On the tragedy of words

May 14, 2014 § 1 Comment

The tragedy of words
is simply the many
that remain unsaid
the eras of feeling
and novels of truth
and epics of heroism
caught within
nets of hesitance
they struggle and pry
trying to find
a way to pour out
freed from reluctance
without fear of effect
they wish, but remain
and the tragedy
remains too

Once

May 14, 2014 § Leave a comment

I often wonder
about sand and stars and if
they were once all one.

Mom

May 12, 2014 § 1 Comment

How many times
have you taken my hand
and led me swiftly
toward a haven of comfort

How often
have you assured me
that despite my broken heart
life is still wonderful

How is it that
you give so selflessly
every single day
and never run out of love

How many times
have you told me
that I am good enough
and made me believe it too

For how many hours
have you listened
and listened and hugged
at exactly the right moment

How can I tell you
how much your guidance means,
for teaching me to be joyful and thankful
and most importantly, kind

How can I thank you
for loving me always
and so unconditionally
every single day of my life

I love you Mom
-S

catch

May 8, 2014 § Leave a comment

it was never all at once
it was better that way
like the paper plane
you floated toward me
veering east, then west
and eventually landing
in my outstretched hands

companion

May 2, 2014 § 3 Comments

to understand
another, is so beautiful
and complex. we try
our whole lives
each and every day
to connect and find
a common ground
that somehow joins
the island of theirs
with yours. it’s purely
remarkable
when our tiresome search
suddenly relents. we spy
that small expanse
of terrain, shared space,
and we want to lay
on that welcome ground
for hours,
maybe even years
discovering what brought
us to this place
and wondering, with intensity,
how we can keep it
like this
forever

The Forgotten Prayer

May 2, 2014 § 4 Comments

simple words
enchantments
of thought

& meaning
shared in a past life
thoughts that once spun
now only living on tinted paper

could they change
everything

if a poet brought the world to its knees
with splashes of ink in lovely lines
tears across a blank canvas

would we be free from chains of hate
and kiss liberty
without concern

if we heard those words
would we be unafraid
and let our feet stray from the ground
float away to a nameless paradise
and find within a prayer
something to believe in

would the world let love be
if we listened to the words
splattered on paper
from the minds
of forgotten souls

would we stray from our own phantoms
fear less
live more
for each other

could words change everything
if we only listened.

How

April 24, 2014 § Leave a comment

How do you break one moment into a million pieces,
disturb the unremitting trail of a speeding train,
and knock it forcefully from its track?

How do you break the monotony
that is daybreak and sunset
and cereal for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch?

How can one dive into a deep pool of passion
while sitting at a desk, gazing into the unforgiving eternity
that is an excel spreadsheet?

How do we become a version of ourselves,
the version that plagues us
quite literally yelling out inside our heads
that we must do more?

Perhaps, the answer is simplistic.
An understatement of grand proportions.
Or innocence? Naivety? Litotes?

Or perhaps it is the only answer that exists,
and we simply have yet to uncover
its true depth.

For the answer is to write a poem.

Timing

March 18, 2014 § Leave a comment

Perhaps if our clocks were in sync
at a quarter past eight
and you gazed up at a cloud floating west
to find it reminded you
of a day with shallow fountains
and blindingly bright skies
old yearbooks and made-up songs
and looking past the cloud and past
the sky, would you perhaps see
centrifugal force spinning,
a constant dance holding two
together, and perhaps if I checked the time
on my wrist at a quarter past eight
but saw turned tables and opened doors
years passing, but seconds remaining still
perhaps the earth would gently tilt
and perhaps, for once, gravity
would be on our side and
in that moment of you being there
and I, being here,
perhaps we would somehow
find a way back
to each other

Hope

March 16, 2014 § Leave a comment

I’m staring forward
feeling overwhelmed with want
for you to be there

Liberation

March 9, 2014 § Leave a comment

I have a story that’s like fire
in my mind. A tale I wove
from thoughts and thread
into a delicate cloth
both beautiful, but imperfect
it smolders still
draped over my eyes
clouding sight but brightening
my way. If only I could peel it back,
throw it above my head
and watch it spin through the air.
Perhaps you could catch a glimpse
of its freedom, and throw your
cloak into the wind, just the same.
Or perhaps you would look above
and simply feel its warmth
fall onto your shoulders.

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