Night sky,
end of July,
feeling the need for rain.
Crisp lawn,
break of dawn,
awake to the sun again.
Day breaks,
nature awakes,
another beautiful morn.
Waiting again,
for absent rain,
as grass yearns to be reborn.
Category Archives: poetry
Because that’s how he held me
9 Comments
His grip was strong,
but tender,
and that’s how he held me,
firm in his grasp, but tender in his emotion.
But it wasn’t just how he held me,
it’s how he saw me.
His look was beyond flesh,
it looked past imperfections.
He just saw me,
for who I was,
under the shroud of my physical form.
He looked into me and,
as his hand held mine,
in that frozen moment,
I became lost in him.
His grip was strong, but tender,
and in that grasp,
now lies my heart.
Life is all about texture
1 Comment
Drawn by its depth,
silenced by its beauty
and amazed by its complexity.
The first to break eye contact
5 CommentsI stared at the beast.
It gazed back at me,
its eyes filled with the same intensity.
It hummed with a quiet curiosity
as I pondered over the best approach.
We both remained reticent,
neither willing to concede a loss
in the staring contest in which we had become engaged.
We both sat,
watchful of each other,
waiting for the other to make the first move,
until the warmth of my skin
finally touched its cold, hard surface.
The keys began to move under my fingers
and the writing process began again.
Rage against the dying of the light
3 Comments
The perfect evening sky
is painted by the swaying branches
that continue to brush blue into the waning day.
A cool breeze
carries the scent of the lilacs.
Dusk approaches,
but day fights for its last moments
before the fireflies seize the night.
Leaves dance in the wind,
laughing as they are tickled by the currents of spring.
A lone butterfly
floats on the updrafts,
silently raging against the dying of the light.
The sun pulls up the blanket of the horizon,
golds and yellows caress the trees one last time
and the day succumbs
to the sleep of night.
The writing on the wall
12 Comments
Life is full of itself,
simply and purely.
It doesn’t grant extra time for our worries
and it doesn’t allow further moments to dry our tears.
It evolves,
it moves forward,
never forgetting the past,
embracing all of its successes
and hopefully learning from its mistakes.
Although happiness sometimes turns to regret,
and smiles turn into frowns,
life does goes on.
And somewhere,
beyond confusion and pain,
in each life lies a new road,
paved with promises,
traveled by souls who have understood
the sign on the shoulder that reads
“it goes on”.
~~
Dirty little secrets
12 CommentsMuted secrets,
poignantly apparent,
bereft of understanding.
Walls painted in silence,
ceiling fans churning the absence of dialogue.
Silence is not always golden.
The reticence can stain.
Neglect is a dirty color.
But silence breaks,
and whispers become a symphony of sound.
Never let me go
4 Comments
I held you in a dream.
You became a part of me,
as if my body never ended
and you were merely
an extension of me.
And though I felt like I was floating away,
you were there
to pull me back to you,
to hold me in my slumber,
to keep me in your embrace,
to never let me go.
**I saw a video of these otters slowly drifting apart and coming back together. They inspired this poem.
The passage of time
4 Comments
Second hands tick,
the incessant sound of time passing
yet, time seems to stand still.
What feels like a year,
is simply a collection of days,
falling into a pattern of weeks.
The metronome of life
chimes steadily in my head,
gently reminding me
how slowly time can pass.
But time marches on
and, even though it feels like an eternity,
the perpetual movement of time
always pushes forward.
~~
Spark to a flame
16 Comments
My curiosity ignites.
My burning question is nourished
purely by the fuel of my deep desire
to know,
to experience,
to feel the brush of romance
on the canvas that is my skin.
My heart burns
with a yearning
to find you.
~~
polysyllabic profundities 