poem

Whisper In My Ear [with audio]

*spoken word*

Your words whisper in my ear.
Your voice does things to me
That haven’t been felt in years.

My heart races
My insides quicken
I want to hear more

I listen when I’m alone
To be safe from disturbance.
I listen while at work
In hopes that no one notices
The reaction your whisper creates.
I listen before I sleep at night;
You’re the last thing I want to hear.

Blow by blow, your words hit deep.
The aching and longing are no strangers to me
But nothing else does it justice,
Not like they deserve.
Nothing can explain
Or perfectly portray
These feelings the same way.


Listen to my poems on SoundCloud
This poem, along with others, can be found in my book:
Coffee Shop Sessions II: Moving Mountains One by One

poem

The Quiet Sunshine

the sun glitters atop a river’s bend
the breeze softly lifts a single leaf,
soaring above the river, between the trees

slowly it goes,
never falling,
never settling

for a moment everything pauses,
animals stop to turn,
stunned by radiance amongst the greenery

a rare moment of silence,
of peace, of joy,
produced at exactly the right time

and I’d like to think
that when others look upon us
with our hearts in tune,
they too will rejoice in the quiet sunshine
of the peace, joy, and love
of how deep it runs,
how wide it flows,
how everything it touches glows

poem

The Pull of You

The Journey of the Sea by Patricia McAtee

There’s no stopping it.
There’s no going back.
Even if I tried
the pull of your force
is stronger than my will to go.

See how the current meets the sea,
not stopping midway to ponder its existence,
to debate whether it should or if it belongs.
It flows where gravity takes it,
where nature pulls
and it goes where it should go.

And so, I stop to wonder-
is nature at work pulling us or do you possess
a magnificent force pulling me in
to the deepest sea without a way to return?
Is it wrong to ask or shall I flow
naturally where the current leads?

There’s no stopping it.
There’s no going back.
Even if I tried
the pull of your force
is stronger than my will to go.

poem

Thank You For This Gift

I used to dream of the sea,
of lonely nights,
the ones of you and me
staying up late
through all hours of the night
planning what we’d do
if we were in the same room

I don’t dream of that anymore
for when I’m in need
I turn you on
and there you are
reckoning every nerve
in this delicate body

I recall your words whispering in my ear
for hours on end
turning pages deep within my soul
breaking down walls
that were trying to stay strong

A constant surprise
how you’ve done this to me
a consuming yet calming
settled in deep
by words spun on repeat

Mesmerized, I’ve memorized line by line
destroying me with perfect intonation
and yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way
this gift you’ve given me

Happy birthday dear friend

Photo by Katerina Holmes on Pexels.com
poem

A Bleeding Heart

It’s getting late and we’re dying to find out
what’s fated us here tonight.

You dare to ask what I’ve done, where I’ve been,
I’ll tell you more than you’d want to know
so let’s start this off slow.

The truth can be a dangerous thing;
you can’t unhear it once the stories have cleared.

I’ve held the hammer to a bludgeoned heart,
been the reason love and light broke apart.

I’ve danced across graves at night,
celebrated the taste of freedom that was mine.

I’ve destroyed many with a single look
then let go of ’em before they could sink their hooks.

I’ve lived through it all with eyes glued to the sky,
as a witness without remorse, only living on the outside.

With a heart paralyzed and surrounded by flames,
I curated multiple tragedies as cupid’s arrow took aim.

With hearts discarded,
I’ve since repented and paid the price
of these words and actions of a former life.

My dear, on this night with you I promise-
my pounding heart is now yours. If you’ll take it,
please don’t open the glovebox where there lies a knife.

poem

Take Two and Call Me In The Morning

original photo credit: Shutterstock

I wake to the sound of him
pinging my phone.
It’s too early for
bright-eyed longing stares
to the love of my life
as my eyes burn from
the phone’s bright light.

With eyes barely opened,
I reach over to tell him
“Good morning, my love.”
He sends his love in return
and I feel his love beating
through my chest from across the pond.

How his smile awakens every
nerve in my body, how it eases
every ache that arises as my body
shifts. If I lie here long enough
to soak in his beaming smile it’ll
surely eradicate the piercing forming
through every extremity.

Tender love is our medicine,
taken in various doses throughout
the day to coast along a high plateau.
And in this moment, our morning routine
of enchanting greetings and air kisses,
it’s exactly what we need.

poem

The Houses Are Empty and We Cannot Be Saved

photo credit: Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

indulging upon a landscape
you longed to sink yourself into,

eyes scanned every inch where your
fingertips dutifully awaited to graze.

words escaped the space between us
as the air filled with sighs.

“I could write a thousand poems…”
you said as the sun came out from hiding.

and I realized how hollow the room felt
as the sun was the only one providing warmth from its rising.

we could both write a thousand poems
to sway other hearts

and yet we knew we couldn’t be
any more than this.
poem

Navigating the Breakers

A sting reaches our eyes as we collect
salt and mist from the unchartered sea
knowing where we’ve been,
knowing where it will lead.

Glimpses of our future
pepper through the days of our past
on that boat sailing against the breeze,
wondering which of our days will last.

Mirroring smiles reflect
how we take on the world:
you take the wheel
while I navigate the sails furled.

Wherever the wheel guides us
on this grand adventure,
with our hands holding each other tight
we’re bound on this journey together.

poem

Summer Love Swept Away

Photo by Hernan Pauccara on Pexels.com

I spotted you amongst the masses there
with only a moment to choose, I feared
this was headed nowhere.

Giving you a raised eye
I slipped you a napkin with my number,
figured this was a love you couldn’t deny.

We filled our summer days gone by
with dragonfly dreams. Our love
left like beach vacationers and passersby.

Heading back to where they’ve come
but deep in the night, they’ll remember
what those summer loves have done.

In this jaded seaside town
after the blazing sun has gone down
nothing remains but tumultuous sea sounds.

Like a discarded napkin
left by a shattered dish,
this love was swept away with the rubbish.
poem

Let the Music Play

we were an unsinkable ship,
built to sustain any injury
thrown our way, or so we said.

cast into the dark,
yet illuminated with infinite possibilities.

suddenly slipping through our fingers
the bitter cold quickly rushed in,
and the music played on.

while the chaos surrounded us
and the children were tucked safely in their bed,
the music played on.

while prayers were whispered,
and crowds huddled around,
the music played on.

while the water was rising,
we clasped our hands together for the last time,
and the music played on.

while last kisses were shared
and arms embraced wiping away tears,
the music played on.

while eyes sought the humanity
and love within each other’s eyes,
the music played on.

while indecisions and indifference captured us to a halt,
the music played on.

it was the only thing that could caress us
as we fell further into the deep, dark cold waters.

and the music played on
for each and every one of them

until they could hear it no more.