Underneath pale spring skies
to everyone's surprise
'The Wanderers' returned telling tales of omnipotence
and the relevance of a divinity
I heard nothing
I was deafened by the noise from the laughter of the girls and boys so filled with glee
that 'The Wanderers' had seen fit to see
to find their way and come home to be
with them and you and me.
I don't know where they went or how they spent those,
lonely days when I would gaze with fear set solid in my heart
and wonder how it is that being apart
is so painful.
I keep my eye on those that take it in their mind to fly away.
But what is day without the night
and night without the dawn?
Storms may come and go but this is what I know
will always be the hope and the guardians set by the gate
of those who wait
Somewhere within the levels of the conscious
between the bowels of the deep and
the deepness of my thought
I am caught
in the secrets that I keep
in the darkness of my sleep where
I cry in waterfalls of tears and joy
the unhappiness of fears
employ and use me
or so it seems.
These dreams see fit to haunt me
and sleeping draughts have no effect.
This dissatisfaction that I feel
peels away and when the day has come
wonder why the sun still lights the sky
and wonder why it does not light my heart.
Do I need to look upon the charted stars up there
to understand myself and know just where and when
I go to then
will that make me a better man
if I learn to understand the master plan
and is there such a map.
'I need a slap to wake me up' but I think that's a fallacy
dreamers like me need no such thing.
Each morning I bring a bucket to the well with wishes in my head
and these are fed up through the day
into my conscious thought
and once again I find I'm caught
my thoughts should pay attention to what is going on
before I even know it
the fleeting hours have run away
The night would say,
'it serves you right you've got what you deserve,
I reserve the right to kick against the night
and rest my case.
Under my rainbow
The stars shimmer bright,
And blanket the earth
With an emerald light,
The birds sing their songs
Into the softest of sighs,
And they linger as long
As they want in our skies.
Here, our morning sings wonders
That dance through the trees,
To enchant every dew drop
Touched by the soft breeze.
Clear through to the mountains,
All capped with their white,
That shine like a beacon
Through our whispering night.
Under my rainbow,
The colors that shine
Will blaze a fierce wonder
To fire your mind.
The Orchids all bloom,
And they're never the same.
And the stars up above,
They call you by name.
There are no teardrops, my boy,
Unless they're teardrops of joy.
There is never a frown
To linger around.
There is never a someone
You can't call your friend.
There is never a heart
It cannot mend.
Every Hollyhock petal
At play in the breeze
Will nod as you walk through
Our Poppletoff Trees.
Every Raspberry Rose
On our Emerald Isle
Oh, they'll fire and bloom
To your wonderful smile.
Each Cornflower Willow
Will whisper your way,
Sprinkling stardust in
All of their play.
Under my rainbow,
When we sleep, when we dream,
We see worlds and wonders
No other has seen.
There is never a rush,
There is never a when,
Though the twilight may blush
Time and again.
Though the firefly lingers
With each tender hello,
And the mountain tops glisten
With their new fallen snow.
To inspire your Muse,
And then set her free.
She'll show you those wonders
That few ever see!
Here is my solitude,
Where there's rest for my soul,
Under a rainbow
That few ever know.
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Remler
"You see things; and you say, "Why?"
But I dream things that never were;
and I say, "Why not?"
-George Bernard Shaw
I'm always falling for girls who are arrows shot through the hearts of prodigal sons.
You've been in my head for days.
I've been clinging to your later
Like a shipwrecked sailor
Clings to the shattered bow
As the ocean tries to swallow him whole.
You swallowed me whole,
And you barely even opened your mouth;
Just wide enough for me to taste honey
And see stars that have been three nights creating haloes around my drunken head.
But you'll only hold my hand in the shadows;
You'll only ask me how I am if you know the answer will be
I've got you under my skin
But you're under it, girl.
You're seven layers deep,
And suddenly you're rushing through my bloodstream
And filling my body with a five-dime dream
That is only of your face.
Everyone knows that web of red veins
All lead back to the heart.
So I'm putting up fences
But leaving gaps between the posts
So when you’ve circulated my system
and I can feel you tingling electricity in every one of my cells
It’ll look like the bars I’ve put up were to keep you out
But really the space between was to let you in.
I’ll be shining a light so bright that maybe you’ll grow powdered wings
and flutter towards me like a moth who can’t ignore the flame for even one more second.
You’re more like a butterfly though.
When I look at you I see every colour;
I see grace and beauty, and in your voice I hear a melody so sweet it makes me wonder
whether you’re a girl,
Or if maybe you’re a songbird.
Maybe you build a new nest every night
From twigs and feathers and broken hearts.
You showed me a cutting of your old boyfriend’s hair
That you keep in your wallet
Because you dream of recreating him.
I thought if I knew how I’d make an army of this boy for you,
I’d carve his face from limestone
And give him blossoms for eyes
But I’d give him my lips,
So that when you kissed him I’d taste you.
