The day will be soon be over,
And lead on into night.
A night without any shelter,
He shivers out of fright.
Night eyes they will watch him,
And sleep will just deprive.
His belly, it will be burning.
But no food will arrive.
People will pass and mutter,
Words he never hears.
He knows them all anyway,
He's lived like this for years.

I wonder if the poet me, met the poet you,
How would we spend our time?
Could we try to pass the given hours,
Speaking in only rhyme!    

That would make a comedic memory,
That perhaps we would share with none.
You can be the Cat and I will be the Hat,
And we would have soooo much fun!

Should I blame my God?
Or does it lie with me?
Did fate or chance or fairies?
Take your soul from me?

Was this in "the plan?" Perhaps.
Or was there some lack of will?
Either way of no import...
But,oh! I love you still.

I don't know where I lost you...where we lost "us." Two individuals who met at just the perfect time, a time of hope, dreams, immortal thoughts. That was beauty. Unsustainable riveting beauty. Beauty as does time , they both have their prime and  their peak. And once that peak is reached the only place to go is down again, unless you set up a tiny house next to a tree and stay there. We didn't do that. We should have done that. We should have **** sight done that.

The words they came so quickly,
To thought and to the mind.
But no one will ever know them,
Because of the pen I couldn't find.
The words they only visit once,
Oh memory!! Fail me not!
The greatest poem of all time,
Is the one I just forgot!

Oh, shadow, I will keep thee safe,
For thou art the weaker power,
And I will stand between you and East,
At least til noon time hour.
Then turn slowly to the west,
So that I may shield your eyes,
From the burning, painful sight,
Of a sun who brightly dies.
And be turned away from you,
At any given time or slant,
To offer you protection from,
Things I see, you can't.

Where can I find a Poets' Retreat?
And would it be crowded or bare?
Would I have to bring pencils with me?
Or would they supply them there?

Would there be little desks scattered about?
Would I choose one or be assigned a seat?
Could I come and go just as I please?
How many interesting people would I meet?

When I left would I be that much wiser?
Could I easily strike out a great poem?
Would I come to love the Retreat so much,
That I'd never want to go back home?

Would there be a place with complete silence,
That otherwise is impossible to find?
Would I leave with appreciation for nature?
And could I finally clear my mind?

On a sermon note,  when I guess I should have been listening, I scribbled a poem years ago that I now find in a long neglected book I used to smuggle in every Sunday. A stoic book and in the folds I find the never published long forgotten write of an imagined future day that fate holds from above just out of grasp. That sparkling jewel of hope. A day with darting eyes and deep swallows, heaving hidden breaths, electric thoughts. Two of the corners are shriveled now , one side requiring unrolling the see the last words of each line. Interjected words here and there to change the nuance just a bit. Truth is in there, pleasure too. Between the space of whispered glances and a final goodbye. Wonder what it all means now. I can't quite wrap my head around it much like the sermon of that day. So I will leave it with Pope, right in the middle of the Windsor Forest, "to consult the dead and live past ages o'er."

There is a lonely place out there,
Where I know that I belong,
Where right is right, and only white,
And wrong is never wrong.
And there is no judge looking down,
No jury in which to sway.
Only me...there is only me,
And that's where I will stay.

The past came back to bite me again tonight
Hungry he was, hungrier than the hounds of hell themselves
Tearing off another piece so viciously
And so unexpected...he's quiet you know
Sneaking in with his non-reflective eyes
there's no warning
His talons are the reminder, in actual time,
That nothing has changed.
The past the same as the present
only later....
after he waited so patiently
until his appetite was more than he could withstand
ravenous, bloodthirsty he is
And I thank him.
Good friends, he and I.
Always arriving in time
To grant another wound I can lick
and a scar I can appreciate
Bringing another revelation that a ***** in a bikini is easier to look at
Than a beautiful soul......
A purposeless, lonely, beautiful soul.
Thank you my friend.
I enjoyed your visit.
Come back and see me soon.
Come hungry.

No need for speech; nor serpents vow,
Amongst this garden fair,
For fate has granted only now,
A portion; just our share.
Willing to trade a lifetime for
The privilege to stay here.
But we've no such liberty anymore
The night is drawing near.
Placed but for a moment lone
In a paradise apart
From the bitter world we've known
But now we must depart
And return the ways we came
You yours and I my own
And yet we'll never be the same
For the paradise we've known.

Sometimes it just hits me,
(be it sunset or sunrise,)
A quirky grin; a funny look
from a similar pair of eyes.
And I begin to grieve again,
(be it a moment or a day)
For the love I never really knew,
Until it up and went away.
It's no matter, where he is now,
(be it miles or next door,)
For he is just a hollow ghost,
Of the one I know no more.

