Don’t hold it against me that I have had a before life,

a life before time

a life before love

a life before sadness

a life before pain

a life before regret

a life before chance

a life before joy

a life before ungratefulness

a life before selfishness

a life before pondering

a life before wondering

a life before faith

a life before apologies

a life before gentleness

a life before kindness

a life before this

a life before tears

a life before killing

a life before war

a life before despair

a life before friendship

a life before triumph

we have all had a before life, or is it all just a dream

I watch the Finches fly, float, flutter dive
across the field they chirp and sing
yellow in color they dot the tops
of the thistle among other natural things
making scalloped patterns as they glide
gracefully moving through the sky
a tiny moment from the day that
helps  my troubles fade away.

Sweet dreams, come to me this night,
comfort my mind and release my soul
from the worries of the day. Send me
to a new world, where joy and love give light,
Dreams let me see smiling, trusting faces
and a place where honesty prevails. Let me walk
among those who care and guide me in my
living. Teach me understanding and  
compassion, keep the wonderment of
love within my heart refresh my soul and
mind to the good in all mankind.
In my wakening free me, open my eyes
and heart to the surprises of life and
the goodness of time.

I watch spring bud from my window.
I watch my life go by without a flicker of hope from my window.
I watch summer blossom from my window.
I watch and wonder why from my window.
I watch autumn turn to a spectrum of color from my window.
I watch as time starts to die from my window.
I watch autumn fade from red and orange
to winter white from my window.
I watch as I die from my window.
I watch but can not see my window.


© 2010 Charles Dennis


http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net

Charles Dennis

Every time I look into your face, it slides from gladness to
gloom. I don’t know where or when I lost you, but it seems to
soon.

When each day starts fresh, I have hope in my heart  as I catch
sight of your shimmering smile and flowing red hair, I know God
is proud he created beauty such as yours to share.

Where did I go wrong? What have I done to have this pain
stacked upon my shoulders? To endure the hollowness I feel.

When our eyes fall on one another’s view, you see what I and I
see what you and as the spears of shooting white light subside,
we fall in love again, you with me and me with you because we
caught a glimpse of each others view.



© 2010 Charles Dennis


http://www.charlesdennispoetry.com

Shadows grow long as the day begins its end to this
beautiful summer day, which had shown the
colors of morning at 5:30 am.

Orange and yellow so brilliant, it just seems annoying
now  as we drive towards it on our
way to work each day.

No trace of that orange and yellow, just overwhelming
brightness as the day begins to play.

Light reflects from windshield to windshield, building
to building. Mirages appear on the road ahead, of
ponds and puddles as we navigate the swells in
the road as these obstacles appear.

As cars rush by, blue, yellow, red and green,
streaks of flattened color create the morning’s end.

A spectrum of color moves throughout the day as we
see glints of magic from our cubical through a
window across a walkway.

We sit and wonder, with one leg on our desk as we peer
through the window in awe.

As the day’s end begins, in the opposite direction we
drive, the colors are sharp and pure
gold, green, blue and white,
fade to black and the beginning of night.


http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net

© 2009 Charles Dennis

Tears start to swell behind my eyes,
thinking of then and things said,
reliving I feel fragile today.
A droplet finds its way across my
cheek, as I wipe it away with the back
of my hand, I say all of the things I
have felt through the years.
I stare at a blank sheet of paper,
hoping as I start to write, my words
will carry answers, or at least
comfort me. My tongue tastes the
salt from a stray drop my hand missed
as it moved across my cheek again.
I try and try to put my feelings on
paper but all I see are a spattering
of wet gray dots in an outline of your
face looking at me. You were to young,
far to gentle and kind to have life
ripped from you. I stand watching,
waiting, hoping, as the gates gently
open without a sound, solace at last.
I’ll be waiting my love,we will be
together beyond time, beyond life.

It was a small intimate cafe where he sat, pondering the
questions of life. For some they would never
experience things that he had discovered in his.

As another sip of coffee trickled down his throat. A
women nodded as she walked by, he nodded
back in his cordial way.

