Untitled (31-Jan-2009)

Trying to create a poem that is terse enough and readable enough for a cell text message is tough. I'm not sure the result is very good poetry but was fun to do all the same.

Every day in every way.
My love for you burns strong and true.
And every night my heart takes flight,
And at your side it will alight.

Thank You (22-Dec-2008)

Yes I know it's been too long but life has been very busy of late. Not that I've stopped writing but the blogging has had to take a backseat to living. Fortunately for anyone who cares to read my stuff, living generates more intersting poetry than blogging! As I've said before, it's not often I create rhyming poems and when I do, it can take a while to work them out until I am happy with them. This is one of those rare ones that came out in finished form. I'll admit it is a little clumsy and probably could be polished, but it seemed wrong to change the words since they clearly wished to be expressed in this way.

Thank You

---

If I crawl the world over,
Searching day and night;
Probing every nook and crany
And try with all my might,
Never will I find someone
As right for me as you,
No one in all this vast expanse
Would love me like you do.

When life is hard and cold and mean
You simply hold me tight;
You touch my hair, caress my brow
And I know all will be all right.
So every day I hope and pray
That all you struggle through,
I can be there at your side
And do the same for you.

There isn't much I understand
And even less I truly know;
Each day I struggle with belief
My doubt a constant foe.
But in spite of all my inner flaws
And though I often seem adrift
You've offered all your love to me
And that's an awesome gift.

Pain (9-Jun-1997)

I found this one in my journal and it was a particularly dark period. In the journal it was unpunctuated except for the opening sentence. I have added a period to the end of each line. I don't trust my original instincts given my state of mind at the time.

Pain

My brain hurts.
I want to write verse but all that 
    comes are the broken words.
Half-formed thoughts.
Nothing comes together and yet I must
    continue.
To stop writing would be to admit defeat.
I just want to sleep.
To forget.
And yet my life continues.
It’s useless.
I can’t even write verse.

Phoenix (10-Jun-2008)

My new muse has stoked the fire and I like the results. I'll admit this one is a bit disjointed. It is interesting how a change in muse causes a change in voice, no matter how slight. There are a couple of literary referenced and callbacks in this one.

Phoenix

---

Tiny pieces
Broken scattered
Collected stitched
Repaired returned
You to Me

Line in my sand
You dared to cross
Castle Walls
You rose to fell

My Raven's Song
Forgotten Lore
Ever silenced

Snakebit soul
Poison drawn

You met me on my road

Michelle (5-Jun-2008)

It's been a while since I've been able to write anything. I finally decided that the best way to overcome the block is simply to write...and what better to write than a pleiades.

Michelle

---

Meanders thru my mind
Making images of
Mesmerizing smiles and
Musical laughs taking
Me to soft green pastures
Meadows of clover 'round
Mountains lifting my heart

On The Decline (25-Mar-1992)

Here is the journal entry that precedes this poem although I'm not sure if there is a specific event that prompted these thoughts:

"I fear the country has reached critical mass. How many years before the sand castle collapses? I cannot say. I am afraid; for my way of life; for my future; for my children. There are guns in the schools, drive-by-shootings, and rampant selfishness. We waste our money and the people are too stupid to understand the problems or too self-centered to listen."

Fast forward to now: the more things change, the more they remain the same.

On The Decline

---

So you watch the decline
You can’t see the bottom
You feel the fall
You can only partake

Knowing you are past The Point
There is no one to listen
The decent quickens
You are a part of the experience

Aware of the futility
Time has lost all meaning
Darkness closes in
It is here
So you watch the decline

For What It's Worth (18-Mar-1992)

I'm not sure what prompted this and I'm not even sure I'd call it a poem.

For What It's Worth

The winds of change blow strong
But build walls and they
    will not blow long