It just comes down to rot really.
Dangling on a ledge of a mountain it took your whole life to climb.
For what ?
To let go?
"Hell no!" they say....that's not allowed.
"That's too ******* easy," they preach.
Placing a coward label on every tired soul
who deserves the liberty to say
"Enough is enough!"
Somehow we don't get the right to die anymore.
Gotta leave something behind to carry on, right?
Work our entire god forsaken lives for the good of others....struggle through....make it through...see it through,... right ?
Thats noble.
Praise the noble souls who led easy lives
But **** on the pained, beaten ones who finally say," I'm done."
"I've done enough, I've had enough, I'm exhausted."
Yeah ...blaspheme the jumper they will.
Been screaming half my life for someone to hear, "Im dying here people!"
Ignorant ***** won't hear me on the way down either.

My head always seems to tell me one thing,
While my heart  takes the other extreme.
My heart says," This is possible,"
My head says, "It's  a dream."

She said," You live just a bit too far,
Too far from where the people are
To see the industry of the day
Or to hear the children as they play."
I replied," I live just far enough away
To see all that heaven will display
And hear God's voice when I pray,
A shame you don't live too far as well,
For this is where the angels dwell."

Oh! to hold the secret
For the souls tranquility
Whilst the earth itself may shake
And storms rise up at sea

To retreat unto it's own
Where all life's joys of past have flown
And just breathe them all back in
To  feel them right..all over again.

For what virtue does the mind proceed,
To urge a soul towards war?
Disarm it with a dreadful deed
And poison what is pure?
What reason ever may transpire?
What wisdom be learned here?
By turning a saint into a liar
And rational to fear?
As we know no value of a gold;
That never leaves our hand,
And only when a dream is sold,
Do we ever understand.  
As we only see one shade of white
Until another shade's beside,
And think almost nothing of the light,
Until we wish to hide.
So let the thoughtful lessons be
More knowledge for the wise,
The mind will claim its victory
As the soul meets its demise.

Sleep now, my love.

As the sun rises on my face,
Rest your mind, rest your head.
In that subdued and shuttered place
With that memory -filled bed.
Go be where the angels dwell
And the little children play.
And think not of me, for a spell.
Think naught of me today.

I remember him yanking the sheets away from me
And how the cold hit my skin
Stung
Drawing my knees up to cover my nakedness
Clutching them to my chest to hide
Totally exposed against my will
Seeing something like repulsion in his eyes only different.. more empty
While I cried and begged for the covers back
For a very long time while he laughed
Before balling up the sheet and slinging it at my face
And then saying, "put some ******* clothes on, *****."
Then he left the room.
This from someone I loved, who used to love me.
From someone who became a stranger.
Almost overnight.
And that's how one chooses not to love again.

Just a wee bit too eccentric,
And a little bit too much drink,
Yet the passion in the hallway
Did certainly make me think
And yes, your airplane was so cool
And I liked you were smarter than me.
But I'm so glad I didn't fall in love.
Because you wanted a family.
Aged 43- and as of yet no child
In need of a son to be an heir
And the thought of being a mom again
Was just way too much to bear.
Whether you even liked me for me
Well I guess I never truly knew
Most times I felt more like an applicant
For a job I couldn't do.
But all things turn out as they should
It was so nice to see you the other day
To hear that you had met another
And had a little Martin on the way. :)

Perhaps one day you'll write for me
Like in the days of old
You let love go
it will come back
at least that's what I'm told

Perhaps one day I'll be the one
Oh would you be so bold
Just let love go
It will come back
At least that's what I'm told.

Perhaps you just might not return
Is that how it will unfold
I let love go
And it got lost
And now it's freezing cold.

I really miss my Andy.
Perhaps not even the man anymore.
But the hope.
The inspiration I found upon meeting him.
Now I feel like I'm trying to find
a ghost most times
Or something to believe in
Or my way back home
Thinking back the years to the time I last remember
Breathing
Not just any breathing. Fresh deep air and full chest
Breathing
October winds, and conversations with dead people.
Living.
Photos of unmarked headstones in old graveyards
Living.
Each breath now is just that much closer to death.
I hope to find my Andy soon, the old one , a new one, doesn't matter I guess.
Any Andy to breathe the life back into my soul will do.

I no longer write for the one..
I used to.
He doesn't come here anymore.
Besides..neither one of us
Is the same.
We aren't anything like before.
But just like the broken verses...
That don't flow
Like mixing prose with muddled rhyme.
How I long to write for the one..
I used to.
Just for one last beautiful time.

You gave so much to me,
And I, .....nothing to you.
And so today, I guess the pain,
Inflicts right where it's due :(

"Crackle" goes the brittle leaf
Orphaned by the tree.
"Shh!" the doe responds to it
"The hunter's after me!"
The hunter takes his aim and whispers
"I've got you now..at last!"
Until the bear sneaks up behind
and grinds out,"not so fast!"

