People were like soap operas—
So when I could,
I’d turn them to sonnets.
And when I couldn’t,
I’d call it a wash.
Call it a wash
Home » Posts tagged 'love' (Page 15)
Tag Archives: love
Awesome—
I don’t need reassurance
to know I’m awesome—
Denial’s just too much fun
and if I actually had the drive
I’d be off a cliff by now—
inspiring admiration, apprehension, or fear.
It always hurt to admit, but what doesn’t?
Our Gestation Period
When I found her like
a set of lost keys,
it was a mystery even to her
where she’d been hiding
or who left her there—but
I knew that look, as I’d worn once—
and it wasn’t me anymore.
So I let her sleep.
And I let her eat.
Then after her strength regained,
I walked her to the wood,
and watched her twirl with the wind—
of all that remained,
and all she’d forgotten—
like a dizzy spell I’d soon be too.
Eye of the Sea
It all just felt so dull sometimes
Uninspired and too common place
That I’d do anything it took
To convince them otherwise
Mixed up I believed fire could walk on water
Then became the fool to my own dirty tricks
Until she told me the eye of the sea
Could never be lost or found, but that
It was always there, brilliant and dazzling
And that, it was waiting inside of me
Resolution
Enjoy the day.
It’s more beautiful than not.
Happy New Year 2021
My heart bleeds tonight
New Years Eve
2021
As if it would be
Any different—
Happy New Year folks!
Wind Chimes
Wind Chimes float—
With effortless ease—
It’s something we—
Could never quite be—
Two souls swirling
In the restless ear of want.
Huckleberry Heels
Silence falls like snowflakes
Covering the field
Where birds like statues watch
My huckleberry heels
With frost left underfoot
The hallow ground revealed
Where doe tread light as feather
And sun spill bleeds me home
for John Fante
Perhaps I’ve said too little,
perhaps I’ve said too much.
Whichever be the case Fante,
perhaps I’ll Ask The Dust.
To understand one’s suffering
To understand one’s suffering
Is to understand our own,
Knowing causes pain—
But still with hope we try
To understand one’s suffering
Is to be on their side, regardless
Of the awful many cuts
Through the tenderness of night—
Their aim is (not) to heal
But still with hope we lie,
To understand one’s suffering(…)
Like fruit picked from a vine.
Words Of An Average White Male 