I wear my grief like a security blanket
Without the feel of it to burn my heart
Slip away the last memories of you
And a cold numbness consumes me
So I pull it up around my chin
Waiting for the warmth of time to
Relieve my chill and hope for the day
I can recall you without a tear
GRIEF
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
#
Friday, August 28, 2009
# #Missing You
Missing You
A single flame flickers through glass
Splintering into beams of light
While raking through the lashes
On my sleepy lids
A last breath douses the prism
Whispering your name as it leaves my lips
Before I drift into lucid dreams.
A single flame flickers through glass
Splintering into beams of light
While raking through the lashes
On my sleepy lids
A last breath douses the prism
Whispering your name as it leaves my lips
Before I drift into lucid dreams.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
My Angel
I met an angel. No, there was
no halo, nimbus or radiant light,
no corona or presence with an aura.
I do not know if it was male or female;
it came just as a distraction, a diversion
of sorts, from an unholy alliance.
A pact I would gladly make,
not for the sake of fortune
or fame but for love.
Yes, I would sell my soul to feel again,
that which sets my heart on fire; I
would burn, to know the heat of passion.
I would have fought Michael himself,
to know what it takes to make one’s
fists clench and body convulse within.
Then, there he was; I say he, because I
believe him to be; a calming, soothing voice
from a distance, preoccupying my thoughts.
And in my head I hope he will stay,
that voice in my ear, gripping my attention,
until I’m strong enough to stand on my own.
MY ANGEL
no halo, nimbus or radiant light,
no corona or presence with an aura.
I do not know if it was male or female;
it came just as a distraction, a diversion
of sorts, from an unholy alliance.
A pact I would gladly make,
not for the sake of fortune
or fame but for love.
Yes, I would sell my soul to feel again,
that which sets my heart on fire; I
would burn, to know the heat of passion.
I would have fought Michael himself,
to know what it takes to make one’s
fists clench and body convulse within.
Then, there he was; I say he, because I
believe him to be; a calming, soothing voice
from a distance, preoccupying my thoughts.
And in my head I hope he will stay,
that voice in my ear, gripping my attention,
until I’m strong enough to stand on my own.
MY ANGEL
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
TOUCH
Uncovered emotions
Exposed soul, bare skin
How deep can a touch go
From outside to within
A gentle hand upon my face
Eyes that can see into my heart
Physical surrender of an intimate place
But the mind is where we start
A mental connection
A joining of spirits
That’s what is required to see
Freedom to release
Without self-conscious thought
The essence that is me
A TOUCH
Exposed soul, bare skin
How deep can a touch go
From outside to within
A gentle hand upon my face
Eyes that can see into my heart
Physical surrender of an intimate place
But the mind is where we start
A mental connection
A joining of spirits
That’s what is required to see
Freedom to release
Without self-conscious thought
The essence that is me
A TOUCH
I Would
I would bake a thousand cookies
Just to give you one.
I would cook dinner
For an entire circle of friends
If only to see you at my table.
I would write a poem for mankind
In the hope that
It would find its way to your heart.
I WOULD
Just to give you one.
I would cook dinner
For an entire circle of friends
If only to see you at my table.
I would write a poem for mankind
In the hope that
It would find its way to your heart.
I WOULD
Monday, August 17, 2009
YOU
You
Are my first thought in the morning
I make my list of
“Things to tell him.”
Anticipation of a quiet moment
Transforms into a competition for conversation
Children bustle about
Meetings are held
Activities are attended
We converse via cell phone and e-mail
Nautilus becomes our rendezvous
In the evening, after I tuck the kids in bed
I lay down my weary head and
You
Are my last thought at night
I make my list of
“Things I forgot to tell him.”
YOU
Are my first thought in the morning
I make my list of
“Things to tell him.”
Anticipation of a quiet moment
Transforms into a competition for conversation
Children bustle about
Meetings are held
Activities are attended
We converse via cell phone and e-mail
Nautilus becomes our rendezvous
In the evening, after I tuck the kids in bed
I lay down my weary head and
You
Are my last thought at night
I make my list of
“Things I forgot to tell him.”
