"farewells" poems
He has taken rake and shovel in hand,
Taking advantage of the light,
Rare in these climes this time of year,
Still welcomed, though rendered severe
By the sun's reluctant trudge above the horizon,
The type which, sauntering through a window pane
(Falling upon a crucifix anchored above a cradle
Or some ancient, gilded frame
Containing a photo of some grandparent's wedding day,
Exploding into full undifferentiated diffusion)
May possess a dram of warmth, albeit resigned, nostalgic
A bittersweet reminder of what has gone by
(And in the shade, the air is filled
With the portentous chill of what lies a few months hence)
But there nonetheless as he tends to those final farewells
From the trees bowing to December's inevitability,
The droppings not the Pollock-esque bursts of October
(Those having been collected and consigned
To the normal corner of the back lot)
But dreary brown-hued things, not welcomed by eye nor heart,
Simply corralled perfunctorily and dismissed.
One could contend that such activity is unnecessary,
The mere vanity of all endeavor,
As the snow will come soon, and steady as well,
Performing the seasonal, cyclical function in its own time,
But he soldiers on nonetheless, a unseen one-act nearly-farce,
Painstakingly raking and bending and scraping
To leave his patch of green uncovered for a little while
Until the locking time comes to seal the earth's secrets once more,
To be revealed to those
Who shall receive the teasing ministrations
Of the fickle, fitful March equinox.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
A single raindrop falls from the sky,
depressed in its loneliness as it descends.
It lands and drips down a grassy slope,
alone and forgotten.
A single raindrop falls from the sky.
It falls from dark clouds and gloomy air.
It brings nothing but sadness to the earth below
and desires only to be heard or seen.
A single raindrop falls from the sky,
felt only by a stranger.
It's wiped away, declared a nuisance,
and cast away from existence.
A single raindrop falls from the sky,
mistaken for a tear.
Thought to be from an angel of a lost age.
It merely stirs the dust.
A hundred raindrops fall from the sky,
all lonely but together.
They cause a splash and demand attention.
Still only felt by one.
A hundred raindrops fall from the sky,
unable to quench the earth's thirst.
They disappear, taken by the ground,
embraced for the last time.
A hundred raindrops fall from the sky.
Not a head turns to notice them.
They cry out loudly but cannot be heard,
vanishing as they land.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky.
The clouds gather to watch the spectacle.
They grow darker as they bunch together,
warning those below of the coming.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky
and tap people on the shoulder.
"Come watch us," they whisper before leaving.
Few people are left behind.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky,
looking for an audience.
The people have left and taken their friends
to hide in the buildings they made.
A million raindrops fall from the sky,
and joyously, they sing.
They hit the ground, the cars, the roofs,
and make music for those in hiding.
A million raindrops fall from the sky.
They dance and cheer and smile.
The sun decides it wants to watch.
The light dances with raindrops for awhile.
A million raindrops fall from the sky,
accompanied by rays of gold.
They bring new color to the city of gray
and rejuvenate all of the old.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and makes art upon the ground.
It quenches the earth's thirst and hums in our ears,
dancing to its own sound.
A gentle rain falls from the sky.
People watch with awe from behind glass.
Ignored by many, precious to captivated few.
They long for it to last.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and gracefully sways in the breeze.
It brings forth calmness and a sense of peace.
It blesses the green fields and trees.
A gentle rain falls from the sky,
watched by a child with wonder.
It sends the breeze to lift the child
and brings them out from under.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and splashes on window panes.
It plays with the child and hums sweet tunes
as it makes puddles in the traffic lanes.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and ripples in the water.
A new world created, impossibly calm.
It makes the child an offer.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and whispers in the child's ear.
"Wait for me. I will return.
I won't leave you alone here."
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and sings goodbye to the child.
The clouds dissipate as the sun takes over.
The departing rain simply smiles.
A million raindrops fall from the sky,
murmuring farewells and goodbyes.
Each gives the child a tender hug
as the color returns to the skies.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky,
then a hundred, then one.
The single raindrop kisses the child
standing alone in the sun.
No longer do raindrops fall from the sky,
but a child waits for them.
