Categories
Poetry

Sweet Love Departed

When there is,

in this soft heart,

a tear for sweet love departed,

a tender wave of grief upon the shore;

where do these small hands go?

How do I hold

and kiss

and whisper

each precious ache

into wholeness, once more?

There is an apricot sun in the distance.

There is a mighty perfection

twinkling in the eye.

And so it is,

the ache shall be

here

and I shall know her.

Until I have known her eternal home.

Categories
Poetry

A Poet

Of all the labels I reject

a poet’

is the one golden cage

ringing true to my soul.

It holds my heart,

this stamp that tells me-

not who I am,

but what I do in the world

and how these depths consume me.

And though a label

is but a boundary with imaginary walls

in a universe unending,

a poet

I am

in words

and heart.

A poet I am,

I am.

Categories
Poetry

Wherever I May Go

Life and her currents.

I feel them like tears in my bones.

And all I can do is let the river run,

let the stream carry me

wherever I may go.

Through the high clouds of white.

Through the deep dungeons, dark.

I will be there.

Life,

I will be there

to follow the rainbow, home.

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Categories
Poetry

Rainbow

In my softness I hold this gift, for you.

A small slice of home,

and a tiny sun to shine

only on you, sweet friend.

This rain will pass,

it will pass on through the air.

And in your eyes I will find

the joy

lingering,

calling from the horizon of you.

And in my eyes, the shine of knowing.

Knowing that rain built the very rainbow

that now shields you, for life.

Knowing you always were okay.

Every moment.

Safe.

Loved.

And on your way.

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Categories
Poetry

My Fire

Oh, this is the depths of desire!

How wild winds do blow

within the halls of this longing.

Lingering aches

clutching at far off stretches of my truth.

Built over lifetimes,

tasted this day:

I see you, raging humanity.

How hungry you’ve been

for my soul,

my flesh,

my fire.

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Categories
Poetry

Tomorrow’s Rose

How delicate it is, the garden of eternity.

Interwoven; the past, present, future

of our sleepy meadow, dear.

One cannot possibly know how

or what

the wind of today will drift to the valley

of tomorrow.

One can only hope to gather roses in arms

and lay them down, admired.

But what of tomorrow?

A dried rose is surely a beauty.

A delight preserved from time gone by.

Take these roses, fine.

Take this heart

and scatter my soul freely

into the arms of the dreamers, next.

Tomorrow’s rose.

Today’s quiet and careful sun.

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Categories
Poetry

Beneath The Sad Moon

What is this softness

that takes my heart dancing

beneath the sad moon?

When aching life pours from the sky,

and my heart cries

to be heard

for once

without question.

Will I listen?

No.

I will hear,

but I will not listen, for fear,

of what?

The heart needs too much.

The heart needs too much

that I,

whoever I am,

cannot ask life to give.

Categories
Life

Loveliness

Ah, the loveliness.

There it is again.

As smooth as the drifting river,

as quiet as the song of a mother

to the sky.

Lovely loveliness.

The sweetest of all the dreams.

Categories
Poetry

A Little More Than This

I do not care to be seen.

I do not wish to scramble,

do not wish to fight my way

to the top

to be seen,

to be loved

a little more than this.

Perhaps I should try harder

to care.

Perhaps I should wish

that I might choose,

one day,

to fight like them

until I have been

chosen

and loved.

A little more than this.

Categories
Poetry

Loneliness

There is depth and beauty in loneliness.

It is quiet.

Peaceful.

And though I’ve never known it,

loneliness is the wave that has known me

a lifetime, long.

Its quiet waits for nothing,

it just hangs in the air,

aching,

holding me closer

and closer

until I am quiet, too.

I will try to let it be.

To never ask it to leave,

but instead,

let it fill me

until I have no room left inside.

I will let it be, now,

loneliness.

I will no longer be attached

to wishing it gone.

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