Tag Archives: poem

Goodnight (The Joy of Living a New Day)

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Nothing was asked of the night except to keep me cradled in the sea of it’s shadows…

Think nothing of me… be non-objective while listening to cries of my anxieties that during my waking moments I am unable to find the words needed to express myself yet when I close my eyes…

The only cause for my parting lips is to exhale…

I dream… I wonder and wander…

Become lost in worlds composed from fragments of every experience in my life that are foreign all the same and I do not wish to be found…

Here where I am hidden from the outside world to see, there is a chill in my bones…

The longing for flesh and blood to insulate this free soul roaming uncharted territories far from home… for the sunlight to warm my skin…

For a new day to take place of the darkness where I was able to leave yesterday behind in the darkness…

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Perseids ( A Walk Into the Soul)

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My walk is one attempted in complete silence… Closing my eyes and listening only to the repetition of the muffled drumming in my chest to echo locate the core of my being in the darkness…

Where there is only me and my shadow that have become one with the sightless background… memories depict images that have become only to distract me… and I do not wish to see anything…

For all that has set in line with my vision has failed my heart… Taken everything and have given nothing in return, except for the burdened weight each thought… and since there is no peace in that my walk proceeds…

Hoping at some point that blind faith will lead me to either the edge of the earth or the end of the world leaving nothing but space surrounding me and the light of the stars before they fall.

Point of Reference (Verisimilitude)

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Mercury questions an ageless dilemma…

An escape that we seek often not only sits before us but also chooses to stare deeply back into our eyes and in the timespan of a blink, where we once were is not where we stand…

Dream lovers of our imaginations and prisoners of our fears… should we wield the courage to reach out and there be nothing but physicality to the touch, the grasp of peace that love offers eludes us and the pathway to the heart becomes a map of roads that don’t lead…

…Those roads… the numerous thoughts that have been walked upon but never really traveled, because where they go are quite a distance from home… a distance from ourselves where we have already found comfort alone… yet companionship is the yearn…

…and there is a darkness that bears the weight of the ocean surrounding us, our movements are slow within it and we can hear the hush of the approaching waves in the distance… hoping that they will wash over us as a sentence manages to part from our souls having no use for our lips…

We pose the universe… Is this real? Because our hearts no longer possess the strength to become unbroken.

Angell #1

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You are…

So the question is not if I can see you, for the possibility of peering through the flesh is impossible and you are far from invisible…

For all of the world to see… the people walk by… I stop, staring to appreciate…

My what you mean to me…

In mere seconds the amount of time given to me on this earth decreases, yet the value in spending time in connection gifts time belonging only to me as I stand before you removing layer upon layer with my eyes to see you all the while becoming naked myself…

Beyond sex and the intimacy of a kiss is a look at you with both intensity and vulnerability for to do so bears the contract of a willingness to be seen just the same…

You are the art of work, of experience, of pain, of happiness, of love, of life lived… you are a work of art.

Mendacious (Pathway to admit the truth)

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How I came be… that was an act of love from which I was birthed.

Who I am…

Is the result of years of experiences that are unique to me and no one else. There was no map leading me to this point, just the same as there was no road map that lead me to you…

When I met you… My beginning was so far away and yet where I stood felt very much like home, so much so that looking back seemed to only be something that was meant to be learned from and not relived…

Breathing a sigh of relief I took the leap of faith…

Not once ever considering if you needed to be caught… my feet touched the ground beside you…

I took your hand and began walking…

Where we were going… I can’t exactly say… because everything was so brand new, it didn’t really seem to matter and now the matter at hand is that mine which once held yours is now empty… I can’t see you and even worse I don’t know where I am…

How did we get here?

To a place where all that is left with me are the faint phantoms of all things that are you and where all the ghosts of me reside with you… yet we no longer occupy the same space. A place where I’ve already learned that looking back may give me an answer… knowing that what I am really looking for is the pathway leading back to you…

But the only road that is lit, is the one that places me farther away… So I take it, promising myself that I will forget you…

But I lied…

I miss you…

Untitled #6

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What I could say that would capture your heart never need pass in thought nor over my lips… For what good would it do behold a heart that does not see the light of day, for caged birds do not sing…

… and I have waited patiently to hear your song… Though I must confess that despite the fact that my ears had not heard a single note, my soul would tune in… listening closely when you were near… Wondering the color of your love…?

And what I would do should that pigment ever stain my fingers…

If allowed to take my hands, submerge them into you and with your essence at my fingertips… compose the world of your dreams right before your eyes… using nothing but your primary colors provided…

… Your reds of anger, frustration and love…

… Yellows of your happiness and laughter…

… Blues of your tranquility and also sadness…

Three colors and a world of possibilities all contained in one heart…

So how dare I to ever try and detain one that beats in melodies that make my soul waltz in thoughts of your color pouring into me slowly like finger-paints yet fluid as watercolors… yet I would never want to draw a single tear… diluting the intensity of your world…

… I am your painter… and the canvas upon which I paint your dreams will be my own beating heart…

Absolution (Capturing Angels)

Posted on by under chicago, poems, Poetry

What is this unfair advantage?

That I would write a million words to capture your soul,

only to deeply and truly understand that it will never fully

belong to me…

Yet you need say nor scribe a single word…

and in the very act of even imagining your look upon me,

you are able to extract vivid descriptions of how I see you

for your own keeping…

And my soul is not at rest…

wondering where you keep them because

the are a part of me…

And yes… knowing that they are with you

as they are intended to be…

comforts me to know they are in a good place…

But this place I for myself have not seen…

I dream of it… but east of where I lay,

a new day will soon begin and along with it, the vision fades from my memory…

and as level as my bed may rest,

the seventy-eight percent of me composed of water

brews storms of anxiety knowing that before I even open my eyes…

my morning will be spent alone…

I die a little… my heart… cries a little…

yet I am dehydrated… parched for your love

and you are not near… but it also doesn’t feel as if you are miles away…

So even knowing that your soul will never be mine…

with only a few words true from my heart…

for a moment I can touch it… steal a glimpse of it in the palest of lights

and in the midst of the darkest nights when I need it most…

cling to it until the dawn of a new day…

Because I was given a gift,

that allows me to do so all in the name of love,

until the day I am rendered speechless.

(122114NP)

The Book

Posted on by under chicago, poems, Poetry

Where was I when you found me?

Did I call out to your sense of inner desire to see… what am I to you?

If but a collection of thoughts, memories and dreams… I must ask… did you read them merely see them… though the words could only come from my lips…

Did you read between the lines of the sentences spoken to take in what I was saying to you… to see and observe not only that there was information being communicated but also that it was being shared… did you touch me or hold me… did I captivate you… I want to speak but my conviction to simply stare at you is so complex that speech is not necessary… you will see what I wish to know… what wish to say in my eyes…

how does that feel… are you touched… Will you remember me, or will I be forgotten… or forbidden… the very memory of me has no essence unless rooted to a part of you…

what am I… flip through my moments… share them back with me… refer to me in old age… for I am but an open book… with space for notes… and pages to begin new chapters.