Song
January 24, 2014 § 2 Comments
A melody singing
again and again
a sweet, faint tune
that rings between ears
but sounds different
each time it plays, perhaps
the very same notes
but melancholy
at times
or gloriously ecstatic
perhaps
red with anger
at moments
and painful sadness
in others
and then blind passion
flooding emotion
or just
perfect peace,
all fantastically interesting,
though.
A melody that speaks
everything
you cannot say,
a tune that plays
between your ears
day-in, day-out
a hymn that sings a prayer
when words don’t suffice,
the melody of a spirit
that wonders
how life is any different
than a song.
Futures
January 22, 2014 § Leave a comment
where will you be five years from today?
cooking in a food truck on the streets of LA?
or singing a song at the foot of Big Ben?
or writing a letter to a far-away friend?
on a road trip south to avoid the cold?
or on a couch with your cat in a crown of gold?
will you be in a park in France enjoying a Baguette?
or in Vegas betting it all on Russian Roulette?
will you be doing a dance in the streets of Rome?
or sitting on a subway writing a poem?
will you have three kids and a corporate career?
or will you be in a bar playing pool and drinking a beer?
can you see yourself sailing across the Mediterranian Sea?
but most importantly, do you see yourself sailing with me?
The Walker
January 20, 2014 § Leave a comment
Her eyes are always fixed ahead
on some unseen ghost
after which she is chasing.
She travels the earth, it seems,
circling and circling,
walking past my window
three times a day
maybe more.
She moves with purpose
pushing her way into the open space
just beyond the tip of her worm out
tennis shoe, but she never seems
to be able to fill the space,
it’s always just out of her reach.
Her hand is always stuck
perhaps by glue, or force, or need
to her cell phone
which is stuck on the other side
to her ear.
She talks loudly
but its strange,
we never know what she is saying.
Her face is serious and downcast
as if she has life-changing conversations
on every walk she takes
with whoever sits patiently
on the other side of the phone.
Sometime I imagine it’s her son
who hears his phone ring every day at ten
diligently answers
places it on speaker
sets it on his desk
and prepares himself for his mother’s
five hour walk.
Soccer Ball Piggy Bank
January 20, 2014 § Leave a comment
The ceramic container is dependable,
if nothing else. But it is something else.
It’s the shape of a soccer ball,
actually, it is a soccer ball.
But it’s ceramic,
and has never been kicked or stained with grass.
It stands there, or sits there, I’m not sure which one,
but like I said, it’s dependable, as most ceramic objects are.
It has held my coins since I was eight. Sturdy and decorative.
Being pumped with change, instead of air.
But every year, being completely deflated
of the treasures it holds so still and careful,
emptied aggressively with loud banging and clanging
and shaking upside down.
Its contents spilling out onto the floor
for the world to see. A meager compensation
for a years worth of dependability.
The sturdy container, now emptied of its worth,
its pride, is set back onto its perch
next to a flowered picture frame
and a rock shaped like a turtle,
where it will sit for another year
being dependable, but forgotten,
its contents losing value
and then spilling out onto the floor.
Cold
January 19, 2014 § 2 Comments
It’s going to get cold tonight
according to the birds,
and the bits of frozen rain
beginning to fall.
And it often does this time of year.
But the cold tonight is somehow different
because my house is especially quiet
and my walls are especially thin,
but just for tonight.
The wind brings the cold and
I can hear it, the wind that is.
Better than usual because
I’m actually listening
and Saint Sebald is searching
for stillness, to no avail.
It’s not angry, or spiteful.
Nor jealous or guilt-ridden.
Simply powerful. A howling
that is much more triumphant
than tyranical.
A cold that speaks not of barren
tundras, shivering bodies,
but of an awakening. An urging.
Seize it. For the cold too, will pass.
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.
Sonata
January 16, 2014 § Leave a comment
The air in the room was old
like it had been resting there
unmoving and patient
for the past 75 years, waiting for someone
to breath it.
And I didn’t want to breathe it,
but that really was not an option.
And I sat at the piano and smiled
at the lady in the glasses
who was as old as the air
and probably just as stiff.
And she nodded, and nodded.
And I smiled and smiled.
And then remembered I was supposed to play
a Sonata,
but the air was so old
and the keys were so sticky and yellowed.
The air parted its lips, urging me to play
Or maybe it was the lady.
And the keys I had played for 5 years, or so
on my piano at home
looked foreign
And the Sonata I had learned 6 months ago
and practiced and practiced daily
lingered in front of me on the white pages.
And as I pressed the first chord
firmly into the keys
I heard a sound pierce the old air
sending it scurrying away
and then I heard the same foreign sound
coming from my fingertips
And I realized I had forgotten
my entire Sonata.
How Are You
January 15, 2014 § Leave a comment
the script is enduring
pleasantries echoed
by almost all
they recite the words
but no meaning lives
behind them
and they float in the air
between two beings
and search for a listening ear
but freeze instead
their vibrations slowing
not able to fully travel
through all the meaning
the clutter
the chaos
and the simple words
that could create something wonderful
are lost, or just forgotten
“How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Tree Wonders
January 14, 2014 § Leave a comment
I wonder about the tree outside my window
and how long it’s been alive
and marvel at the way it almost touches the sky
and I guess it does
people say I’m tall, but I’m nothing
compared to the tree’s majestic height
I wonder what it thinks of all of us below
how small and insignificant we are
scurrying back and forth
as aimless as ants
does it wonder why
we are not still
and I wonder about its roots
extending through the earth
in purposeful patterns
but making the tree
inherently still
unable to drift as the leaves do
that gently escape from it each fall
does the tree wish it too could drift
away from all it’s seen below
or does it pity those who will never know
the wonder of staring at a single sky
but still seeing the world
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
rosepoems 