Words come from the distant deep,
where silence hums and secrets sleep.
Thoughts that flicker, wild or meek,
drip like rain from the soul's dark beak.

They rise from marrow, not from air,
from bloodied dreams or whispered prayer.
Sometimes steep, a summit scream,
sometimes soft as a lullaby dream.

They ride on crows with razored wings,
or butterflies with silver strings.
Some arrive like axe-blade sighs,
some as tears in a child’s wide eyes.

They are born beneath the skin,
in quiet wars we hold within.
Lines crawl out through open scars,
stanzas shaped like fallen stars.

Married in unison — pulse and page,
they outlive time, they outgrow age.
A poem doesn’t end — it loops, it plays,
it’s sung through moonlight and firelit days.

Words don’t rot, they bloom and bite,
etched in ink or screamed at night.
They are rivers of chocolate, or ******-red,
they live when we are long past dead.

So write — with truth, with flame, with breath,
for poems cheat both time and death.
They touch the places no one sees,
they plant forever in the breeze.

I promise you
not to build mountains of gold
on weak ground, I promise you
no lifelong love
out of blind lust

I promise you
no great deeds
but sincere ones
to do what I can
to be who I am

that is: your
wisdom when you're angry
defence wall around your fear
hand under your head
nest for your sorrow

I am your
understanding answer
mountain with a view
double joy
and other side

I am your
well-doing bath
together at the table
bed to sleep in
love to your toes

Maybe you always were a rainbow but i could only see in single shades.
Pink or blue i labeled you, but baby you were a colorful parade.
You saw a kaleidoscope pattern a beautiful array.
you tried to share it with me but i didn’t know what to say.
In my own way i was blinded couldn’t see the flashes of light.
Had to shield my eyes the colors were to bright.
See baby i was taught to only see things through their filter.
When you tried to show me something different it left me off kilter.
Still i am learning and spinning  but i promise to try.
To see and appreciate your beautiful colors painting the sky!

I loved you in the silence,
the forgotten, aching still,
that throbbed beneath the rain–
in clocks too slow to ****.

You were not lost or vanished,
not ghost, nor fleeting flame–
but time rewrote your nearness,
and absence learned my name.

I loved you when the dishes
lay waiting in the sink,
when dusk fell down too early
and left no space to think.

You were not made for statues,
for saints or poet’s pen–
you were the crack in breathing
that let the sorrow in.

I do not write you letters,
for words fall through the sieve;
I loved you past the promise
of anything I’d give.

Not for your tender smiling
or how your hands once pressed–
but for the way you linger
inside my failing chest.

So stay, not as a memory,
not shadow, smoke, or sound–
but as the ache I carry
when no one is around.

In my quiet mind,
no secrets, no need to lie
only time stares back.

Lonely clock unwinds,
each thought echoes with silence
no one waits inside.

I run in your mind,
looping like a whispered name
you can’t let me go.

But where do we meet
between your dreaming of me
and my fading self?

A thousand poems,
a million kisses,
laughter lands in
open eyes,
sighs I hear
in lovers' rooms.
sooner will
the sun be fading,
a lifetime
of hidden hopes
buried in
hillside grasses.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS