Category Archives: Poetry

For W.B. 061019

Thank you, Maude.

Without the despair

That your coldness

Has given me,

I would not have written

The words I’ve written.

 

I would have remained

A happy unknown

Bathing in the warmth

Of your crooked smile

Your beautiful, beautiful crooked smile.

 

Without your detachment

Our hands would have never parted

An embrace forever locked

Like lovers clasped in a tender tangle

Looking to eternity.

 

You have given me many words

But I would exchange

Them all

For the happiness

You would have given me

With your company.

 

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I Could

When I think of all the time

I spent alone

Because of you,

I can kick myself.

 

Time I spent thinking

You would come back to me.

You would see the error of your ways.

You would trust me

And forgive yourself.

 

But you didn’t.

And never will.

You have moved on

Not dealing with the pain

Of the past

But moving on to

A different metaphorical future

In a different literal location.

 

When I think of all the time

I have wasted in vain hope,

Thinking that something about me

Was worth the effort,

I could scream.

 

This one is all on me.

I couldn’t let go of

Your head resting on my shoulder,

A whisper telling me to go but begging me to stay,

The forever question in a darkened room.

 

I couldn’t let go

Long after it was gone

Couldn’t, can’t, won’t

Long after we were done

When I think of all the time

I have wasted,

I could laugh

If only, I could laugh.

 


The Soldier Memorial Day 2016

As he lay dying,

He didn’t think of his country.

He thought of his mother

And the tears she would shed

As she buried her only son.

She always told him

Take care of yourself, Albert.

Come home

To people that love you.

 

He did not think of the country he was giving his life for.

He did not think of the rhetoric of politicians.

He did not think that God wanted this war.

 

He thought of his girlfriend

The girl he loved since sixth grade

But only got up the nerve

To ask her out a year ago.

 

He thought of her smile

That was often followed by giddy laughter

In response to something silly he did.

He thought of her deep brown eyes

That would make the rest of the world melt away

And made his heart both weak and strong.

 

He did not think of the country he was giving his life for.

He did not think of the minimum wage.

He did not think of bathrooms or wedding cakes.

 

He thought of his kid brother

Barely in his teens and

Already getting into trouble.

Who will teach him life’s lessons,

While playing basketball

On the court set up in their driveway?

Who will keep him in line,

While giving him space to grow?

 

He did not think of the country he was giving his life for.

He did not think of the racism or the crime in the streets.

He did not think of the hatred of the stranger in the land of liberty.

 

He thought of many things.

He thought of the people he loved,

Their words, their smiles, their laughter.

And then he thought no more.

 

And we, whom he died for,

Think of bathrooms and wedding cakes.

And listen to the venomous rhetoric of our politicians.

And moan that the weather did not cooperate for our barbecue.

And haggle at car dealerships with salesmen

As they look for their next customer.

 

We, whom he died for, hardly ever

Think of the soldiers

Whose last moments

Were alone

But filled with memories

Of meaning.

 

 

 


Recovering 052119

Love is an old addiction

And I am in recovery.

Every day I wake up craving it.

It is the first thing.

It is the last thing

I think about.

I think about.

I think about.

 

And you were my drug of choice.

My drug.

My choice.

 

Maybe one day,

I will be a servant

To another mistress,

Slave to another’s touch.

 

But today it is you.

And today

And today

It is you.

 

Old cravings fade so slowly.

Old desires don’t let go

And I go on

With the hunger,

The yearning,

The pain.

 


The red wheelbarrow

With apologies to W.C.W.

Sitting in a corner,

Long neglected

And rarely visited.

The metal wheel

Rusted red

The color of the cold hard clay

It rests upon.

Fire truck red slats

Now faded and peeling

In the summer’s sun.

Weeds grow tall around it

And embrace the barrow

Like the mother and child.

 

Once the gardener had hope

For this place,

And this wheelbarrow

Was her instrument of change.

Dreaming of moving

Her flower creations

To match her whimsy

Painting masterworks

With sprouting petals.

 

What happened to your dreams?

Your pretty plans?

They belong to another time

When hope sprang in this wild place

Like dew covered blossoms

Rejoicing in the morning’s sun.

Now she sits inside,

And drinks her wine,

Dreaming of another time.

 


Slipping 04/13/19

She slipped away

With the dying of the day

Facing east

Sun in the west

Darkness rising

From the ocean

Before her.

 

She felt peace and comfort.

Strange

Because all she ever wanted

Was excitement.

A tormented soul

No longer tormented

By demons of her own

Creation

And others who found

An empty shell

Where happiness

Once resided.

 

She was happy once

Way back before the

Needles,

And alcohol,

And depression.

 

So far away

And long ago.

Barely remembered

Until the slipping started.

Sitting under the

Japanese Maple

Listening to the birds

Feeling love

And safety

In that house

On Laurel Lane.

 

 


Exploding Heart 031519

I know that the human heart

houses no emotions

but why does it feel

like my chest is exploding

in slow motion

when you are near?

 

There is a coldness,

a separation,

as loneliness and distance

envelope and overcome me.

 

I am weak

powerless to move,

to turn away

until you look at me

and then I am flung to the depths

of my own despair

because there is nothing in your eyes.

 

There is no love or hate,

apathy or annoyance.

As if I don’t exist in your life

and I don’t exist in my own

conception of happiness.

 

So I stand alone,

chest exploded

dripping life

having not the energy to stand.

Body immobile

air like prison

hardly breathing

having not the energy to breathe.

 

As I fade,

fading slowly

fade away into the dark,

dark places of my soul.