the price you pay
for kindness
is costly, but
your highness
has all the patience at disposal.
in kind he pays at his proposal.
the sacrifice undying
yields truth, but what i'm buying
is patience more to pay
for smiles day to day.
the smiles have been paid for.
your patience is your labor,
and all that you have cherished
is worth the scene embarrassed.
for sacrifice is needed
to see your words are heeded,
and silence for those years,
was worth to quell her fears.
Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 4:43 AM UTC
I held your hand last night in
dream. Your humble clutch I
found was soothing to my skin,
was soothing to my touch.
I sewed my hand last night to
keep it snug with yours so
when I woke from dreaming,
I'd lessen my remorse.
Thus sewed, your fingers keep me
ever in your hands, and
thus in dreams I'll keep you
much closer than a glance.
My dreams are sadly finite,
trapped by my own hope, so
when you laugh or speak my
heart can barely cope.
I turn my head and grin, for
I have found life's haunt:
in my dreams we're one, but
real life stays a taunt.
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 5:02 AM UTC
Your relationship's a trap,
Like sand your quick foots gripped,
Like chains delaying freedom
That hold you to your crypt.
Or at least I think it shall,
If careful steps ar'n't ta'en,
Like a lion in a cage
That you right now are ma'in'.
And make it you must soon,
For feelings forced to wait
Become immersed in fear
With nerves that ants inflate
Antsy is the grin
That dawdles with the heart.
You'll sabotage your options
Before you even start.
So make your choice in haste,
Despite your drowned dismay.
To settle for this trap
Or trap yourself your way?
Again the choice is yours
To make or disregard,
But know this, future me:
Happiness is hard.
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 12:39 AM UTC
The Doctor named Seuss was such a great man.
He wrote words so deftly like few others can.
In fact, to this day we honor his rhyme,
Or, I do, at least, to waste all my time.
It's odd how with frequence I get up the urge
To write tiny ditties: a poetry surge.
I'm volted to pen any number of things,
Shocking, to me, like a staticky sting.
Whenever I am s'posed to be working,
I notice that my duties I'm shirking.
Perhaps without pressure my mind is more fun,
But by the same token, I get nothing done.
Maybe I study so well that it spills
Onto my other thinking-type skills.
My mind works so hard that it often requires
More wood to fuel my thinking cap's fires.
Anyways, I'm probably ******* for my test.
I wish I could say that I studied my best,
But honesty stabs me for truth til I'm ******
The truth is that I fail when I "study."
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 8:26 AM UTC
Like sinews and sutures,
Our bodies interlock,
Separated only by our breath.
Softer skin would be a liquid,
and softer eyes would be transparent.
A softer smile would be a kiss,
experienced by sight.
An arm, a clutch, your fingers crossed,
with words I lie here as I lay.
And in our words are we so lost,
but "we" is how we'll find our way.
A forest waiting to be cleared,
Impending doom for innocence,
Our kisses and our thoughts appear
Already dying, in a sense.
But senses don't deceive themselves,
Like light which yonder breaks.
Morning brings me mild mourning:
It's you the daytime takes.
So stay in spirit, tangled one,
Or overstay your stay.
And no more mourning will be found,
If we have our way.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 10:16 PM UTC
Locks for locks
and chicken pox,
a childish fit
for childish thoughts
Left for dead
left, right, red,
confused with age
but young in head
Youth will yield to age.
Truth will tell all rage,
hidden in a heart,
hidden in your art.
Expressed without much thought,
emotion caught off guard.
Perhaps your mask needs healing,
facades that must be peeling.
And still I'm feeling lost
Myself, my own, my frost
My cold demeanor falls.
They say, "Just grow some *****
For gender dictates most,
and blenders will play host
to mixing and to matching
pretending I am acting,
pretending I exist.
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 11:58 AM UTC
A picture won't do justice,
For beauty is in motion.
Those thousand words are useless.
They don't denote devotion.
My rhymes and schemes may capture
A sliver of a moment,
While blinks of yours enrapture
And hold me without comment.
For words and verse are nothing
Compared to feelings fleet,
And just blinking's what I need
From you to be complete.
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 2:05 AM UTC
Internal quarrels rage within,
While all the while I'm without
Your kiss, your lips, unpursed for me.
I blindly fall about.
A steady hand is just a show.
A steady heart betrays
A heady feeling from below
Dissipates and fades.
Distance, time and lofty words
Can **** a man with strength,
But just one thought, one smile, one wink,
Can bring to life in length.
For lengthy is the depth of love
That like those oceans fill,
But even depth and distance stop,
And years can dull the thrill.
So in my words, forever be,
My love, my dove, for me.
While distance, time and quarrels fade,
You will thrive immortally.
Jul 19, 2010
Jul 19, 2010 at 12:44 AM UTC
I am the leaf just fallen
in a forest
that is your beauty.
I am an inhale
held in place
to your infinite wind.
But in every sense
I am part of you
and can only imagine
how lovely you are,
like a curtain on a sunny day.
You are the love already there.
And we just needed to realize it.
So when you looked at me,
I could feel not daggers
piercing hypothetically
into my soul,
nor icicles figuratively
delving into my heart,
nor the shock
of acknowledgment that shakes
my very being.
No, when you looked at me
I was at peace,
knowing I found a place familiar,
a place I knew I already was.
When you looked at me,
it was not a torrent of raging emotions,
but rather,
the calmness of validation,
the tranquility of recognition,
that is only possible
with the comfort of belonging.
When you looked at me,
we had already known,
and only a mental nod
was needed.
You are
the understanding of all that is perfect.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 9:42 AM UTC
With sagging shoulders
slumped like rolling hills
falling not as precipitously
as a promontory
but still falling,
with these shoulders
temporarily shrugged not so temporarily,
you take a deep breath,
and listen.
you know that the caged bird sings,
caged by the floor of cement,
caged by the convenience of cement,
but it still sings.
and summer knows not why.
maybe the bird doesn't know it's caged,
so its ignorance allows it melodies.
may a song have meaning,
if sung in ignorance?
like the worker's song
we chant and chime in
our rants and rhymes pin us
down.
for words aren't liberty.
forward isn't freedom.
then and now and then and now,
exist like cement,
only for convenience.
time is not an illusion,
just a simile.
because if we truly knew
what is
then the burden of knowledge would weigh us down,
slumping our shoulders.
but we don't need our shoulders to sing,
for that is how
a caged bird sings.
it doesn't have shoulders to slouch.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 9:22 AM UTC