To dance and sing and draw and play,
with the gentle rain again.
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 4:07 PM UTC
The Amazons fractured her skull
while he was busy
introducing himself, with a handshake
and a teapot:
'Good Morning!'
A tuneless whistle,
an anthem from nowhere
falls on deaf ears,
eyes faded to pastel
like a warning poster
after twenty copies
and acid rain.
Not an episode from real life
just an ivory circus,
the sport of savagery
Tired.
At an end.
It wouldn't happen in Blighty.
A dark heartbeat,
a steady drum
The pen is mightier than the spear,
blotted shapes in the rushes
Inert, unheard
No time for farewells
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 6:02 PM UTC
Whisper, wolf
Cry as you first open your eyes
As you see the world for the very first time
The world breathes to you
It welcomes you in
Whisper, baby wolf
Whisper, wolf
Fumble and fall through your youth
Shoot for the stars with your eyes
Energy as of the stars
A soul made of sunlight
Whisper, young wolf
Whisper, wolf
Changes are coming for your world
Feel your paws start to ache and grow
Confusion of the world around you
It seems to breathe a different way
Whisper, growing wolf
Whisper, wolf
You've grown through your troubles
Though their echoes torment you so
She looks at you differently now
And you are so misunderstood
Whisper, adolescent wolf
Whisper, wolf
Walk through the chapters
Howl softly to the night
Lay your head beside her
As you dream and wander ever still
Whisper, lost wolf
Whisper, wolf
Trust was not always there
Some wolves were made to run
More beautiful things await you
Though the pain blinds you so
Whisper, heartbroken wolf
Whisper, wolf
Speak softly to the world
You see a familiar face today
Though it is not your own
You look to their soul
Whisper, father wolf
Whisper, wolf
They grow as they follow
As they are led through the night
Guidance is provided where it once was empty
The pack is stronger now
Whisper, proud wolf
Whisper, wolf
For today is the day of farewells
You wonder if your efforts were enough
The moon seems to look to you
And it looks to say that it loves you
Whisper, sad, sad wolf
Whisper, wolf
That old pain comes back again
She's in a better place now
You feel lost in the woods again
Though you know you are not alone
Whisper, crying wolf
Whisper, wolf
Your pack gathers around you
For today is the day of your final goodbye
Though it is not you crying this day
You rejoice for the opportunity
Whisper, dying wolf
Whisper, wolf
For you are home now
Your troubles are finally behind you
You are with her again
The cubs grow in the steps of your paws
Whisper, sleeping wolf
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
Down the stairs, my hands a shield
for incoming priority mail,
and trained for the way your body would
hug me closer with every exhale.
Your mother won’t stop calling.
Kind of like the week we spent hopeful
before they sent you away.
Kind of like me just trying to hear your voice,
always searching for something that’s calming.
The windows have
been open since yesterday,
and I heard the bird sing to its sky,
“I love you”
before it started to rain,
darkness swallowed up the sun’s sky
and wilted all our daisy-chains.
Rescued frames surround me,
reserved to tell your stories.
The breeze never fails me,
it carries your scent in flurries.
If I try hard enough, I could feel it
through my hair, and on my lips.
Every night the breeze
brings with it a solar eclipse
that soaks through my skin,
and intertwines with my blood cells,
going straight to the bones that
keep my body from further farewells.
Tomorrow I will build a home with
the words of your silent prayer.
My cracked walls will be painted with
your skin and the scent of your hair.
My new bed will be made with
old t-shirts you always used to wear.
If I could fit your eulogy on this page
I’d make sure to mention the breeze that whirls
through the center of my chest,
and my lungs that faithfully breath the air
that may have once circled your ribcage.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
At birth, we boarded the train of life and met our parents, and we believed that they would always travel by our side. However, at some station, our parents would step down from the train, leaving us on life's journey alone.
As time goes by, some significant people will board the train: siblings, other children, friends, and even the love of our life.
Many will step down and leave a permanent vacuum. Others will go so unnoticed that we won't realize that they vacated their seats! This train ride has been a mixture of joy, sorrow, fantasy, expectations, hellos, goodbyes, and farewells.
