Unknown
January 27, 2014 § Leave a comment
the unknown is incredible
and mystery is remarkable
and should be embraced as unequivocal
for if everything were explainable
then love would be too logical
and the stars wouldn’t be as magical
dreams might become impossible
and new life wouldn’t be so wonderful
while wishes may turn improbable
and who would want to live in a world
so completely rational?
the chaos is to be embraced
lets celebrate the implausible.
The Bridge
January 23, 2014 § Leave a comment
I was walking across a bridge
today, and thought of you,
because eight years ago,
perhaps on this very day,
our footsteps aimlessly traced
the same path to this lonely bridge
in the woods.
Although the arch underfoot
carrying me over the creek below
is the same as it was
on that day eight years ago,
everything else is different.
It’s strange how eight years
can double a tree in size
or overgrow a foot-worn path
be the lifetime of a blue bird
and completely dull emotions
that seemed so all-consuming
eight short years ago.
I wonder if you walked the same path
would our conversation on that day
replay in your mind?
Or would you simply hear a whispered song
of a bluebird landing on the bridge’s edge.
morning glory
January 17, 2014 § Leave a comment
some say glorious things
are buried deep within the earth
they say they are hidden
and must be discovered
they say they are rare
and come only to those
who work or wait or wish
for glorious things.
but what if,
what if, there is glory
for everyone who looks
and magic for all who see
and wonder for all who feel
if glorious things are hidden
are rare,
what is the magnificent light
forcing my eyes open
each and every day
making my room glow,
making the world glow,
allowing me to see the simple joy
of deep brown eyes
filled with unconditional love
a wagging tail
that is not discretionary, does not judge
a sniffing nose
that always recognizes and knows
a furry head
that rests on the edge of my bed
ecstatically happy to see me.
Moment
January 13, 2014 § Leave a comment
the memory of
humid night air
seeping through the vents
of my car, and us, still
holding air in our lungs
should our breath
stir the other
causing a butterfly
effect, of sorts
a punctured moment
to remain imagined
so we are still
and hesitance becomes
our greatest friend and foe
but the air surrounding us
is waiting too
absorbing into our skin
and remaining there
should we ever forget
Often
January 3, 2014 § Leave a comment
i often recite made-up poems in my head
right before i go to bed
without a pen to write them down
they often go forgot or unfound
i try to remember them the following day
and write down the words that i meant to say
but i find they often never sound as well
as they sounded last night in my head to myself
rosepoems 