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 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
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
rosepoems 