The beach in winter is my crying place
The shower will do
Sometimes the car
The tucked-away toilets at work
They are containers
But the beach is
My accomplice

We mourn together, weather gives us room
The wind assists, insists that others leave
If some resist, enlists the sand to
Reinforce the clear command with
Stinging pressure, stresser that the
Beach in winter is for us
And us alone
To sit
And safely grieve

What makes you wake up in the morning?
Tell me so I can try it
sentence me to a life of living
please, in desperation I plead,
I’ll give you the lead so you can solve
the study of staying alive

be my witness
see me wake up in the morning
continuously

my sentence ends when
I’ve tried each of these reasons
there’s enough to last a lifetime
these reasons become a lifeline

the case of staying alive:
the next best love story ever told
me and the reasons
me and the seasons
me and the unread novel on the shelf
of the public library on the street
that I have yet to live on with
friends I have yet to meet
and a garden I am yet to plant bulbs in
that grow life with
and if
these reasons are ongoing and growing
what’s not to say that these reasons
are ever going to leave me
witness me complete my sentence
of living alive —

Forsaken anew; / failure’s company
Saturnine, my soul; / assurance broken
Order to chaos; / fractured symmetry
Alone with failure / Hope was yet token

Blood in the mirror / oozing lethargy
The instrument held / in the victim’s hand
Lambasted pride’s pith; / pain the elegy
Drip down, down to dirt; /soul’s vice reprimand

The high price paid for / blind cowardice proud
To slough shamed sin sets /my soul to quail
Failure to stop pride; /sanguine stained I stand
My blood measures short, /to sin-siege, I fail

But God is faithful, / redeemer belov’d
His blood ransomed me; /Praise to Him who loves

I sit beneath the willow tree
That wilted, weeping, widow’s tree
That messy, mournful, martyr’s tree
Wishing for a better me.

I am the boughs, so bent and beaten
Desperate, derailed, defeated
Without respite, the worst repeated:
“Failed again, you failed again.”

Once, I was the vibrant green,
A softly serendipitous scene
With smiles now so seldom seen
That one day, might be found again.

I lay within the willow’s shade,
To wait and watch and let her sway,
She holds me in her vined embrace,
And says my goodness still remains.

I accepted the death
I just need the scent
of the things you left
the end is nothing,
I don't care about it
what I can't handle
is a hope;
with an insane,
exhausted tremor
I slam the door
beyond which there's nothing more
than the dust over the things you left;
tell me it's all over,
that I can rest,
cover my eyes
and close the door.

This gaping hole that cannot be filled,
A father's love I have never known,
An undying yearning, seemingly instilled.

I'm like a child, with tears being spilled,
Crying for that bond, that love of my own,
This gaping hole that cannot be filled.

The promise of protection, never unfulfilled,
Someone to remind me I'll never be alone,
An undying yearning, seemingly instilled.

What if he was here, had never been killed?
Would he speak with a loving tone?
This gaping hole that cannot be filled.

To be wrapped in his arms is my will,
This hope hurts my heart, my every bone.
This gaping hole that cannot be filled,
An undying yearning, seemingly instilled

In many poems,
Indeed mine own,
Relationships are defined
As two vessels sailing
In close company,
Plotting the same course
By choice and happiness
Choosing to stay close by,

But in truth a relationship
IS a ship,
A single hull with
Two crew to sail it,
Working together
To maintain the five essentials,
A level hull, with sails and foils well set,
And direction agreed,

Who holds the helm,
The tiller and extension,
That person controls
The direction of travel,
And that has been you,
When you sailed us into danger
My hand was there to guide
Us back from hazard,

Now I am steering
And the course is arrow straight
In lieu of help
Or kind suggestion,
A crew entirely focussed not
Upon the vessel but themself,
And no gentle hand to
Re direct our boat

Nor kind word
Or still small voice of calm
To calm the storm for more
Than a minute,
And that is a shame,
It takes two to tango
Only one to sail a boat,
But it is better by far

With another