Counting back to that first glance, seconds and minutes,
hours and years, the desire and candor of bodies,
when our days became charged with the pace of lives lived.
Years of longing renounce the yearning to another,
no longer young. The clamor of middle years
leaves satisfaction and knowledge in its place,
a quietness whose heft outweighs the struggles.
Wisdom is as wisdom does, patience is its own reward,
love never fails, never. And this is the choice,
made and kept, to choose you now and at each sunrise.
Even when the day comes my hand is not recognizable to you
And my laughter is silenced by your unknowing eyes.
Birds in the Sky
I dream of your kisses
And birds in the sky
I dream of your breath
And houses that are mine
And places I’ve never lived.
I dream of your mouth
And the sea salt smell of the ocean
And the taste of honey.
I dream of your hands
And the life that I live
And the feel of the earth.
I dream of your kisses
And the birds in the sky.
*** it has been such a gloomy few weeks, I have decided to revisit my love poems. Maybe they will bring a little light and lightness to my world, and hopefully, yours too ❤
The sea is grave
and into its gravity,
The sea’s gravity is to fly
or let the sea
have its will.
The sea’s grave is to wing
or let gravity
have its way.
He flew, you know,
rightly or wrongly,
his journey is more than I can claim.
Because no matter the circumstance,
my wings have been clipped
and I am grounded.
A grave attraction of gravity
I look at the afterlife
through rose colored glasses
cause why not
the heaven we wish for
is the heaven we get
and there is no hell
and the love you felt
from your mom and dad
from your wife
when you held your babies
the time the guitar lick
cause the room to hush
then set it on fire
all that is just a whisper
of what you will feel
when you inhale here
They wish to take some time,
if the room is still available,
for words and thoughts
the way left fallow.
Fields undone as last night’s argument.
Each shall return to the place of their beginning.
Manumission of the indentured souls
shall be relieved of their suffering.
Sewing not the ruptured,
sowing not the fields, emptied.
Fields undone as last night’s wrath.
The decisions to be made
will make each aware
of the secrets and courage which
brings justice to the birds
on the verge of the turned earth.
Fields undone as last night’s tears.
All debts are forgiven,
all fields left fallow,
in the year of seven times seven.
As the old year slinks away into the night,
I throw my shoes at its shadow.
Shaking the dusty months from my clothes,
I wear my cap and shirt inside out
So the old minutes and seconds can’t cling
Like a bad smell.
I salt the earth where the previous days
Stretched on and on,
Assuring they will not
Follow me into the new year.
When the New Years Eve bonfire is burning,
I gather the bitter herbs
And walk counter clock wise into the previous moments,
Casting the hated bouquet into the flame
Leaving its acrid taste behind
With the smell of its grief and sorrow.
Only then will I wreath my head with four leaf clovers,
Fill my pockets with new pennies
And my trunks with rabbit’s feet and horseshoes
And walk bravely into the coming year.
Head held high and with cheerful optimism,
I greet the new day.
** an old poem but always a good reminder to leave the past in the past and move into the new year with hope and positive expectations.
I will if you will!
Happy New Year, my friend. May it be filled with wonder and delight.
I wish you and yours all things merry and bright!