regret, that
sticky treat let
build on teeth,
holds firm against
the tongue, the
champion of clean
and consumption.
musings & scribbles
There,
Against the wall
With paint lightened
By the oil of her face,
She laughed,
And her toes curled.
Her
Teeth, white, tried
To hold in the noise,
Failing, though
She didn’t really care
And she kept scrolling.
Life
Seemed to stay
In each frame she saw,
While, falling, the
Stars stayed outside
And her eyes closed.
Took
A second to lose
Thoughts of there, to
Replace them with flying,
But she did,
And she became weightless.
On
Remembering gravity,
Sand filled her shoulders,
Though her head floated,
Bobbing to the laughter,
And reality left her.
Another
Breath awoke her to
A moment in the present,
Passed as quickly from
Her as the second,
And she continued in the loop.
Nothing is as sad as the realization of gravity
With the draining of a bath so calming, sea.
I sometimes forget I am a poet, self-declared,
And rhyme in mind that which is unsaid
In kind, hoping my past works still speak
Though they are but words on page left meek.
So, verily, I trust my rust to wonder of what
I have done before, leaving today to someone else
Whose actions say I am right lost in life, as would
A fool be if he, not knowing, were the fool.
Shakespeare comes easily because I cannot go
Above their model, always imitating and rarely
Leaving those shallow verses, deep by glance, behind.
I drew a bath for first time in decade+five, hoping
To loosen back tight since aught-nine, but
Failed to hear wife in shower, 45, and so
Sat, warm, hoping water was more than gravity’s pawn.
The
Thousand flying punches
Of the wind
Against these eyes,
Bulging holes
From which the view appears,
Rub, like sand
O’er the rolling dunes,
And my mind wanders through the grains.
Fought for you
Though your bag was gone,
Looked for a note
To tell me where– no[ne].
Left the lights on,
Hoping you would
Find the way home.
Those roads, glass, keeping
Eyes blind to the world
Outside, their mark’ed chords.
And none lead back,
Only by crossing o’er
Mine and yours.
Every time
Every time we
Get that
Little bit angry, we
Start to fume,
Start to yell,
Start to
Take it all inside.
Every time we
Get that
Lip quiver goin’, we
Start to tear,
Start to fumble,
Start to
Act like we’re OK.
Every time we
Look forward to
That moment on the park bench,
Sitting, resting
Hands on laps, just a-
Hoping we’d move our palms over,
Just a-
Hoping we’d get over that
Little tussle, and
We always will, we always will
Give in to
The future
And
Let the past go by.
Driving down this old country road,
Headlights pulling friends I don’t know.
The best part of love is knowing we are in this together.
Even when I, foolishly, feel the squeeze of life, you are beside me, ready to loosen my grip.
Who is this
Beside me, holding
Tight a hand
Left wondering
Who is this
Beside me, holding
Tight a hand
Left wondering
If we could reach the park bench,
Grey hairs and stares into our past,
You sitting beside me,
Holding tight a hand
Left wondering if life gets any better,
But, I doubt it ever could.
Tap-tappings on the floor,
With whiskers led by thought
Of acknowledgement, back
To where they’ve been before:
Beside bed, paws up, hoping
To be part of his plans,
A sightless pandering for more.