Poetry Blogs (2012, Understanding)
I had been her son all my life
But not all of hers
When she started calling me
By her brother’s name
Not my dad’s
Dead for these past 10 years
A stroke will do that to you
Make you forget what you were saying
Struggling to find the rig...
Wednesday 6th May 2020 12:04 pm
I know I traded something
A part of me
For the splendid splendour of money
I did that thing you shouldn’t do
I gave myself to him
You know, the soul
Cut a piece of myself out for him
You know, the heart
I cut a piece of myself off for him
(You know which part)
But I didn't feel a thing
I'm waiting to miss it
I'm waiting for the pain
Monday 3rd February 2020 1:43 pm
There are no wise men any more
their old wisdom is lost
no old spells that cure
no potions endure
where once they saved the farmer's herd
the mystery is blurred
and spells that helped a marriage spurned
are no longer learned
the people who once were in their debt
turn to the internet
There are no wise men any more
their actions show their flaws
no old spell...
Monday 4th February 2019 10:19 am
Her skin can open up like a mouth
It can speak
When it parts
It can extend like a tongue
It can taste
Your arteries are seams
Try to unpeel them
Slip off your flesh
Search your pores
For secret trap doors
Let the inside out
Part it like a mouth
It can speak
Unfold the red carpets
Of rolled and folded tongue
Let it searc...
Sunday 27th January 2019 12:48 pm
He bows at her body, thankful and polite, acknowledges the service, plays the part.
She smiles at stories, smart enough to be cynical but hopeful enough to be happy.
He takes out a notepad and pretends not to watch for a reaction
As she reads his silver words
As she reads his mind through the blunt tool of his silver words.
He thinks he’s wrong because she told h...
Friday 18th January 2019 5:49 pm
I hope that around the world
are trying to look through
taking another perspective
and showing compassion
Sunday 6th January 2019 9:13 am
Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen
They’ve really enjoyed playing here over the years
It has been a wonderful experience for one and all
but now it is my sad duty to announce that
peace, love and understanding have left the building.
Peace, she left by the back door
Her sullen face only lightened by the thought
that it cannot always be this way
Thursday 4th October 2018 8:27 pm
There were tears
Rolling down my face.
I never was a pretty crier,
So I looked away.
Heard your voice
Over my heavy breathing,
Crying harder when you said
You weren't leaving.
I hold tight to everything;
Knuckles white from my grip.
If I let go, even a little,
My whole world could slip.
I've been afraid, though,
To hold onto you.
My heart ga...
Tuesday 17th April 2018 5:17 am
true beauty comes from the radiance and uniqueness of something standing out like a fire lit in the night sky... what i find beautiful, is something different. something that is unlike anything or anyone else. it'll stand out.. have a purpose, a meaning, or just something beautifully different to look and find interest in.. something that has so many more "shades" and colors rather than just one. ...
Sunday 11th March 2018 2:28 am
Here I go again
Explaining another quirk to some bullshit that happened years ago
I don't keep journals anymore
I hate writing in pen, normally
Someone always saw
Someone always spoke
I always saw some psych
So I never published under my own name
For fear of commitment
In a sense
And here I am
Ashamed of my behavior
Knowing how damaged I sound
"Considering the many things
Sunday 26th November 2017 4:26 am
Too much was lost in silence
too long the time that winds
between our words of love and passion
with communion only in our minds
Too much assumed in union
of our two souls' mute desires
but I did not see her inmost needs
or hear how quietly pain suspires
I should have peeped inside
while she nightly dreamed in peace
to glimpse her mind's apparel
as it dan...
Wednesday 22nd November 2017 2:14 pm
I have always hankered after the life of the artist - including the world of the visual arts. In retirement I have the opportunity to follow that yearning.
The Humble Heart of the Craftsman
As corruption sheds its sting when seen
from lofty heights,
so humility shows its mettle
in the steady care of the gifted creator;
turning one's gaze from skilled hands
to the thi...
Wednesday 15th November 2017 3:29 pm
I've lived the times
Of the theater of my life
Dancing in the foyer:
Comprised the entirety
Of my personal repetoire;
Dress rehearsals were
Never taken seriously:
The final play was just
A moments decision
Hurried through a huddle
Of half-written plots.
The masterful monologues
Of my long and intrepid career
Were carried off by the
Glib tongue of the characters
Thursday 19th January 2017 5:46 am
I break everything I touch; At first seemingly simple- But soon too much, For my games are so nimble. My feelings out of reach- always too far to touch. And not made known through speech; I am an observer- I keep my distance; I am not a conformer- And at times lack resistance. I speak my words carefully, I am a reformer- And I shall go about it tastefully, Though always be straig...
Friday 25th April 2014 4:27 pm
Lurking in the natural world
there are sentences, still unspoken
always waiting to be written
frozen in time
waiting for the great warmth
of a curious heart
Haunting at the edges of the living world
are spirits of the unspoken connectivity in people
dead and alive, the as-yet unborn
caught between planes
waiting for the flashlight beam
of a curious heart
There is an untapped seem ...
Tuesday 4th December 2012 10:29 am
Sonnets are meant to be about romance
You know? All that's good.
But why should form be contained,
can one not make love to the page
in their own expression?
Imagination like a dodgems car,
wild yet bumpy.
And I guess that's what love is,
you can try to steer in the right direction
but there will always be obstacles...
Sunday 15th April 2012 6:49 pm
What worlds turn behind your almond eyes, that ready smile,
that childish innocence that lingers long when you are gone?
I feel your warmth through chubby hands and stubby fingers
of a child. You will not make old bones in this cold life
of sticks and stones and superstitious fears. Some careless god
cut short your years; played blackjack with your chromosomes
in a game that ...
Friday 7th August 2009 6:30 pm