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 Portrait of Disappointment

after Joni Mitchell*

after years of hoping things would change
and giving in to “well, that’s the way it is,”
look me in eyes and realize
this is who we are,
who we’ve become,
it’s finally come true –
our love’s become old news.

we never lived up to the story of make-believe;
when we face each other
I must believe this is the choice
we’ve been making.

every morning & every night,
from here on out
this the only way to keep going,
alone.

turn these dog-eared pages of our lives
for other truths to be told,
for other hands to hold.

from countless days of emptiness
from your professions,
your attempts at affirmations,
something in me knows better:

there’s more to love
than a collection of memories,
there’s more to see
than foil-wrapped treasuries.

what passed in the space between us?
a moment, a disappointment,
and I leave it all in the past.

what’s to come?
a path we’ve never tread,
yet time’s been stolen
and minutes slip away.

the clock stares and we wait
for affections from a new love,
a new life in a new bed.

The title comes from a comment Joni Mitchell made when describing the theme of her music, one part hopeful and one part “the portrait of disappointment.”

poem

Send Me A Song

With a flip of the wrist
there’s a song
directing you on a time warp,
back to the time you fell in love
with the girl of your dreams,
or so she was at the time.

With every turn of the dial
there she is
and yet, there you are
years apart.

It only lasts 3 minutes
but it’s the one
that crawls under your skin
late at night
when you’re all alone,
when thoughts run in circles.

During the middle of the day
it’ll punch your gut
as time melts away,
sending shivers
down the corners of your back.

When you look across the way,
there she is,
and yet, there you are
years apart.

When you hear that song
you wish it’d send hope
for something better,
instilling excitement.

You want that song
to be sent in your direction
expressing “Think of me,
as much as I do you.”

And yet, there she is,
and there you are
years apart.

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

you spoke to me

Eyes down,
eyes averted from the truth
I took a chance
A glance in your direction
Then your eyes met mine

Me in my red dress
You in that captivating charm
We couldn’t ignore the electricity that sparked
As we longed to embark on a fiery journey

It didn’t take much
A sly grin as a welcoming
A slight brush against my thigh
A beating began within our chests
And traveled to our loins
And we knew

And you said, “Now the real danger begins.”
It was a spark to ignite the nuclear holocaust
Everyone in its wake affected
caught by the fire
or deserted after the storm had passed

All I wanted was your hands lifting my red dress
To feel your warm breath next to my skin
To hear the song of poetry between two lovers
I didn’t want much but I craved it all
After that first taste.

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

A Dream Landscape

original photo from AdoreMe.com

Dream of love in lace
covering favorite go-to places.

Dreams far from anything you’ve ever recognized,
all desires realized.

Dreams that leave you transformed, molded,
leaving you painted in bold colors.

Dreams of the most flattering shapes
forming a perfect match of colliding lovers in a dream landscape.

A divine love operating with mouths agape.
Sighs, not words, are the only sounds that’ll escape.

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.