He was glowing in my eyes
A blazing star that could never die
So bright that he made me cry

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Strip into segments the colours of life
At the birth of my sons, loving my wife,
Like the moment of truth when, whilst shivering clear,
I went eyeball to eyeball with that, which I fear.
Like the time when the engine went dead in the plane
And I ditched in the pines to confirm the insane.

When my Father collapsed and died in my arms
And childhood departed with God and his Psalms.
When I first kissed a girl’s soft velvety lips
And felt, the wild rapture of hands on her hips.
Discovered ripe apricots fresh from the tree
Taste sweeter than nectar collected by bee.

Felt the presence of death compellingly near
Though the body was wracked, the thinking was fear.
Climbed impossible peaks that I dreamt I perceived
To weep the hot tears of a life’s goal achieved.
Laughed loud and long with the wind in my hair
Yet wept when an enemy lost to despair.

Pondered the mystery of what’s round the bend
Concluded beginnings are part of the end.
Compiling the rules to maintain my space
Lie in keeping the oddballs out of my face.
Clasping friends, so few, to my breast
Embracing the true and to hell with the rest.

Committing my time to my one darling wife
And thanking the Gods for this colourful life!


Marshalg
Sitting in the long summer grasses
3 December 2012

We fell in love by chance,
We stay in love by choice.

“Why are you alive”
“You don’t deserve this”
“They would be better off without you”
“Leave and don’t come back”
“Push everyone away”

Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

I think
the world
needs
more
of us
than we
can offer

I should’ve
waited
for someone
like
her to
come
into my
life.

i dont hate you
i just can't be near you
for you bring the past alongside questions

if i wanted to erase you
i would have done so in a heartbeat
i would have done it long before your presence

here today thats also permeated in my mind
you might not be the loss of my life
but you are more than just a lesson

i can make do
but i can't ignore my feelings
and where we can't meet we have to make concessions

and if i have to let you go
and when it breaks my heart
i guess i'll have to let it

i can love from afar
but i can't love you half as hard
things can change when you least expect it

but the good outlives the bad
the best times we ever had
i do truly cherish every second

we shared and i always will
but even though i care i might have to ****
the part of me that wants to correct this

maybe we've outgrown our spot
before these roots rot
let's try to save ourselves the infection



bury what you can't carry
a kiss for what you'll miss
a tear for the fears that came true

a shaking fist to the sky
i can say i tried
but i can never answer for you

so i lay down my offerings
my last intentions and pray
that we can make right from wrong

and that if we can't
we can find peace in an ending
and cleanly move on


oh what ever will it be

Back here after years
different

This canvas soaks the blood
from the same broken heart

We are here again,
How did we get here?

Box full of pencils; Paper and clay
Her artistic soul painted my dreams

I found her Told her I loved her

Talk to me

In shadows deep where moonlight wanes,
Where whispers dance in eerie strains,
There prowls a creature of the night,
With eyes aglow, a chilling sight.

Amongst the hibiscus, crimson blooms,
Their petals soaked in midnight gloom,
A vampire lurks, his thirst unbound,
In silence, stalking without a sound.

He yearns for blood, a crimson stream,
A haunting echo, a silent scream,
And in the garden, where hibiscus weep,
His hunger stirs from slumber's keep.

Yet amidst the darkness, a delicate grace,
The hibiscus blooms, a fragile embrace,
Their beauty rivals the moon's soft glow,
A stark contrast to the vampire's woe.

For in their petals, life's essence lies,
A crimson hue beneath starlit skies,
But to the vampire, they hold no cure,
Just reminders of what he must endure.

So in the night, where shadows creep,
The vampire hunts, his hunger deep,
And though the hibiscus may wilt and fade,
Their beauty lingers in the darkness, unswayed.

© fey (24/04/24)

Orillas del Uruguay
una piedra encontré hoy
aplastada, redondita,
y de encendido color:
pequeña obra maestra
de agua, de viento -y de sol.
Y decidí recogerla
y usarla como reloj.
El mismo peso me hace
que la máquina mejor,
la compañía es idéntica
y guarda el mismo calor.
Lo miro de vez en cuando,
y es tan grande la ilusión,
que veo unas manecillas
y los signos de rigor.
Al que pregunta la hora
se la invento y se la doy.
Me equivoco por minutos,
que no es equivocación,
que el tiempo no está en esferas
sino a nuestro alrededor:
en la orla de una nube,
en el cáliz de una flor,
en nuestras entrañas mismas,
en algo como un temblor.
Le doy cuerda al acostarme
y con toda precaución,
entre libros y anteojos
lo pongo en el velador
y antes de dormir parece
que escucho cierto rumor.
No sé si son los segundos,
esa arenilla veloz,
o acaso la vocecilla
del río que lo pulió.
Ante mi reloj de piedra
no tengo más que un temor:
si se me llega a romper,
¿a qué relojero voy?
Sólo pueden componerlo
ojos y dedos de Dios.

Here lies the dead wishes of men
once alive
the dense shrubs hide the pain
weeds thrive.

Here lies a grieving heart
once much joyous
the windows are broken and hurt
bricks break like glass.

Here lies the power of wealth
once pompous
now in ruined health
seems it wasn't all that precious.

Here lies the remains of heydays
once vibrant
with bones the jackal plays
reminds time is a tyrant.

Here lies moss on the wall
once finely painted
now dark and dull
the air is serpent scented.

You can’t compare yourself
With the unbroken girls
Surrounding you
You already shattered
Creating
A new form
Of beautiful

-jt

Poetry has to rhyme
No it doesn’t
That lie is just a crime
It’s meant to fixate
To inflate
The curious mind
The literate kind
Words in a verse
The gold in the purse
Of a creative person

Poetry has to rhyme
No it doesn’t
Your wrong this time
Its meant to uplift
To drift
Into a person thoughts
A charm of sorts
Letters in a line
All beautiful and fine
To read everyday

Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath

Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know.


Jan 6, 2013

It may look like I'm silent
But don't let it fool you
I'm holding back the will
To say that I love you

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

I think I will forever resent the day you died.

I think I will forever hate the day you left - Me.

You left everything for us, to pick up, to clean up - To tidy.

And you left it all as it was but slightly worse.

But only you didn't die
You lost your mind.

Your mind faded the way we sleep

Slowly and then all at once.

Until you vanished, and became a shell of you.

You had died severely. Each time you broke you died.

You left us. You are no longer here, with us.

You look but do not see

You hear but do not listen

You are.

But you are not.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

Is poetry dead
took its last breath
eating up all it's words
I'm feeling so hurt
poetry is dead
we mourned for days
sounds of sobs heard around the world

we slept in silence
lights on

poetry is dead
hello poetry welcome back to the internet

DEATH OF A PERFECT UNIVERSE

puddles
capture
stars

throw them
at our feet
where we with each

hurrying footstep
destroy each
perfect universe.

and now that
we have gone
(lovers eager to be home)

puddles
patiently
reform

wrestle stars to the ground
(trapped in the rain’s
shattered mirrors)

reflect yet
another
perfect universe

that trembles
at the approach
of a pair of bright

newly
red
stilettos