why is it that I
have such a tough time
with poems
that don’t rhyme

Am I such a rule follower
that I can’t even break from
this childish nonsense that
poetry has to rhyme

Or even that words themselves
need to make sense
out of the chaos in my mind

And where and who
taught me that
this world isn’t really
about happiness

to me these are signs
that there certainly is
no god that I would ever worship
because what god

would make a world
where sacrifice and pain
mean more than love?
and poetry has to rhyme?

Is it fair
I shout silently
T've worked all my life
Forty nine trips around the sky
slowly turning a wild child
into reckless youth
a man-child with hair on fire
and desire
morphing into husband, loyal
a father, caring and kind
but trusting, no
never quite that

Only now
I scream without sound
furious that fate has chosen
This, of all times
to lay at my feet
one true friend
worthy of trust
unbridled lust
deserving love
a kindred soul
the perfect match
but fate states, no
it isn't fair

mistakes were made
along the way
the capricious cruelness
of life
crept in

seeds of doubt
nourished with shards
of pain and confusion
fell on
fallow soil

unwilling to yield
the hard ground
tenaciously guarded
by desire
and hope

two wishful lovers
are blissfully granted
a chance to learn
once more
to trust

What have I done
Never have I been so open

Exposed and naked
Nowhere left to hide

Do you still seek me?

Does the moth
drawn to the flame
fear

or does he
know only light
warmth

knowing fear
would he shy
freezing

or fly direct
heedless
Into the flames

The bloom fades
petals fall
One by one
gently to earth
And in clusters
ripped away
in times less pleasant
The luminous fruit
of their memory
a brilliant orb amongst thorns
A promise of flowering
Yet to be