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Jim Marchel Jan 2017
The wind whispered softly along
As if not to bother the sleeping child in its cradle,
The angry trees about to lose their beauty,
And the neighborhood paperboy on his bicycle with his scarf wrapped tightly around his face.

The wind caressed the crystal flakes that fell from the heavens
As if to console the father whose son was sacrificed in distant war,
The daughter who was destined to walk the aisle without a father,
And the excited mother-to-be whose child was stillborn after months of tender love and care.

The wind calmly strolled down 8th Street
Where the early workers stood in line for a bagel and brew,
Where children gathered near the corner filled with vigor and youth,
Where tall giants of steel and stone shone with haughty pride and modern couth.

The wind whispered softly along
The curves and wrinkles of my face
As my life forever changed,
But it was just another day
To the wind.
Jim Marchel Jan 2017
Go back to your black-and-white world

Void of color and warmth

And of depth and of passion.

Go ahead and crawl back behind

Pages of guilt and chapters of pain.

Hide your face with the cover

Of the latest Roth novel

And forget that color and fragrence

And feelings and senses

Exist.
This is a follow-up to a poem about color I wrote previously, "What Friends Are For". It's a personal piece, about a former friend who is color-blind who really took me for granted, especially after I invested in glasses for him to be able to see the world in color. It gave me a new perspective on cliché proverbs already floating around, but this one is mine: Not everyone will be able to see the color you bring into their lives, but that doesn't mean you aren't a colorful being.
Jim Marchel Jan 2017
I stare at walls and see her there

A flower-printed love affair

Her azure-striped and plastered hair

Are cracked but perfect, everywhere.

Her skin of beige, it ripples soft

Across my palms when I get lost

I feel her smooth and supple skin

When I can't think and need to sin.

But here is now, and now is then

I'm staring at my walls again

Each one reminds me of the face

Of fallen angels barred from grace.
I see her in my head
I see her on my walls.
Jim Marchel Jan 2017
There is a big difference
Between leaving behind cold tracks
In the snow
And lending a warm hand to lead.
Don't just be a footprint in someone's life when you have the power to be so much more.
Jim Marchel Dec 2016
God made her

The perfect puzzle.

I could never make her whole

Because she gave away

All her pretty pieces

To someone else.
"And even if we come home empty handed, we'll still have our stories..."
"So Long, Astoria" - The Ataris
Jim Marchel Dec 2016
You had a mind like a diamond

And eyes like the ocean,

Where even the most seasoned sailor

Could get lost.

Why did your waters wane?

Will you or I ever be the same?


What happened to your ocean eyes,

The ebb and flow of moonlit tides

That danced with me along the shore

But now are suddenly no more?
The sea is beauty
The sea is deadly
Jim Marchel Nov 2016
To the one whose hand I never held:

Thank you for letting me hold your heart instead, even when I didn't take care of it like it should.

To the one who called me brother and best friend, but never lover:

Thank you for making me part of your family when I didn't have a place to go.

To the one whose trust I shattered:

I'm sorry I took you for granted and hurt you when you made me smile.

To the one whose lips I never kissed:

Thank you for letting me love you
Even though you never loved me back
.
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