I speak my mind. Poetry, blogging and stories. If it strikes a chord, let me know.
Depart from my wayward soul,
Drift dazedly through warmer waters;
For my heart is but a cold hard stone,
And this world an open charter.
Chipped and worn by rocks and tempest,
My heart is shrunk and cracked.
You tear your fins on my jagged edges,
Lose scales to my back.
Valiant as your efforts are,
Your flesh runs red with pain.
For stones, like bones, bring pain to flesh,
And never know the same.
Kiss me with your words,
Love me with your actions,
Hold me with your thoughts,
Listen to show attraction.
A penny for your thoughts,
A nickel for your heart.
Treasure my love and give me hope,
Breed kindness from the start.
Then kiss me with your lips,
And hold me in your arms,
For love is only fairy tales
If stricken from the heart.
I didn’t keep it. I wish I had.
And it all comes back
in a flood of rosy cheeks
you will never understand.
Quick as a flash
That moment was gone
When you reminded me
of lame but lovable dancing
sweet Eskimo kisses
and tender embraces.
Gone, left with bitter memories
of who you used to be
Scalded by your molted sweetness,
the stolen serendipity of your absence.
I’m left with the solitude of regret
founded upon my vulnerability
and a soreness
I’m afraid to put my finger on.
Missing the Point
The point of poetry is to learn something. Sometimes, you’re going to write crappy poetry and it’s not going to be pretty. Sometimes you write corny nonsense just for the fun of it. It doesn’t make it any less a piece of art. Poetry isn’t concrete, it’s fluid. If you end a poem with the same frame of mind as you started it, you missed the point. Write, read, love, like, critique, don’t criticize; be creative and be embarrassingly vulnerable in your writing. And most of all, learn.
I’ve been here before
so why have my feet returned
to where my heart lays heavy
and my tears are burnt?
The last was 10/31/10.
I miss the letters,
The words of compassion
Flowing straight from thought
Anxious words on a page
Hoping beyond hope
To be returned
To be cherished
To be loved
The simple innocence
Of words on a page
The naïveté of wearing
Your heart on your sleeve.
I kept your letters.
To be comforted
Only by daydreams
Means I spend my day
Dreaming, heartstrings pulled gently
By missing you.
I want love higher than the heavens,
I wanna find my better part,
I’m reaching for the sweetest point
where you and I can start.
If dreamer’s dreams speak lullabies,
Sleep draws heaviness from tired eyes.
The coolness of the quiet dark
Cools to ember dreamer’s spark.
As sleep stalks dreamer’s restless thoughts,
Dreamer finds what rest was sought.
Dreamer, warm in sheltered bed,
Sinks away from heavy head.
As slumber draws the day away,
The inner child comes out to play.
Child restores intentions grand
‘Til dawn draws dreamer from this land.