A successful journey consists of having a good relationship with all passengers, requiring that we give the best of ourselves. The mystery that prevails is that we do not know at which station we ourselves will step down. Thus, we must try to travel along the track of life in the best possible way -- loving, forgiving, giving, and sharing.
When the time comes for us to step down and leave our seat empty -- we should leave behind beautiful memories for those who continue to travel on the train of life.
Let’s remember to thank our Creator for giving us life to participate in this journey.
I close by thanking you for being one of the passengers on my train!
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC
“Good afternoon”
Light kisses on the cheek
Walk gracefully to your seat
Cross your legs at the ankles
Never the knees!
“May I have a cup of tea, please?”
A porcelain teapot pours
With grace, three quarters full
And, as not to cross the paths of love
Milk is always last
A silver spoon in glistening pride
An inverted reflection
Of your well-bred smile
Stir, ever so carefully, from 6 to 12
Never ***** the sides!
Take a sip, looking into, never over
The cup. Laugh, smile, and converse
Indulge in a skon (not scone)
With clotted cream and raspberry jam
Always parted in two
As you say your farewells, praise yourself
You have made Queen Catherine proud
With your lady-like poise and elegant charm
At afternoon tea
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
What's your take on walking?
My body serves my soul
and tells me how to go.
My heart, affixed -- aims to show.
These ways I’ve walked in my shoes and stockings.
I've looked to heaven’s stars, to daylit clouds,
when I've stepped out, or dropped my gaze
to track the ground.
Yes, it is true—whoever passed me by
could have taken offense and supposed
I lacked my confidence.
And ofttimes, I strode out straight and true
as if toward a far mist horizon.
Un-manifest future,
even peek-a-boo,
could be comprehended?
I should doubt it.
And if I wished to address an occasional
in-the-dumps, lost-at-sea feeling,
I'd shut my eyes, and walk backwards --
owl-like, swivel 360 my head.
Backwards blind circumspection seemed worthy my try;
Ask--Who am I?
I would story where I’d been.
In my most spontaneous of nature foot-trafficking,
in roulette walk; my spin of gun chamber click--
ant, spider, beetle, and the occasional sighing snail
had fled my shadow shoe?
As slow drift clouds in a sky game would play
with the sun to hide—creatures had sought me out,
sung their farewells? (it was an excellent day to die)
Let me tell it, as it had happened today,
and truth says how.
My feet, they had gotten to waltz-walking.
O how my body and soul
danced a-fancy free.
Love was brimming out of me; happiness
whispered her wordless name; and
my tongue tripped nonsensical.
So if, at last, you've kept a-pace with me
in sympathetic striding, then perhaps
you would surmise:
there never could be a flat-footed me,
when I spout off with poem-talking.
Now, what’s your take on walking?
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Ganders...gargantua--ensconced in far-fetched space...
(attrition)...LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...
ROUND THE CORNERS OF PERPETUITY...predilections.
A soul's inalienable fracas...on bend and knee...hop...and
whoop...miasmic gargoyles poppy-wreathed...
for all-too-lucid dreaming...chanting etceteras of bare riff raffs.
Golden breastplates...weeping willow wings...empurpled--
fending fang trumping lines of: yuck, cluck, claw and kook.
...Listless eyes...alphabetize...think a blind oracle's informed
absentia...holy and bovine.
Redolent airs...perspiration of spume's most distancing shore--
eyepieces for the specks and logs in the oculos of brothers
and sisters.
As dust to dust doth not settle...heart's yonder score...nay cease
of interstice...off-world amorousness.
Gather ye yarrow sticks...hurl them at days...roofless arcady...
live into the spectra of their worlds, come friend or foe...Fate's foundling.
Lines strung as prayer beads...curs-ed beads...forget-me-nots
enclosed in letters baiting Long Farewells, in the great literary
correspondence of authored and Author.
...Ye gorgeous gargoyles come perch and push.
Persona non grata...the wide world...unisex prodigal...All--returneth.
LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...(attrition)...ROUND THE
CORNERS OF PERPETUITY.
NEBULAEIC FANFARE...come perch to push...lo...ANGELS!
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Once upon a deadline dreary,
In an office bleak and weary,
The hours we spent with work and play
Now seem to pass like a distant day
And as I look upon each friendly face,
I feel the sting of time and place
As I bid farewell to those I hold dear
My heart is heavy with the weight of sorrow
For though you go forward with hope and without fear,
It is steps further away from the times we shared
And I'll miss the friendships that I've come to know
So let us say farewell with heavy hearts,
As each of us moves on to different parts
But know that in our souls, we'll always hold
The memories of our time, both warm and cold
As you pack your things and prepare to depart,
Know that memories will linger on
Your presence, once a comfort to our heart,
Will now be felt in silence, a mournful part
Though distance may separate us, I'll keep in mind,
That true friends are never truly left behind
May 3, 2023
May 3, 2023 at 8:48 PM UTC
Goodbye! Goodbye!
and so I bid,
Silent Farewells; as tears I hid,
behind myself; accede to die.
As you lie unconscious,
In all your might you sleep.
I sit beside you two, ruminating deep:
"My life without you; how monotonous."
Then gather the bits that remained intact,
to press my lips against your cheeks.
Without you knowing all of these,
I will forever bury this poignant fact.
Now I leave to do the things,
I need to do as I turn my back...
on you my dear brothers,
one thing I promise.
i will be back.
s o o n e n o u g h.
I W i l l B e B a c k .
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 5:20 AM UTC
I may have loved you too much,
but;
A part of me still loves you to this day
Your sweetness allures me so,
Like honeyed days we’d stare without shame
You were irresistible to my heart and I knew trouble cornered me
I’d shoo away the laughable thoughts,
Aiming to mail you a letter of love
To which you’d open it fresh with a scented kiss
Flower petals would descend from your heart
Your cheeks adopted a sunflower
The stars entertained you that night
You told me you always dreamed of late evenings
Informing me of the curtain of constellations
That you’d like to sleep soundly in
Of course I’d be willing to offer you anything in return of your smile
And the night we escaped, you gasped softly at the surprise
Your simple happiness was all one romantic would need
No matter where we dreamed,
Together we are one
Standing besides one another
Fate draws near, echoing our future
Your bleakness eats me devastatingly
Tomorrow we are still...one being
But overseas, I send you my farewells
So that you are found in perfect health
And that we consume truly divine harmonies
Made only for the sweetened couples
Whose stories fade ever so forlornly in the past
I love you brightly as the sun
You illuminate my pathways
But one kiss erases my existence
Continue to please those around you;
Without me, the world withers
Please remember my love,
And be gentle with it
For it is delicate as the world
My eyes see a star
But yours fail to see within that darkness
The gloom that retreats before you arrive
I am part of that campaign
An honorable being among the troops
Yet your continuous ignorance saddens me so
See me now,
Find me wanderlust in this world
And somewhere, we can swiftly enrapture ourselves
Whether it be in the meadows of glistening rays
Or the places that calmly send the earth into slumber
Wherever we are destined, I’ll always be there for you
Even if tonight’s curtain unsheathes
And you are no longer the image of love,
But rather, a friend I could love with silliness on languid days and somber nights.
Dec 8, 2021
Dec 8, 2021 at 4:10 AM UTC
If I were a soldier
All ****** and bribed
I would go down by the trenches
On a tank time joy ride
If I were a soldier
Death would be my game
For all the wrong reasons
They will remember my name
If I were a soldier
I'd say my farewells
Down the barrel of a ******
And straight down to hell
If I were a soldier
Wounded by pride
For a country not worth this
Lest we forget,
I have died
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 10:06 PM UTC
Got lost in the longing,
Daydreaming farewells,
That train whistle holler,
The smell of motels,
Familiar with strangers,
Sacrifice morning light,
My strongest convictions,
Now too weak to fight,
Dear broken romantics,
Sweet Hollywood eyes,
Find peace in invention,
Deceitful disguise,
Come cold revelation,
An end drawing near,
Speak slow of salvation,
Too softly to hear,
The darkest conclusions,
Stealing your air,
Your daughter beside you,
Your wife’s empty chair,
A hospice hotel room,
That low trumpet sound,
My dad on my shoulder,
A rose on the ground,
Still learning to lose you,
Without letting go,
Turn sorrow to saplings,
Let new forests grow,
Just remember the laughter,
Your voice in my ear,
That music still playing,
Too softly to hear.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
I lived my half dictionary life before I could
comprehend compulsory compromises.
