Sonata

I rested there inside
A normal day to be mundanely tied
With all the elements of home
Complete yet skewed as if a song I knew was playing in a different tone

And suddenly, well, there you were
As clear as day and just as sure
And in a chair I’ve never seen before is where you sat
And just as casual as summer days, we chose to try to chat

The how are you and how’ve you been
The surface layer whats and whens
The gentle arc of friends who always meant to meet
The slow facade of calm when there were surely sirens screaming in the street

And soon, I lay upon my bed
Compelled to follow anywhere the conversation led
And then you rose and closer came as if at my behest
You sat beside me and upon your lap I lay my head to rest

And suddenly, our words seemed very thin
For both we had a story that we struggled to begin
So silence did we share a while, then a while more
Choosing to delay the road we hope to walk but feared to go explore

You chuckled and the silence broke
And quizzically I looked at you until you finally spoke
A fragment of a song I played
And played because it made me think of how you could have never stayed

And all I did was smile like a fool and say, “You know
I played it twice as much because the pain was softer than the letting go…”
You offered up a, “Hmmm” and so I answered with a kiss
But then I woke and you had turned to only mist

And strange, I thought it was, to dream
So far from then a now that still remembered what you mean
But all the same, I wake and choose to play
A song that still reminds me of how hard it was to finally walk away


First Dream, Second Dream, Third Dream, Fourth Dream

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Tidings

Do you imagine there’s a world where you and I are talking still?
Where messages appear
And so we press them to an ear
And to our heart and to our feelings
Like they’re stars reflecting light upon the ceiling
And the things I never got a chance to say to you I finally did reveal?

Do you believe there’ll be a day where you and I will speak again?
Where one of will send
Like a reminder from a friend
The sentiment of, “If you’re crying,
Or you’re happy, or inside you’re slowly dying
I was there for you before and I can promise I’ll be there for you again.”

Do you imagine there’s a world where I can finally say how sorry that I am?
Where every major fault
I hadn’t hidden in a vault
And I could say what I was hiding
And believe it wouldn’t be so damn dividing
And the truth I could’ve given as a stream instead of just another dam?

Do you, I wonder, happen by and read the words I write and always will?
The ones forever tilting
From a soul forever wilting
In the absence I created?
And if so, I hope you know, I’ve always waited
And imagined we would speak again for hopeful was the way you made me feel.

Recompense

I see you in swamps and I cannot but rush to your side
Knowing, certainly, serpents are hiding there under the tide
And yet, without any regret do I follow
For life, without you, seems so terribly hollow
Like words from my lips lacking even an ear to confide

I see you in places you never existed at all
Like there in the midst of a desert, a cobblestone wall
And still, so approaching, I kneel for I need to
And say, with a heart hanging heavy, I need you
Like feet on the ledge of eternity destined to fall

I see you and hope that, in time, it’ll pass and become
No more than a shadow from days with an off-center sun
And yet, do I hope to forget ever wanting
The you that’s removed from the future I’m hunting
For hollow, it seems, such a victory, terribly won

I see you and all I recall are the reasons I need
To see you again, thinking naught of the cost that I feed
Nor care what had led me to where you were standing
Or what could become from the things you were planning
For, bowing to you was I willing to do like a creed

I see you, and maybe I shouldn’t, but always I will
As if an ellipsis that follows the word of until…
And so, without worry, and ‘lo in your travel
I follow and see that I slowly unravel
But love is a cost and I promised I’d settle the bill

Yesterday

I met a girl from yesterday that wore, as if reflections in her eyes,
The halo of a melting sun
Behind a grinning moon
So, in a sea of little coffee cups where books are a disguise
I heard, but also felt, as none
Could feel except when swept away by little paper notes of never, maybe, soon

Where distances were moments set between the soft facade of never – more
And music – even missing so –
Was made of lyrics still
Just like a faded, old impression left behind when pages tore
So that I needn’t see to know
That all departures were impermanent from there where ever – more was really real

I told her of tomorrow – but here eyes, they only saw the day before
Like silver crowns and banners blue
And palisades of chance
With gentle arms around the fair that should exist in love and war
I felt, but also heard anew,
The song her somber heart was playing as if asking me if I would like to dance

And there between the islands made of coffee cups and half-remembered books
Where people spoke, but rarely heard
How could I not but rise
As if a leaf within the wind that never cared just how it looks
For she had stolen every word
And my tomorrow, all the same, the girl with yesterday still shining in her eyes

Medallion

What can I say in prayer when she, it seems, is all the aura of the moon?
And burns as if a candle in the darkest room of night
So much I wonder, if before I knew her name, I knew of sight
As if my heart was made of thread, and she was nothing short heaven’s only loom

Upon her brow a crown that not an element in life could truly forge
Nor could a hundred million hands with all the time to spare
Or all the alchemists in all the world to lay the circuits bare
She is a queen within a palace in a land beyond the sea, beyond a gorge

What can I say in poetry for she who has a soul that is a sun
That lights a universe but sees herself as but a spark
When, to my eyes, she is a flare when all the world is cold and dark
And, from her lips, a simple word would see my soul, for her, as won

As if I were a crown, or else a pendant, or a ring for her to wear
Or just a bit of flint to light the candle of her day
Or else a hand upon her shoulder when her fears have gone astray
Or just the words, “I’ll always love you,” whispered in a way that only she can hear

Imperfection

It is
Of course
Important
No
Imperative
To remember that we are all
Imperfect
We are
Fractured
…Frail
… …Faulty
… … …Fearful
Fragile little things
Glass eggs in a world of iron hands
Soft tongues
Navigating angry teeth
Chapped lips
Holding back words
Both gentle
And cruel
We are, all of us, imperfect moments
Hoping for perfect results
And lives made of uncomfortable compromise
Hoping for uncompromised comforts
With hands stained in yesterday’s tears
And eyes blurred by next year’s sandstorm
Living in that
Ephemeral
…Ethereal
… …Evanescent
… … …Ever-fading dream
Of some distant sun
From last year’s distant summer
Where
If only for a moment
Perfect lived
And breathed
And placed its hand upon our heart
And said
If only once
“Imperfection
Is only our breath
Held in screaming lungs
Waiting for us to
Let go
And remember
That we all take
Perfect breaths
However imperfectly”


Okay…so here’s another free-verse because of reasons A and C from the previous list of reasons that I didn’t give you. I’m going back to rhyming after this one…

Tome

Take my book of shadows page by page
Numbers on the bottom corner signify the age
A world of cursive letters
Set like links in iron fetters
Left like footprints in the dust of this now long forgotten stage

Set them in the unremembered sun
Where the shoulders colder grow and “shall we?” turns to shun
A home of insulation
And accepted consolation
Where tomorrow is a song that still repeats what we have done

Take my tome of light and see it close
Where embers dance like fairies in a world that no one knows
A world of would’ve, could’ve
Played on instruments of should’ve
Far behind this tattered curtain where it never fully shows

Set it in the pyre, if you will
Let it set for seven years upon your windowsill
Where light can eat the wording
Of the good and leave the hurting
For the tome we fill with shadows is the one that we can never really kill