His head turned, he looked out the window framed in
dark  green drapes, and people returned his glance as
they sauntered by.

Another day in the lives of so many he thought, as
another minute ticked by. He watched like a
movie the lives out the window who had
no idea, hadn’t a clue.

As another sip of coffee trickled down his throat, a bell
rang out disturbing the conversational flow within
the cafe, the door opened and another patron
entered and nodded as they walked by.

His coffee gone, he placed his chin on his fist, elbow
on the table, like the thinker, he looked out that
window with its dark green drapes, cozy and warm.

Today was yesterday and tomorrow today as he
realized he had no clue as to why, when,
where or who.

The answers no closer, he would come back tomorrow,
to ponder the questions of life once more. To nod to
the patrons as they came through the door.


http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net

© 2009 Charles Dennis

The voices in my head they cry for you sweet Natalie. As days
whisper loneliness to visions in my head, like fantasies awakened
from memories I thought were dead.

The warm brush of your hand upon my cheek, a gentle squeeze
as we held hands we walked along, talking about our
love born plans.

Come to me sweet Natalie, enter where my thoughts now live.
Save me from this eternal absurdity; bring me your
unconditional love, and let me show what love I give.

The voices in my head they cry for you sweet Natalie, while
lonely tear drops flow now that you are dead.

Awaken me sweet Natalie, please restore our days of love. It is
hard for me to live my life without you by my side, so walk with
me sweet Natalie like you did when you were alive.


© 2010 Charles Dennis


http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net

It was a bright sunny day when I arrived here, to have that one
drink the one that would make everything in my life ok since
Natalie passed away.

One led to two and two to three as a cascade of color now ruled
the sky, but I didn’t know. I was in a dark shadowless place
sitting on a stool, and my life still ******.

One drink at a time that’s what I like to say, Get off your *** and
face the world a voice in my head kept saying, while I half slid
half fell off my stool.

I swayed my way toward the door that led to a multitude of
possibilities. The door slowly opened revealing glints and
reflections from a million city lights as a halo appeared around
each bulb through the neon haze.

Welcome to the city blasted in my ears, as the smell of diesel
made my nose twinge. I could feel my heart beating with the
rhythm of the city, as an endless procession of cars and trucks
meandered by.

The maidens of the night were out in force, providing a service
to those lost souls that strolled amongst vibrant waves of light,
intoxicating as the city expelled each breath.

I walked alone to where I do not know, absorbing the blood of the
city. Tomorrow came as yesterday faded as the voices in my
head cried one last time for you sweet Natalie. Goodbye!


© 2010 Charles Dennis


http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net

Freeze dried memories that’s what I’ve got stored in the pantry
of my brain, not to be confused with what I did last month, week,
or yesterday. Some of these will make it to the pantry eventually
so I can recall them when that moment comes, if it does and if
the door to the pantry opens as it should.

Questions come up. Where were you when? Do you remember
Joe? Then I think to myself. Who the hell are you? The pantry
door must be locked, stuck, shut or glued, guess I just don’t
want to know.

My freeze dried memories are packed in cans and jars, each
with its own distinctive label by me, so I could have quick and
easy access to each and every row or sometimes not it seems.

There all in the pantry, every single one sitting in a row, waiting
label facing forward and wondering what’s to come. If the right
time arises I will be the only one that has the key to open the
pantry door to my memories old and young.


© 2010 Charles Dennis


http://www.charlesdennispoetry.netne.net

Charles Dennis


I was in my den, in my favorite chair with its
walls of wood and its shelves filled with wares from an
excursion I had taken to a far away land, and collected
these items to place where they stand.

I could hear the clock ticking, hear the wind howling outside,
while I held on to this shotgun, I had by my side.

I glanced out the window and all I could see
were blowing branches and leaves
that fell from the trees.

Wind blew in gusts, the rain started to fall, as I heard a
child's voice beginning to call. I could not make out just what
they said I had strange visions of ghosts in my head. As the rain fell harder
it came down in sheets like ghosts that move without any feet.