Awakening at 4 am for a needed touch. The stillness requires it, the quiet calls for it, the darkness outright demands it. Expectant, quivering, and ...done. 4:03. Alone.

The features are faded at the edges
In the fog-ged path I walk alone
Dusk has come and gone by now
The dampened trees begin to moan
One foot first and then the other
A breath with every one
Degrees are dropping fast now
Since the setting of the sun.
No candle burns to guide me
The full moon my only light
Reflecting off the shadows
That are darting left and right
The wind, is howling its commands,
Cracking twigs are keeping pace
Behind my hurried fearful steps
That are lost now in this place.
And I am on the path no more
And I can't find the way
Whispers echo off the brush,
"You're not going home today."

With a jaw tight as a vise
And eyes with pinprick beam
I swallow once unnoticed
Withdraw at every seam
No thought at all...a statue
No ears to longer hear
A focal point behind you
Is all that is still clear
A moment yet a lifetime
A drop without the fall
I breathe and walk right past you
As if you weren't there at all.

Somewhere on the scale between life and death she existed.
Shallow breaths subdued her mind into grey.
Monotony grew off monotony; a numbed slumber.
Dulled senses had become nothing but fray.
Quiet soul with blurry eyes and a heart sedated; ...when
A mere breeze of a whisper, nudged her back towards life again.

I gave up letting others hold me
at first because it just felt like I wasn't being loyal to you..
then because I didn't want anyone but you and even though I am still yours...
you are not mine.
Never were.
I will just have to try closing my eyes
and pretending it is you that holds me now...
And afterwards escape to our tree and cry.

I'm attractive enough
Smart too
Willing to do things
Others won't do
The purple in the room of white
The spirit that no one can hold
Nothing ever meets my prize
No one ever sparks my soul
Alone I wander alone I live
And cry in torture every night
That I've no one to share this life
That nothing no one makes me right

One hand or less
The souls
Beyond perhaps a year
Would still feel my
Absence
And might still shed a tear
So sad to think
The love
Of which I strove to give
A lifetimes worth
Also dies
The day I cease to live.
Forgettable
My self
Average at its best
Loved by few and...
Counted
On just one hand or less

Those thoughts, that we once lit upon, in such a rage,
(Oh!  how ablaze they once were and Oh! how quick they flew)
Scribbled posthaste onto the now much duller page,
To immortalize- as only the penned word can do.
And so, if ever apt,... regress to way back when,
(at least for a time, at least in mind,...return alone)
To dig them from their coffers - let them live again,
all of the greatest passions our souls had ever known;
To resurrect the fire that only youth can start,
(Recover- , a breathless moment or a wanton gaze)
Exhume instead- , a tear, shed from a lifeless heart,
To bestow the elegy of our departed days.

The sun played with trees this morning
It tickled the dew laden leaves
And tagged the shadows
Enticed a game of hide and seek
With the spiders webs
While the sparrows laughed along
With the audience of squirrels
In the backyard playground.  
It was peace enough for the day
I sent it all to you
On a prayer
Through the stone walls.

I know why I scare you.
I can be kind and unknowingly fierce,
So open and so closed,
Perfect and flawed,
All at the same time.
I know I can be trusted
But know I'm not.
I'm not one you can predict.
I fight great battles
And lose, and rejoice in the loss.
I speak parables and pain
Blessings and burdens.
I see so many dimensions.
That don't exist for you.
I barter for slavery instead of freedom
And walk naked among angels
That you can't see.
I talk to the dead
Because they listen.  
And am feared though I have no power
Over you.
I'm not accepted because I'm different.
I don't see an end or a goal
I see enlightenment.  
I can brush my teeth with Dickinson
And cook with Aurelius.
Introduce them to each other
At lunch.
A canopy of trees is a squirrel's playground to me.
I am quite often misunderstood
And conceived to be crazy.
But when I see a bird I watch it
As long as it takes for that bird to go.  
And wonder if anyone will ever
Watch me for that long.

I must sit while in my chest

An infinite realm there be

More, oh more, within the breast

Than awkward mortality

Minūte in its east to west

Too narrow a soul to free

Just how far from trough to crest

And here to eternity?

It's a steady drip on a window sill
Hitting the backside of my brain
That never quits, will never quit..until
I bring all thought to you....a-gāin.

An empty chair
A couple goats
And many sleepless nights
A playlist
A delivery truck
4am headlights
2 tee shirts
A quiet phone
A game of chess or two
A caramel frap
My broken heart
Are all thats left of you.

Hate.
The one thing we are told never to have.
And yet, sometimes it becomes our only protection.

As the shade of night slowly drops
And the birds whistle a "goodnight"
The atmosphere starts to settle
The city sounds go with the light
The crickets buzz to hush the world
In a melodic wave-like way
Nature conducts its orchestra
And puts to sleep another day.