He left at dawn with stars still bright
To catch the tide by morning strike
With promises and laughter near
He kissed her cheek and she alike

He set sail with the highest hopes
Ready to conquer awaiting dangers
His bait is placed and rod set
Sailing a sea with many lurking strangers

Farther and farther he goes
Unknown waves hijack his boat
Rougher and tougher the sea becomes
The more he struggles to stay afloat

The sea roared and the sea raged
Waves were hungry for a wooden taste
He tried to swim, he tried to stay safe
However the waves decided not to waste

The sea still roared and the sea still raged
She wait ashore for his return
With tear stains and knees on the floor
So disheveled, she gained onlookers' concern

An old man climbs into a vintage car
to smell the sweet upholstery,
caresses the steering wheel’s steel bars
and grips the gearshift **** of ivory.

He pulls the heavy door to close
it and hear its deep, dull iron clunk
that fuel-injects him with a dose
of chrome-clad metal hunks.

The streamlined car doesn’t move.
Still, it takes him on a favored trip
down a grey road well grooved
that his whitewall mind-tires firmly grip.

Its tires spin in grooves and sing
a well-pitched tune of rolling on.
Seams of concrete slabs now bring
the bumping heartbeat of this song.

His greying hairs match the road
which stretches out into his past,
leading him back in freeway flow
to a love that he’d made last.

For in a leather rumble seat
in a sleek car just like this one,
he’d kissed her hand and lips to greet
his sweetheart hunnybun.

She smiled as bright as high beams
at her motorheaded beau,
with wide eyes that stole his dreams
and made his fuel more quickly flow.

With hair like raven asphalt
framing lips in brake-light red,
in her saw he no faults,
but thanks to him, she’d end up dead

in a shattering crash
as they slid into a tree,
his youthful driving brash
and far too wild and free.

He swore to never leave
her by that bleak perditious street.
Resolved, he chose to grieve
her and keep the rumble seat.

So once a year he sits in this car.
He never drove again.
But each time it takes him far,
right to where his hunnybun had been.

pit...

pat..

So goes the Rain's silent ballad.

Each pit a pat,
a heavy pat on your sweet head.
Pittering pats of despair and dread
pointing toward tragedy dead ahead...

pit...

pat...

Each pat on your soft head
rips a pit into my stomach.
I gaze up... and then down.

...How many more can you stomach?

pit...

pat...

One too many... your lifeless body...
... with the Poet above I plead...

pit...

pat...

The ballad wets the pavement,
the scarlet a testament
of the poetic intent:
our lament.

pit...

pat...

...pit.

A tattooed man, burly and grey,
twists his hemp-fiber rope.
He thinks only of this cable’s lay,
not of wistfulness or unfulfilled hope.

His skin is bronzed and deeply creased
echoing the waves of the sea.
The grey wisps of his forearms’ thin fleece
recall thousands of mornings misty.

His thick fingers grasp like old iron anchors
as his mind glides through his tasks.
He pays no heed to the long-faded cankers
on his worn body from times long past.

Silently he furls the white canvas sails
and stows the great ropes below.
He calmly swabs with a mop and a pail
all the sea salt on the deck white as snow.

The now naked oak masts still rise to blue skies
as seagulls circle and sing their own lay.
But the sailor man hears not their cries —
He turns the capstan: Anchor aweigh.

The oaken ship now glides at slow pace,
adrift on the wide open waters.
A smile takes shape under grey beard’s lace:
He seeks the hand of Poseidon’s daughter.

He’s the last of the crew on this ship of the line.
He sails to be one with the sea.
He waits in calm as the smell of the brine
signals his new bride has welcomed his plea.

Ages hence a wreck will be found
with just one skeleton aboard.
But upon one bony finger, a round
gold band shines out like a vast hoard.

Don’t cast your pearls to swine, my love
Your gifts are far too rare
They will not spoil in time my love
If you treat them with care

Don’t give yourself away, my dear
Hold tight your precious heart
Please never let us see the day
You lose a single part

Don’t cast your pearls to swine, sweetheart
For they will never know
The beautiful divinity
Contained within your soul

Don’t share the secrets of your mind
With those who cannot see
The depth and breadth behind your eyes
Instead, share them with me

I’ll hold your pearls dear to my heart,
Appreciate them all
My darling I am drawn to you
See how I heed your call?

