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Posts published in May 2012

Mom

held myself up by propping on you for a bit,
but now you’re half buried

mom, i
thank you
for all you’ve done
with only so much as an ask–
or none.

to be where we are

You know,
Half the time I spend looking at you
Is looking forward to
All that we will do when we’ve had time
For our own memories.

Though I may not remember
Every moment we’ve spent together,
I’ve used every one to
Build who I am today.
Though I may not recall
All we’ve done or where we’ve been,
I’ve used every moment to
Be where I am today
with you.

Lonely Owl

‘tween the trees, this
taper-tipped owl sits,
perched to speak to
they who listen/know
the tale of solitude,
in call that they may
forget such times exist.

We Are Who We Will Be

I remember maturity was,
When I wasn’t, the ability to
Remove ourselves from ageist expectations.
We held strong to who we
Thought we were not to be–
We became images of
Future regret, anxiety, calls for help;
We became our own type of normal.

Forgetting who you are

I opened my eyes to where
I am now;
No one told me I would be here, but I find myself
Here.
Your main purpose in this world is not to be successful at something you don’t love. Your main purpose in this world is to be a warning to those who give up their dreams/hang up their pen,
Forgetting who they are for
What they are.

An Obedience

Doing (yes, in actions) what I feel is being asked
Before I think about not doing so.

Not to say that I do not pause, understand
The request, and then perform the action.

Untitled 10

When actions are muted
By the thoughts in my head–
When my hand seems like a river,
Stretching out to splash on _anything_,
To be guided by _anything_ other than
By the thoughts in my head.

To a son

The one you love
Will be with you
Or someone else.
Do not waste on
Those you fawn
The love for they
Who will return.

They will be with someone else,
Or they’ll remain with you. That
Pain you feel is like a bandaid,
Ripped off, but only to let your
Wounds be opened to healing.
I see my wife as a painter sees his craft:
Essential to who I am, defining my life.
The same is true of all you do, but only
Your spouse can love you through the rest.
Time is pulsating scrapings of old sand:
Meant to shine through grime removal,
But wasting what cannot otherwise be used.

Hipsters

And, lo, in the halls and on the grazing grounds
Of corporate America, the hipsters meander about,
Oblivious to the judgements made on their choice of fads

Beautiful

Nothing is quite so beautiful
As a glistening green scene
Stilled by a slow, cold rain.

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