the spiteful haiku
June 18, 2014 § 2 Comments
it’s harder than it
seems, to write a haiku that’s
syntactically clear …and syllabically correct
head in the sky
June 17, 2014 § 4 Comments
i often wonder
about stars in the sky
and i wonder
if you do the same
what a lovely thought
two heads in the air
floating away
from where they both came
search
June 17, 2014 § 5 Comments
we can’t fathom where
the ground meets the skies
or how we can see the whole world
in just one person’s eyes
or how far away heaven
rests from the earth
or how sometimes our minds
can’t determine our worth
it’s far easier to remain
to accept pinions of flight
but to discover our call
we must search for the light
the man on 7th street
June 3, 2014 § 2 Comments
a mournful saxophone,
just one. its noise like a sermon
echoing above drunken yells
and tires treading. over the constant hum
of street lights and broken voices,
night after night, he plays. making loneliness
cry out into a crowded street of half-hearted
listeners, who sometimes toss him a smile
or a dollar, or two and then shuffle heels
across the concrete walk to catch their friends,
yelling about the a taxi. bar food. a lost wallet. what time it is.
and the man remains, alone and still,
sans his dancing fingers and heaving chest
loyally blowing lonely life into his instrument
filling the crowded air with ups and downs,
a mournful jazz hymn, showering
notes onto an unsuspecting crowd.
they yell about life,
but they may never actually stop to listen to it.
the foundation of belief
June 2, 2014 § Leave a comment
doubt lingers
forever in the caverns
of minds,
the corners of outstretched arms,
the tips of tongues,
it rests idly, but never silently
and when it pushes most fiercely
it’s easy to fall prey to its weight
and forget the meaning of all
that surrounds you
it’s doubt that holds a mind captive
and keeps it present,
near the ground
but doubt seeks attention most
when its surroundings
are magnificent, and it’s presence
opens up my eyes
and calls me to push it away
and like a wave of sleep
I will never give in to
it makes me ache to believe.
And I believe,
that much more.
The Effulgent Ballad
June 2, 2014 § Leave a comment
The night before
we parted ways,
I lay on my side
the world singing soft carols,
a luminous and constant hymn.
Or maybe it was just you.
A glowing beacon stands
tall and fir green,
growing out of the mahogany wood beneath.
It wouldn’t belong at another time or place,
like we don’t belong in this sweeping valley
engulfed in a veil of night.
But of course it’s here,
and so are we.
Your voice, still pressed to my damp ear,
comes in choppy blurs,
like over a short wave radio.
It breaks and breaks and breaks–
the lights are everywhere,
but especially in the memories of you, or us?
They come in scorching rays. Bright blissful rays
that hurt. We don’t belong,
but here we are.
My eyelids fall in a watery glaze
that convolutes the shining scene
and with each blink the light bends
and the fiery kaleidoscope of reds and golds
morphs. First a mournful face,
then a spinning carousel,
a pulsing, burning, beaming, starburst,
a lonely sailboat in an aqueous field.
The scent of luminosity; of pine.
The lights hanging and crossing make your voice
a dizzying spell.
It chants, radiating
words that fall and hurt
and break. The mournful face tries to smile
and wish the world goodnight.
“Listen,” you say.
But the light is all I hear.
from Sun Dance 2012
you
May 29, 2014 § 2 Comments
you asked the other night
why I smile so much,
why my eyes remain open
beneath gravity’s touch
and it’s really all because
of wispy clouds in the sky,
and how birds sing out
to their friends passing by
it’s because of my sister
who sings as much as the birds,
it’s the simplicity of letters
turning into words
it’s pressing keys and humming
to a tune unheard before,
it’s a letter from the past
and taking time to explore
it’s the magic that happens
when you’re up at four a.m.,
it’s the winding path we wander
in search of something grand
it’s pie and how the ocean tastes
all the things we’ll never know,
it’s oblivion, it’s wonder
and aimless footprints in the snow
and it has to be the stars
and how they’re never from view,
the way the sun always rises
or perhaps, it’s only you.
when the rain stops
May 26, 2014 § Leave a comment
neon green
and silent
sans a creek
of water
rushed
renewed
and ground
that gives way
to bare feet
and holds
puddles
from the past
walking
through it
feels like
discovering
something new
that no one
has laid
eyes on
before you
to write
May 25, 2014 § 2 Comments
It’s so difficult to count
everything and all of it
and remember
the best of it, the worst of it
I can’t fathom the thought
of forgetting any of it, the rest of it
so I write it down
to live it again and again
the joy of it, the end of it,
the all of it
the blithely biker
May 25, 2014 § 2 Comments
when he pedals past my house every Sunday,
with Bob Marley strumming
from his portable jerry-rigged boom-box,
I can’t decide who’s happier:
he, in all his melodic cycling glory,
or the birds, who cheerfully and loyally chirp along to his song.
rosepoems 