Poetry Is His Lover Now

He courts an absent muse.

His words made to compel

induce, seduce

her from the shadows.

Summer evening breezes

blow through open windows

like a whispering paramour.

Reminiscent of gentle kisses,

letters form across the screen

thanks to the subtle stokes

applied to each button

by passionate fingertips.

The right combination of keys

have the power to unlock mysteries

and desires and fears,

laughter and tears.

The varying cadence unfolds.

A quickening pace

followed

by lingering glances,

over words

that caresses themselves

into sultry sentences.

Poetry is his lover now.

Awkward and stilted with the newness

lovely and warm with experience

Intimate thoughts shared

before he drifts to blissful slumber.

Planning for the Morrow

Not peaceful

But calm

Not content

But no alarms.

Quiet night

Only hums

Wide awake

Twiddling thumbs.

Preparing for

Unwelcome surprise

Assuming more

Tear-filled eyes.

Fight the urge

to fight some more

Take the hit’s

Just ignore.

In due time

Things may change

Crossed lines

Means lives rearranged.

Might just fret

Despite the clues

Ego’s ready

For another bruise.

Or there may be

Another way.

Gentler words

For that, we pray.

Midnight Call

A string of tea lights line the mantel

Flames dance and lick the air

Their shadows weave and waver along the wall.

She cups her hand behind each candle

Like a lover around the nape, before a kiss

One by one she blows, extinguishing them all.

One light remains, a bluish glow

Illuminating a corner of the room

Her computer idle, waiting one half hour past his midnight call.

She dumps her tea, it too grew cold

A yawn, a sigh, but no tear and she powers down for bed

Forgoes the nightly rituals, and up the stairs she crawls

To slumber now and hope of dreams of the distant man who wanders

in and out of her mind and heart, with inconsistent words he sometimes squanders.

Hay Moon

Introspection, a specialty of those who try to figure it out

from the comfort of their chair.

Extrospection, for those who prefer to learn

while wind whips through their hair.

Still, there’s beauty in knowing

no matter where one sits on this sphere,

That the other one can bask in the full moon’s light

and for a moment, once again feel near.

The sun and moon,

the planets and stars,

all cut through the sky

but leave no scars.

Inky black waves lap at the shore

ebbing and flowing like a writer’s pen

drifting from margin to margin,

again and again.

A muse, restless within you.

A man, restless without you.

A night, glowing in pale blue.

Problems, you easily sail through.

Inside or out

Head or heart

Doesn’t matter the role

Just play your part.

Used To

Used to hold your hand every time we walked.

Now no rings grace your fingers.

Used to hug as a greeting.

Now a grunt may count, as long as it lingers.

Used to smile,

Because you made it come so easy.

It’s been a while

Since I’ve felt love-sick queasy.

Used to have a partner who

Made me feel everything would work out all right.

Used to have a body to hold

As I laid in bed at night.

Used to cry

With belly laugh induced tears of joy.

Never used to feel tossed around

Like a ragged, slobbered on dog’s used toy.

Once upon at time I thought

There was nothing we couldn’t get through.

Never once thought

I’d be standing here alone, trying to figure out what to do.

The First Embrace

Who are they trying to fool?
These rookies know nothing of love.

They share coffee and misery
Shoptalk of the things they hate
The people, the politics
The stress, the strain
How things will never be the same.

She peppers her queries
Like a tentative cook
“Who are you seeing?”
“Why or why not?”
He oblivious.
He was never taught
The subtleties of a prowling woman.

Both worry about money
And where it will come from next.
How they don’t get enough
And too much goes to their ex.

They are beleaguered and torn apart
The corporate world they fight in
No doubt they are both smart,
Except for matters of the heart.

Sometimes their voices grow softer
As if to flirt with the idea of something more.
Clear to those who look on
That he’s the one she adores.

He knows none of this.
Focused on his task
Complaining, moaning
He's a pain in the ass.

Eventually they step outside the cafe
Into the darkness illuminated by the moon
And framed by a wall of glass.

They are ready to part
To finish the night and prepare for another day
But she finds words
That compel him to stay

And then they embrace,
Like colleagues who’ve been through hell
And lived to share their tales.
But it lingers
Longer.
She does not release
The embrace
Makes his insistent talking cease.

He stumbles backward,
Stammers and smiles.
She lets him go
The way a fisherman makes good sport.
She turns to her car and says goodnight

He may be hooked,
Maybe shook,
But he will not sleep well tonight.
And we, us seasoned romantics
Alone in the cafe with our pens and words
And empty cups long grown cold
Witnessed it and know
Whatever it will become
Would never have begun
Without her.

Those Eyes

Chilly mornings,
Blackened skies,
Miss the brightness,
Of your eyes.

They used to sparkle.
They used to dance.
Now they're swollen,
And in a trance.

Wide eyes,
Ready for adventure
and an easy laugh.
Replaced with irritation
Over every gaffe.

What will help them
Come alive once more?
Not enough for me
To adore.

Those eyes
They look past me,
And toward a future
I can not yet see.

When a heart gets broken

it seldom splits in two.

It shatters into many pieces

and you slump, hands clutching a bottle of glue.

We’ll Manage Somehow

You can laugh

or you can cry,

You can learn

to say good bye,

We'll manage somehow.

You can scream

or you can shout,

You can try

to figure it out,

We’ll manage somehow.

You can ignore

or go quiet,

You can leave

for the Hyatt,

We’ll manage somehow.

You can criticize

or you can accuse,

You can blame

do what you choose,

We’ll manage somehow.

You can take

all the time

You think you need,

And you can test

all your theories,

ignore my plead.

You can think

all you want,

You can act

nonchalant.

