MY POEMS

8/29/09

I write
From my shadows
The imaginary clock
On the wall
Tells its time
Whisps of thought
I try to write
Accidents of prose
That all
Could understand
If they dare
To listen

8/28/09

Staring out
My window
At life
Passing by
I feel like
an outsider
from even myself
I am a stranger
Never quite understanding
The meaning
Of that
Confusion invades
My thoughts
Looming on
The horizon
Of my indifference

8/27/09

My poetry
Is my real companion
Consuming all of
my thoughts
I am trapped
in my own body
I am an outsider
in my own
imaginary world
of insensible emotions.
My gestures
the deafening monotony
within this
black hole

8/26/09

The road to happiness
Is paved with
Sulfurous suffering
Redemption, is
But a dream

8/25/09

there are
evenings when
I laugh aloud
other evenings
I am so sad
Torrents of laughter
Followed by
Flood of tears
I long for unity
I long for solitude

8/24/09

I want to
be on my own
my anguish for solitude
exceeds my control
and I cannot cope
I want to
be on my own
in the solitude
of my being
a body left
to be questioned
among the wires
of my yearning
no distance from
the crowd
shall ever be
too much
no silence
ever so sweet
as when I
am on my own

8/23/09

I too follow
the dictates
of my heart,
unable to
stem my elation
upon seeing you
I take your hand
in mine, remembering
the softness of
your hands
the shape of
your fingers
and the palm
that holds
my heart

8/22/09

Buried in the
Din of noise
I am infested
With the
Trite conversation
Of everyday
The rawness
Of my emotions
Beating wildly
In the darkness
Of my room

8/15/09-8/21/09

My fragile existence
hangs from a
single thread of hope
I live in this moment
Thoughts of you
awaiting my rebirth
When you
Return home
To me

In restless sleep
Sobs the lonely soul
Deep within the night
I ask myself:
What is the point
Of this life?
No answer comes
Into this realm
Of darkness
Quietly I sit
Waiting for
Salvation to come

There is no triumph
In suffering
No special prize for
Those who endure
No fanfare for
The “winners”
Only silences
And empty praise

Does a loving god
Prescribe suffering
For all his creatures
That be our true fate
So that we might
Give thanks for the crumbs
Thrown to us
To eat only
To suffer more
When there are
But crumbs?

The veil of depression
Never fully lifts
Happiness, a fleeting ideal
For us to chase
In winter’s winds

Figures dance
Here tonight
cramped and tangled
In moments
Of lucidity
Swaying and swirling
Leaving behind them
A trail of whisp
And light

I dreamt that
I was a stranger
In an empty house
Filled with
Cobweb and dust
Creaking floors
Rickety step
Leading up
To a chamber
Of my waking life

8/1/09-8/20/09

There are moments
Of great joy
Where all is lost
And I fall into
The night sky
Moon and stars
Are my toys
And evening is
Once again
My friend

The flower of life
hardens well before
Winter’s snow
So fades
The flowers
Of spring
Ever scorched
By summer sun
Never again
To bloom
Only to
Gracefully age

The mercy
Of the river
Carries me away
Downstream beyond
The shores
Of wanting hands
And lustful hearts
There on the
Far shore lies
A place where
Only still waters
Can ever sustain (me)

I think of myself
whose hand caresses
her willing body
lying open to
Attacks of love
supine is the throbbing
of a young heart
Whose voice
Barely knows
The word love
Whose eyes haunts me
And every breath
That calls me
I think of myself
Knowing every
Crevice and bump
And unknown places
That both fill me
And tremble
My hands

How many times
have I written
before daybreak or
at dead of night
and often reluctantly
Lost in a
Continual drift
To a
Destination tangled
In night where
Sentences never rest
And periods
Only mean
A moment’s reprieve

Writing poetry
Is a bit
Like dying
The more that
I write
The less of
Myself there is
To give

Once upon a non-time
There was a poet
Who spoke much
Of unconditional love
Carefully gluing and
Paper clipping
His thoughts
To reams
Of paper
Hoping somehow
It would resemble
The “truth”
And after
All of that
Gluing and clipping
Was done
All he had
Was a puzzle
And lies

I entered the woods
At night with
Uncertain step
Groping along
This path
Of darkness
My heart
Lost in
Its silence
Out of breath
I rush through
Bush and stump
Only to find
I never once
Was lost

I reach upon
The shelf
To fond
My ideal self
Neatly hid away
I say to
Myself how
Much dust
Upon this shelf
Then quietly
Walk away

Delight,
stay here with me
like an error,
linger beside me
Fill my head
With clouds
And thoughts
Of her

Not one of us
will be born
without pulling free.
From the chains
Of desire
None shall know
The freedom
Of restraint
Until desire
Loses its way

In the jealous rooms
Of our home
Where love
Still dwells
We gaze upon
These walls
Not as prisons
But as
Or sanctuary

Whoever's despaired
in the face of
each new morn
knows the weight
of dawn
in all of
her glory and
infinite light
she brings forth
a new day
filled with
impossible hopes


the storm howls
across your expanse
the clouds rage through you
like winter wolves,
ravenous and
mute with hunger,
my agitation will show
how much I miss
my home and days
of peaceful spring

Who am I
In your life
An evening star
A gentle drizzle
Of rain
Just who am I
Am I some
Of your deepest thoughts
Or a tune that you
Casually whistle
Just who am I
To you?

My life
Is so simple
But distant
Are our dreams
A thousand poems
I could write
To you
But what do
They all mean
If you cannot
Hear my heart?

