Categories
Poetry

Together, Alone

In the lonely hours

they cry for their humanity.

For the lost past,

for the uncertain present

they wander lost.

Together,

alone.

Categories
Poetry

My Own Peace

Some days,

I take a deep breath

and ask the world to soften.

The world never does soften.

So I fall behind its wind,

and I find my own

peace.

Categories
Life

Unravelled

Music brought me undone again, today.

Unravelled. Beautifully. Thoroughly.

And though it’s not a surprise that music can so easily undress my soul, it is often a surprise to feel the way it surges and dances through my body.

How it grabs hold of my belly, my arms, my legs, and drags itself upwards.

How it grounds me. So deeply, so powerfully I could never fly away.

I don’t know why this happens to me.

All I know is that it is profoundly beautiful.

And I’m grateful.

I’m really so far beyond grateful.

Categories
Poetry

Sweet Aching Quiet

Sweet aching quiet.

Soft night, curled up beside me.

I know you.

I know your fragile whispers, well.

Categories
Poetry

The Christmas Spirit

The Christmas spirit never dies.

The Christmas spirit is forever and always,

so why put it away?

Do we not become our best selves

whilst wrapped in the spirit of Christmas?

Me thinks we do.

And so it is

I ask again:

why do we put it away?

Why do we put

the love

away?

Categories
Poetry

Sweet Eternity

Oh, the heat

that I see

that I feel

that I know.

I will be the flame

to my own fire.

I will light the path

of burning

sweet

eternity.

Categories
Poetry

The Deep Of Me

You may name it what you will.

But the ocean will always smell like

what is beneath the name.

It will always look like

what is beneath the name.

And it will always feel like my very own soul,

(the underside of my name.)

You may name us both what you will.

But the ocean will always be beyond it all.

And so will the deep of me.

Categories
Poetry

Home

Living carefully and beautifully,

I know I am home.

Categories
Poetry

We Are The Poets

We are the poets.

The ones who listen to the bones of the earth.

The ones who feel the wind,

who know the wind,

who are the wind.

The bridge to the aching quiet.

We build it

and we travel its winding path,

searching for more than what we see,

the poets.

We are the poets.

We are the song of aching life.

Categories
Poetry

The Lonely Soul

The lonely soul

is a beauty.

She is quiet,

so quiet

as she whispers her way

through the noise,

through the dark,

through the rain.

Sing a sweet song to her.

Call to her

and she shall hand you

a soft and thoughtful dream.