You keep trying

to convince me

that I’m wrong.

You keep lying

to your own self,

normally so strong.

It’s okay.

It’s all

I can say.

We’ll manage somehow.

No Winning

When you write from the heart
a heart gets broken.
When you write from the head
you leave things unspoken.

When you're quiet and listen
you hear problems being born.
When you speak out of turn
a new orifice is torn.

When you seek to bring humor
only scowls prevail.
And when you seek to clarify
your sequestered and jailed.

When you search for happiness
in a late summer breeze;
you find yourself stumbling
toward a swarm of angry bees.

When you advocate for your needs
your desires and wishes;
your accused of being selfish,
uncaring or malicious.

And when you close your mouth
and decide to turn the other way,
you're compelled by a force
that implores you to stay.

Fight all you want.
Deny what you must.
Such is the curse
found between true love and lust.

Superheroes Need Not Apply

No need for kings or angels or spirits
high with righteous zeal.
No need for magicians or wizards
or super men, who can turn on a heel.

No one asked for your help.
No one needs your saving.
No one cares if you can fly,
we got all that we need.
Superheroes need not apply.

It's not like there's no problems
that need to be solved.
Or broken things that need mending,
but we're all too self involved.

So it's great that you've got answers,
and awesome that you've got a plan,
but I didn't asked to be rescued,
I don't need no superman.

Frustrated hero
no one needs saving.
Lots are in agony,
and lots have a craving.

And there are things this hero
could do to ease the pain.
Just waiting for the hotline
to start ringing again.

It's not like people are living
the best that they could.
Not like a little hero help
couldn't do them some good.

But they're not crying for heroes
things aren't the same.
People don't like being rescued
they prefer finding someone to blame.

No one asked for your saving.
Sorry if it makes your plans go awry,
But we got all that we need.
Superheroes need not apply.

They Tell Me There Are Angels

So they tell me there are angels
devoted to me
charged with guidance
and peace and safety.

So maybe there’s a new crew
fresh with their young wings
because I’m not feeling guided
or peaceful, or any other things.

So welcome, dear rookies
I hope you enjoy your new post;
been challenging times
more troubling than most.

I’m a big talker
and will call on you often
with time I’m sure
my heart you will soften

It’s breaking right now
too much to bear
I trust you’ll help stitch it together
it’s due for repair.

Humid Night

Humid night,

the kind that makes you aware that you're wearing a shirt

but wish you weren't.

Perched atop a concrete pier on the edge of a continent.

The ocean further back than it normally is during these reflective moments

yet it inches closer, ever closer

with each curl of foamy waves,

visiable only because of ambient light,

the calming glow of a crescent moon,

a single line of stars and planets above

and the bobbing spotlights of fishing boats beyond.

A nascent breeze I pretend to be cool.

Cool soothes me better.

A paper cup brimming with hot coffee

is my only companion.

I drink it despite the humidity and heat

out of habit or comfort perhaps.

Its’ caffeine destroys my headache.

The snapping and popping of fireworks go off behind me

though obscured from view.

I walked along the waters’ edge earlier,

to see if I could find a chill and contemplate the evil

that I'm told lurks and surrounds.

Thought too of who

would jump in and swim,

if they were here.

Blind to the dolphins and seals

and the things that pursue them.

And I thought for a moment

about joining the waves

in hopes of finding my soul.

Foolish perhaps.

I may still be carrying it.

Or it could be buried

a treasure amongst the rocks and mica speckled sand.

Such great fortune.

So aware of divine gifts

yet shackled by my own devices

or by an unseen but well known nemesis.

Angels surround me, of that I'm sure

but they're limits may be tested.

Their wings weary from flight.

‘Tis I who now must stand,

and fly and fight.

Hello there evil, come from the shadows

you needn’t lurk anymore

for I now know you and will defeat you

today and evermore.

I Hate What You Do to Me

Such sweet words, such sweet times

can’t be sure which ones are just lines

to keep me here at bay

while you wonder your time away

Lots of stars in evening skies

but one true light that sees me through

not always there the way I wish

but you’ve got a gift with the things you do.

And though the love can’t be denied

the proclamations do subside.

Not a fan of boundaries or control.

Like my yes’s more than no’s.

But you cross each line

that you make me draw.

And leave me to wonder,

what the hell did I draw that for?

You build me up

when I need it most.

Then you kick me down

and start to boast.

Proud of how independent you are

and proud to be an adult

with your selfish ways.

Guess you think love is a net

that catches you when you fall.

But you spread it out in a way that tangles me

and holds me down.

Never remember the conversations that we’ve had.

The times I tell you when some things make me feel bad

“Opps I’m sorry I never knew,

it’s just a thing I’m going through.”

And you know I’ll be here forever

and you know my love is strong

and you know my heart goes racing

every time you go off and do something wrong.

And you hate how I may judge you.

You’ve a different point of view.

But you fail to see

how you affect me

in everything you do.

Wonder when things will settle?

No, I know they won’t be the same.

Can’t go back to what was.

But can’t take anymore of this game.

Do I count at all for anything?

Does it matter not to you?

Am I just the security blanket to soothe

or a window you only look through?

Can’t you see how it destroys me?

Can’t feel the pain it brings?

You say you didn’t invite it

but you answer ever phone that rings.

You scream that I must trust you

as you feel your way through.

But your judgement has been broken

so what am I supposed to do?

Do a stand here idling

as you travel through your dreams?

Grin through the burden,

while I burst at the seam?

Then you ask me if I’m angry

for you really don’t understand me at all.

And I ask and plead and cough ‘till I bleed,

then say, “No, go ahead dear, have a ball”.