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.
creation explanation
April 22, 2014 § 1 Comment
to create is all
is everything
i long for
a flowering story
where there
was none before
a thirst unquenched
it may never be
for a million dreams
form in a seconds time
and the trouble is
keeping up
Beginnings
April 17, 2014 § 2 Comments
I opened up the spiral book,
pages filled with words,
etched carefully on paper, purple pen
a fervent scrawl, filled with meaning
from nine years past.
I wrote with conviction
as strong as the coffee that still stains
the pages and spreads ink
and distorts the words penned
from a familiar place that rushed
to fill the pages of a nearby notebook
with notes of beginnings and of ends.
It’s a story I once knew
so well, that now sounds like a fiction
from a distant place,
from another’s hand.
silence
April 16, 2014 § Leave a comment
Silence is a friend
to the harsh and biting,
words that bounce wildly
across wooden rooms
without borders, but an enemy
to the timid, the thoughts,
hidden words trying
to see the light of an open eye
finally taking them in.
life
April 16, 2014 § Leave a comment
if
life goes on
and on, and on
then why is it that
life is short
you would think that if
life is like a box of chocolates
then it would be easy to
choose a path since
every life choice
could end up good
like
life is good
and
life’s a beach
and sometimes also
life’s a bitch
and
life is hard
and if
life gives you lemons
then you must realize that
you only live once
and why don’t we all just
live laugh love
and
live for today
instead of making lemonade
if we could only just
live in the moment
and maybe
live like we’re dying
but not
live like there’s no tomorrow
because in life
tomorrow always comes
and that’s the thing about life
it’s yours
and it’s been proven
that no one gets out of it
alive
Dear Time
March 23, 2014 § Leave a comment
Do you ever tire of moving?
While you speed past our eyes
in colorful streaks
like the blur of a train
across a country side
do you ever wish you could pause,
just for a second?
Where
March 22, 2014 § Leave a comment
Perhaps they ran from the home they knew
to a world outside beneath a sky big and blue
Perhaps they grew tired of such a predictable plot
a more passionate life, they urgently sought
Or maybe they felt abandoned, or perhaps even lost
so they fled the scene entirely, not considering cost
For adventure or relief, perhaps they truely searched
trying to find utopia, or a brand new place to perch
Maybe news of opportunity came by word-of-mouth
so they all caught a train and headed down south
Or they could have simply spilled out onto the floor
and scampered quickly toward the nearest open door
But I guess I’ll never find out the true cause of this event
It will forever be a mystery where all my bobby-pins went
My View
March 20, 2014 § Leave a comment
I can’t see very far,
in fact,
I’m almost blind.
But I try to see,
that is, the good.
Am I blind to the reality
of day-by-day-by-day….
Or blind to the bitter
taste of shallow phrase.
I think it’s for the best,
a certain lack of sight,
for the best and most
sparkling views
I see
when I take a sudden breath
awoken from sleep
to eyelids blocking light,
the brightest darkness in the world,
a view that signals life.
Pegasus Ring
March 20, 2014 § 3 Comments
silver and small,
the flying horse lived
as a token of seven years
upon the earth
upon my hand
it remained, a loyal friend
staying small as I grew
a shiny horse, still and frozen
always there until
it slipped away
perhaps tossing and turning
at night, or twirling at daybreak
or running at sunrise
it flew off of my pinky finger
the only one it fit, it must have
finally decided
to fly away
pause
March 19, 2014 § Leave a comment
simplicity in air
a stroke of sound
a patient beat
of silence
a grateful breath
never searching
for more
than what
it receives
rosepoems 