Collectors arise, disguises and devices beeping,
chastising my blindness.
Gather geography from Afghanistan and Myanmar
graciously growing gold gilded gift horses,
gleefully gloating about floating far away.
My hoof beats above concrete match my heart’s defeat
across borders and mountains
embroidering cardboard cut-outs
calling deserts, decorating front covers.
Exhaling handcrafted letters for my missing half,
half demanding highest caliber commanders and half commanding completion.
Jade jays joyfully lay arrays of bouquets
fragile flowers decay faraway
in jawbones and jail cells.
Begging farewells in a hotel’s lobby
began my hobby,
early morning coffee and carbon copies
concurringly cocky around his dead body.
Gang ciphers for cartels are
Christmas bells hissing at collars,
half dollars embellishing bar crawlers
godfathers hollering at car haulers.
Atrocities across cities attack,
attachable atrophies audibly ambush arthritic anthologies.
Anomalies begin apologies between apostrophes,
advancing autonomy arousing ancient animosities.
All eluding Antarctica,
giant frozen crests, multi-coloured ice
hidden in my illustrations
anxious for my distant half.
Friday cassettes and cigarettes
deliberately making bets following “M”.
Breaking bindings and finding “beta” in alphabet,
may feasibly end in debt.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
i think i exist only to love
but never experience,
a pretentious bag of bones like me
will only stir your feelings
—you will wallow in it for some time
and then you will forget about me
like a cup of coffee that has gone cold.
but if i must admit,
it's because i do stunt my own growth:
in life, in love, but strangely enough,
not in death.
an odd number of reasons
aid my tendencies;
they get glued together to form
a paper-maché of well-composed farewells
—a craft i have mastered in my years of longing.
i think i exist only to love,
but never experience—
yet here i am, still longing
until i get a hand to hold.
Jun 19, 2023
Jun 19, 2023 at 8:46 AM UTC
This morning, out in lightly falling snow, I heard geese
as flights of them flew overhead. Like a shot
I was ten again, Grammy and I at the lake. I’d sit in the bow
of my canoe, pulled awkwardly ashore, neck craned back to watch the sky.
I was always sad to see them go; their calls so many cold goodbyes.
Ice encrusted water slushed against the dock in slow motion waves.
It was time to seek new horizons, where waves
of Floridian waters would embrace the geese.
My grandmother said that every new adventure started with goodbyes
to one thing or another. If I were ever to have a shot
at following my dreams, there’d be farewells as I reached for the sky.
Instinct would lead me onward to my accomplished bow.
One year Momma and Poppa Goose stayed behind, a nest in the bow
of my boat. The wintery sky turned black with departing waves.
They would call out as the flying ones filled the sky.
Wounded wing grounded Poppa. (Canada geese
mate for life.) Momma would not leave her mate, recently shot
during hunting season. She would not yet say her goodbyes.
This, then, was the winter of no cold goodbyes.
Before school, pony tailed hair with ribboned bow,
blowing in the stiff breeze, I’d take a shot
at keeping ice from the edge of the lake, waves
arrowing out as they swam. The geese,
with an itch in their wings, anxious for a return to their sky.
That summer Poppa introduced his flock to the sky,
practiced formational takeoffs leading to goodbyes.
Clouds overhead gathered gray with unfallen snow as the geese
took flight. My two watching for a moment, dipping heads in an elegant bow,
before joining in the aerial ballet of strong winged waves.
Grammy’s strong hand gripped my shoulder, then-- the parting shot.
Grammy joined the geese beyond the horizon. No miracle shot
or endless love could keep her with me. Heaven was in the sky.
I knew she was watching although there’d been no time for final waves.
Her new adventure started without time for goodbyes.
Outside, snow blanketed as I cried myself to sleep. Her final bow
had been silent, but she’d been telling me, as had the geese.
Overhead the geese are shaftless arrows shot
from an instinctual bow piercing the morning sky
with their raucous goodbyes. Time waves.
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 6:16 PM UTC
I should cherish hugs more.
They come too frequently,
and leave too soon.
They are the farewells
of friends and lovers,
and life.
I could die any second,
and have missed
too many second hugs.
I love you
so much I don't
want to let you go
type of hugs.
Even the shallow, shy hugs
I'd miss. The nervous
quick, hard ones I should have
actually tried softer.
I say I will hug better next time,
but then I forget.
Next time arms are
around me too quickly,
or there is no next time.
The bottom of my throat
tells me there will be
more time.
When will I die without a hug?
Idk.
Better hold on to the last one
like it's my last.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
Bring me the moonlight in a glass
Soft and sturdy liquid
Deep flowing magnetized
Colour
Creeping broth
In hazy pattern
Churning in the cauldron
Let me gulp the heavens
And sip away at it's farewells
Silken threads of water
And hot headed fluff
Gathering bits of holes
In endless vast
Moving with my eyes
And with my hands
Reach up and scratch the sky
Reach down and swim
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 10:23 AM UTC
Can I ask you a question or maybe a few?
Because I don’t know how to do this, I have no clue
But let’s make it official, what’s the worst this could do
You like me, and I like you
So…
Will you take my hand and never let go
Our fingers like vines, eternity they’ll grow
Entwined and knotted together so tight
Staying together til the last day of light
Will you share the good times, and be my best friend
Laughing and giggling with every second we spend
Make funny jokes, make silly faces
Tickle each other in so many places
Will you come see me, sneak out your door
And in the pitch black while most people snore
You’ll come and find me, just like the scripts
Look at me, smile, and then press with your lips
Will you give me your shoulder when I need to cry?
And when you need one too, on me you’ll rely
Will you be my turtle and I be your shell
I will protect you and make your life swell
Will you show me your eyes green like jade
Get stuck in the moment, and all else fades
We won’t even blink, our eyes exposed
We can sing love songs with both our mouths closed
Can we meet at football game, our parents won’t know
See how happy I make you and how you make me glow
And as I stare I’ll be shocked, everything to a blur
And ill think to myself… I really love her
Will you take what you get, accept all my flaws
And when I finally confess, without any pause
You’ll say right back, because you already knew
That you have the same feelings, I love you too
Will you grow up with me, through heaven and hell?
Forever and ever, no more farewells
Every second together, just like our dreams
That we’ve had so long, since we were both teens
And then we’ll get married, best day of our lives
And with this bond, we will both thrive
I’ll be your husband, you’ll be my wife
I’ll be your everything, you’ll be my life
…What I’ve been getting at what I’m trying to say
Is I have something to ask you, today is the day
That I tell you how I feel, let my feelings free
Let’s be more than friends, will you go out with me?
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 12:39 PM UTC
*I sit in my chair studying the mirror-
starring at the figures outside the square.
Day by day the world changes outside your gates.
May, June, and July dancing while they pass by.
The birds singing to the morning bells-
ringing a spell in the ears of farewells.
The houses are filled with life-
telling stories of family glories.
The world is different through your eyes.
I feel hidden from creation-
not touched by fiction.
Is this an illusion
or is it just me being human?
To many times,
I have confessed my sins by your side.
Too often,
they are forgotten.
Do you even notice the hand print stains upon your face?
Or the blackened space were my tears have fallen?
For even a priest will send me with lie,
or release me with a goodbye.
Your two sided eyes
reflect your two sided mind.
You show me a reality
without the apple tree.
You blind me with jewels
and take me for a fool.
No longer will I sit and stare at the underworld.
For the flames may be there, but I rather taste it in the air.*
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:02 PM UTC
An empty pub is the worst place to be,
In a city, Where even gods stay a bit longer every year,
Perhaps persuaded by the halcyon laughter of that half dressed street urchin,
Who has learnt to celebrate her comical existence,
In the pregnant underbelly of a false saint,
Who refuses to give birth to anything but naked poverty.
