She is the golden skin
by lamplight.
She is not the beauty
they see
in her face,
her eyes,
her hair.
She is glorious
alone.
Without the eyes of others.
Categories
The Eyes Of Others
Tag: Poetry
I’m here, at the moment.
I’m not lost in some dream.
I’m not missing the things or people I don’t have.
I’m just here.
I’m tired, feeling the heaviness of my eyes.
I’m growing new life, feeling baby stretch within my tiny human frame.
I’m feeling the cold in my right foot more than my left.
I’m here, at the moment.
I’m here.
I’m here.
I’m here.
Categories
Forever Home
Sorrow is quiet and soft.
How strange, that during the saddest times, the quiet is the loudest voice of all.
Tonight, I send my voice into the stillness.
To honour the love and the sorrow that lingers when we lose our most precious hearts.
Quiet, the place where unconditional love floats free.
Peace. Our soft and gentle, forever home.
Categories
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.
The wind will call and you will know.
And it won’t tell you why,
and it won’t tell you what
but you will follow
blindly,
hopefully,
until the sun peaks ’round the bend
and the horizon dazzles
in ways far beyond possible.
Indigo, apricot nights.
Warm breath on starlit cheeks.
And you will know
(oh, you will know)
what it was like
to have lived.
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.
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.
Categories
A Fine Rose
I will craft this scar into a fine rose.
Soft pink and berry, Mum,
like the sweet child I was to you.
Take this rose
carefully,
softly,
sweetly, remembering home.
I have been afraid
because of you,
and yet
because of you
love has broken me open;
I shine our memory into the world
like a moonlit day.
Take this rose
carefully,
softly,
sweetly,
for I am still afraid
I will craft this fine rose into a scar.
My
soul
knows
this
song.
Categories
Call Me Shakespeare
Oh!
Has this truth been truly seen!
But a glimpse into a floating sea
of strange reality,
but a knowing truer than true can be!
Who is Shakespeare?
That terrible, desperate soul,
falling,
falling,
landing evermore in the stories
of aching romance and tragedy?
I am Shakespeare.
I am the writer.
I am the lover.
And so are you, love.
So are you,
lover of passionate life
and love.