YOU
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
BREATH
Breath
The ebb and flow of existence
plays tug of war with daylight's reality
then releases in lunar dreams
It's the space between us
when we hold
and fogs the looking glass
with questions
It's what I crave
yet smothers me in fear
and frosts my heart with winters' kiss
It weighs heavy with restlessness
flutters with desire
and seeks to relax in the crook of someone's arms
The ebb and flow of existence
plays tug of war with daylight's reality
then releases in lunar dreams
It's the space between us
when we hold
and fogs the looking glass
with questions
It's what I crave
yet smothers me in fear
and frosts my heart with winters' kiss
It weighs heavy with restlessness
flutters with desire
and seeks to relax in the crook of someone's arms
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
SPRING NIGHT
Spring Night
It wrapped us in spontaneity
bringing a fantasy to life
warming our bodies on a breezy beach
It shared our laughter and inner most thoughts
and felt the caress of your skin against mine
toes buried in the sand
It shrouded passion from the eyes of the moon
and muffled cries of ecstasy
blending them with the pounding surf.
It moved with rhythm
as we explored each others' bodies
to and fro, as forcefully as the oceans' currents
Now it lays quiet
waiting...for another breeze
another moment...to share
It wrapped us in spontaneity
bringing a fantasy to life
warming our bodies on a breezy beach
It shared our laughter and inner most thoughts
and felt the caress of your skin against mine
toes buried in the sand
It shrouded passion from the eyes of the moon
and muffled cries of ecstasy
blending them with the pounding surf.
It moved with rhythm
as we explored each others' bodies
to and fro, as forcefully as the oceans' currents
Now it lays quiet
waiting...for another breeze
another moment...to share
Monday, August 10, 2009
ALONG THE WAY
Along the way
A mentor you became
The day you stopped
And learned my name
You encouraged my creativity
And then
When my efforts slacked off
Made me try again
Along the way
You took the time
To inspire me
And improve my mind
More than a teacher
Of Reading and Math
More than a gatekeeper
On your administrative path
Along the way
Communities were built
On personal commitment
Filled with the passion you felt
You are part of our family
More than a friend
When you move on
Your legacy won’t end
For along the way
True character was found
In the young lives that were touched
While you were around
ALONG THE WAY
A mentor you became
The day you stopped
And learned my name
You encouraged my creativity
And then
When my efforts slacked off
Made me try again
Along the way
You took the time
To inspire me
And improve my mind
More than a teacher
Of Reading and Math
More than a gatekeeper
On your administrative path
Along the way
Communities were built
On personal commitment
Filled with the passion you felt
You are part of our family
More than a friend
When you move on
Your legacy won’t end
For along the way
True character was found
In the young lives that were touched
While you were around
ALONG THE WAY
TAO
Take my hand and walk with me
Show me your end
What moves you
What inspires you
What hurts you
I want to be a better friend
I can listen
I can follow
I can try something new
Relationships are ever changing and
I couldn’t love you more than I do
That is unconditional
Not matter where we go
But patience, trust and assurance
I’m learning rather slow
Take my hand and walk with me
Show me your way
Teach me the TAO of living
Day by day
Be my mentor, my guide
My passions ride
Share in how I feel
Take my hand and be my friend
Show me what is real
TAO
Show me your end
What moves you
What inspires you
What hurts you
I want to be a better friend
I can listen
I can follow
I can try something new
Relationships are ever changing and
I couldn’t love you more than I do
That is unconditional
Not matter where we go
But patience, trust and assurance
I’m learning rather slow
Take my hand and walk with me
Show me your way
Teach me the TAO of living
Day by day
Be my mentor, my guide
My passions ride
Share in how I feel
Take my hand and be my friend
Show me what is real
TAO
Thursday, August 6, 2009
ALL GROWN UP
With your first words
I helped you talk
Held your hand
While you tried to walk
I locked up the cabinets
Closed all the doors
Gated the stairs
And carpeted the floors
When you first went to school
I followed the bus
Always waiting in the wings
Was someone you could trust
I steered you to activities
And friends you knew
Trying to instill
Morals and values in you
Now you’re all grown up
Trying life on your own
Just remember I’m here
You’ll always have a home
I’m proud of you
You turned out great
Now all I can do
Is sit back and wait
Until the time should come
When you need me again
Maybe as a parent
Or just as a friend
ALL GROWN UP
I helped you talk
Held your hand
While you tried to walk
I locked up the cabinets
Closed all the doors
Gated the stairs
And carpeted the floors
When you first went to school
I followed the bus
