

Look behind……
from time - to time
and face what you can see
so when you begin to walk again
your impression –
may be more defined for you……
and the rest of us –
to see.

Flutter By

I wait for time
but it seems…… to just slip by
while I press my fingers
to the evening sky – in the hope…..
that I can catch a dream.

I stood upon the windowsill
and watched the clouds float by
then sat and rocked a while…..
talking to my knees.

I walked the dog
and he listened quite politely
he never said a word
as I chatted aimlessly away –
but never once did I catch an eye
than again, who could tell…..
as they walked the other way.

I bought a watch – and wound it tight
then listened as it ticked . . . . . .
what a maddening sound that was
which left me with a choice –
to sit and stare and watch……
as time slipped away –
but in the end. . . . . I tossed it out
and bought a book of poems –

Now each day I love to read
and watch in disbelief…….
as the pages fly away –
but that’s the beauty of life and words
like butterflies and dreams –
the magic’s caught in moments
then we watch it……. flutter by……..

You Are A River

You are a river, who soothes me –
in the gentle glow of day
you shimmer and on quiet nights
you whisper….. to the moon.

You are a river, who is free –
while you navigate the coursing wilds –
these constraining banks, of humanity.

You are a river, who rages –
a tempest…. who beats the rocks –
with your racing wrath….
of emotions.

You are a river, who cools my soul –
with hidden pockets full of depth…
yet you have these shallow pools
where only you belong –
and misguided fools can tread.

You are a river, who winds its way along –
who laps the joys of friends…. then you go
knowing there are always knew ones…
just around the bend –
but only wise old rivers know…
that there always –
comes an end.

You are a river, who is learning as you go –
and remember…. those you meet along the way
so when you meet the undertow
they’ll still be with you –
and help you through….
the roughest…. of your days.

 

 

He Watches

He watches
as his face gets older –
sacrifices
of a love…. he never knew
a war, which grew too heavy
a burdened soul
that now grows cold.

He held back
for far too long…..
as he learned
to tame his tongue
and bite his feelings –
until he grew old
without her kiss
a bitter taste of life
which lingers –
till the end.

How Can I Swim In You

How can I swim in you
while lavishing the waves
in a salty brine of yesterdays –
awash…. in struggling tides
of today.

Where is that love
that finds you… in the night
when you’re not brave –
shall I look for you
or will you find me
as you dance….
upon the wind.

Will your sweet kiss
sail to me….
so I may taste your lips –
or will that murky brine
lead me…. to a life –
where love does not exist.

How can I swim in you
when you care not –
to bring your sweet breath of life
to me.

Hollow Words

How can one
decipher hollow words
when –
no substance can be found
and only echoes heard
truths…. of resonating sounds
which float away
like hot breath
in the windy chill….
of despair.

Dull verses
which hold a heart….
at bay –
as even all the lies
begin to cringe
at the sour taste
of foreign words
where certainties – fade.

Where are…..
the spoken words
of truth –
if not in the honesty
of eyes –
where one soul reaches out
and the other……
holds the trust –
a confessional
which now confides.

The Drum Of Life

I am a soldier
with a war
which rages on –
a night in the field
of darkness and hearts
when souls fall
and love fades – –
into a hole
where emotions……
are sacrificed –
on those that win
but they have never won
as broken hearts
are held within –
caressed
by gentle souls and hands
so the drum of life
may beat again.

 

 

Misunderstood

She found an old canvas
covered in dust –
and stripped away…..
the years
but all she found
was a canvas filled
with emotions –
a masterpiece
she’d never seen nor knew.

So she took her brush……
and painted away
then framed it ~~~
with an edge of insecurities.

Then she stood away
and looked
and never understood –
that it was her brush
which took away the colour
leaving the fibres - - -
filled with grey.

Frustrated
she walks away…..
and now the picture sits
unseen and left alone –
misunderstood.

 

 

When Emotions Are Allowed

What lines were crossed
when love became fear
and we chased away
the years –
by hanging on.

Who are you now
where have you been
did you ever love me
or are you –
just another piece of life
whose broken down.

But when you stop
just spin around
and if you see a candle
then you know
you’re welcome home.

But if you see the darkness
let your tears begin to fall –
maybe then……
you’ll understand
how hard lost love is
when emotions are allowed
to hit the ground.

 

 

The Weeping Willow

I watch the wind
and the weeping willow
the branches  
as they sigh –
the tears of the rain
falling from the skin
these leaves….
now shed upon the ground.

I watch the wind
and the weeping willow
the branches
as they sigh –
now dancing to the earth
with laughter…..
as the branches pirouette.

I watch the wind
and the weeping willow
wishing it were I –
a canopy of life
well rooted……
yet unashamed to cry
or dance upon a moonlit eve
or sing a song….
to the morning sky.

I watch the wind
and the weeping willow
as it gently kisses the grass
all these tender touches
emotions –
which make me sigh.

 

 

Two Weak Hearts

Where are the arms of hope

to stay the chill of sorrow

when each day passes

and one day becomes the next

is this when hearts divide

one belief in pride of stubbornness

yet lives a contradiction

the other, once made of stone

now broken –

their bones of strength….

feeble, have lost the marrow

like an old friend

misplaced of courage

and cannot see the faith

to heal the wounds

where love stands strong

so two weak hearts

can beat as strong as one…..

tomorrow.


 

Evidence Of Human Frailty

She is a shaman
who bangs her tongue
tugging out each word
until they’re all wrung out
which in the end
shows the brutal reality –
evidence….
of human frailty
transforming her
from a creature
to a woman –
I love.

Lost Tomorrow

She painted her lips
so she had something
to hide behind
and tore the letters
from their words
so she never had to listen.

And as she lingered….
in the shade of life
distorted were the sounds
which invaded her ears
when really all she wanted
was the silence.

But is the beauty
that she paid for
worth the time of day…..
that they borrowed –
or just another lost
tomorrow.

Left No Impression

What he knows – is how to fall down
how to scream aloud
how to wander around
and swallow pride.

You can say what you want
but the moon… is the only one
who’ll understand
and it knows……
that the anguish in his sea
is a life of things
that cannot be undone.

So they all watch
as she plays the tide…..
and washes out to sea –
his footprints far behind
so when he looks back
no longer is there a trace
- of him.

His shoulders hunched
as if a weight pressed him down
what else could he do
but avoid his own reflection
as he thought about her
but no longer
could he see himself
as he then knew –
he had passed through her life
and left no impression.

As You Lay On Solitude

Somehow,
you already made your choice
when you slammed the door
in the face of your own irony
this closed off room –
filled with token games
mockery….
and scorn.

But what about the tears
when they roll down….
consequences cheek
like a repetitious singer
who always sings the blues.

You forget about those people
all those left behind
a crowded room of sorrow
you say aren’t worth your time
not even the old soldier –
who dies in the end.

So have you ever seen the darkness
as you lay on solitude
a bed that’s far too worn
a pimp or prostitute
of friendships now forlorn.

But we still think of you
and wonder –
did you ever open up a new door
where an old friend lives
who despite the other people
he let you in
because he knew the cold of winter
and seen the change of warmth –
in you.

 

 

It’s Not Too Late

We are losing the sky
when stars go out
and the light of eyes
fade away.

We are losing love
when veins run cold
and no words –
are exchanged.

But don’t tell me
that we are dying
when I can see the light
and the new stars you made.

It’s not too late
when love can change
as each new dawn
is a brand new day
and your stars tonight –
bring hope
for a new tomorrow.