Tag: poet

Far Away

There are no words

That come to mind,

Seeing things pass by—

Another day is gone.

My sweet is far away.

I hear her voice,

But she won’t stay.

She has other things to do today.

Many moons will rise and fall

Before she comes back to me.

Many lonely days will pass

Until her face I see.

When she returns,

She will find me

Exceedingly happy,

Joyful, thankfully.

The End

Stretching out

Into open space,

Reaching for…

I know not what.

No, I don’t want to watch

Television.

I’m not interested

In being entertained.

I just want to be stimulated,

Mentally.

A song to sway with,

Would be cool,

But not just

Anything.

My mood is low,

My mind is going

On a journey,

To and fro.

Where I end up

Is any guess.

Where I go

I can’t confess.

Do you really

Want to know?

I am sure

I’ll make up my mind

Eventually.

I’ll choose wisely

And sugar free.

I will coast

Across the water,

Silently.

I’ll find a personal

Rainbow,

Can’t you see?

Yes, that’s it.

The end.

Darkness Falls

Echoes of grief

Creep into dreams.

Clamoring bells

Blast a hole

Into my memories.

Strange sentiments

Hover behind me,

Whispering temptation

To ecstasy.

To bite off a piece

Of reality—

That is my sentence.

To grab ahold

Of something nasty—

So close,

And yet,

Too far away.

To break through

Into another dimension.

To rage into the night!

Oh, so sweet.

So I lose my grip

On the pain

That haunts me.

Another journey.

It all seems

Plain to me.

So I surf right through

The Milky Way,

Cackling an insane laughter.

To be the one and only

Tortured company.

Let it burst into

A broken rip current.

Let it feed

On blood and gore.

Let it be—

Alone.

Can You Doubt It?

Pools of blood

Gathering beneath

The hanging body.

Breath goes out,

But doesn’t come back in.

Skin separated from the bones.

What is the truth?

They’ve washed their hands

Of any responsibility.

But can they wash away the blood?

Nightmares come

To remind the guilty.

Can you grit your teeth

And bare this torture?

Can you escape the horror?

This man was truly

From God.

Those who witnessed,

Cannot deny it.

Those who saw him later—

Walking, talking…

Breathing, eating—

Cannot shake the image

From their memory.

Restored but still wounded.

Put your finger

In my wrists and in my side.

He is alive!!!

Changing Gears

Sometimes there are reasons

For ways I think and feel,

And sometimes it just hits me

From out of nowhere.

I can’t plan a day ahead

Without being surprised

By something that happens

That changes my focus.

Being bipolar means that

Sometimes I am at the mercy

Of my mood. But that doesn’t mean

I’m helpless. I just have to

Constantly be aware

Of everything that affects me,

Inside and out.

It is a challenge,

But it’s possible.

Gone

Stilled.

The breath and the blood,

Slowing to a stop.

Where is the smile?

The laugh?

Or even the cry?

Seconds tick by…

No movement.

No voice calling.

What happened

To the thrill

Of living life

To its fullest?

What of risk,

Rides and rough-housing?

What of playing games,

Teasing and pranks?

What of kisses,

Hugs, and holding hands?

Life.

Gone!

Starting Over

Leave your heart

At the door,

Slammed shut,

With a thud.

Cover your eyes.

I don’t want you to see

How thin I’ve become,

Wasting away,

In loneliness.

And how I’ve hurt

On this special day.

How I wanted to say

Something cute,

Something caring,

Something happy;

But all that came out was,

“That’s nice.”

All I cared about

Was hiding my fear,

Not starting a fight again,

Over something stupid.

I want to start over.

I want to be closer.

I want to embrace your

Wilting body.

Let’s go down

To the river,

To drown our sin,

And come up again,

And bask in the sun.

Let’s hold each other again,

Like we once did,

When God smiled on us,

And we had not

A care in the world!