Old Poems

These are some other poems I have written recently that I wanted to share.
8/9/09

My hand trembles, another day goes by, another relationship floats into the past.
The world moves on around me while I recover, rediscover, and remember.
Remember that alone is ok
Alone is right, and maybe you were right.
Rediscover my life, my art, myself.
Recover my heart, my kindness, my values.
Remember that you are not the one.
"The One."
I am the one.
The one here in my life, enduring, changing, shaping, moving through my life with purpose and growing into the person I started out as.

8/16/09

Letting go of love is like
letting a piece of your heart die.
To have loved and lost is the gift you always wish at the end that could return.
To have TRULY loved and to have TRULY lost is to know need and sorrow, forgiveness and hate, pain and freedom, betrayal and loneliness.
Above all else, to love, is to grow.
To grow in forgiveness and servitude, compassion and depth of emotion.
And these are the growing pains of living in love, heart spread wide.
Some day, at the end of it all, I will appreciate the extra inch of height as I reach for my dreams.

3/25/10

I dream of running down the empty streets of Paris,
White silk trailing behind, red lips parted
breath steaming
rapture in my eyes.
Soaking in the dark, enormous beauty of this city.
Alone, singled out, but embraced by the strength in the bones of this city's history.
Everywhere you look ghosts of past lives haunt this city.
Strolling down the street, intermixed with the slang talking youth, dog shit, and picture snapping tourists. And no one sees them, these ghosts, they float by in silence.
In this you discover the beauty of the city.
New and Old, Grandeur and filth.
All contained in a glorious contrast, not seen by most, but certainly not to be taken lightly.

This city is a serious city...created on the starvation of budding artists, deep thinking philosophers, and the monument of human creation.
With a past like that, the cobbled streets make sense. Almost the dimpled scars left by the strong emotions of the past.
This city SHOULD evoke strong visions of the past. One must be aware of the fact that their lives are really only a part of a great lone of thinkers, feelers, and emoters.
WE are nothing in the grand scheme of things.
WE are but simple moving cogs in the machine of time.


Three Old Men

The sunlight glints off my finger nails and I bask.
In the glory of the day, the smells of fall, the joys of existing.
The smell of crushed fallen leaves and car exhaust fill my nostrils and Three Old Men sit.
Enjoying the last few days of bright sun floating through the leaves.
I imagine they sit discussing how much the world has changed since they were young.
How it was simpler or maybe more complicated.
How they traveled the world in their youth and learned things that their children and the children of today could never understand.
The sun peeks from behind a fork in a tree and I imagine sitting with my own friends bemoaning the eccentricities of our youth and curiosity. Extolling the great wisdom we have amassed in our long, full, lives and how we hope and pray that our children, and the children of the day have learned from what we have shared with them.

2/23/11
Phoenix through the Divine

I live in desolation
inside
Everything bulldozed over
Raw
constantly bleeding...everything broken down
and replaced
by something NEW.
I grasp at the vapors of memory of what I was told one day, only to find that my hands are empty
and blackened, rubbed red skin peeks through the soot.
I am reminded that I am trying to get some where so...I stumble.
One...toe...at...a..time.
Painfully lifting the charred flesh from the ground to place it again on the steaming earth.
I know that someday...I will be burned away and I will be fresh, clean, free, and I will start again.


4/25/11
Brendan

The lines cut the sky in sections of colors: lightening-purple, pain-yellow. The sky drips salt down my back for you. Tears of a sort for our goodbye. The lightening rips through the clouds, my world shakes. I grab for something to steady my trembling body and find an out stretched hand. I look around and see the lines cutting the sky are only in my head.

5/4/11

I lay desolate
my bones picked over by a thousand grains of white sand in the moon light.
I am content.
Everything that I am I have surrendered to feed this earth. This moment.
I have given my body that had taken in love, passion, hatred, sadness, confusion, disappointment, longing, and creativity.
And I have surrendered it to this soil.
My sadness fuels the rain.
My passion ignites the animals
and I am relieved.
Relieved that I no longer have to hold these concepts inside my body anymore.
All that is left, all I contain, is compassion.
A concept to large to be held anyways.
So it is something that is all.
All around, inside and out.
And needs no boundaries to be shared.