My Paper

March 8, 2014 § Leave a comment

A white sea, blank
an open ocean, filled
of possibility
crisp corners, edges
sharp, surface smooth
with prospects
of magnificence
yearning to be
filled with color
a canvas of
opportunity beneath
a single pen
waiting in apprehension
for what it will become

Notebook

February 22, 2014 § Leave a comment

I had this old notebook when I was young
with pages and pages of tales I’d spun.
I wrote endless stories and once upon a times,
with mystical characters made up in my mind.
I found that old notebook in my closet one day
and thumbed through the pages of my fiction bouquet.
It revealed past wishes and childhood dreams,
but every story contained one consistent theme.
While their plots all evolved in different times and worlds,
something happened just when the stories began to unfurl.
A sentence, a period, and then nothing more,
my narrative would end, not a summation to implore.
The pattern existed in each and every tale,
as if I searched for inspiration, but to no avail.
But perhaps my endless stories spoke a message of hope
that the end of one’s journey can always change scope,
and that life is astounding because no one truly knows
what wondrous endings our stories may bestow.
They lay ready and waiting, just out of our sight,
they are free and they’re ours, should we dare to write.

twelve o’clock

February 22, 2014 § Leave a comment

the day leaves softly
closed eyes and an open mind
drifting to tomorrow

The Tranquility of Passion

February 21, 2014 § Leave a comment

the tranquility of inaction
will never surpass
the tranquility of passion

for to haphazardly
create your path
and exalt in wonder
and awe of life itself,
is a task of which
one will never tire

Futures

February 20, 2014 § Leave a comment

the earth and its beauty,
its vastness, loom
before mankind, an immense mass
to explore, a giant future
to create, a brilliant life
to hurriedly find, atop a planet
of our creation
filled with beauty yet
to be discovered.

The Perplexity of Belief

February 17, 2014 § 4 Comments

doubt
is your greatest friend
for when it sits
most defiantly
atop your most wonderfully
abstract, eternally
perennial dreams, it awakens
you, and urges
your eyes open,
and your mind
to thoughtfully examine
the pathways of a
cerebrum bound
with skepticism,
to discern
its motives and
to choose
your own credence:
either accept its resting
place, among your
assumptions,
your ambitions
your reveries,
or rather,
awaken it quickly
release it somewhere
safely distant,
and instead,
choose to
believe.

Sun

February 16, 2014 § Leave a comment

how can we be
so enraptured
with screens filled
of artificial light
when there is a mass,
resplendent and chaotic,
as beautiful
sincere and all-consuming
as nothing we’ve ever
seen, right outside
our window,
lighting up
our life.

Uncommon Sense

February 15, 2014 § Leave a comment

What is it that holds you
back, from reaching
the always-sought after
ever bewitching
slipping through fingers
personal Utopia
place, where
you’re meant to be?

If it was doubt, you would not
have ever dreamed of this
place, to begin with

If it was fear, you may not
have even made it to this
point, a remarkable feat of courage

If it was ignorance, you could not
have seen this place so clearly
detailed and superb
resting at a peak

If not these, then what?

The most dangerous barricade we face
may just be none other than
practicality.

Awkward Valentine

February 14, 2014 § Leave a comment

brief comments, not lasting
nothing to remember, under bright lights
and thumping music
and a swirl of something syrupy
we smiled in passing, sugary grins
without much meaning
and you would sometimes toss a wink
over your shoulder, but it wasn’t
something I thought about

and then one day, THE DAY
when saints dance with cupids
and candles melt and drip
onto heart-dotted tablecloths
and the universe convinces
even bitter souls, they need love too
you winked and asked me over
so odd, I thought, of all the days
why not, I thought, why not

you were too tall for your kitchen
it struck me as sweet when you stood
at the island, a nervous man with a potholder
and pulled steaming enchiladas
from your oven, serving them carefully
on a plate with beans, and we ate
on a naked wooden table
under burning florescent bulbs
and talked about our dogs

the two of us, so odd, I thought
just eating enchiladas one night, THE NIGHT
and then you pulled out a pair of boots
took my hand and said, let’s two step,
and it struck me as sweet
the two of us, nearly strangers, two-stepping
to a cheesy country song
around your apartment
like it could have been any other night

Feb. 12th

February 13, 2014 § Leave a comment

This poem is for you and it’s February twelfth
I fear my day has been uneventful
I ate waffles for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch
A mid-day cookie was essential.

I won’t tell you in prose everything else that I did
It’s likely too bland to put into words
But I did think something I want you to know
I love you and I think you’re superb.

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