Poetry
I hope you enjoy the following samples of my poetry.
MR. MOON
FROM: mAKING wISHES
At night I look up. Mister Moon winks down at me, and we exchange smiles.
BATTLES
from: Being Bold
Battles of the hardest kindAre never fought by hand.They rage and fume inside the mind,And slay the inner man.
Weapons that destroy a foeElicit fear and pain.More violent is internal warThat ravages the brain.
Weapons that destroy a foeElicit fear and pain.More violent is internal warThat ravages the brain.
POETRY IS
Poetry is the wailing of a broken heart―the etched sorrows of despairing souls. These artful words are an exclamation in rare colors expressed noiselessly on parchment.
Poetry is the unheard cry of a flower, wilting. It is a humble, lucent tear shed with meaning. It is the lovely portrayal of ugliness and the bitter edge of sweet.
Poetry speaks to the spirit by piercing understanding. It interprets all senseless truths―beauty, love, emotion―into sensible scrawl.
Poetry is vague affirmation and bewildering clarification. Like the most poignant of emotions, we understand the essence but cannot adequately do it verbal justice, crippled by inherently weak tongues.
A spiritual soothsayer, poetry is the closest thing to expression of feelings unutterable.
Poetry is the unheard cry of a flower, wilting. It is a humble, lucent tear shed with meaning. It is the lovely portrayal of ugliness and the bitter edge of sweet.
Poetry speaks to the spirit by piercing understanding. It interprets all senseless truths―beauty, love, emotion―into sensible scrawl.
Poetry is vague affirmation and bewildering clarification. Like the most poignant of emotions, we understand the essence but cannot adequately do it verbal justice, crippled by inherently weak tongues.
A spiritual soothsayer, poetry is the closest thing to expression of feelings unutterable.
LAUGHTER’S FATE
from: A Heart Made of Tissue Paper
Where does our laughter travel to?
Does it search out monkeys in the zoo?Or settle on the heart like dew?Or cling to lip-glossed smiles on me and you?
Does it hang around throughout the day?Or spread its wings and fly away?Or gather-in like puffy clouds of gray?
Perhaps it hooks a rainbow’s endAnd melts to make the colors blend.Or paints a happy face upon a friend.
Does it turn to stardust when it’s late?Or in a windstorm, circulate?Or does it simply fade and dissipate?
What is our laughter’s merrymaking fate?
SILENCE
from: Being Bold
Silence is my defense.The protector whom I trust.A sturdy shield,A loyal safe-keeper,A sentinel, impassable.
Silence is my refuge.The shelter in which I hide.A peaceful home,A safe sanctuary,A fortress, impenetrable.
DRAGONS AT NIGHT
From: Slaying Dragons
I slay dragons at night while you sleep.
I see by the way your face contorts how they exist in your dreams.
Willing a magic sword, I plunge into your deepest nightmares and swing at the beasts with all my might, dodging flames exhaled by monsters that would eat me alive to go on torturing the fair one I love. I see your face relax, eyes still drowsily closed, when the mighty dragon is slain.
It may be that my fingers rub soft circles on your forehead as I imagine my brave fight as a knight reclaiming your dreams. You smile under the spell of my touch, and I am rewarded. And so, my love, as I await the dawn, I stand ready to slay dragons while you sleep.
SO LONG AS
From: Making Wishes
Flames burn so long as they are fed. Rivers rage so long as it rains. The sun rises so long as the earth rotates. Prayers are answered so long as they are uttered. Hope exists so long as there is a new day. Miracles never cease so long as there is faith. Love endures so long as kindness rules all actions. Dreams thrive so long as they are pursued. Never give up so long as you live.
MEANT TO BE
FROM: A Heart Made of Tissue Paper
Hands are meant to be clasped. Lips are meant to be kissed.Doubts are meant to be asked. Truth is meant to persist.
Trees are meant to be climbed. Blooms are meant to be smelled.Bells are meant to be chimed. Babes are meant to be held.
Joy is meant to be owned. Sins are meant to forgive.Love is meant to be shown. Life is meant to be lived.
I DANCED UNDER HEAVEN
From: Smile Anyway
Last night I danced.
My body rose from its slump for the first time since the beginning of sorrows—my fingers beckoning to the stars at arm’s length, back arching as tingles bubbled up my spine, hips caught in a silent tempo while on tiptoe I twirled in endless euphoric circles. It didn’t matter that you loved me or that you didn’t. For I was wanted by the gods last night, their seraphs and muses descending on moonbeams into my midst, caressing my face and gliding their spirited arms about my waist, lifting my toes from the soil that I might feel what it is to fly without heaviness of heart. I danced with them under the glow of a loyal moon. For one brief, visceral dance I joyed as Heaven joys—in endless bliss.
And the universe cherished me.