Notebook
February 22, 2014 § Leave a comment
I had this old notebook when I was young
with pages and pages of tales I’d spun.
I wrote endless stories and once upon a times,
with mystical characters made up in my mind.
I found that old notebook in my closet one day
and thumbed through the pages of my fiction bouquet.
It revealed past wishes and childhood dreams,
but every story contained one consistent theme.
While their plots all evolved in different times and worlds,
something happened just when the stories began to unfurl.
A sentence, a period, and then nothing more,
my narrative would end, not a summation to implore.
The pattern existed in each and every tale,
as if I searched for inspiration, but to no avail.
But perhaps my endless stories spoke a message of hope
that the end of one’s journey can always change scope,
and that life is astounding because no one truly knows
what wondrous endings our stories may bestow.
They lay ready and waiting, just out of our sight,
they are free and they’re ours, should we dare to write.
The Tranquility of Passion
February 21, 2014 § Leave a comment
the tranquility of inaction
will never surpass
the tranquility of passion
for to haphazardly
create your path
and exalt in wonder
and awe of life itself,
is a task of which
one will never tire
distance
February 18, 2014 § 1 Comment
to illustrate time
resting between me and you
we’d need a decade,
at least.
The Perplexity of Belief
February 17, 2014 § 4 Comments
doubt
is your greatest friend
for when it sits
most defiantly
atop your most wonderfully
abstract, eternally
perennial dreams, it awakens
you, and urges
your eyes open,
and your mind
to thoughtfully examine
the pathways of a
cerebrum bound
with skepticism,
to discern
its motives and
to choose
your own credence:
either accept its resting
place, among your
assumptions,
your ambitions
your reveries,
or rather,
awaken it quickly
release it somewhere
safely distant,
and instead,
choose to
believe.
Sun
February 16, 2014 § Leave a comment
how can we be
so enraptured
with screens filled
of artificial light
when there is a mass,
resplendent and chaotic,
as beautiful
sincere and all-consuming
as nothing we’ve ever
seen, right outside
our window,
lighting up
our life.
Awkward Valentine
February 14, 2014 § Leave a comment
brief comments, not lasting
nothing to remember, under bright lights
and thumping music
and a swirl of something syrupy
we smiled in passing, sugary grins
without much meaning
and you would sometimes toss a wink
over your shoulder, but it wasn’t
something I thought about
and then one day, THE DAY
when saints dance with cupids
and candles melt and drip
onto heart-dotted tablecloths
and the universe convinces
even bitter souls, they need love too
you winked and asked me over
so odd, I thought, of all the days
why not, I thought, why not
you were too tall for your kitchen
it struck me as sweet when you stood
at the island, a nervous man with a potholder
and pulled steaming enchiladas
from your oven, serving them carefully
on a plate with beans, and we ate
on a naked wooden table
under burning florescent bulbs
and talked about our dogs
the two of us, so odd, I thought
just eating enchiladas one night, THE NIGHT
and then you pulled out a pair of boots
took my hand and said, let’s two step,
and it struck me as sweet
the two of us, nearly strangers, two-stepping
to a cheesy country song
around your apartment
like it could have been any other night
Still
February 14, 2014 § 2 Comments
if the world still spins
among an expanse of unknowns
and our blood still flows
through an amazing maze
and gravity still heaves
burying sandy beaches
then why must we remain
still
Feb. 12th
February 13, 2014 § Leave a comment
This poem is for you and it’s February twelfth
I fear my day has been uneventful
I ate waffles for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch
A mid-day cookie was essential.
I won’t tell you in prose everything else that I did
It’s likely too bland to put into words
But I did think something I want you to know
I love you and I think you’re superb.
Ode To My Diploma
February 11, 2014 § 3 Comments
I trudged to my mailbox one day in the cold
to find an envelope proclaiming “Do Not Fold.”
I opened it quickly to find you in my hand,
a single piece of paper, worth close to forty grand.
So unassuming and simple, almost nonchalant,
your importance only revealed by your fancy Gothic font.
My years of arduous and tedious work, of essays and exams,
all culminate in this single sheet, weighing just 4.5 small grams.
While I hiked uphill to the library, in the coldest nights of winter,
you waited patiently in Strong Hall, blank card-stock in the printer.
You were just a piece of paper, not sure what you’d become
and now, congrats Diploma, you’re something to be hung.
On my office wall you’ll go, next to your undergraduate twin,
at the very top of the paper-chain, in a frame looking out from within.
So thank you, little Diploma, for validating my dedication,
without you I’d just be a student, awaiting graduation.
And on the other end of the coin, perhaps in another time and place,
without me you’d be just a napkin, wiping someone’s face.
Kitchen Dance
February 9, 2014 § Leave a comment
hot air spirals upward
toward haligen lights
a spinning, circling
steam of buttery garlic
and charred tomatoes
shines heavenly, a spotlight
framing four popping pans
of grease and glitter
that sing a bubble melody
of syncopated sizzle
circling and bouncing
across the very atmosphere
of that silvery room
then a punctuated ring
ends the glistening dance
a stir, a pinch, a lick, a whisk
three, two, one
and dinner is served
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