The Year

I posted this one on Tumbler as I was able to actually write it in stanzas on that medium, rather than in my usual way on WordPress. Seems that copying and pasting from Apple Pages only lets me do it one way. As for myself, I’m still trying to get a hang of this poetry thing, trying to find the words that express what I see and feel. Being a novice, I know that I don’t write classic poetry but I feel that it’s better to at least try and write something, rather than hide in a darkened space allowing my creativity to fade away and die. Does this make any sense? Oh well, enjoy this latest as I continue on this journey of self discovery.

The year is slipping away

faster than ever before

or so it seems,

as I press on forward

into the featureless landscape

that lays out before my eyes.

I seek to find

in poetry and song

that muse 

instead I hear machines

crunching on the bones

of was once a dream.

Peace and love

we sang and danced

filled with hope

now a darkness pervades

truth is buried

under the dark soil

its funeral going unnoticed

as we carry our spades

to throw more detritus

of our failed lives onto the pyre.

Underneath our soles

the ground is moving

carrying us ever forward

relentlessly.

Truth may be buried

yet death cannot hold

that which is light

as it slips between the cracks

breaking down barriers

seeking to divide.

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Reflection on Aging

Aging is a process

that takes fortitude

to meet the days ahead

trying to do those little things

that once were so much easier.

The advertisements promise

to give one renewed vigor

just this one little pill

and soon you’ll be better than ever

but unlike Alice

this is no Wonderland

and although the pill worked once

does not mean you will also.

To gray with grace

to love and dream still

is all one can hope

as time slowly grinds away

and we are once more dust

having left our imprint

on the shadowed walls 

of hearts that we loved

Morning Thoughts

I awoke this morning

with her next to me

watching as her chest

rose and fell with each breath

we have grown older

our frail bodies betray us

yet, this love endures

in the everyday moments

of our living together

I can only give thanks

to that which is unseen

for reaching into my heart

touching my deepest self

opening my inner eye

to see the beauty of life

watching her next to me.

Small Things

It’s never that one big thing

that grand gesture

the opulent present

or the vast quantity spent

much is done in small ways

the tiny hand holding on a finger

a small crocus defiantly breaking through

a slight word that either cuts or heals

we live the butterfly effect

with our daily small gestures

a smile or frown

a look into another’s eyes

or downcast and aloof

can do so much to build or destroy

the fragile human heart.

I think of these things

as I write this poem

knowing my few words

are just small things

being tossed into the sea

a letter in a bottle

to one day wash 

upon a lonely, distant shore

there to be read

by one lost and afraid

who seeks just that,

small words to comfort

to heal the wounds

wrought in the daily living

that touch the heart

with a small breath

that lingers on the soul.

Thanksgiving at the Chateau

We’re going out

Ma, proclaimed

but it’s Thanksgiving

we all cried out,

now we’re going out

to the Chateau De Ville

so I don’t have to cook.

So off we went

all dressed up

Dad driving us down

to the route 9 destination

up on a hill looking regal

for a Thanksgiving feast

and a show

some bad comedian

I seem to recall

and a Sinatra wannabe

warbling old time tunes.

Ma, was happy

us not so much

there would be no leftovers

no homemade pies and such

but on that one Thanksgiving

Ma got what she needed most

some time away from being the one

responsible for our feast

and for that she was most thankful.

Messy

It’s messy 

never quite right

the human heart

that continues to fight

against the tide

rushing upon the shore

filled with false pride.

Ever standing 

on the shifting sands

losing our balance

watching the sea boil.

The messiness overtakes

a relentless tsunami 

until at last it breaks

upon rock that stands

silent amidst the noise.

I Write

I write today

I write every day

I write to delve into

the deep mystery

of my own existence

of why I am who I am

of uncovering the layers

built up over the years

taking off the masks

I’ve so carefully constructed

from pieces lost along the way.

I’m not one of the greats

my grammar is deficient

my word choice limited

the head and heart

separated by space and time

memory shared

truth told

to a lover

in poetry written

as we embrace in the evening.

I write the poems 

that flash across the screen

leaving breadcrumbs

for me to follow

where, I never know

yet, I write to understand.

In the darkness of the day

as truth is bent and shaped

molded around the soul

encased in the tomb

I write, to break the walls

to open my mind

to rise and see

the sun shining brightly

on the horizon

of my dreams.