This oil, viscous and thick, holding me fast in the tar pit of my black heart and head, since the very start. Wish I could shed this black dog That follows me everywhere. Perhaps soon, anon, I’ll lose my empty … Continue reading This Oil. A poem.
The wild surf, like his impetuous heart, pounds and beats the sandy shore, like a pugilist with vanity to spare. Here the relentless, crashing waves make their mark in odd time signatures, in fluid and passionate syncopation, a symphony of … Continue reading The Wild Surf (Beached, part 1). A poem.
You are my focus. Without you I am a blur, a hazy remnant lurking on the periphery of this sun-scorched existence. You are the prism through which I shine. You are my multiplicity of light, an enchanted, technicolour spectrum, illuminating … Continue reading Focus. A poem.
Feel me here: antediluvian, lumbering. As unlike as we are, an inordinate attraction like opposite magnetic poles, dragging us together like merciless luna tides. Your lightning source code will tame this savage beast, magnetic moments designed to simulate a halcyon … Continue reading Magnetic. A poem.
Here I am, brought to heel by poor choices and destiny, to learn a well-earned lesson of respect and humility. Here behind this concrete veil, my hope is born anew. All thin facade and curtain call, a life sentence, all … Continue reading Concrete. A poem.
Today, she gave me bliss. I was confounded but content, my feet mired in tar, holding me firm. My mouth unfrozen this time, heart quickened but not expired. Conversation played across a court; a sporting event, a contest of champions. I would send the ball, she would receive returning service like a tennis pro. So perfectly matched, like two people moulded from the same supple clay of our sculptor’s eloquent fancy. How can such beauty be real? Does it only exist to haunt my dreaming and waking hours? I wanted to profess to her ghost my wants and needs, how … Continue reading Bliss. A poem.
I live in surreality, not quite alive, not quite dead. I wander from one point to the next, a confused and weary traveller, conspicuously without intent. The pleasures of the material and the impractical align in tacit disapproval. I am a wanderer in confusion, lost in the blizzard of bodies, grabbing myself for warmth like a frost-bitten seeker faced with his last insurmountable peak. Someday this journey will be done, and the last thing I see, may be the first I ever saw. As if all that mattered was the concentric circle I travelled in and the hoarfrost patina on … Continue reading Frost. A poem.
My trajectory: sometimes straight and narrow, sometimes a drunk man attempting to walk a straight line, while the cop just rolls his eyes. My trajectory: never in doubt, sometimes questioning. A walk through a dark forest, as the furry eaves and murky weave close off any chance of escape. Clearer in hindsight, never misplaced. God-given, forthright and true. My trajectory: is you. Continue reading My Trajectory. A poem.
My heart was broken, and the pieces lay scattered across the floor like so much fractured crystal. It lay where it fell for days, weeks, months. I fixated on my shattered heart for a long time. Everywhere I looked, everywhere I walked, I was in danger of cutting myself on a fragment. Visitors and friends stepped delicately around the shards like navigating a minefield. Every once in a while I would think about tidying up. But the strewn slivers were a reminder both comforting and saddening. One day, I awoke to find the pieces were gone, as if they had … Continue reading Heartbreak. A prose poem.
Sugar pearls captured in her smile, as rich as maple syrup seas. I long to swim there and taste her sweet, warm waters on my tongue. Continue reading Sugar Pearls. A poem.
Shoulder Lean You Me Weight Lifted Smile Shoulder Lean … Continue reading Shoulder. A poem.
My time Long past? And still, here I am The sun has not yet set Continue reading My Time. A poem.
There once was an optimist Who tripped, fell Lost his wife Respectability His whole life For some reason lost his optimism as well He picked himself up Dusted himself off Set about finding a new life But it wasn’t easy So much was tied up In his head and heart It wasn’t easy to forget the strife Three years later And the optimist returned In drabs and dribs A piece at a time A patchwork quilt Of emotion and anxiety There once was an optimist Who got up, looked around For a wife Respectability And a life Dim as a … Continue reading The Optimist’s Trial. A poem.
You inspire me My constant muse A never-ending tragedy Of rhyme, verse and prose You are my world My tortured soul My worship, it flows ever on My one and only goal Continue reading Constant Muse. A poem.
Sometimes life kicks us hard. Then it kicks us even harder. While life is kicking us we have to learn to get up and either get out of the way or let that boot keep cracking our ribs.
That’s not actually what this post is about, but maybe it caught your attention. If so, please read my post about purpose and humility. And stupidity. You might even enjoy it 🙂 Continue reading A Question of Purpose
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