the paper moon
holds light up to the pain
while we strive to make gains
out of dust, knowing
weary travels
create a refrain within my heart
looking to you
I wonder
about the stories told to me as a boy
once
fresh from the cocoon
instability, and ability choose
to come along again soon
Photo by RosZie, Pixabay
I am so pleased to announce that my poem, cloudless drifter, is now available at MasticadoresIndia. Thank you to Terveen Gill, and the team at MasticadoresIndia for their continued support, and for publishing this piece.
cloudless drifter
oranges and limes fill the sky
a scent reminiscent of another time
when love was like a drop of candy in the winter
and the fields were dusty
a cloudless drifter…
I would be honored if you would go here, and read the rest of my poem. Thank you!
Photo by prettysleepy1, Pixabay
I point to each
star I see,
wanting to believe
in more
something
beyond the scope
of my
current
ability to cope
with the loss
in my heart,
living there like
a mirage that comes
upon us all at once,
and we stop,
stare, and deeply
revel in a dream
for something
more to be seen…
waiting,
watching,
wondering,
if what we see
is reality, or just
as it seems
blurry, through
the tears that fill
my eyes
continuously,
I seek
shelter,
from the field
of dancing projections
that live within
my minds limited
perfection
and,
the
paradox?
also living
within our heart,
is a capacity
beyond our ability
to comprehend,
so at times, we
pretend
to not notice, yet
the
mobility,
and nobility
once seen
on a movie
screen, now coming
home,
to you and me,
is so wondrous,
we pause, breathe
in the healing
presence, and realize
that all of life’s
dejections,
and, reflections,
live within our hearts
protection
memories forged of
another place and time, we
sit and ponder this
purple
the sunset
deep and lovely
creating wonder inside me
heart
Sitting, I ponder the nature of our
existence. Quiet mind, not a noise found
anywhere, silent, stillness, and so much
brilliance.
It fills my entire being with joy, of such
immenseness, at times it’s hard to actually
say more than this.
And, the more I learn, in fact, it seems
it’s in the saying less where we find out
what’s best.
It feels like it’s taken me an eternity to learn
this truth. Yet, it’s really only been one moment
since I was just a youth.
Time is funny that way, wouldn’t you say?
Long and drawn out in times of great stress,
or when we are simply unsure how to handle
life’s continuous tests.
And,
Short and awfully quick, in times when we
are in a hurry, rushing from here to there,
without even giving the scenery a second stare.
There is a third way, however, to see and experience,
all that surrounds you. It’s seen when we slow down,
and are present to each moment,
caring for them as if they were the only gift
that could possibly prevent our descent.
Darkness
Worn like a cloak
On a brocade
Of silence
Memories are translucent, and
Fibers of my being
Are hard, at times,
To piece together.
They fit in a splash
Of overlap, one
Scene runs
Into the
Next,
And, I’m often quite
Transfixed,
By the pictures I see,
So much so,
I wonder
If they
Are
Even really me.
Lightness
And, as the shadow
Lifts, light begins
To creep in,
Not all at once, no
Slowly, one measure
At a time.
The light must be
Careful, not to
Scare too
Much
Fright
Into the unsuspected.
Those who are not
Used to its fullness,
Stillness, and yes also
Goodness.
Yet, it does invade,
And pervade the senses,
Bringing with it, a new dawn,
With all of its new drawn-
Out histories, yet to be
Lived, and then, yes, eventually,
Told.