As night was waning, the flames started to rise in the
fireplace right in front of my eyes, as witches, goblins and
ghosts started to fly doing loops and dips
and spectacular dives.

My shotgun fell to the floor and right at that time I
heard a knock at the door, just as those witches, goblins
and scary old ghosts passed by. I opened the door as
scared as I was and there stood a goblin not quite
four foot one. It opened its mouth as I shook on
my feet and out came a phrase

“Hi, Trick or Treat.”


© 2009 Charles Dennis

www.charlesdennispoetry.com

You have the GLOW.  I first saw  it when I was just a little boy,
some women have it others don’t. This GLOW has always
fascinated me. After meeting you I know.

The GLOW is kindness
The GLOW is heart
The GLOW is happiness
The GLOW is art
The GLOW is chance
The GLOW is wisdom
The GLOW is living
The GLOW is a start
The GLOW is harmony
The GLOW is poetry
The GLOW is freedom
The GLOW is smart
The GLOW is beautiful
The GLOW is life
The GLOW is you, the love of my life!

I walk the night
over city streets trying to find some semblance of why I’m here,
if there is a reason for my living, for me to be walking among
the lights absorbing the sounds as car and bus exhaust
penetrate the walls of my lungs


I walk the night
not just looking but gawking at the sheer size and beauty of the
buildings and think that amongst mans many accomplishments
what meaning could my tiny existence have.


I walk the night
in dream like state, neon hazes float about creating atmosphere
from flashing attention grabbing signs, ******, 2 for 1 at
Jasmines pub, live jazz and quarter beers between 2:00 and
3:00 what the hell is happening to me.


I walk the night
from street to street my feet dragging across cigarette buts
strewn along the sidewalk, most likely from others seeking
answers to questions from some dark place in their mind.


I walk the night
and it seems no one understands why or what they are looking
for, I guess just something to fill that empty lonely space deep in
their gut in hopes it will solve some mystery.


I walk the night
of all places why the city? The urban core, the life blood of every
town large or small, I’m just looking for an answer, to what I’m
not sure and why I really don’t know, maybe you know.


Do you have the answer I’m looking for?


I hope!

Wings spread wide we step
from our perch
into the world
with anticipation.
A gentle fall, then
soaring, as hope dangles
from a daylight moon, it cries
and waits to be gathered.
From lonely birth into lonely
death we traverse the
depths of now, in anticipation
of grabbing hold of hope,
and its eternal crown.

As I stepped into the chilled damp air, yesterday
washed over me.

I felt trapped in a shroud of times gone by and
all the days from yesteryear.

Lost in a whirlwind of where I’ve been, and
where I should go from here.

Here and there I wander through time as I wait
for the fog to clear.


© 2010 Charles Dennis


http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net

It was 78 degrees that day, while we walked amongst
the sun soaked grasses, and shadows
beneath the trees.

The leaves shimmered and shook in the breeze casting
animated images on the ground, and it
made us feel free.

As if the world revolved around us, we were the core
the nucleus the center of circulation, we were
free to be what we wanted to be.

Embracing life, as breezes caressed are faces we
walked amongst Gods creation and filled our hearts
with the substance of life.

Hand in hand arms entwined, we sat and watched a
fleet of boats sail by, created from their reflections
on the water, and ripples from the
wind blown lake.

A day in the life of us, my love is yours and your
love is mine, forever, she said to me ,as
I looked into her eyes.


http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net

© 2009 Charles Dennis

I used to know who you were, that was long ago.
Are you still that same person?

I’m not. but it’s ok, there is no need to pretend,
just because we knew each other once,
I think they were good times then.

Then was a time I only remember bits and pieces
of, I remember good things, though
I’m sure there were bad times also.

But the brain is fickle now, I’m sure it knows now
what it knew before, but now hides from conscious
thought, for reasons I do not know.

What was your name?


http://www.charlesdennispoetry.netne.net

© 2009 Charles Dennis

There was a time when I was
younger, I knew not what  I said.
When lies were the norm
In every day life,
and that’s just the
way I  lived.