Small wonder the gods have never chosen to intervene in the city of joy,
After all its the fault of these urchins who refuse to abandon their filthy smiles,
And have the audacity to peak through the walls that we annually paint,
With the victorious colours of human values.
But why do they peek,
Isn't their world filled with the unmatched profoundness of black and white photography?
Isn't their world the home to poetic muses and romantic poverty ?
Indeed, why do they peek ?
Before the label on the bottle in front of me,
Makes you judge the potency of what I utter,
Let me tell you why.
For them our world is a constant theatrical which has run different shows annually,
Yet the only complaint they have perhaps is that the genre of the shows,
Have somehow never changed.
Its always been the darkest of satires,
Like the running satire in which half our society,
Sitting safe within the beautiful walls ,
We built around our indomitable prosperity and culture ,
Indulges,
In the hysterical condemnation of a man,
Who wants to build a beautiful wall on a different continent .
To protect the same
You know, I don't speak urchin-tongue,
But I have always had the gift to read feelings I shouldn’t,
And something tells me the urchins have titled this theatrical,
“Moral ************
But that’s not all,
An empty pub is the worst place to be in a city which refuses to let you give up hope,
And gently reminds you with every drink
That even when the rest of the world is out there dancing,
To the drum beats of happy endings and ephemeral farewells,
There’s one place that will never close its doors on you.
The only thing is.
The place isn’t the home you never ended up building with her,
It’s just an empty pub.
And that is why an empty pub is the worst place to be.
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
In the vacuum of that kiss,
Those hugs
At all the terminals
Of farewells.
In that void
What you be to me,
Lost in traducción,
Is transformed
In adiós.
Our bond
Of foods
And looks.
Smiles and rubs.
Is gone.
You're not in my day,
I don't wait for you on Sundays
I don't think of you
Dancing
At the rink,
At the club,
In my arms.
Entre emociones
Divididas
No te hagas responsable
De las mías,
Demasiada empatía
Es peligrosa.
Aug 5, 2022
Aug 5, 2022 at 4:08 PM UTC
The lonely lighthouse full of the sea and of its salt
In the distance ship horns can be heard
with their loud billowing swells
Up above the grey gulls cawing with their wings
fluttering looking for any crumbs
None will be found here and no happy visitor
greetings either only sad dormant farewells
Why do I feel so dull, Why is it I feel myself as just half a life and just half a light
Please help me find my light that once shone so bright from within
Help me find my purpose and to feel useful again
This lighthouse beacons for me
~ can hear him and can feel him
I could see what he use to be
what he could still be so easily again
I could see that light that shone from within
After all, I knew how he felt I too
had built up a lonely darkened wall
So I went to this lighthouse told him
your light has been there this whole time
You do not need a new light you are already
a brightness a joy for all to see
All you needed was some help to find it again
All you needed was me
I hold him and tell him close your eyes
Look up toward the sky my love
Feel that cool sea air tickle your face
Let that enormous sense of calm descend down
match your breath to that of the sea and all else shall be erased
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
I see myself in light and shadow.
I wipe away “always and never” like spilled water,
when the paradox bothers me.
I dissolved my soft boundaries,
in the name of unreal faith.
So many places, so many faces,
yet another beginning.
I keep rolling a big stone beside others.
The home I dreamt of now exists in my world.
I have found this time, this place
describing what cannot be translated:
a room for uncertainty,
farewells and returns.
I like to stand in the last row,
to see tired bodies.
I whisper good words,
to make the world a little better.
My sovereignty is a willingness
to be an echo,
the symbol, the myth,
or a meaningless element
in the chain of woven stories.
I love metaphors.
I find myself in a forest of ellipses,
that bring unbearable truths.
Tensions, contradictions,
awareness that everything that lights
brings unseen weight.
I am a part of stories,
to vanish into oblivion—
the done past.
The Earth still breathes with me,
or without me,
among blooming linden trees.
So, I want to stay,
to open my eyes,
and be with what remains.
Jul 1, 2025
Jul 1, 2025 at 2:16 PM UTC