drowning in poetry

Click to listen to the spoken word track to the poem below, accompanied by ‘My Heart Is For You’ by Peter Sandberg

a poem of longing

a poem of remembrance

a poem of rage

a poem of hope

a poem to slip into your mind

a poem to never forget the story

a poem to purge the feelings

a poem of healing

do you ever get the feeling

we’re drowning in poetry?

day by day

inundated by poetry.

everywhere you go,

another platform,

another social network

for poets.

countless poets lost

among the broken hearts

with stories that rip deep into us.

events and notifications pop up constantly.

do this, do that.

see here, listen there.

read and absorb all the talented forms and poets that you can.

i sift through multiple journals and sites

encouraging all to “submit your best work!”

yet when does one have time to create when trying to keep up?

it’s in these moments where it feels best to retreat and figure out which method works best for me.

dab a little in other’s works, write a few lines here and there,

listen to a poem or two,

join an online reading and network when it feels right.

in true poetic form, the gatherings and discoveries excite and inspire.

part of having a poetic life is that poetry will always be there when you need it.

and yet there’s opportunity to take a break and resume again when it’s convenient;

it’s poetry, it’s not going anywhere.

Train Ride Home

inspired by The Last Night of Your Trip

on the train ride home
your smile flashed between buildings,
lights flickered and i couldn’t tell
if it was the spark in your eye
or the streetlights beaming
onto the dark streets.

i saw your smile and your hand
reaching for mine,
those bedroom eyes
that whispered “bring me
to your hotel.”

we weren’t made for cheap
sex, we were poets
who felt everything down
to our souls.
it wasn’t just one night with another,
it was our lives coming together.

your smile chased me
between the streets.
your breath next to mine
will always be the one thing
that sends me off
to the sweetest dreams.

The Secret Garden

bore from the most arduous labor,
its intoxicating fruit,
its sweet blossoming fragrance,
pulls in the strongest of hearts.
as a vine
snakes its way through the depths
of a luscious secret garden,
distinct impressions
produce
the richest aromas.
even to an untrained eye,
the sweetest honey couldn’t go unnoticed.

Photo by Magda Ehlers on Pexels.com

the sweetest honey couldn’t go unnoticed;
even to an untrained eye,
the richest aromas
produce
distinct impressions.
a luscious secret garden
snakes its way through the depths
as a vine
pulls in the strongest of hearts.
its sweet blossoming fragrance,
its intoxicating fruit
bore from the most arduous labor.

The Gift and the Curse

what i thought i had lost,

a love that would never return,

now fulfills distant dreams-

an unanticipated ecstasy.

but while caught in the midst of it,

how is it that i still think of you?

the one who got so close but still so far away,

the one who buried me deep,

with a voice kept on repeat,

i can’t seem to make that voice,

or those words, go away.

how is it that ‘i keep coming back

to your shores’?

how is it that i keep hoping for more

when i know nothing

will ever come of this?

does the music ever provide the answers

or does it only tell us what we wish to hear?

Getting to Know You

Getting lost in the deep blue
we simply forget everything else
this is our fantasy, our escape
but there is life outside these four walls

Our wants extend us to stay a little longer
we’ve been waiting for this day 
it’s too soon to walk away

I’d rather have my time 
with your body next to mine
I’d rather have my time 
getting to know each piece of you,
my partner in crime


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

In a Sea of Lonely Nights

A lonely boy in a sea of lonely nights
in that last hour of the day
capturing words he wishes he had said
writing them down
so they’re out of his head

Music fills the air
soothing the tension
lessening the cares

Take a trip to the other side:
what makes the other person tick,
what makes them come alive,
what’s in their head they’re trying to hide

While reaching out for a connection
lost and longing for attention
it’s someone in his bed
that doesn’t know the depths
of the tears he’s shed

But it’s still a mystery;
where did it all go wrong
was it this way all along

Thousands of poems captured on those lonely nights
but not a one could do
when it’s just not you


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

Our Song

Image credit: Max Dupain

Spinning the same song
that connected us
gets harder to hear.
Each verse cuts deeper
into what never was,
what could have been,
the longing to be near.

With my fingertips crossing your beard,
your fingers grazing my thighs,
those longing sleepless nights
I’ve waited to be alongside
the one that knew the depth
of my emotions,
facing eye to eye.

Sometimes it’s a choice song
so I don’t forget the closeness
of someone far away.
Sometimes it’s a random appearance,
stops me in my tracks
and nothing else
can stand in its way.

Nightly Routine

Late at night
Lying in bed
Headphones on
Listening to music
Or a few recorded poems
Reading the latest
I attempt to craft a new one
Or brush up a draft not quite finished

It’s becoming routine
I’ve always been
An undercover poet
Now I’m sharing my words
With my family’s support as an added bonus

Shared are the happenings,
The disappointments,
The contests never won,
Submissions rejected
And poetry readings I’ve done
But only a select few are read
Only those that are safe
Too many things need to be left unsaid

Safe are the clouds
Blowing with the whispering wind
Safe are the waves
Leaping over me as I rescind
All my powers to Mother Nature
She’s the one we must bow to
Who we give our ultimate thanks to

Those poems of desire and longing
Full of sorrow
Never to be filled
By our wants in all of our tomorrows
No, those things aren’t safe
There’s too many things that need to be left unsaid

Start with ‘Hello’

The daily pattern repeating
clicking here and there
looking for an update
or something I needed to say
except it’s gone too soon
like the fading of the day

The truth is there was a lot to say
countless conversations
despite they’re all in my head
I’ve said all that I’ve needed to
so now it’s out of the way

We’ve talked about the books we’ve read,
the music we’ve heard,
how our day has been,
and the inspiration for the latest poem

We’ve talked about the weather,
and our upcoming plans
we’ve talked under the stars and moon
we’ve talked when we first wake
and greeted each other with our longing hello’s

There’s so much that’s been said
nothing is left uncovered
except now I’m missing a reason
to say anything at all

Maybe I’ll start with ‘Hello…’

Words at Night

All the words to say
The sad ones
The lonely ones
The grateful ones
The mad ones
They circulate through you
But never leave your lips
Raging out onto paper
For all to read
But the ones closest to you
Will never see
Those words escape effortlessly

Words poured out late at night
And splayed across the light of day
Words that others will relate
And make others feel safe
That they too feel the same way
Words that will make you give ‘Thanks,
Thanks for today’

So use your words
Use them wisely
Share them with those you love
Share them with your friends and family
Share them with the world
Let them see
Just what you feel
Spark them with your electricity