Day after day,
and week after week,
the fabrications grew.

And the days into weeks,
weeks into months
as the years just
flew.

I?

I had no clue.

As a child I realized,  
life would not let this pass,
and someday in the
future I would need
to tell the truth at last.

While the lies kept
getting larger, the stories
were filled with twists
and turns, my mind was in
a frenzy, my life was just a blur.

Till one day a switch turned off,
no more lies would come.
Freedom day I recall in memories.
Was the day my life had begun.

http://www.charlesdennispoetry.netne.net

© 2009 Charles Dennis

I don’t understand

it makes no sense

you loved me once

we held hands

you were mine

i was your’s

you gave no signal

for me to see

no subtle hints

for me to plea

You *****

You *****

You ******* ****

i hope my door leaves

a bruise on your ****!

We woke as the early morning sun filtered in,we dared not move
as our love grew from moment to moment.

As Saturday’s morning light moved slowly across the wall,
we stirred and felt refreshed.

It was a magical morning and the sun shown bright as
the deep blue sky framed it’s glow.

We watched the lilac pedals fall as if paving the way for our love
to grow.

I got up this morning put on a robe and slippers the robe
because I sleep in my underwear went to the kitchen made the
morning coffee had to have my coffee before the real world
smacked me in the face I walked out the door and the woman
across the street was out walking her dogs short yappy little
things the rest of the neighborhood was awake and crawling out
of their rectangular little holes in their odd shaped houses and I
realized it was a  very nice morning sun coming up over the
trees as people elsewhere those people out to see what they
could get for free before it was gone until another day I drive
into the city the coffee shop a buzz with people from from all
walks of life really not giving a **** what the other is saying
but talking just to make some noise as other people start to
crowd the street with their suits and ties and high heeled shoes
while more in jeans and shorts walked and hurried by to go
where I don’t know to what some think are their
insignificant little jobs and they are only there to get a pay
check end of story while Margery down the block prepares with
love all of the sweet bakery treats for those who care enough to
stop and buy because they know the love and care she puts into
each and every pie Margery knows her job is important not just
a Friday check what the heck someone parked in my spot and
the politicians are just waking up to begin what they think is a
day working for the ordinary people but we know better they
just work for themselves getting that proverbial check a million
times what Margery got a train whistle blows as it chugs its way
to that industrial spot to drop the burden it carries to keep our
economy humming along and the guy on the corner strums his
guitar and sings his song so I can drop a coin in his  case as I
walk along just something to think about as we go through our
days dressed to **** and live our lives as we all climb the hills.


© 2010 Charles Dennis


http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net

I hear children laughing, shouts of joy,
leaves rustling with the breezes as a day
of summer begins its glow.

Warm days of happiness and shooting strands of
aureolin light with skies blue backdrop shimmering
bright. While breezes sing their songs of love, given
them from far above.

Painted with a sable brush, mornings refractions
colors of love beginning another summers day,
with the scent of a farmers fresh cut hay.

I see heat rising from the ground ripples of space
bending, wiggling up then down, as a kaleidoscope
of memories reveal days of summer long since past,
when naked feet walked through the grass.

Mocking birds of summer sing about lazy winters and
fruitful springs as summer days linger into night as dusks
orange, gray, and blue fades from sight.

There is a field with tones of brown and gold,
with islands of bark, intermingled with their
stories of old.

As I hike through its grasses, I see signs of  the past,
when men and their families walked in tall grass.

They hunted and killed, they built houses with trees.
I could see all of this through the slow falling leaves.

It is time for solace, time to relax, as
I walk through this field and its history filled grass.

They had come by the many to create a new life by this
amazing field that I now hike. Each with a struggle,
each with a path, I can still see them as I
stand in this field of gold grass.

The seasons are changing, the colors now white as I
think of those people, their struggles and plight.

