a poem wrote me
almost before I knew.
my hand my mind my pen
just a muse
for sentiment that oozes
like sap from a tree
after Winter harsh and cold
has just released the grip
of icy fingers
melting into Spring.
a poem wrote me
while hungry earth
beneath my feet
waited for the sugar
nourishing seeds
growing the flowers
to prove that life goes on.
my life goes on
because a poem writes me
still.

blinded by choice
you mistake me at will
for something ill.
misunderstandings
take two minds
but clarity takes heart.
I do not write on walls,
I carve on sand.
but you the wave
would wipe away the moment
as if my heart
would scar the beach
you have eroded for yourself
and you prefer
to hide the truth
I speak.
where have gone my words?
sank beneath your toil
like whispers in white noise.
we can not hear a gentle breeze
when tide is high.

someone who resembles you
but not you.
what the hell?
a stormy heart
a quiet smile
eyes a piercing blue.
I know that I’ll be into him
because I’m into you.
some would say I’m broken.
I know I'm soul stained.
a lonely truth I’m living
that it’s not me,
it’s you.

dragon fly with silver wings
see my soul and show me things.
in my heart and to his ear
sentient wisdom of love's nature.

song and wine have been for naught;
I have given all I've got.
a kindly deed and soft caress
the moonlight and the sun confess.

the wind can take you dragon fly
far past the reaches of my eye
to tell me if he thinks of me
in moments of serenity.

if I see your wings again
I shall know I have a friend.
though space and time we can not share
I will understand it, fair.

entirely possible,
very probable,
highly likely,
that you are
impossible.
it's an explanation
plausible,
that you're impossible.
it has to be the reason;
the exercise was futile,
trying to keep my grip
and ride.
thrown off,
again my possee
gives a hand
for dusty pants
and ****** knees,
while you
keep up the dance
of the bucking bull.
No embarrassment
you tossed me off
so quick;
just that I kept choosing
to try and tame a *****.