You’ve cast your pearls so many times
And this time I was there
With heart and soul and arms outstretched
To catch them from midair

Don’t cast your pearls to swine, angel
The precious gift of you
For you deserve the greatest fate
A life with love that’s true

A wild rose is a lasting thing
Growing amongst the ruins
Full of life despite neglect
And you know the place one blooms

A wild rose is a pretty thing
To decorate your room
All pink and leafy splendor
To cheer away the gloom

A wild rose is a thorny thing
Its vines tear you apart
You can’t grasp it directly
Work gently towards the heart

Push aside its catching strands
Leave the petals strewn
Take the freshest flowers
For more will blossom soon

A wild rose is a stubborn thing
You may plant it if you dare
Take a cutting from its base
But make your choice with care

For a wild rose is a feral thing
You can’t charm it to your will
Forever spreading beauty
Is its nature to fulfill

Another ordinary day
A damsel wakes with father fear
Reluctantly pulls blanket back  
As thoughts of resting disappear

From messages left unreturned
A growing feeling to embark
So, to his door set off to seek
Her unresponsive patriarch

Our damsel finds the bolted door
On floating breeze, smoke scent conveyed
The clock ticked quicker, locked without
Prompt call for hasty rescue aid

Blazed into action in a flash
—our scorching young protagonist
His searing skills foundation-forged
To save an injured arsonist

Our hero spots a bold ingress
An aperture at altitude
And meanwhile spies a driver’s card
—appearing strangely barbecued

Attention-torch on task-at-hand
On bended knee to deftly bring
—our damsel up, with strapping arm  
To reach the lofty opening

Our star-struck damsel, hero-held
Enchanted by his smouldering gaze
Wonders on what might have been
If meet-cute happened other-ways

Then slipping lithely window-wise
She drops inside the residence
Let hero in, then victim search
While mental-logging evidence

Sticky hi-***** rest in pairs
—their bottles languish laterally
Permeating smoky trace
Each clue arranged unnaturally

Recalls the messes passed outside
The slumber-tilted char-filled grate
Suggests a rather vigoured dance
With lumbering unsteady mate

And there our wounded, mattress-bound
Though coverlet obscures him still
His body marred in major part
From falling on his lighted grill

That solo night with drinks for two
—set grill for dreamy warmth, and then
Was flame-kissed in his doomed attempt
To bring his lost love back again

The sloshing, dulling, drink-fired trance
All woozy, stumbly, bonfire-played
He scrambled indoors, mattress-jelled
No manner for alerting aid

The damsel-daughter rescue-wrapped
Her father truly bottle-broke
As panic builds, all hero dreams
Well vanished in a puff of smoke

First thoughts occur, ‘If only aid
—had come before to stay this fate’
The thought reply, ‘But even so,
before this fire, was still too late’

Stuck helpless in her helping role
As supine father gurney-glides
Recalls the times and times before
The medically supported rides

The bottle holds a fire-fuel
That firefighters can’t suppress
A complex, clawing, crawling pain
That leaks into a shared distress

Constant, judgeless, shame-free love
The only hope to smother flames
A blanket of persistent souls
To search for joy when none remains

Without these tools for fire fight
The flames repeated encore flare
So, we are left ‘if only’ bound
       Our loved ones to another round
       That crackling roar the only sound
All fire-kissed and blanket bare

I wouldn't call myself a poet
But you make me dream like one
You're an angel, but you don't know it
But I know, 'cause you gleam like one

Some people may not seem to notice
But who cares what people say
The ones who really know you know this
And would never push you away

My Goddess gleaming
My tears are streaming
Please tell me that you understand
The fate that weaved us
Must never leave us
Please keep me here in Heaven's hand

Now life's a trail that keeps on going
As we walk it hand in hand
The winds of time are always blowing
On our footprints written in the sand

I know that fate's a current flowing
As we swim it side by side
Never stopping, never slowing
Till we're swallowed by the tide

My Goddess gleaming
My tears are streaming
Please tell me that you understand
The fate that weaved us
Must never leave us
Please keep me here in Heaven's hand

I guess I'd call myself a poet
My pencil proves this power true
But sitting here I'd never know it
'Cause none of my silly rhymes could ever compare to you

The cuckoo's whisper in this sweet evening
Is more lovelier than love has been
Throughout eve she keeps on whispering
For somebody, whom she has never seen

The vesper is on and fervent Angels sings
They lift up their choir to heavenly height
Amid, this sweet whisper, the cuckoo brings
And make this place and time a holy rite

Such peace, tranquility and harmony
Was felt all over and around the place
And nobody would be with agony
For everybody was blessed with grace

Yet I sit here alone with mournful lips
And ponder about the past with a grief
For l, doomed like Odysseus and his ships
Cry like a newborn baby in the eves

Her mortal vestige is in grave and oh
It has been years and years, since she has been
But still today I can hear and can know
She is here always, though she can't be seen

This morning I woke up
with music rolling
down my sleeves,
I sit up and as a soft ballad
That the universe sings
Runs laps on
the rims of my ears,
Making me jump up from my bed
To slowly put out my arms,
I can barely keep my eyes open
As I look to see
My right hand holding
unto the hips of the non existent,
My left hand grabbing
Tightly unto the hand of memories,
I waste saliva to ask the quiet room
If they are ready yet,
I don’t wait for an answer,
I slide through the path
That has been walked upon,
I twist and turn and smile.
I let the emptiness
rest upon my arms
As I let her down
as close to the ground as I can
Just to bring her back up
In a subtle graceful movement.
The music stops
and I let go.