The field now empty and the lakes are like glass
as I stand alone in this field of tall grass.


http://www.charlesdennispoetry.netne.net

© 2009 Charles Dennis

The darkness of night it beckons me, it taunts me in my
dreams with memories of yesterday, and thoughts
of what could have been.

The darkness of night it beckons me, around
shadowless corners it lurks. The eyes of it they
watch me they track my every move.

The darkness of night it beckons me, to follow moonlit
shadows tonight, to the tomb of the blood stained
vampire of love into the darkest time of night.

The darkness of night it beckons me, to watch as the
warm red syrup flows, as a rippled river of life
along lost roads of old.

The darkness of night it beckons me, as vampires
gather to drink. Sustenance of life is what they seek
from the river that flows tonight.

The darkness of night it beckons me, to watch as the
stories of old unite, to begin the rituals of strength and
power as their fantasies take flight.

The brain is an ever changing vessel filled with first
impressions, truths and lies of what life gives and also
takes away.

It is a vessel filled with hope, regret sadness and joy a place of
learning yearning forever's and goodbyes.

The mind delivers tragedies break ups make ups illusions
confusion love of what there is and what there’s not.

Hope and sadness sorrow pain as we go through life looking for
some type of gain walking on our heals one step ahead but one
step back lost like spitting into the wind.

We strive, connive and play our cards and what is shown is what
lies, all for a glimpse of what is ours.

The vessel drains then it fills overflows gives us thrills, it beats
our heart and pumps the blood it gives us life. Is that
understood?

Yet we abuse infuse but try not to lose our way so we can stick
around another day to play the game of life for which we pay.

The constant tick tock ticking
from the clock on the wall
what a waste of brain cells
or maybe I have none at all
for what it’s worth I can
see the pendulum swing
to and fro back and forth again
my sanity waivers listening
to that constant sound
tick tock ticking from that
**** clock on the wall
how will I ever get anything
done when all I can hear is
tick tock tick tick tock
tick tock tick tick tick
tock tick

He cries sitting, waiting, I don’t know why, sad I guess.

Tears seem to follow the path of the one before, as stray drops
of sadness dare to go their own way down his cheeks,
dropping aimlessly to the floor.

Its Thursday, almost the end of the week, he should be glad the
end of the week is arriving like the week before.

He can’t jar loose a picture stuck in his head, it continues to
bounce off the inner surface of his skull, as
he sits crying on the edge of his bed.

Life has given him much, but taken away more. While a clock
ticks loudly from its mount on the wall. He thinks about the
drawer, and thinks again.

A stray thought hits him, that he is getting way to slim.

Where did that come from? He hadn’t a clue. As memories
become garbled and nothing seems true. Tears keep falling
as he opens the drawer, pulls out a gun and falls to the floor.


© 2010 Charles Dennis


http://www.charlesdennis.netne.net

I watch the flakes fallCrystal clear and ice blueThere’s to many to countOne boot foundIt was a horrible endPain ERUPTS In my headYou’re DEADFound in a driftAs the clouds float like Long lost shipsThey carry spiritsTo hopeful starsIt’s now to late to knowJust who you are

As the washer clinks and clunks its way toward clean clothes.
I sit and think while listening to the rhythms of the machine
as it cleanses all. If it could only cleanse my mind of random
thoughts of nothing, that seem always to get in the way.

To clear a path to thoughts of substance, paving the way to
literary greatness, or at least a word that wiggles itself into
some mediocre write which I know shouldn’t have made it to
someone else's eyes.

I need that garbled clump of goop that feeds my appetite for
writing, as it dislodges remnants of times gone by, things that
are shaken loose from deep within my soul, while it agitates
and spins me in new and different directions.

It is what life has given me to work with, an abundance of
good and bad, new and old, fresh and stale, with a vehicle for
me to climb aboard to explore the deep recesses of my mind
and soul. It seems that vehicle stalls at times and hesitates
before it is able to start again and continue on its way.

To take me out of this non productive place I’m in, to that
crisp clean white piece of paper so my pen will flow to places
it’s never been.


http://www.charlesdennispoetry.netne.net

© 2009 Charles Dennis