With Headphones On… [with audio]

Image credit: Spectral-Design

I cannot help but stop
and look at the whispered tapings

Pay attention closely to the postings,
the most discretely transmitting of all

Does it make you shiver?
Does it make you quiver?

Capturing statistics
day by day
poem by poem
Is it you watching?
Is it you listening?

Through your pair of headphones,
are you alone?

Do you make sure
no one else is around?

Are my words rising that piece of flesh?
Or making your heart race?

Are you wishing my words have only reached your ears?
Hoping no one else knows this feeling?

Smoothing and intoxicating,
repeated over and over again

What goes on in that mind?
Are your thoughts racing in time?

The rise, the soaring
from those sweet sounds

O, I wish I could be there
seeing your reaction
when a lustrous new track
has been found


Click here to listen to my poetry on SoundCloud, where almost 100 poems are available

Recording Sessions [with audio]

If you’ve ever wondered how a recording session takes place…

I set up the laptop, open up GarageBand,
plug in the headphones, adjust the mic settings,
pull out a poem, and hit Record.
I remind myself to speak clearly,
to make sure I have the exact tone,
to express the meaning of the poem.
I start to fumble over the words, it’s a first
pass, it’s normal. It’ll get better the next
few rounds.
I give it another go. A few lines in
and then a tap of the mic. Bugger. Delete.
I go several rounds.
A dog barks. Delete.
The kids run in circles above my studio. Delete.
Now I’ve lost the intended tone. Delete.
My throat is getting too dry. Delete and grab a drink.
I give it one last shot. This one has got to be it.
Now for the backing track. Music or sound effects?
Match the theme of the poem or make it offbeat?
Ooh, a nice saxophone and bongos would be neat.
Pulling it all together and listening on repeat.
That’s it! This recording is now complete.

Weekly Sessions

Slowly she enters the room
and approaches the bed.
She’s not feeling too keen on much else
than having poetry read.

She opens the book,
scans the room,
and gives you the look
to proceed.

Your breathless monologues
are what she needs.
She’s not looking for more,
only for your words.

Your voice begins to trigger sensations down below
as she closes her eyes,
breathes deep,
and sighs.

Your words soothe the tension
as each word is given careful attention,
knowing how each one caresses her mind,
seizing on the opportunity
to the revealing of her true beauty;
this is your one chance for unity.

She is captured by your guise.
You firmly believe the efforts are worthwhile.
The feeling is mutual
and catching you both by surprise.

You rise,
she’s reached her peak.
There are no more words left to speak.
The mind is tired and the body is weak.
You lean in and say, ‘I guess I’ll be seeing you next week.’


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