Wow, just wow
That performance deserves a bow
She wanted the freedom of being single
So I decided to get back out there and mingle
Then she decides to love me once more
I welcomed her back as someone I truly do adore
Even though I tried to discard those feelings
Having her back has spread my wings
Spread them wide and learn to fly
So as not to break down and cry
We are back together, Hannah and Ben
I knew nothing would stop us from being together again
When what is new
Stays through night's wading charm
And lasts not for fame's harm
But ignorance left here with thee
There you invite something special, something free.
Where you use what is new
And usurp the old order
You taste what lore old beggars do
And beautify lost tomes once more
When you find what was forgotten
And wrap wedded slogans on yourself
Raise slightest youth from its ignorant ways
There, thine work is well founded,
And your spirit well freed
The words stick like a glue
As it sinks into my skin.
The assumption are dire but true,
Ravaging the conscience to begin.
Deranged is what becomes of my piece of mind
As the guilt inexorably attaches.
Bonded to one's pride - my dignity is left behind -
And my self-esteem is left with cuts and scratches.
As the cuts on my wrist turn into scars and dry
My mother stares at me in fear of what else i’ll do.
I don’t know how to fight off the monsters that are locked inside;
They’re right under the surface trying to break through.
Life seems insignificant, all sense of self-worth has died
And i’m merely hanging on by a thread.
Along with the people I know, my emotions are pushed aside,
To succumb to resentment, i’d rather be dead.
I failed to see it from the start
And it tore me open till the end.
It is time to burn whatever is left of those demons in my heart,
It is now time to make amends.
To discover the real meaning of our lives that is true,
We must persevere through its journey and be formed anew.
Things are wiggling and wobbling
And shaking and stirring and
I can hear the downstairs neighbor
Slam their door.
It’s all so infantile the way we
Hang on each other’s words
Waiting for some misplaced
Inflection and damning each other
The winds blowing harder now,
I can feel it. And yet,
The birds are still chirping even
During the storm.
Maybe they figured something out
That we haven’t quite yet
Maybe they are able to focus
On the fact the storm has to end.
Instead of focusing
On how long it will last.
The world looks freshly painted
directly after the rain,
each surface glistening in the streetlight:
As if a great artist
in a flash of inspiration
(like the strike of lightning
that preceded this storm)
envisioned this all in her head,
called it instantaneously into being
on her canvas.
All the colors, still wet,
slowly flowing into each other.
The pavement, the fallen leaves,
my footprints trailing through.
At the corner, I look behind me.
My footprints are gone, sucked into the paint;
it smoothed itself out as I passed, in my wake.
Wet and breathing spring: a perpetually-renewing clean slate.
I see the fading petals flood down around these naked feet
Patience was, a fleeting virtue trying to reveal
the beauty of an unnoticed flower
For the stained memories of a weed often linger
within the contempt when we privately fail
Was it the profuse fragrance of the apple blossoms;
the redolent scent inducing the senses urgent swell?
The sweetness of temptations surrender;
the oral elixir of honey's succulent taste
A shapeless shadow cast upon indelible ink
spilled upon the gathered words shed
The apple tree's heavenly endowed harmony
deriding dreams of heaven and hell
Looking out at the pouring rain
low gray clouds empty insensibly upon the earth
Mesmerizing fallen white petals wash aground
flooding down profusely all across the meadow
An unfinished life that fell too soon
released by the loving limbs
That once beheld nascent love's blossom
June rivers 2017 ... all rights reserved
They came prancing,
Leaping and a-dancing,
Preening and distending,
From the depths of night.
Through blackened earth, rising to appoint
Sinking sky with mourning shroud. The
Sun retreats; in defeat still proud,
Over the horizon and out of sight.
The soul now left to its aching,
Maddened by hope and endless yearning
For salvation, is reaching, straining,
To the silken whispers of the moon.
Nothing remains of the glorious day,
And dark creatures arise to the warm scent of prey.
And the world slips into her mantle of gloom,
As unto heaven a million stars lie strewn.
The world lies in a quiescent state;
Darkness robs even more of the light
from a planet
steadily growing colder.
Sounds of the breeze exhaling down the
spine of the Old Oak makes me
cringe. What's happened
to the songs of the forest?
This woodland heart, frozen solid by
Old Man Winter's icy fingertips,
among lives that are on pause.
A bitter kiss from the old man's lips
and we are prepared for our slumber.
preface our resurrection.
ever since my mother died
on the day spring began
eleven years ago
my joy over the annual reburgeoning of life
also evokes the memory of death
death is unique and final
spring is eternal
but all the lovely flowers sprouting forth
always remind me of my mother’s love
of flowers and all other natural beauties
like sea shells pine cones precious stones …
maybe it was appropriate
for her to leave this earth
when it brought forth new life again
bursting into renewal
as if to compensate us
for our loss