And it’s not like I’d make you,
But inside my head we’re every day making each other laugh;
We’re every day running through dappled fields,
Calling each other’s names,
Smelling each other’s hair.
It’s the sweetest thing.
That’s all I really want to say
Is that you make me smile and dream,
And sometimes I’m looking at your face
For just a bit longer than you’re looking at mine,
And in the half-light I think,
Isn’t she beautiful.
before I sleep, i fix my sheets
and stack my pillows as if
a lover sleeps on my bed
i sleep and wake up alone, but
i wouldn’t mind waking up
to morning hair, sleepy eyes,
tired smiles and a long yawn
i wouldn’t mind waking up
before dawn, after dusk,
during the sunset or while
we’re under the stars
i wonder how lovers like these
are hard to find, because i bask
in the simplicity of mornings
for only in these early hours do i
truly know someone
maybe i have puzzles and traps
stuck on my hallway, or a
warning sign taped on my door
for none even bothered to knock
or maybe it is my refusal
to find any other
no one else sleeps on my bed,
because i’ve pressed all my sheets,
perfumed all my pillows, marked
my calendar and saved the dates
for nights and days with you.
And now my heart has been
from my chest and is
pounding on this empty table before me.
I watch as it slowly fades back to
and I wonder if I could have saved it.
I wonder if I could have saved my
I wonder a lot of things.
Most of the time my mind is
retracing the steps I took to get here.
I wonder what cracks I must have stepped
on to send my world
beneath my feet.
I wonder what cracks I must have stepped
on to create these
in my soul.
And now I'm terrified
that I will slowly leak from this
the same way this water runs
in ripples down the hill outside my window.
I wonder what I could have done
to keep from
to the floor.
In the ever expanding reaches of the universe,
I will cradle you in my arms; bringing you into
a shimmering moat of light. You will stay there,
gold glitter raining soft upon your face---so youthful and wise.
We are inside my most prized possession:
a hand forged jewelry box painted with silver dragons.
The light that shines inside it bleeds the inside orange---
a color far brighter then gold.
Here we lay together. Just you and I,
awaiting the unseen light to touch every part of this plain with ingenuity.
The rays catch each strand of dust; purifying it to become a perfect garden of Eden.
It grows until we are basking---the warmth of it driving away all heavy slumber and doubt.
Your hands moved---slow for they remained still too long; mine follow unseeing.
It was then you opened your eyes---and I mine.
You were no longer blind from a dark, deadened universe.
I watched as you saw me--your clear brown irises glowing with the vision of a woman smiling in wonder.
You finally loved me---as I always will you...
...to the end of time.
I look at the legs of older men
Aged, with their imperfections
showing more visibly every day.
Clustered veins bulging
like roots from a tree
climbing from under the dirt.
I look at the bodies of women
who have lost their youth
from passing years and cigarette butts.
Their faces sagging and folding over
pressing lines into the skin,
a new flaw every year.
And I'm haunted that one day
my body will be decrepit and tattered
like the rags of a skeleton's suit,
and I wonder who will love me
when I have nothing left to show.
72 years. Thats how long true love lasts. Well I like to think it lasts longer. I don’t know that for sure yet but I’d like to some day. Together since age fourteen and sixteen, I think thats pretty impressive. A different time. Which sucks because so much of ‘love’ nowadays revolves around lust. Which is more physical than emotional. So then I wonder how can they throw the word love around, whilst throwing themselves around. Oh the irony
Well I thought I loved someone once. Eight months, with probably triple that amount in fights. Though we fought it came easy to us. I guess thats more than I can say then the couples that were around us. But it was too hard. Hearing what he really thought about me. Not good enough. Too far away. Like I was so object only to be attained, to be shown off. Like a prize. Well I stopped being that object the same day he decided he didn’t love me
That’s what also sucks about this generation. There isn’t just a relationship or single there is: Talking, talking talking, flirt texting, couple dates talking, occasionally hook up talking, got drunk that one time at a party and now things are awkward talking. Then there’s: Having a thing, kind of together, pretty much together but not official, pretty much together but not Facebook official, together, and too many more.
We can’t go two seconds with out Facebook stalking, texting, IMing, calling, or being together without fights, or assumptions about unfaithfulness. People are treated as objects and love it because someone, somewhere is paying attention to them and making them feel special. Generation X. Who can’t stop worrying about all their ex’s. More like generation disappointment.
The first time I touched his small little hands
It was exquisite to the touch
Such soft sweet little hands...I smiled with mother pride
The first time I lay his tiny little feet to my mouth
My senses were reeling with the delicate little feet
Then I lay claim to those eyes...big wonderful almond shaped eyes
There was laughter as he stared right back at me...then from that
To an aching love that only a small child could give
With an unconditinal love, I touched his delicate skin
Lovingly I caressed the wonder of my boy
My tiny...Little...Wonderful boy.... ooh what joy
©Kaila George 2013