Always waiting in the wings
Was someone you could trust
I steered you to activities
And friends you knew
Trying to instill
Morals and values in you
Now you’re all grown up
Trying life on your own
Just remember I’m here
You’ll always have a home
I’m proud of you
You turned out great
Now all I can do
Is sit back and wait
Until the time should come
When you need me again
Maybe as a parent
Or just as a friend
ALL GROWN UP
MY COURTNEY
She has a child’s heart
Needing of attention, affection and reassurance
But full of giving without pretense or expectation
She views the world through laughing eyes
But they are sensitive to what they see
And tears flow easily
She likes to be cradled in the security of her family
But “family” is not defined
And knows no limits
She is accepting of all
But rejecting of many
For there is no time for cruel children on her playground
Her emotions run deep
But they have no place to hide
And acceptance must be at face value
When she loves
It is with her soul
And you are grateful to be on the receiving end
MY COURTNEY
Needing of attention, affection and reassurance
But full of giving without pretense or expectation
She views the world through laughing eyes
But they are sensitive to what they see
And tears flow easily
She likes to be cradled in the security of her family
But “family” is not defined
And knows no limits
She is accepting of all
But rejecting of many
For there is no time for cruel children on her playground
Her emotions run deep
But they have no place to hide
And acceptance must be at face value
When she loves
It is with her soul
And you are grateful to be on the receiving end
MY COURTNEY
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
MY LOVE AT SUNSET
I met a man; he is you in twenty
years. His hair is white, skin wrinkled,
mustache curled, but his eyes glisten
with excitement and allure.
His voice touches my heart with attentive
encouragement. His middle is relaxed now,
but it leaves a secure pillow for my head, and
his arms are the warmest blanket around.
And I love you, for all of your disbelief of
the future and growing old, I’ve seen you then
and love you still; so much so, I wish for the future
to hurry up and come.
MY LOVE AT SUNSET
years. His hair is white, skin wrinkled,
mustache curled, but his eyes glisten
with excitement and allure.
His voice touches my heart with attentive
encouragement. His middle is relaxed now,
but it leaves a secure pillow for my head, and
his arms are the warmest blanket around.
And I love you, for all of your disbelief of
the future and growing old, I’ve seen you then
and love you still; so much so, I wish for the future
to hurry up and come.
MY LOVE AT SUNSET
Saturday, August 1, 2009
KELSEY
KELSEY”
Scandinavian, meaning “Island of Ships”
Meet me at sunrise
When the day starts a new
When floral sheets of silence
Awaken from their beds
We’ll sail away to freedom
To the Island of Ships
Wrecked dreams salvaged
Restored to their original luster
Where the palominos run
Through fields of goldenrod
Whipping the winds of God’s love
Around this wild spirit
You’ll listen as the sweet
Harmonic tune of my viola
Caresses the shoulder of your grief
Relieving your worries
For you will know this vessel
Was resurrected to the Lord’s
“Island of Ships”
(In loving memory of Kelsey Mizerak)
Scandinavian, meaning “Island of Ships”
Meet me at sunrise
When the day starts a new
When floral sheets of silence
Awaken from their beds
We’ll sail away to freedom
To the Island of Ships
Wrecked dreams salvaged
Restored to their original luster
Where the palominos run
Through fields of goldenrod
Whipping the winds of God’s love
Around this wild spirit
You’ll listen as the sweet
Harmonic tune of my viola
Caresses the shoulder of your grief
Relieving your worries
For you will know this vessel
Was resurrected to the Lord’s
“Island of Ships”
(In loving memory of Kelsey Mizerak)
CONFORMITY
If I opened the door, would I
see them there; draped, one after
the other, over thin wire?
Would there be crisp pleats, pressed
in the soft brushed cotton, that fall
like a plumb line from hip to floor?
Would they all be the color of sand, to blend
you into the background of life’s canvas;
only to be contrasted by the backside of a cow?
Do they gently caress your legs
and hug your waist; like your lovers hands
do you own the feel and comfort of them?
Do you ever pour into the color red, in
your dreams? And would you be cheating,
to don the color blue, or burgundy
CONFORMITY
see them there; draped, one after
the other, over thin wire?
Would there be crisp pleats, pressed
in the soft brushed cotton, that fall
like a plumb line from hip to floor?
Would they all be the color of sand, to blend
you into the background of life’s canvas;
only to be contrasted by the backside of a cow?
Do they gently caress your legs
and hug your waist; like your lovers hands
do you own the feel and comfort of them?
Do you ever pour into the color red, in
your dreams? And would you be cheating,
to don the color blue, or burgundy
CONFORMITY
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)