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.
Just one tiny moment of her time. Just one glint in her eye. Did she look my way? Is she thinking about me? A lifetime of insecurities, rearing like some untamed bronco, kicking my ass before I’ve a chance to tango. And now, here I am, stupefied and indignant, wondering what do I do to impress her next? Maybe I could put myself down again, or perhaps be less vexed. Or maybe I could just retreat with my tail between my legs. No. Not this time. Time to make a stand. Let me just catch my breath, pull on the … Continue reading The Stand. A poem.
It seems I can’t stop reading profoundly affecting books. A friend of mine loaned me John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars, the mega-selling young adult novel about two teenagers in cancer remission who fall in love. “You’ll need some … Continue reading The Fault in Our Stars. A book review.
Take down the green, straddle the Earth with the carbon footprint of giants. Every tree felled, another wooden nail in our meagre wooden coffin. Let the next race be won by whomever loves this planet more than humans being, who in our rush to claim the prize have won nothing but dust, rust, and forgotten lies. Continue reading Dust and Rust. A poem.
I’m forever haunted by this phantom limb, writhing in my sleep, guilt stricken for my sins. I see you in every couple on the street, and at the coffee shop, where we drank each other in. It feels like you’re still across from me; the conversation, imagined and forlorn, accusing eyes that follow me no more. Your ghost absorbs my days and nights, a peripheral blur, just out of sight. Time heals all wounds; such perfect sense, but not in my experience. You’re the limb I lost, that still persists. A phantom limb, my will insists. Continue reading Phantom Limb. A poem.
Mourning Flowers 1. The flowers in bloom, painted like rainbows in June. Yet, you tear them down. 2. You cast them aside, like radioactive waste. And now: here you are. 3. They are reminders of all you’ve reaped and sown and lost. Mourn your life. Continue reading Haiku Friday: ‘Mourning Flowers’, a Haiku trilogy.
See the world. But not through your own eyes. Try his. Try seeing and yet not seeing, failing to understand what they truly perceive. Messed up signals, like a traffic jam waiting to happen. Open your mouth, like his mouth, and watch the words tumble out: unannounced, tactless and indiscreet; a crossword of errors on a big broadsheet. Walk alone, not by yourself, but like him: truly alone, like the world has eaten you up and spat you out. Deserted, when you truly needed love instead of doubt. This is how he feels. So extend a hand. Feel with him. … Continue reading Through His Eyes. 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.
She loves me, She loves me not. I suppose I’ll never know. She loves me, She loves me not. I have to let her go. She loves me not. And that’s how it always ends. Continue reading She Loves Me (Not). A poem.
Her apple eyes look through me, Auspicious in ambiguity. To think, I thought she liked me. Extra ego in perpetuity. Continue reading Hate. An Acrostic Poem.
The light is fading, you’re walking out; she’s reclining luxuriantly. The light in those magical eyes is enough to blind a man, before you question why. That smile, combined with sylvan form, is hot enough to melt a man (raised on a diet of ‘avoid’). Like a supernova sundae, take him out at the knees, leave him confused and dazed, with thoughts, indiscreet. Get out of there before that brazen temptress (Who doesn’t know her power over all that exists) enthralls you with her siren voice; makes you fumble, stumble, makes the floor your only choice. Escape while you can, … Continue reading Fall for you. A poem.
Ahead. A Haiku Trilogy. Mouth The subversive grin Making mellifluous voice A love explosion Eyes Eyes of deep regret Wash away your highest hopes Rivers to the sea Ears What bitter sounds made Cannot be unheard again Forever doubting . It’s Haiku Friday. (Yeah, I made it a thing last week. I can do that. I think.) Here’s some Haiku I composed, just for you. Cheers Steve 🙂 Continue reading Haiku Friday. Yep, it’s a thing, now.
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.
Shut me down, flip that switch. Turn out my lights and hear me Breathe my final maudlin death rattle. You have such a way with words, you kill me every time. Every. Time. Continue reading Flip That Switch. A poem.
Congregation This congregation What secrets are kept in here Hidden agendas Tai Chi Slow and graceful moves All mindfulness and mystique Far too many forms Prayer Bend my knee to Thou Communicate by steeple Wait for an answer . If you’ve followed me for a while you will know I absolutely love Japanese Haiku, with its 5/7/5 syllable structure. Here’s a few I wrote recently. I think I’ll make Haiku Friday my ‘thing’ for Fridays. Just because. Cheers Steve 🙂 PS Want to read some more Haiku? Whereku? Hereku. Continue reading Haiku Friday. Three haikus in a row.
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