Let Me Bother You

I originally wrote this poem earlier this year (May 2020) and have revisited it often to get it just right. The original poem is shown below along with the updated version that I plan to publish in my next book. Let me know what you think in the comments below.

The original poem:

Walking down to the beach,
I’ll see you standing there,
bother you,
and tug on that beard.
I’ll knock you down,
roll around with you through the waves
and land on top.
You’ll have the sand between your hairs,
our bodies soaking wet,
while watching the sand melt away beneath us.
It’ll melt the distance between us,
it’ll melt the silence held within
while we watch the waves in unison.
Daydreaming for hours
because we know the waves will never stop.
And maybe, just maybe, we hope to be like those waves:
with ceaseless power,
flowing carelessly.

The updated version:

Along the shoreline, the two of us stand close
as the distance between us grows.

It comes across in hurling waves,
unlike the gentleness that greeted us.

Let me bother you,
and remind you I’m still here.

The stale heat of the summer air
weighs us down into a thick fog.

If only I could reach for a knife
to cut right through, separating us in two.

I watch you standing there,
but I’d rather tug on the red in your beard.

I’d give anything to roll through the waves
with me landing on top,

to lay with our bodies soaking wet,
watching the earth melt away beneath us.

The distance between us would dissolve,
and the silence held within, while
watching the waves in unison.

Our feet would become cemented in place
while daydreaming for hours, as we
know the waves will never end.

Just as we once aspired to be:
never-ending, flowing carelessly.

Rising Waters

soft rolling waves
brushing the shoreline
come hurling. warmth

that used to make
your blood boil makes you
recoil deeper

from all that you
have felt and long to
feel. digging deep

into the sand
to push it away,
you recoil

into yourself.
this was not part of
the plan; moving

to the city
to be part of the
scene, only to

find you’re constantly
sinking.

Raining underneath

by Mark Ryan – Check out more of his work here: Havoc and Consequence

Underneath. Down here where it’s calm.
Where the black beauty of the abyss touches my feet.
All is quiet.
All is still.
I’m entombed as if in a coffin.
Locked forever in my own space
Controlling the promise of my ever after.
And then you came.
Pelting my world.
Hurtling across like a comet in my stretching blue sky.
You bring the change, flowing through like a weather system.
Flourishing my eyes open like a new season.
Calling sub-oceanic flowers to bloom within me.
Aquatic forest pines that reach up to touch the surface.
To reach and touch your face.
My hands branch to catch the light you dazzle.
A sudden rush you instill within me like heroin bubbles in my blood.
Coming up too soon, bending my compression that has kept my heart safe.
Heading for the bends.
I’m a fish not born to fly with you.
High where the birds and angels soar.
Hidden in these depths for reasons.
For sins that keep me drowned.
Now it rains under water, puddling the pool of the sea that parts us.
And I drift in the stream of sorrow.
Knowing that the rain on the surface, is really your tears.

Wait and See

Standing
Out by the water
I see you’re alone
Do I care to bother you
Or should I leave you with your thoughts,
Let you decide
If this is what you want

Will you come to me
Or do I beg you to stay in this space
I can see it written all over your face
You’re in too deep,
Taking steps back
With a ‘wait and see’

Let me know how that works out
There’s no need to scream and shout
I’ll be right here waiting
At the end of the pier

And when the water turns cold,
When the wind starts to blow
And it’s time to go home,
Am I going down this road alone…


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