Another year
We have
Chased away
The ground
All dressed in snow
Far away are you
And those days
Of spring love
Passion ruled
Our hearts
And now
As the fires
Begin to mellow
We see each other
For who we
Really are

Some sentences
Are like that
Losing their aim
In the air
Lost in
The infinite
Cold space
Between us

Poets have faith
In their dreams
Creating storms
With their words
Stirring hearts
On paper
Throwing love
Into the wind

Clouds gather
In the sky
Prohibited memories
Gather there too
Cutting through
The darkness
With the sword
Of love

This poem
To be written
in the last hours
Of night
when rain clouds
Finally pass
And the moon
Reappears causing
Us all to dance

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Autumn draws
Her red cloak
Around leaves
And trees
Fire beneath
Trembling trees
Leaves dance
Their last dance
Before winter
Consumes them
In a gown
Of all white


I look
For images
Of you
In my mind
Long ago
I packed
Them away
Neatly in
The corner of
This aging mind

It's desire
that spins round
my head
Song and poetry
Soar into
The unending skies
But desiring you
Will never
Bring you near

Love is
The aftertaste
Of rain
Fresh upon
My tongue
Love is
The rain
Felt upon
My face
Soothing, cool
Love is you
In that
Very rain

I craft
These poems
From mere emptiness
Days that drag on
From winter to spring
Leaves that fall
Leaving no trace
Just as my craft
Does too

Oh solitude
I've been your disciple
such a long time
entrenched in my exile
you come to me
as friend, lover, wife,
keeping me company
without a single word
many is the day
that I cursed you
wanting only
for you to leave
but despite my curses
you never betrayed me
oh solitude
you are the bridge
that always leads me
back to myself

It's a recurring dream
Of mine
in these nights
of old age.
I have reached
a place
somewhere not far
familiar to me.
Each step
Grows more difficult
Beyond each bend
Of the road
I cannot see
My way
Leading me
To roads
I have never
Traveled before
Just before
I wake
Fear keeps
Pulling me back
To yet another bend
In the road

A prayer formed
Upon my lips
Departing ever skyward
Not long, not beautiful
A simple prayer
For forgiveness
From this
Sinner poet

In his madness
he traversed
The plains
Of his heart
in search of redemption
for himself
and all his kind.
Not demons, not angels
But poets
Whose tenderness
And solitude
Are his
Greatest sin

The poet
Does not dream
Of his existence only
But also of those
Whose lives
He shall never know

A gentle wind
Wafted your name
Carried by sweet
Fragrances of peach
And the smell
Of wet leaves
His heart
Remembers those days
Of innocence
But yes too
Of love

He spent
that lazy noon,
so long ago,
in a hazy spell
trying to
put out rhyme
sitting on
the forest floor
thinking of
just one word more
time just
ran away
soon the darkness fell
and his little forest
became a living hell

what fires
kindle his lusts
beauty, art
or poetry
or none of
the above?
What makes
His heart
Ever yearn
Flowers of spring
Or leaves of fall
Maybe this or
Nothing at all

Outside of
his words,
the world
silently changes
words and poems
all ablaze
slipping from
mood to mood
without the notice
of the world

whether I live today
or die tomorrow,
matters not to me
to live only
in this moment
and for in that moment
I am truly free
Whatever clatters happens
I can only
Turn away
To live in
This moment
And this moment only
Is all that
I pray

Delving into
The depths
Of night
I sit at
My table to write
A poem here
Or maybe there
Catching words
And phrases from
The chilly air
As the candle
Begins to fade
And I am
full of sleep
I let pen go
So that she


Already kissing
two bronzed hands,
already clinging
to her smooth neck,
already scattered
round it all that hair,
already falling into
her crimson lips
plucking the thorn
of fear from
her heart
she loved me
as never before


the gathering
of clouds,
above me
winds howl
and swear
frightened trees
bent together
to shelter
each other
from harm
the sky begins
its dousing
of tears
seeds and dreams
scatter in
the wind

Let us muse not
on earthly things,
and let others
fill their hearts
with care
you and I
shall muse only
on the love
before us

Do you know
what I think, Love
of all this?
They blinded
By jealousy
Fear not
Others but
Fear love itself

Your beauty,
I would drink,
thirsting for
your gentle limbs
we light
the fire
of love
consumed by
tender breasts
your body
wholly nude
that with
my trembling
hands caress
in silence
we find ecstasy
as our bodies
now entwined
our lips meet
once again
and once again
you are mine

in the shadows
moments of
fleeting joy
the one
I most desire
Your laughter and
Your charms
All serve
To fan
Passion’s eternal fire
Your love is
So pure
Oh one
That I
Most desire

The Autumn sun
floats in the thin sky;
above us dance
leaves of fire
and below us
lie the fallen
memories of spring
let not
the autumn destroy you
nor the wind bring
a sadness to
your heart
let us dance beneath
the fires and spring be
our song


He is always
walking away.
He turns back
many times
to glimpse
his executions.
Empty.
The world
is empty of him.
Time has only
Filled the shelves
Of his heart
With poetry and dust
Looking back
He sees
The torment
He left behind

Before you,
I lived
This life
Of loneliness
Only you came
To fill
Sadness was
All that I knew
And thought sadness
would ever be
now that you
are here
I wish to
Tell you
With my words
Imbued with love
Together we walk
In these days
Of joy and contentment
To a place
Where sorrow
Cam never go


How do you
heal these wounds
inflicted by
the stars?
how do you
silence the
poetry in
your heart?
How can you
quiet the music
ringing in
this soul
when we
are so
far apart?