When (25-Mar-1986)

This is one of my my few attempts at very specialized formating. I have another but the formating got corrupted in the computer and I need to sort it out so that it makes sense.

When (Mar 25, 1986)

When we say                  When we tell
What we think                Our thoughts inside
Then no longer               Then no longer
Do we drink                  Do we ride
Of the fruit                 On that road
Which makes us shy           Which steals our nerve
And restricts                And robs us of
How high we fly.             Our just deserves.

             When ourselves
             We let others know
             Then no longer
             Do we show
             That mask which hides
             Us from above
             And keeps us from
             Those we love.

My Gift (14-Apr-2008)

Although this sounds as tough it was written to one person, it is actually written to four. Will I ever be able to add a verse to give this poem a happy ending?

My Gift

I left my gift on the table.
It was there for you to take.
You sampled it and left me 
    some of yours.
But we were young.

I left my gift on the table.
It was there for you to take.
You took a piece; all that
    you thought you wanted.
And left but a piece of your own.

I left my gift on the table.
It was there for you to take.
You left it there untouched
    but did not let me take it back
Until you walked away.

I left my gift on the table.
It was there for you to take.
You took it while and left
    your own.
What happened then I do not know.

Will I ever get it back?

Old and New (September 2005)

Another one found on a scrap of paper...but this one I understand because it is daily a part of this journey I take.

Old and New

I know that which draws me 
    down this old familiar path.
It is a well traveled and
    comfortable road.
But there is a new trail that
    in times past I would not have seen.
I do not know where it comes from
    or where it goes.
It springs from a place in my soul
    long hidden or newly dug.
I stand upon the intersection of old and new.
Both roads beckon me forward
    and yet the choice is not mine to make.
For I am unable to escape 
    the roads that chose me
At intersections long ago.

For Her (14-Apr-2008)

Tired and weary last night and unable to sleep, this is what resulted:

For Her

Toss me to the wind.
Scatter me to the four
    corners of the earth.
Let me rest by the shore;
Washed up like so much flotsam.

Stand me against a wall.
Bury me over with sand.
Offer me no refuge against
    the cruel ravages of time;
No oasis in my desert.

Leave me nothing.
Set me free.
Put me over;
And give all that I would have to her.

To Use (Late 2003)

Still no time to write between work an rehearsals. Here is another about which I know very little. It was during this period that I would quickly write them on scraps of paper and then come upon them later with no context. And yet they still mean so much to me because the person that wrote them is still inside.

To Use

---

So trite.
Writing love poems at my age.
And yet maybe I am not so old
that I can no longer taste that which every life longs for.

How long?
Can time be measured at all?
Is there no way to count the miles and miles
of road that I have traveled from the destination I once sought?

A thief.
It invades my dreams.
It robs me of the forgetfulness
of long forgotten memories that I have never shared.

Sweet Hermia (9-May-1997)

It's funny how some poems mean more to you much later and for different reasons than when you first wrote them.

Sweet Hermia

Hermia, Sweet Hermia.
So much space and so much time
Separates us.
How can two born of the same rib
Be born so distant.
How can two made of one soul
Be made so far apart.
Why is life so cruel as to bring us together?
Simply to remind us of what we cannot have?
Please forgive me for being who I am
        which only adds to your pain.
But remember that you will always be my one and only
Hermia, Sweet Hermia.

How (27-Mar 27-1986)

I wrote this in college when I was falling harder for a woman than I though I should. It is intersting to read the journal entries and find that she had the same affect on me that my lost love had.

How

How,
Lord,
Can I know her so well
When I barely
Know her at all?
It doesn't make sense.
Her face seems
So familiar.
Her memories
Are mine.
This can't possibly
Be happening.
How?
Why?
How can I admit
What I'm feeling?
The time
Has been too short;
The knowledge
Too little.
Why are my
Emotions
Forcing me to
Say what I
Fear most?
What will she think?
How will she react?
It's all too sudden
Slow it down.
Please!
No!!
I musn't let
It
Come out
Or I'm lost
And the control
Is no longer mine.
But I
Just
Can't
Keep
It
Corked.
"Admit It!!!"
The voice is screaming with violent rage
    inside of me.
The struggle is
Unbelievable.
I feel as though
I can
Contain it
No longer.
No
Please
No.
The struggle was lengthy.
The pause was long
But for now
I have won.
(But it still wants out.)