the search
May 8, 2014 § 2 Comments
inspiration rests
on roses and mountain tops,
between storied pages and hemispheres,
among rushed crowds and hands held,
it comforts prayerful knees,
and falls in time with pouring rain,
it’s the voice on the other end,
and the stars on my dashboard,
and it rests quietly, profoundly,
always before us,
but always within.
Inquiry
May 4, 2014 § 1 Comment
Does anyone else ever wonder
what time really means?
And what if everything in this life
is just a figment of our dreams?
If there was nothing, anywhere,
then what would even be?
And why is it that our life story
is just one incredible mystery?
One
May 4, 2014 § 1 Comment
Inhale like it’s your first breath
one you never thought you’d take
because you knew the odds were slim
of living something so fantastically great.
See the stars like they fell into place
at this exact moment and time
painted onto the sky as a sunset gift
perhaps, just for you, they shine.
Believe in the magic lingering from youth
don’t let cynics darken your sun
taste the joy in the simple every day
for by being here, we are the lucky ones.
Sun
May 1, 2014 § Leave a comment
the way life shines
is in the simplicity
of the sun’s daily rising
Remember
April 30, 2014 § Leave a comment
I thought about you
flipping through a story held between pages
different than the ones I wrote before,
this one holds questions and pauses
created in rushed script,
of a time far away but filled
with clarity and a foreign place
we were two separate people, but together
we felt, and perhaps we still do
and I can’t help but think
that the things that change the most
in life aren’t the people,
but in fact, the memories
Lemon Tree
April 29, 2014 § 1 Comment
A lemon from above
Came falling from the sky
A perfect yellow orb
Promptly hit me in the eye
I was gazing overhead
Making friends with clouds
When my peaceful state was ended
With a jolt of something sour
I thought about the odds
Of such a strange occurrence
All the eyes it could have hit
And it chose mine to cause disturbance
But I guess it’s all perspective
It’s not really all about me
For when life throws you lemons
At least it’s not you falling from the tree
Morning Perks
April 24, 2014 § Leave a comment
For those who bask bitterness
like java in a steamer,
I hope you’ll someday realize
the world reacts to your demeanor.
If you always take your coffee black
and refuse to add the creamer,
then the acidity of your daily dose,
could make your brightness meager.
So consider your morning outlook
and propel your inner dreamer,
please add some sugar to your cup,
it’ll make your day a whole lot sweeter.
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.
A Coexistence
April 23, 2014 § Leave a comment
Does it ever strike you
as a sort of strange
and wonderful miracle,
that the number of hours
our world falls to darkness
only lit by distant rocks,
and the number of hours
our bodies fall into slumber
only stirred by dawn’s first light,
are the same? As if the world
and we, are purposefully in sync
with one another,
as if the sun’s light propels
our beating hearts,
while the moon’s glow guides
our most profound dreams.
The Crane
April 22, 2014 § Leave a comment
Like a wind silently sweeping by
it travels often unseen, rushing past
normalcy, stirring the forest air beneath
its wings, a blur of cobalt, and then nothing
remains, but it is still very clear, an imprint
in my mind, and I often search the skies, hoping
its silvery crescent shape will glide over me
carrying serenity with it, I can remember the words
spoken the last day it was seen
when that majestic bird, looking out of place
where it perched, perfectly centered under an arch
of trees, but among conifers, plain and green,
it’s exotic beak just didn’t belong
we stared and warmed and felt it,
hope floating from a tree branch far above
the present calm settling on our shoulders
as it lifted a leg and turned its head, taking flight
“Cranes are good luck, you know.”
That was all we needed to hear.
rosepoems 